#what exactly qualifies as a werewolf

[dannybobany]

It’s Nearly five in the morning and I’m tweaking over cookie run werewolf/wolf-person logic.

These characters are all vastly different ideas of what a werewolf is but can all be defined as werewolves within the logic of the universe and within the general concept of a werewolf but they do not connect with one another in a way that makes sense.

What am I getting at with these observations? I have no idea, but I can’t help but make them. Someone help me

[siixkiing]

...I think their relevant to show off

[im-not-a-ghost]

🧟‍♂️ THRILLER NIGHT🧟‍♀️

In this 18+ reading, we are enquiring about the following themes :

What about you makes them go feral

What their instincts want them to do to you

How freaky can they be at night

This is going to be a lengthy reading, so bear with me. Minors do not interact.

Group 1 🧟‍♂️

What about you makes them go feral? | knight of wands, 4 of swords, High Priestess

They love your bold, assertive presence. How you never give in to temptation and are always in control of your emotions, no matter what they try to do. How you firmly stand your ground and remain in your power. They love the mystery you surround yourself with. Especially when it comes to your intimacy, sexuality. They are turned on by your passionate yet calm demeanour. For some of you that may be practicing divination or occult arts, they also get turned on by that aspect of you. Something about you is just bewitching to them. They love your intensity, your stubbornness, your reserved nature. They get turned on by the fact that you are so guarded on a daily basis and they might be the only one that gets to see beyond the walls you’ve built to protect yourself. They are turned on by the resistance you create when you are prioritising yourself. You’re not someone to mess with. You’re not what they would qualify as an « easy » person, someone that has no boundaries, no sense of preservation, no reserve. With the combination of the knight of wands and the 4 of swords, I get the feeling of someone being extremely astute when it comes to flirting. You know when to push and when to pull back, you create an interesting dynamic that keeps this person on their toes. The combination of those two cards with the High Priestess reminds me of someone that likes banter, mind games. I get the sense of someone pretty sarcastic and witty, who sees through the other's seduction attempts. It's like you've been through it all and you can't be bothered. They like how you can see through them and know exactly which buttons to push. It makes being with you more interesting and challenging. I feel like both of you like to be mentally challenged and stimulated. You may tend to be a bit harsh with them and that's actually something that turns them on as well.

What their instincts want them to do to you | 8 of wands, 8 of swords, The Hermit, Strength

If I had to put it into simple words, it would be something like "I gotta act quick or they will disappear from my sight". There's an urgency to this person's actions and thoughts guided by their instincts. And one way they want to do that is by locking you up in their bubble. They want to get a grab of you and never let go, keep you stuck in their energy because they know damn well that you won't wait for them if they mess up. They know damn well that you are precious and that if they don't act on it, someone else will. That is actually their biggest fear : to lose you to someone else while they're gone. Because I feel like you're currently not in contact with this person or if you are, the communication isn't going smoothly. You are busy and this person is busy somewhere else, and they're thinking that if they don't hurry up, you'll forget about them. They want to take you away somewhere no one can ever disturb the connection you share, away from prying eyes and envious people. They feel very possessive over you. It's funny, because in the deck I'm using, the Strength card is called Lust. It depicts a multi headed chimera that looks like a lion encircling with its body a beautiful and sensual naked woman. In this card, it's like the beast is marking its territory. How fitting ! Because that's exactly the impression I get from this person. They want to mark you as theirs. Their instincts tell them to claim you. In their mind, it's like "I gotta show them I'm the one, I have to be the best so they can only see me". If they could entangle your body to theirs forever, they would do it without any hesitation. There isn't a single doubt about their carnal desire for you and the need for them to show the world how you belong to them. Based on what we've seen so far, I'd say that this person has BDSM tendencies, enjoys foreplay, dirty talking and leaving marks of their deeds on their partner (hickeys, bite marks, claw marks). This person may want to tie you down, metaphorically and litterally.

How freaky can they be at night | 10 of wands, 4 of wands, page of swords, 3 of cups

The key words associated with the 10 of wands and the 4 of wands were "oppression" and "completion". I almost mistook the 4 of wands with the 9 of wands for some obscure reason. This gives me the feeling that in bed, this person can be very intense and match your level of intensity. If they let you dominate and control the connection in public, during the day, behind close doors, they are keen on showing you who's the boss. This person is a dom. They are rough when it comes to sex. But what matters the most to them is that you enjoy it as much as they do. So they will need a lot of communication from their partner. This person wants things to be clear and explicit for everyone. Even if they are pretty bossy and impatient, they will ask for your consent. They will want you to feel validated and they ask of you to do the same. In bed, this person is vocal. They definitely dirty talk and like to call their partner pet names. To them, sex is a way to feel whole by merging with their partner. It's also a way for them to release pressure, stress, frustration. They view it both as a duty and an honor. And let me tell you, when it comes to that, they are very giving. They're an all rounder. Anything you want to do, they gladly do it. They like to show off in such times. If this person is into body building or tends to be flexible, they'll use that to their advantage. They tend to fuck fast and they tend not to last very long because they get too hyped up. However, they have no problem going at it several rounds in a row. They have stamina. This person may have a voyeurism kink. They may enjoy filming or taking pictures to save for later. They might watch a lot of porn when you're not around. With the 3 of cups, this person could fantasize about threesomes. It can also show an interest in alcohol as a way to calm their nerves and get in the mood. It could also mean that setting the tone, creating a nice atmosphere before and after sex matters a lot to them. Though they may seem heartless in certain aspects, this person values emotional connection and safety. So they wouldn't neglect the aftercare. They wouldn't get into sex straight away either, no matter how turned on they may be. They'll always ease their partner into it and make sure that they are doing okay afterwards. I pick up on words of affirmation, reassuring physical touch like brushing your hair or massaging your body to alleviate the pain or stress, acts of service like washing you up after or carrying you to bed.

Group 2 🌕

What about you makes them go feral? | ace of swords, knight of wands, 8 of cups clarified by the 6 of swords

You are independent. You bow to no one. You take no orders, buy no BS and you sure as hell don't lower your standards. You don't wait for others to validate you to feel good about yourself. You don't need this person. You are completely detached from the outcome of this connection, no matter how you feel about them. You are quirky and bluntly honest, there is no second guessing with you. When you want something, you go for it. You don't complain, you don't back down. You just get going and get the work done. Which this person appreciates 100%. They get turned on by you because you take the lead. You're ruthless and bold, you seem to be unafraid of whatever may be coming your way. In their eyes, you are unstoppable. You don't care about other's opinion of you, you don't mind being alone. You just do you. Your unique mind and appearance are what turns this person on the most. More than going feral for you, this person is just in awe at how strong and unwavering you can be. They are turned on by your ability to move swiftly through life's obstacles, to turn your back on things and people that do not serve your highest good. They are turned on by your intelligence and creativity, your passion, your drive. By your communication skills. There's something about the warmth of your voice and how cutting it may be. How piercing your words may get. They are turned on by your depth and in a way, by your sadness. Your bitterness excites them because a part of them believes they can save you from the shallow waters of your sorrow.

What their instincts want them to do to you | 3 of cups, 7 of wands, knight of wands, 9 of cups

Their instincts tell them to fight for you and your attention. To prove to you that life isn't always as gloomy and painful as it may have been for you in the past. To bring back that naiveté and sweet joy you might have lost over time. Their instincts tell them to softly and kindly take your hand and guide you to healing. To whisper sweet nothings into your ear about how good you are doing, how proud of you they are and how you are safe with them. They want you to believe in love again. To feel happy and content, at peace and finally free from torment. They want to show you a world of laughter and playfulness, where you don't have to worry about what's next. Where you don't have to be so tense and constantly on your guards, where you can rely on them and for once, let someone else take the lead. They want to wine and dine you, maybe waltz you to bed and give you the love and care you deserve. Contrary to group 1's person, they are pretty romantic and soft and I feel like this person would be more of a sub, even if they can assume a more dominant position when needed. Their instincts tell them to have fun with you and flirt with you, to take you out on a date as soon as possible and show you every aspect of their personality. They want to lay all their cards down and give you their all. They want to make every moment with you like a dream that you wouldn't want to wake up from. Their instincts tell them to support and protect you, to nurture you, be your knight in shining armor basically. They may want to get you drunk. If not, they at least want to be able to put you at ease and lower your guards. I pick up on someone wanting to show you off in public. Like, maybe this person would invite you to a gathering with their friends and a couple of yours. And during this gathering, they would do everything to put you in the spotlight and show their friends how perfect you are. But also, it would be a way for them to show everyone how well you go together and how perfect they are for you. In their mind, this person wants to crush any competition there might be, whether it's on their side or yours. It's like "look at my person, ain't no one gonna get them because I'm the one for them and they're the one for me", "ain't no one better to love them than me and there ain't no one better than them to love me".

How freaky can they be at night? | Hanged Man, 10 of cups, ace of pentacles

I wouldn't say that this person is freaky. But rather they are lovey. They are 100% a giver and they would put your needs and desires first without a doubt. They would be adament on you reaching orgasm first, and as many times as possible. They would take their sweet time easing you into it, through touch, through talking, through stares. They would take it slow and make it last for as long as possible. The exact opposite of group 1's person. This person is very emotional when it comes to sex. They would let you ride them, take the lead, decide about anything you want to do. They would try any position if it meant satisfying you. They would want to make sure that they don't forget anything. This is likely someone that will ask you a lot of questions before hand. They like to consider their partner's point of view. They would want to know everything about your kinks, your pet peeves, your fantasies. They could be into using ropes or hand cuffs. They enjoy very simple things. So they are likely to have sex in the comfort of the bed room, sticking to plan and playing the safe card by doing what they know they can do and what they know you enjoy. They want their partner to feel safe and cared for, so aftercare is like an unbreakable rule for them. I feel like eye contact and touch is really important for this person, as it enhances the emotional connection. This person needs to feel their partner's love to be able to enjoy sex. I'm picking up on someone gently stroking their partner's hair, softly guiding them by holding their neck or hand, hugging them tightly, spooning them. They want their body to be a shelter for the one they love. They could be using toys as well. Lube is a must. They're the kind to wear protection everytime, to only have sex if their partner is in the mood for it. Oral is a big thing. They view sex as a way to secure the bond between partners and comfort each other. So sex with them would be very soothing.

Group 3 🐺

What about you makes them go feral? | Death, King of cups, 10 of cups

For some of you, the mere fact that you are older than them is enough to turn them on. Other than that, your overall maturity attracts this person to you. They enjoy your emotional maturity more than anything else. What they particularly like is how selfless and kind you can be. Your sweetness and soothing presence act like an aphrodisiac for them. You are a very giving person and your understanding knows no boundary. Despite the hell you may have been through, you never cease to believe in people, in love, in happiness. Your love is unconditional and infinite. And it deeply touches this person's soul. It does things to them they sometimes fail to understand as it is so whole and powerful they may feel disturbed by it sometimes. What they love is how unafraid you are of being vulnerable, especially in their presence. How you always mean what you say and speak your truth with dignity and compassion. How soothing you are to others, like a loving parent that only seeks to protect and elevate. They love how you make them feel safe and protected, understood and loved for who they are, no matter what they do or where they come from. It's like you see right through them and understand them to their very core. With you they feel whole and certain that no matter what they do, you will always be there. The depth of the connection itself is something that they love so much it sends them to Nirvana. Just the thought of you turns them on. But there's also an edge to you that no body has. Your love is deeply transformative, it is new and refreshing because it is as clear as water. There is no doubt about what you feel or what you hope for. You endlessly give just for the sake of giving and that, in this person's eyes, is incredibly sexy. When you think about Death, you can't help to think of the magnetic Scorpio. And one thing Scorpio is known for is loyalty. You may be slow to give your trust, but once you do, there is no going back. That ride or die energy that you have is a huge turn on for them.

What their instincts tell them to do to you | The Sun, Judgement, 5 of swords clarified by the ace of pentacles

Their instincts tell them to surrender to you. To let you be the Judge of the outcome of this connection because they know deep down that whatever you have in store for them is going to be more than they could ever dream of. They tell them to lay their soul bare for you to see and give you the same level of vulnerability as you give them. They want to follow you down the rabbit hole and discover all the tricks you have up your sleeve. They want to give you their all as a fair retribution for all that you have given them. It's like they're saying "here, take my soul". They want to offer you their life, their joy, their innocence. For some of you, this person may be virgin. And they feel like having their first time with you wouldn't be that bad of a thing. They trust you with their life. They would fall for you a undred times because they know you would catch them every single time. They feel so safe with you they want to release all restraints and explore all aspects of their sexuality. Their instincts tell them to show you the truth of their being, to let their guards down and let you in. They want to embrace you as a whole and they want you to do the same. This person is ready to lay arms and offer you their everything. I feel called to mention the Death card again and the loyal side of Scorpio that could die for their lover. In that aspect, the Death card can symbolize someone that has high expectations, very committed and who expects nothing less in return. So I feel like their instincts tell them to commit to you. Their guts tell them that their fate is sealed and that this fate leads back to you. Based on this combination of cards, this person is a sub. And they may have a thing for tormented people. They have this energy of someone that views sex as a holy / deeply spiritual experience.

How kinky can they be at night | 2 of cups, The Sun, ace of cups, ace of wands

Similarily to group 2's person, I wouldn't say that they are kinky but rather lovey. This person is exclusive. They view sex as a mean to deepen the connection between two partners that are commited to one another. To them, sex should be a conversation of the souls and an enjoyable experience for both partners. They value balance and equity. This person could be into shower sex, outdoors sex especially around the beach or any body of water. They could enjoy the use of lube, body oil and such. Emotional connection is a must for them. They can get turned off very quickly if they don't feel loved by their partner. Their kinkiness is deeply connected to their emotional well being. The more they feel loved, the kinkier they will get. They can be pretty versatile and are willing to try everything but I feel like they will be enjoying it the most if things get wet pretty quickly. I really get the feeling of someone being inexperimented when it comes to sex but also very curious. They enjoy the novelty of sex and the creativity that comes with it. So they could be into kamasutra, tantric experiences, they could be the kind to research about sex to ensure they will satisfy their partner. They're a bit bold and cocky, especially if they feel encouraged to do so. This person likes to tease. They may enjoy spanking. They're down for anything as long as it pleases you. The emotional satisfaction they get from sex matters more than the physical. They enjoy kissing a lot. They also enjoy feeling like it's the first time every time. So if their partner is pretty imaginative and initiates sex in very creative ways, they will have fun with it. They may enjoy role playing as well, for the same reasons. They love pet names. They love to be praised and reassured. They want to feel as close to their partner as possible, like they could drown in their lover's essence. So positions like missionary or spooning would be their favorites.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Leona Kingscholar - Nightmare Suit Vignette

"What makes a qualified king"

[Halloween Town – Town Hall]

Leona: You want to hear more about the Halloween we celebrate back home? We've already come up with enough ideas for you.

Jack Skellington: Well, you guys have so many fresh ideas. I want you to teach me everything you know, without skipping a thing.

Epel: Without skipping a thing… Hmm, was there anything else?

Epel: Oh yeah, don't the people in this town wear any costumes for Halloween?

Jack Skellington: Costumes?

Epel: Yes! We dress up like mummies, werewolves, vampires and other sorts of monsters to scare people.

Riddle: When it comes to scaring… I don't think any of that would be any different for the residents here.

Epel: Oh, right… Hmmm, I'm sorry, I can't think of anything better.

Jack Skellington: No, you're fine. Basically, you're saying that you dress differently than you normally do, right? That also sounds interesting.

Jack Skellington: Might not be too bad to have big ears, a tail, sharp fangs and claws to become a werewolf.

Epel: Jack-san… a werewolf?

Leona: Kekek, I can see that making things even more confusing.

Leona: Regardless, it's much too early to be talking about next Halloween.

Jack Skellington: Too early? Not at all.

Jack Skellington: Once this year's Halloween is over, we only have 364 days until next Halloween.

Riddle: Indeed. I agree in that it may not be too early. Even this time, we are all working on a tight schedule…

Riddle: If you were to create a rough plan now, there'll be more time for preparations next year.

Leona: I get what you're saying. But there's no saying whether our Halloween will even be successful.

Leona: We haven't even finished the prep for this coming Halloween.

Leona: I think it'd be best for us to give our brains and bodies a rest to make sure we can even prepare everything properly.

Jack Skellington: Yeah, it's important to take breaks. But once this Halloween is over, you guys are going back to your own world, right?

Jack Skellington: And during the day, we're all so busy with preparations. I want to hear all your stories while I can.

Leona: Your eagerness to learn is astounding. If that's the case, then there's someone else who can help you better.

Leona: Hey, Idia.

Idia: Eeek!? D-Don't just pan the camera over to me… Why me, anyway…?

Leona: "Why"? Well, obviously because you're the Housewarden of the dorm Ignihyde, which adheres to the diligent spirit of the Lord of the Underworld.

Jack Skellington: The Lord of the Underworld? That sounds fascinating. Idia-kun, tell me more.

Idia: T-T-T-Tell you more? More what? I mean, s-sure, I know all his lore, but I don't want to give a presentation, or anything…!

Epel: Right, since Jack-san is the King of Halloween… That means he'd be considered the Lord of this town, right?

Leona: You can't judge someone just by their title. A king is only as good as what actions they take.

Leona: Although I'm pretty interested in what exactly the King of Halloween is expected to do, too.

Jack Skellington: What I do? Well, of course, that's to make Halloween as frightening as possible.

Idia: I-I mean, since you're the King of Halloween, you just gotta hype up Halloween, right? I guess…

Riddle: In order to make Halloween as frightening as possible, what exactly do you do?

Jack Skellington: Let me think. I'd drive a cart…

Epel: You drive…?

Jack Skellington: Or take walks in the cemetery with Zero…

Idia: And walk your dog…?

Jack Skellington: And I'll also read, or do experiments.

Riddle: Reading is one thing, but what sort of experiments does one need to do on Halloween…?

Jack Skellington: And finally… It's also my job to look over the townsfolk's proposals that the mayor has gathered.

Leona: Ah, there we go, finally something that sounds appropriate.

Leona: But you're telling me that the king goes through everyone's proposals personally? I bet there's a more efficient way to do it.

Jack Skellington: No, not at all. I need to take everyone's ideas and bring them together to make the best Halloween ever.

Jack Skellington: Wait, yeah, that's it. The king is someone who can bring everyone together.

Epel: I see. So, that's why you're the King of Halloween.

Idia: Ugh… There's no way I'd ever be able to bring everyone together like that…

Riddle: I cannot allow you to wallow like that. It is a Housewarden's job to keep the students together.

Leona: Hey, now, Riddle, don't bully the guy. That's way too much to ask of that gloomy kid.

Leona: But, huh, never expected bringing everyone together to be considered what makes a qualified king here. Guess it's much easier to decide a king here in this town than in other places.

[Halloween Town – Center]

Mayor: Now, now, everyone work quickly! We must hurry to finish making all the decorations!

Jack Skellington: Mayor! I've brought all the finished decorations.

Mayor: Oho, these have been made splendidly! I'll get these up on the gate now.

Leona: …I thought I'd take a break around here, but it looks like I should look somewhere else.

Leona: I'm exhausted from all the troubles I've had to deal with. I can just leave the rest of the preparations to the townsfolk… Hm?

Grim: OUTTA THE WAY, GET OUT OF MY WAAAY!

1. Grim, stop! 2. Someone please catch him!

[Mayor's face changes to sad]

Jack Skellington: Mayor, look out!

Mayor: AAAAAAAA HE'S GONNA CRASH RIGHT INTO MEEEEE!!!!

Mayor: H-Huh…? I'm not hurt…

Grim: MYAAAAAH! DON'T PICK ME UP BY MY SCRUFFFF!

Leona: Shut up, stop fussing. Geez, it's just one thing after another with you.

Leona: What did this furball do this time?

1. He ruined a bunch of the decorations…

Leona: So, that's the reason why he's got so many things stuck in his fur after running away without looking where he was going, huh. Leona: There's spider webs, bat wings, and… is this a fish bone? How many decorations did you destroy?

2. He snuck a bunch of the candy…

Leona: There's a lot of crumbs all over Grim's face. …I understand what happened. Leona: You got caught stuffing your face, and just ran away without looking where you were going, huh.

Grim: Humph! Blame the decorations for being in the way!!

Jack Skellington: …

Grim: How dare all these things stick to my beautiful fur… I'll throw off all these weird decorations!!

Grim: HEY, LEONA, LET GO OF ME ALREADY!! LET GO, LET GO, LET GOOOOO!

Jack Skellington: GRAAAAAAAAAH!!

Grim: Eeep!?

Grim: I-I was just joking! And now that my tummy's happy, I'll totally help with the prep now!

Jack Skellington: Then make sure you put the decorations back where they came from. And apologize to everyone you caused problems for.

Grim: Fine…

Jack Skellington: Good. Halloween is right around the corner, you know.

Grim: His bones streeeetched, and he had such sharp teeth just now… That version of Jack was super scary.

Leona: Hey, [Yuu]. Go see Trey and Jamil right now, and tell them everything that happened.

Leona: Since it's those guys, I'm sure they already planned for any sort of possible trouble, but…

Leona: If Grim really did eat so much he's full, then there's no way we'll have enough to eat.

Leona: After you talk to them, do whatever Trey and Jamil tell you to. Got it?

1. I understand. 2. Yessir, right away!

Grim: Gweh!? Hey, [Yuu], don't you grab me by my scruff too!

[Grim and Yuu leave]

Leona: What's left is… Those decorations, huh.

Mayor: That's right. We need to finish decorating the gate as quickly as we can. I'll call the closest people and...

Leona: Hey, now, you planning on having everyone stand in a line and take turns going up and down the ladder to set everything up, or something?

Leona: Just have someone call over the witches.

Leona: These are all light. If they carry them up on their brooms and put up the decorations, it'll be over in less than 30 minutes.

Mayor: Eeeh!? But I'm having the witches do a different task.

Leona: Then have someone else do whatever it is they're doing. Halloween is right around the corner, right?

Leona: Do you all even have time to be lax about all this?

Leona: Pretty sure now's the time you want to start thinking about who should do what to get everything done in the shortest amount of time possible.

Jack Skellington: Yeah, I think you're right, Leona-kun. If we're looking for someone to trade jobs with the witches… I think that guy over there should work.

Jack Skellington: We'll tell the witches to come to the town center and have them do this task.

Mayor: We're going with what Leona-kun says, hm… Then, can I ask you to help on a few other things?

Mayor: You see, we're actually facing delays on this task and that one…

Leona: Haah… I just wanted to rest for a bit.

Leona: But it'd be bad if I just let it be and Halloween is a big failure, since I won't be able to go back home.

Leona: Fine. I'll just do a little bit more work, then.

[Mayor's face changes to glad]

[Halloween Town – Center]

[rabble, rabble]

Halloween Town Resident A: Jack, we've finished with our tasks.

Halloween Town Resident B: We're done, too. Oh, and it sounds like there'll be enough candy made in time, too.

Jack Skellington: That's great! Thanks, everyone.

Leona: …Looks like we somehow made it. Now all we can do is hope Halloween goes off without a hitch.

???: For my part, I apologize for all the troubles I caused.

Leona: Yeah, seriously. You can't possibly imagine the amount of extra work I had to do all because of your tantrum.

Skully: However, ever since you took charge, Leona-san, it seems as though all preparations were completed smoothly.

Skully: Vil-san looked over all the completed delicate needlework, and Idia-san provided so much help with difficult calculations…

Skully: I heard you took everyone's strengths and thoughtfully allocated tasks accordingly.

Leona: I didn't do nothing "thoughtfully." I just gave them stuff I didn't want to do.

Skully: Oh, you are most humble. Yes, even Trey-san and Jamil-san were especially thankful for your consideration.

Skully: Because you see, they were lacking in sweets in a greater number than Jamil-san had initially thought.

Skully: He said, if you had not sent [Yuu]-san to inform them…

Skully: We would have been forced to have a desolate Halloween without candy.

Leona: Heh, well, sorry for makin' him work harder, then.

Skully: …You keep a good eye on everything around you. Not only did you look after your schoolmates, but also the townsfolk.

Skully: You were able to get everyone to work together, despite only having met them only a few days ago… Your skill is a sight to behold.

Jack Skellington: That's right!

Skully: Jack-sama!

Jack Skellington: As everyone finished their tasks, they'd all report to me afterwards, you see.

Jack Skellington: When I told them everything was all thanks to Leona-kun's improvement efforts, everyone was so pleased.

Dr. Finkelstein: That's right. Leona's got quite the head on his shoulders. He's a rather capable young man.

Mayor: Absolutely. Whenever we consulted him, he'd always have an idea ready, and once we implemented it, it always went well.

Sally: It was amazing how he didn't even need to leave the town center, and could figure out the situation and give the right instructions right away…

Skully: He never lifted a finger, and yet he was able to expertly give commands… Heheh, sounds like Leona-san is a king to me.

Skully: Perhaps it could be said, then… That this Halloween came to be thanks to two great kings.

Jack Skellington: Yes, it's just as Skully-kun says. Because a king is someone who can bring everyone together.

Mayor: I agree, you guys are so skilled in keeping everyone on task!

Sally: Both of you have amazing leadership skills.

Dr. Finkelstein: Indeed, we've received great inspiration from all of your original ideas.

Skully: Isn't it amazing, Leona-san? Not only are you receiving high praise from the illustrious Jack-sama, but also from all those who admire him…

Leona: Well, whatever, thanks for all the accolades.

Leona: Just hearing all of you say all that is making me feel idiotic for even putting so much thought into everything.

Leona: If someone is recognized as a king by all those who need and admire them…

Leona: I guess that person really becomes their "king," then.

[Savanaclaw Dorm – Lounge]

Savanaclaw Student A: And that's how we do Halloween at Night Raven College. That was epic!

Savanaclaw Student B: I had just as much fun prepping as I did enjoying the events. Man, I can't believe Halloween's over already.

Jack: What are those guys doing…? They should be getting ready for Spelldrive practice.

Ruggie: Guess they're just sufferin' from what we call the Halloween Blues. Y'see it every year. There's always freshmen who're burned out after.

Ruggie: I mean, I totally get the same "we did it!" feeling, sure. But if they keep lounging around like that…

Leona: Hey, you. How long do all of you plan to laze around?

Savanaclaw Student A/B: AH, HOUSEWARDEN LEONA!

Leona: It's almost time for Spelldrive practice to start… You guys must be feeling pretty good to not even be changed yet, huh.

Leona: If you've learned the applied magic needed to change your clothes right here, right now, why don't all you freshmen show me what you can do?

Savanaclaw Student A/B: S-Sorry! We'll go change right now and head towards the Spelldrive field!

Leona: Geez, they're just one pain after another…

Jack: They were all just laying around… But as soon as they saw Leona-senpai, they straightened right out.

Ruggie: Didja see how stiff they were when they shot up straight? …Well, I guess when a lion glares atcha, anyone'd fall in line.

Ruggie: See, that's why when Leona-san's around, everyone's at attention… It's like the whole dorm is in peak condition.

Ruggie: That's Leona-san, for ya. Our king is the best of the best!

Leona: What, I'm a king just 'cause I scolded some of our cubs? That's a pretty cheap price for a throne.

Leona: If you're gonna try to butter me up, try making a little more sense.

Jack: It's not just idle flattery. Just like Ruggie-senpai says, you're our…

Leona: Yeah, yeah, whatever, thanks.

Leona: …Leave the stupid chatter out of it. Time to head to the Spelldrive field.

Requested by @farfalla049 and @raven-at-the-writing-desk

[jestershome]

Werewolf x reader

[sorry if this one’s not as good as the others I just wanted to get something out for you guys, also sorry if their any spelling mistakes]

Reader lives in the forest by themselves, they work as a wildlife biologist and love what they do, though they do get a bit lonely from time to time. so when their friend who worked at an adoption centre asked if they’d like to take on a particularly feisty dog they recently took in, well they just couldn’t say no plus they knew how to deal with animals hell that’s what they do for a living, but when their friend finally arrived… “[friend name]…” they looked down at the ‘dog’ in the crate their friend had brought. “He’s pretty big I know, we haven’t found out exactly what breed he is though” reader put their hands on their friend shoulder “[friend name] that is not a dog…” “huh?” Reader pointed at the sleep ‘dog’ “that is a wolf, you have given me a wolf, where did you even find it?” “W-well we kinda just found him, he looked a little roughed up so we wanted to make sure he was ok” i look at the and sigh “well I guess I am the most qualified at the moment to take care of him, but I can’t take care of him forever.” that’s how reader gained their new ‘dog’ , the next morning however there was no dog and not even a wolf, but a man holding his head in the cage. “Agh…damn what happened last night…must have drank to much” reader stares at the man “w-what did you? How did you get in there and where’s the wolf?!” This spooked the man “what who are you?” “You don’t get to ask questions here!” Reader walked up the cage “how did you even get in there?!” “Hey don’t yell at me I woke up here” looking at him up close they noticed something… “what’s that on your…oh my god…” the man’s ear twisted, his furry brown ear… “what?”.

Reader ends up unlocking the cage, giving him spare clothes, and cooking him something to eat. “How do you exist?” He stuffed his face full of egg “hell if I know, why was I in a cage, did I meet you at a bar or something?” “What no?! My friend thought you were a dog and gave you to me” he looked up face full of food “ah no wha” reader could barely understand him. “Alright out of my house” they stand up “what why?” He swallows “you’re a fully grown man who clearly can take care of himself and not a hurt animal, so I’m not taking care of you” he stands up “o-ok hold on, you want a dog I’ll be a dog” and just like that the same brown orangish appears before them. It wags it tail “nope no I’m not doing this out of my house” he quickly transforms back “ok please just let me stay, I don’t really have a place to stay at the moment and I really need one….” Reader crosses their arms “how exactly does this benefit me in any way” he craws to them “you’re a biologist aren’t you?” “How did you?-“ “I saw your diploma in the bathroom when I was changing, anyway what if I told you I could help you with research, plus when the next time I’ll get an opportunity to meet a cutie like you again” he winks “fine…but if you don’t help me with my work by the next month your out, understandable?” He takes their hand “understandable!” He gave a toothy grin.

[ill write more of them later and flesh out their relationship more lol]

[theemporium]

https://www.tumblr.com/theemporium/732996365739819008/httpspbstwimgcommediaf-cfpsex0aa8a5hformat

PLEASEEE can we have the smallest of blurbs/thots on this, them cuddling into the reader because they’re wee pups after all

-🥀

I KNEW I HAD TO AS WELL

.

You were aware that the forecast said it would rain, but you didn’t realise it would be a full fucking thunderstorm.

You had been huddled in the Red Bull garage when the weather took a dramatic turn for the worse. First, there were just a few radios here and there about some rain hitting the track. Seconds later, a massive dark cloud was covering the track, the sun was gone and the conditions were far too dangerous to finish the end of qualifying. 

You were honestly just happy both your boys were safe as they made their way into the pits, even prouder when you realised this meant they would be starting on the front row together. But then the thunder started and a part of you froze. 

Thunderstorms were never a problem for you. If anything, you enjoyed them. The rain pattering against the window, the distant sound of thunder claps in the air with strikes of lightning as you played some calming music. Being cuddled up in bed, maybe even a book in hand with a warm drink by your side.

But your boys never thought the same. 

You had began moving before you could even process it, but the team wouldn’t let you leave the safety of the garages just yet, which left you watching the interview on one of the screens. You could see it on their faces, even if they tried to hide it. You could see them trying to laugh it off and continue with the questions. You could see the way their bodies flinched, the way they covered their ears, the way they gravitated towards each other for safety. It broke your heart to see because you knew exactly how they were during thunderstorms.

The second they were given the go ahead, the boys were heading straight back to their drivers’ rooms to leave for the hotel as soon as they could. But it was short-lived when both boys barreled into Max’s driver room, Charles rushing towards you before you could even blink. 

A low whine left him as he wound his arms around your waist, tugging you close and burying his face into the crook of your neck as another distant thunderclap echoed outside. 

“I know,” you murmured, holding onto him tightly as your eyes caught Max’s—who you knew was trying to put on a brave face. “Let’s head back to the hotel, okay? Everything is gonna be fine.” 

Both boys were twitchy the whole ride over. All three of you were sitting in the back of the car, with you pressed between both boys as they tried to distract themselves. You could feel the anxiety rolling off them, you could feel the way their bodies tensed and the way their hands tightened on your thighs. You knew they just wanted to be alone and far away from the thunder. 

The second the hotel room door locking sounded through the suite, you heard the distinct sound of clothes ripping before two massive, fluffy beasts were approaching you. Another clap of thunder rendered through the air and both boys let out pitiful whines, cowering slightly as they looked up at you with big eyes.

“My poor boys,” you cooed softly as you reached out to run your hands over the heads, scratching behind their ears until both wolves were nosing at your legs. “C’mon, we’ll do what we do when we’re home.”

And it was a little more squished than the bed you shared at home, but it did the job just fine. You had both wolves squashing you between them, their heads resting on your stomach with the duvet over them. It was a trick you read online with dogs and fireworks, but it seemed to work perfectly with your werewolf boyfriends.

“You both need to eat something soon,” you told them when you felt one of them—probably Charles, if you knew your boys well—pushing the fabric of your shirt up until he could rest his head on your bare stomach. “And I would rather not scare hotel staff with two massive dogs that are technically undisclosed.”

Max let out a huff against your thigh.

“Don’t be a puppy,” you snorted as your fingers threaded through his fur. “Just one meal and then you can transform back. I would like at least thirty minutes with my boys to tell you how proud I am of both of you for getting the front row.”

Charles let out a loving purr as he nuzzled himself further into you.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

.

[maxdibert]

In terms of laws, can we consider that the werewolf prank was a qualified attempted murder? I don't know how it works in Spain or the UK - maybe the terminology is different. But under Brazilian law, I believe it could be considered doubly qualified attempted murder because it involves a vile motive (or "motivo torpe", in portuguese) and a method that prevented the victim from defending themselves ("meio que impossibilita a defesa da vítima").

I think it fits. A vile motive, because it was a "prank" against a student they don't like, who they have been bullying for a long time. And a method that prevented the victim from defending themselves, because a werewolf is a very dangerous creature, so it would be unlikely that a 15-year-old boy would survive the attack.

Of course, that’s exactly what I meant the other day when I was asked to what extent it could be considered attempted murder. The key point you’re talking about is intent. In attempted homicide, there has to be an intention to cause harm. Many Sirius fans (just like his defense attorney would) argue that it wasn’t attempted murder because “clearly, Sirius wasn’t thinking about what he was doing and didn’t intend to kill Snape.” But in a real trial, the defense would, in fact, have to prove that this alleged "lack of intent" was real.

In cases where both the accused and the victim have had no prior conflicts, it’s easier to dismiss the charge of attempted homicide. But in this specific case, the accused (Sirius) has a long history of both physical and verbal violence against the victim (Severus), as well as a well-documented record of expressing his contempt for him since the very beginning of their school years. Therefore, it would be fairly easy to present conclusive evidence showing that the attempted murder was merely the culmination of a years-long cycle of abuse that escalated over time and reached its peak with that incident.

It qualifies as attempted homicide because there is context and precedents supporting the accusation. Sirius wasn’t just pulling a prank on some random student—he was targeting Snape, the student he hated, despised, insulted, abused, and publicly humiliated. There was an underlying violent and demeaning mentality toward him, which would be quite easy to demonstrate with expert testimony from psychiatrists specialized in abusive relationships. It would be very difficult for Sirius to prove that he didn’t intend to harm his classmate because, in reality, he had already harmed him in many different ways before. It would be a lost case for him, which is why the best course of action for his defense would be to try to negotiate with the prosecution to avoid imprisonment, considering that he was already old enough to be tried as an adult.

I don’t know Brazilian law, but if it operates under principles like the ones you mentioned, then in this regard, it has similarities with ours.

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

One of two kinds - Part 1

Masterlist

A/N: "Part 1", Nina? Part 1? And it's 8.7k words long? Yes, yes, yes, part 1. Guess centaur!Sy will have to wait for a bit, right? I don't even know how I came up with the idea for werewolf!Geralt (affectionately known by me and a few others as "Weralt") but OH BOY am I glad I did... And then Geralt kept getting bigger and the Druid kept getting smaller, and now we're left with this.

I don't think this qualifies as monsterfucking just yet, but rest assured I promised someone knotting and that will happen...

Characters: werewolf!Geralt x halfling!druid!OFC (unnamed)

Summary: When you find a wounded, new werewolf in the forest, you can't just leave him lying there. Perhaps the enormous man will turn out to be exactly what you needed...

Word count: 8.7k

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, NSFW, MINORS DNI, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), p-in-v sex (unprotected. Be smarter!), dirty talk, SIZE KINK, annoying banter (❤️), lots of teasing, mentions of sexual assault, murder, blood, violence (that took a turn), and just so that no one is confused and comes after me for this later... SIZE KINK!!! And one suggestion of a very inappropriate use of wildshaping... I think that's all but if I missed any, let me know.

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn @ellethespaceunicorn @mayloma @keanureevesisbae @summersong69 @ylva-syverson @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 @livisss @peyton-warren @ramadiiiisme @mysweetlittledesire

The groans and whines cut through the forest, clearly half-animal half-man to your ears. It awakened your curiosity; it was likely a shifter, or so the wolf-like howls would indicate. Wolf-hybrids were so rare that you almost discarded the possibility immediately, but shape shifters were common enough in all forms.

Swiftly you flew through the thick of the forest, towards the source of the cries. He wasn’t difficult to spot; a bright white fleck on the forest ground – and one of considerable size.

Behind a tree, you shifted back, carefully rearranging your skirts – for some reason – before stepping into the small clearing where the creature cried. He was possibly the largest wolf you had ever seen! An adult male, from the looks of it, but a new one. One who had only found his wolf recently. Older wolves rarely went through the trouble of shifting to their full form unless it was a full moon or mating season...

Careful not to startle him, you crept towards him until his big, golden eyes locked on yours, in them an expression of pain so overpowering that you nearly felt his agony yourself. The cries got louder until one echoed in your head: “Help!” He spoke the Common language, to your surprise. He didn’t feel human, even after you disregarded the obvious animal energies.

“Shh,” you said when he yelped, clearly in tremendous pain. He allowed you to touch his head, leaning into your touch and nuzzling your hand. From here, you could see a rather gruesome cut on his stomach and a bite mark on his thigh from something not much bigger than him – but maybe a lot angrier. “It’s okay, you’re going to be okay,” you whispered to him while trying to think of a way to move the behemoth out of the cold. Even your wolf form wouldn’t be large enough to move him.

With the absence of other sensible options taken into consideration, you arrived at the conclusion that magic was the only viable solution. The creature whined softly as your spell lifted him off the floor, and you dragged his levitating body carefully through the woods, until you found the cave you were looking for. The rough floor was cold, but it would have to do.

“You need to shift back,” you whispered as you sat by his enormous head. Gods, whoever this was had to be an exceptionally large man – especially compared to your small frame... “I know it hurts, and I know it’s terrifying, but I can’t heal something as big as you,” you pleaded. You ran your hands through the soft white fur on his neck in an attempt to calm the wolf down. It was obvious to you that he was fighting his shift, and you knew that meant it would hurt him all the more. He simply couldn’t hold on to his wolf form forever.

Slowly, the rhythm of his breathing steadied under your touch. “Good, good...” you muttered, raking your fingers through his fur. “Stop fighting it, it won’t hurt if you let it happen.” It wasn’t quite a lie, but it was something slightly other than the truth: phasing wasn’t painful, per se, but uncomfortable enough to be experienced that way in the beginning. The feeling was certainly more or less an acquired taste.

“I can’t...” The grunt that sounded in your mind was accompanied by a low growl from the creature.

“Yes, you can, I know you can,” you said as you smoothed a hand over his cheek. Watching a werewolf – or were-anything – phase was a sight somewhere between gruelling and fascinating, but this man somehow made it look powerful and captivating in a way.

His human – or rather, ‘regular’ form, as you were still convinced this man was at least not fully human – was as impressive as his wolf; Approaching – perhaps even exceeding – two metres in height, with broad shoulders and no shortage of muscle. As your curious eyes raked over his form, you couldn’t help but notice other parts of him that were quite sizeable... Immediately, you discarded the thought: All it took was one look at his abdomen and thigh, both of which had sustained quite a bit of damage.

“Don’t move,” you told the man as you placed your hands over the wound on his stomach before you started on your first healing incantation. “I won’t be able to heal you completely, but I should be able to get both of us through the night,” you muttered as you watched the wound carefully, not taking your hands off the man until the bleeding had stopped. At least that put him out of immediate danger...

The wound on his leg, you had already noticed, would require a more finessed approach; it ran rather high on the inside of his thigh – a place that was impossible for you to reach without putting your hands in places that you had better not touch, even as a healer, without it being strictly necessary. Luckily, now that he was no longer continuously fighting his transformation, and with the other wound in a less alarming state, the man seemed to be in considerably less pain.

“Could you, eh... I need to... Please,” you stammered, your cheeks glowing hot as you made vague gestures at his crotch. “Can you move your, eh... Parts... out of the way, please?”

He looked at you and cocked an eyebrow, while a devious smirk spread on his face. “Parts?” he asked, a hint of that same smugness unbecomingly evident in his voice.

You cleared your throat and tried – and failed – to keep your voice steady as you spoke again: “Yes. To put it plainly... Ehm... Move your dick.” The man snorted, lowering his hand tragically slowly and cupping his... package, so you had access to his thigh. Without thinking, you straddled his leg as you put your hands over the wound, quietly marvelling at the sight of his vast, tree-trunk thighs, fighting the urge to moan as the muscles twitched beneath your fingers. “What did this to you?” you asked softly while still concentrating on your spell.

“Don’t know, didn’t see it,” the man grunted. So, he wasn’t one of many words... He let out a sigh of relief as you finished your work and took your hands off his leg. There was no doubt that it was still sore, as you weren’t able to continue your treatment right now – not if you wanted to make it through the cold night with the slightest bit of comfort, at least.

“How does that feel?” you asked the stranger, and he replied with another grunt.

“Much better,” he groaned. Then, he moved his leg in such a way that made you lose your balance, and you tumbled forward, until you were on top of him. Actually, ‘were launched on top of him’ was a far better description. He barely grunted as you landed on him, but when your eyes met, he was looking down at you in utter befuddlement. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were...” He awkwardly pinched his fingers together in a gesture that could have meant absolutely nothing other than ‘small’.

“I’ll have you know I’m exceptionally tall for a halfling, you brute!” you snapped, frowning up at him. Despite your feisty attitude, you didn’t dare move, as you were very aware of the rather unfortunate position on his body you were in. Luckily, he seemed far less plagued by reservations regarding the situation, and before you know it, his large hands grabbed your waist, and he pulled you up towards him. His sly grin never left his face as he set you down on his stomach, just above the wound you had just been working on, which now presented itself as a new scar, the fresh skin pink and shiny and – above all – delicate, making you extra careful not to make any unexpected moves.

“What’s your name?” you asked, feeling it was only appropriate at this point to find out that information about him.

“Geralt,” he said with a low chuckle. You repeated it – it was a rather unusual name – and introduced yourself, still seated on top of his chest. “Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied. “Do you have any idea what happened to you?”

“I... Well, you saw the aftermath. I don’t know what attacked me, and... You seem to know a lot more about what I am than I do,” he said slowly. Something in his voice suggested he was lost, confused and perhaps even a bit scared.

“Get some rest,” you said, conjuring up a soft bed of moss beneath the man, “I’ll try to gather some food.”

It was not an easy task, as it was rather dark out and also quite cold, but you managed to forage a batch of mushrooms and berries that, together with the provisions you carried, should make a nice meal for the both of you. Upon your return to the cave, you saw Geralt, slowly scurrying through the cave – still in the nude, as he of course did not have any clothing at this time. He had almost finished building a small circle of stones. Next to it, there was a pile of branches and twigs, and a supply of larger blocks of wood. Since there was no axe present, those blocks had to be a testament to his incredible strength.

“It’s freezing,” he said plainly when he noticed you standing there. Yes, the temperature. You had already noticed it yourself, but now that you were faced with this man, sanding upright, completely naked, you rapidly felt the temperature of your body rise as you involuntarily let your eyes glide over his imposing form.

“It is...” you replied, never taking your eyes off of his generous endowment. It truly was freezing. A chuckle escaped him – of course he had noticed your completely inappropriate staring – as he sat back down on the layer of moss you had conjured for him. “I can light it,” you said quickly, before Geralt could move towards the stone circle. You sank to your knees next to it, and quickly built a fire. Then, you focused on cooking the two of you a meal.

“It’s not a lot,” Geralt complained as you handed him his portion of the food you had prepared.

“I’m so very sorry! Naturally, I foresaw these circumstances, yet neglected to pack enough food to accommodate a giant like yourself,” you snapped at him. What did he expect you to do? “What are you, anyway?”

“My father is a half-orc, and my human mother clearly isn’t quite right in the head,” he scoffed. You struggled to suppress a chuckle. As far as you were concerned, his mother had had exactly the right idea... “Though I suspect you would disagree with that.”

“I beg your pardon?” you said, not even feigning indignation at the implication in his remark – it was perfectly genuine. How dare he make that assumption? He was right, of course, but how dare he?

For whatever reason, he decided not to press the matter, finishing his meal without making another sound.

“Your mother was also a werewolf,” you said after swallowing the last bite of your own supper. “Your father likely wasn’t, which would explain why it took so long for your first shift to occur. I take it you’ve been away from home for a while, too?” As you had already expected, Geralt nodded in reply to your question. That just about explained the entirety of his current predicament. When you looked into his eyes, the hint of fear was back again, and you couldn’t help but feel bad for the man.

“Alright, I can tell you haven’t the slightest clue as to what’s happening to you, so I will do my best to explain it as clearly as possible,” you said – not that your knowledge on shape shifters was so vast, but it had already become painfully obvious that you knew more than this poor sod. “If you want, I will stay with you until your transformation is complete."

You expected him to argue with you, to tell you to waste your time on something else, or that he would be alright without you. Instead, Geralt accepted your offer without so much as a single complaint – he truly must have been terrified. It wasn’t unimaginable; things were happening to him that were not only new to him, but beyond anything he had ever imagined he could possibly be.

“What do I have to look forward to?” he groaned as he stretched out on the patch of moss again, not bothering to cover his body with... Well, there was nothing he could possibly cover himself with... Your cloak surely wouldn’t suffice – it would barely be enough to cover one of his enormous legs. Besides, you’d get cold if you handed it to him. To fashion a blanket out of moss would be possible, but it would leave you without a bed, as you were really starting to get tired, and using more magic was out of the question. To leave him bare through the night, however, especially in his current condition, would certainly prove disastrous for him. With the fire still going, his attire – or lack thereof – wasn’t an immediate concern. His question, on the other hand, was.

“You have made it through the worst part; the full shift is unanimously more difficult and more painful than the half shift,” you explained. “It should follow within a few days. In the meantime, prepare to feel... moody – although I suspect it wouldn’t be the first time people say that about you – and restless, generally uncomfortable... There won’t be a lot I can do but keep you company and help you through the shift, but at least you won’t be alone.”

“Thank you,” he muttered, turning onto his side on the makeshift bed. This time, when you looked closely, he shivered. “You don’t happen to have anything larger than that handkerchief you call a cloak, do you?”

“I do not, but if you’re nice and stop insulting my size, I can make you something. It would leave us with just one bed, though,” you said, your tone about as snippy as you felt was to be expected after a remark like that.

“I don’t see a problem, there’s plenty of space for both of us on here,” he replied, his eyes holding something just shy of an apology.

“Alright then,” you said, walking over to him and fashioning a cover out of moss for him. It was large enough to cover both of you, but you opted for your cloak as you lay down on the soft, green, makeshift mattress next to him. He’d been right; there was plenty of space – largely because you, of course, hardly took up any.

“Will it always feel like this?” he said suddenly, just as you informed him that you were going to sleep. “The tearing inside, the... pressure?”

“Not from what I’ve heard,” you said softly, turning around to face him and placing a hand on his cheek, his face almost comically large underneath your tiny hand. “You learn to live with the wolf. Right now, you’d do well to remember that you’re not fighting him; there’s simply no point to it, he’s never going away. He just wants to...”

“Play?” Geralt scoffed.

“You’re being sarcastic, but you’re hitting the nail on the head, actually,” you said in earnest. He looked at you, his golden eyes glowing enticingly in the light of the fire. “He wants to get to know you.” Your gentle touch, combined with your words, calmed him down, and he inhaled slowly and deeply. “Get some rest.” On a deep sigh, he closed his eyes, and before long you heard low and loud snores – echoing through the cave...

“Good morning,” he grumbled. Morning? Was it morning? As far as you were concerned, morning came after a good night’s sleep, and you didn’t get that, so morning? Your tiny little behind!

“To you, maybe,” you snapped, “I didn’t sleep a wink. Caves have quite the echo, you know. And you...” He cut you off, surprising you by putting an arm around you and pulling you against him, his lips close to your ear.

“I’m not asleep anymore,” he growled, “why don’t you get some sleep now.” With one swift move, he wrapped his blanket around you too. Why didn’t you get some sleep? Beg your pardon? As if there was even so much as a remote possibility of getting any sleep. It was morning. And what that meant for this man – who, beneath that blanket that you were now under as well, was still very much naked – was that it was really morning.

“I don’t think I’ll be getting any sleep with that giant...” He cut you off again, this time with a bout of roaring laughter that echoed through the cave loudly enough to give anyone a serious headache. “Alright, that’s quite enough, Geralt.” You got up and paced to the other side of the cave, where you inspected your supplies. There wasn’t a morsel of food left after last night, and your water supply was dwindling swiftly – especially now that you had to share it. “There’s a town, not too far from here. I will stock up on some supplies and find you some clothes. Please tell me you know how to hunt?”

He scoffed – a sound that was positively dripping with disgruntlement at your implication. “Leave me the bow,” he grunted, “not that those... darts will kill anything, but I’ll give it my best.” He reluctantly took the crossbow from you and inspected it. “Do you have a knife?” You could tell he tried not to laugh when you handed him one of your daggers, and he closed his mouth again, swallowing the comment he had been tempted to make. “This will do just fine.” The smile that adorned his brutish features wasn’t quite genuine, but it was close.

As you gathered your things and made your way to the entrance of the cave, he stopped you: “What do you mean ‘a town not too far from here’? You’ll be walking for hours!”

“I was never going to walk, dearest,” you taunted before shifting, leaving Geralt baffled at the sight of a rather unusually large raven before him. By means of a goodbye, you cawed a few times before taking flight.

You returned to the welcome sight of a flickering light coming from the cave, and the smell of roasting meat. It was still light out, leaving you with plenty of time for foraging, and mending the heap of scraps you carried in your pack now would make a fine activity for the evening. The sight you were met with when you entered the cave, however, left a thing or two to be desired.

“Would it be too much to ask that for the few days we call this cave our home, we do not turn it into a pigsty?” you snapped as you stepped around a pile of entrails. “Did it occur to you to take care of these beasts outside?”

“I was going to clean that up,” Geralt growled at you, “you returned sooner than I expected.”

“Does the phrase ‘as the crow flies’ mean anything to you, Geralt?” you retorted.

“You turned into a raven, not a crow,” he replied, his uncalled for stoicism only fuelling your anger.

“I hardly think you are in a position to be a pedantic arse about this!” you exclaimed, balling your hands into fists in an attempt to prevent yourself from saying something you didn’t mean – in the interest of keeping the peace for a few days, of course. After a deep breath, you felt confident you could speak without insulting him: “Thank you very much for providing us with food. Here are some clothes.” You handed him the things you had bought him, which he gratefully accepted.

“I’m almost done cleaning the hides,” he said with a kind smile, “In case you wanted a bed of your own tonight.” By the end of his sentence, his voice dropped, as if the thought of you sleeping anywhere other than next to him brought him sadness. Without another word, he put on the garments you had given him. Luckily, you had gauged his size quite accurately, and they fit him well. “No undergarments?”

You snorted. “I think I happened upon the place where you phased, are these yours?” You tossed the scraps you had gathered at his feet. After a brief inspection, Geralt nodded. “Well, then it seems like you never felt the need to wear undergarments to begin with, Geralt.” He smiled at you – and in this moment you’d have given everything to just be able to say he smiled up at you, but seated on the floor like he was, his face was just about level with yours. There wasn’t a hint of embarrassment to his expression, which irked you – to say the very least.

You ventured out into the forest, looking for something to add to your meal – though you doubted Geralt would have any problem whatsoever with a dinner that consisted solely of meat. During your search, you noticed for the first time how lovely this particular part of the forest truly was. You were lucky enough to find mushrooms, root vegetables and a whole host of berries nearby. From where you stood, you could hear a waterfall, and as you walked towards the sound, you clutched your waterskin and prayed that the water was clean enough to drink. It was! In fact, it was nothing short of absolutely perfect, and the banks of the small creek provided you with even more edible plants and herbs to take with you.

“Darling, I’m home,” you teased as you stepped back into the cave. The pile of guts, you noticed, had been removed – mostly. This night, the two of you prepared your dinner together, while jokes of the domesticity of your current situation became more and more frequent. Outside, a particularly harsh wind had picked up, blowing icy air into the cave.

“Perhaps instead of a second bed, we had better use the hides to shield us from that wind,” you suggested carefully.

“Perhaps instead of making a bed right in front of the entrance of the cave, you could have gone around that corner,” he grumbled, pointing at a part of the cave that would absolutely have been better suited for sleeping, “where we wouldn’t have to worry about freezing.”

“And perhaps,” you snapped, failing to keep your anger out of your voice, “I was utterly exhausted from dragging your gargantuan arse through this forest to keep you from dying!”

“Oh, believe me when I say I appreciate it,” he threw back at you, “but wouldn’t it be such a waste of your precious efforts if we still died...”

“As if that wind would actually kill you!” You rolled your eyes at him while he growled at you, and before you knew it, you found yourself in one of the tensest moments of your life so far.

“It wouldn’t kill you either, but it would be pretty fucking uncomfortable, wouldn’t it?” he sighed impatiently.

The worst part of the argument was that the solution was so mind-numbingly simple that neither of you even dared to pitch the idea of just moving the bed to the other side. Instead, you just kept staring at each other, getting angrier with every passing minute, until – much to your dissatisfaction, you finally couldn’t take it anymore: “Let’s just sleep over there, then!” With a snap of your fingers, the moss disappeared, and with another, it reappeared on the other side. “And lay down and strip, so I can take another look at your injuries.”

“One bed, huh?” Geralt remarked, flashing you that cocky grin you had become far too well acquainted with in the short time you had known the man.

“Shut up,” you replied, “you’re warm. It was quite nice.” Heat rose to your cheeks as you spoke the words, and you were convinced you weren’t wholly able to keep the expression on your face free of the shame you felt.

“I thought so too,” Geralt admitted as he lay down on the bed, nude once more, grinning down at you, seemingly not feeling the same embarrassment that you did regarding the situation.

The wound on his abdomen was as little of a problem as it had been the previous night. This time, the only thing that remained of it was a faint scar that looked far older than it really was. The other injury, however, posed the same problem it had before – only this time you were more than comfortable taking a slightly different approach.

“Do you need me to move my... parts out of the way,” Geralt said mockingly while raising a suggestive eyebrow at you. You sighed deeply. This man was simply impossible!

“Yes, Geralt,” you barked at him, “please move your massive cock, before I do it.” You immediately realized your mistake, as the devious glint in his eyes slowly gained assistance from yet another impossibly smug grin that slowly spread across his face. He did exactly what that look in his eyes foretold: absolutely nothing. “I’m not giving you a happy ending with this healing spell.” You spat your words out at him so harshly that for a moment, his face showed a hint of concern that he had gone too far. “I might castrate you,” you added in a sickly sweet voice that brought the grin back to his face, “but it would be a shame...”

“Finally, something we can agree on,” Geralt chuckled – a sound that was cut short by a grunt when the backs of your fingers brushed past his cock on their way to their destination on his thigh. On the way back, you let your fingertips trail the flesh of his thigh slowly, purposely lengthening the amount of time you spent in contact with his parts. The muscles in his thigh twitched as you ran your fingers over them. This time, you hadn’t made the mistake of straddling his leg, and you cursed yourself for that choice, as in that moment you wanted nothing more than for him to launch you onto his chest again.

“God, you got insanely lucky that whatever bit you even missed the goods, darling,” you muttered before withdrawing your hands, eliciting a deep sigh from Geralt.

“I’m even luckier you found me,” he whispered on a sigh. Without speaking, he held a hand out to you, and you took it. He impatiently tugged at your arm, almost hard enough to make you lose your balance again. Instead, you moved, climbing over him until you were laying to his left, nestled into his side. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, “your touch calms me down.”

“Gods, I almost forgot,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief over your apparent indifference. “How are you feeling?”

“Restless, as you predicted,” he replied. “My senses are annoyingly heightened. You smell good. You feel soft.” He turned to face you, wrapping his other arm around you and pulling you against him and laying his forehead against yours, swallowing hard. “I find myself constantly fighting the urge to touch you, taste you...”

“I might be able to help that restlessness, you know?” you said carefully. As clear as it was what other urges he was fighting – judging from the growing pressure against your leg – you found it best to err on the side of caution.

“I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” His voice was only a low growl in your ear.

“That’s disappointing,” you retorted with a challenging tone to your voice. Suddenly, his eyes opened, the look in them fierce – animalistic, even.

“Fine, is that what you want? For me to tear you apart? Don’t think I can’t smell that sweet little cunt of yours,” he snarled before aggressively pressing his lips against yours. The sudden action made you gasp, and Geralt greedily used the opportunity to invade your mouth with his tongue. When he retreated, you eagerly sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, making him moan as you nibbled on it – quite contently, too. Without hesitation, he reached for the collar of your blouse, tearing the fabric away unceremoniously. You allowed him to explore every bit of skin on your neck, moaning with each sloppy, open-mouthed kiss he pressed to the sensitive skin.

From there, he swiftly moved on to your chest, sucking more than only your nipples into his mouth with remarkable ease. His teeth grazed over your skin, luring a sharp gasp from you as you dug your fingernails into his shoulders.

Now that it was the sound of your own pleasure bouncing off the walls of the cavern, the sound bothered you far less than when it had been Geralt’s horrible snoring.

He moved his hand down over your body, the materials of your clothes shredding under his brutish touch. It didn’t matter; you’d mend them later, right now all you wanted was to feel Geralt’s hands on you.

You cursed softly under your breath when he ran one of his fingers through your folds. A low grunt slipped from his lips as you kissed and licked his neck and jaw, then a louder moan when you sank your teeth into his flesh as he pushed a finger into your slick core. When he added a second, he groaned – as did you.

“There’s no way,” he muttered, making you giggle. The fact that he seemed to struggle to push that second finger into your tight pussy made you giddy with excitement, but you also eagerly took the opportunity to finally flash Geralt a smug smile of your own. The fact of the matter was that you weren’t some porcelain doll.

“Come on,” you taunted, “if you can’t even manage a second finger, how are you ever going to put that big, fat cock inside of me? I can take it, I promise.” He laughed when you threw your head back as his finger finally slipped all the way into you. “That’s it, now give me some more, big guy,” you hissed into his ear, earning you a surprised look that held concern as well as a measure of admiration.

Geralt hesitantly positioned a third finger at your entrance and pushed it into you gently, stopping immediately when he saw your face contort into an expression of what he rightfully believed to be pain. “Are you sure?” he whispered, his face displaying clear disbelief as you nodded.

“Go slow,” you moaned, “I’m more than alright, love.” Slowly but surely, his finger inched its way into your tight canal. You took a moment to get used to the slight burn, allowing your body to relax around the intruding digits and accommodate instead of reject them, and then you looked into Geralt’s eyes as you began to move your hips, your dripping core coating his hand with your juices.

He mimicked the rhythm of your hips, pumping his fingers in and out of you, making you moan with every thrust. “Don’t stop,” you moaned, meeting his movements time after time, your words punctuated by increasingly ecstatic cries, “you’re going to make me cum.” You didn’t have to tell him twice, and moments later, your muscles were clamping down on his fingers, spasming erratically while you came undone.

“Gods, you’re beautiful like that,” he murmured to you, stroking your hair and chuckling lightly when his praise made you squirm in his arms. “I wonder if you’re as beautiful when that pretty little mouth of yours is completely stuffed with my cock.” His lewd words were almost enough to drive you all the way up to another peak...

With ample enthusiasm, you made your way down his body, trailing your fingers over his muscles and through the hair on his chest and stomach, until you were seated comfortably between his immense thighs, clenching your own as you let your eyes glide over his parts. He was absolutely massive – so big, in fact, that you hesitantly reached a hand out to touch him. You had confidently talked the talk, but walking the walk would perhaps prove a bit more challenging than you had initially anticipated…

As soon as your fingers came into contact with the soft skin of his cock, your doubts melted away, and were replaced by an almost feral longing to devour him. Slowly, you allowed your fingers to travel the length of his erection, mapping every pulsing vein and every ridge you encountered carefully, committing them to memory, paying attention to the area around the tip that made Geralt moan softly on his exhales. Finally, you wrapped your hand around his member, only managing to cover just over half of his girth with your small hand.

“Gods, you’re tiny,” Geralt whispered, letting out a delighted chuckle and reaching for your head, guiding you gently into a position where your chin rested near the base of his cock. “Oh, fuck me...” he said in disbelief as he stared down at you.

“That’s the idea,” you replied before sticking your tongue out and licking all the way from the base to the top of his cock. It wasn’t hard to guess what he’d been so mesmerized by; you were fairly confident his erection was longer than your head. Slowly, you swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, carefully keeping an eye on his reactions, before taking him into your mouth.

It was easy to see that Geralt tried his very best to hide his amusement at your frustration when you could barely manage to wrap your lips around his tip – only his very best wasn’t quite good enough, and he failed miserably as he tried to choke back his laughter.

“Where’s that big mouth of yours now that you need it,” he asked with a positively maddening grin on his face, but worse than that smirk was the fact that just as you attempted to pull back to answer him, you felt his hand pushing at the back of your head, leaving you sputtering around his cock. He found it all quite entertaining, while you glared up at him, not at all convinced of the hilarity of the situation. After a few moments, his tone changed, along with the expression on his face. “Come on, little one, I know you can manage a bit more than this,” he said softly as he gently stroked your hair, tangling his fingers lightly in it.

You wanted to get angry with him for calling you that, but you just couldn’t – not only because it was so incredibly true, but also because he said it so sweetly, his voice so full of endearment as he gently urged you to take more of him, that you felt pride and a willingness to please him glow deep within you. With his guidance, you slowly took more of him into your mouth, saliva dripping down his shaft as you inched your way down until you simply couldn’t cope with his girth anymore – and you had still barely made it past the tip.

“A bit more,” Geralt grunted above you – and something in you became instantly wildly annoyed with the man and his ridiculous demands.

Abruptly, you pulled your mouth off of him and snapped: “I can’t dislocate my jaw, I’m not a snake!”

“You’re a druid, right?” he asked suggestively, ignoring the irritation in your voice.

“I don’t even know what to say to that,” you stammered. The notion was so utterly ridiculous that it would be foolish at best to dignify it with a response.

Left without options – other than ‘stopping what you were doing altogether and going to sleep, which was just about the last thing you wanted – you continued your efforts, slipping your lips around the head of Geralt’s cock again. This time, you moved your hands over his length while teasing the tip with your tongue, and you soon revelled in the sound of the moans that escaped him.

He didn’t speak, though occasionally he muttered a soft ‘fuck’ under his breath – the low, gravelly sound of which made you clench your thighs together. They were slick with your own arousal and served as an immediate reminder of the ache between your legs. It was impossible now to stop squirming, searching for the friction that would provide you with relief – something Geralt was quick to notice.

He sat up and plucked you off the floor like you weighed nothing – and to him, you most likely truly didn’t – before laying you down on the moss. He kissed you briefly, and then went on his way, kissing down your body until he reached his destination. Strong hands firmly gripped the back of your thighs, behind your knees, pushing your legs open with demanding force.

He took in your scent, the look in his eyes changing from languid bliss to one of pure animalistic need as he inhaled. The hands left your thighs, only to reappear on your hips, gripping you tightly and pulling you closer as he buried his face in your pussy, eagerly tasting your arousal. In this particular area, his size was clearly an advantage, because his tongue covered so much area that he hit all the right places no matter how he went about it. You squirmed in his arms, begging him not to stop, to keep doing what he was doing until you inevitably came hard on his eager tongue.

“Gods, that was fantastic!” you exclaimed, immediately cursing yourself for your enthusiasm as you heard the arrogant chuckle that he let out as you spoke. Your attempt to move away from him was met with resistance, leaving you powerless in his overwhelmingly strong grasp.

“Stay,” he ordered, “I’m not done with you.”

It was the simplest of truths; as soon as the words had left his lips, he trailed around your clit with the tip of his tongue, teasing you for a moment before flattening the muscle against your swollen little pearl. It didn’t take long for one of his hands to leave your hips, and you felt his fingers at your entrance, eager to plunge deep into your waiting core. This time, they slipped into you with ease, much to Geralt’s satisfaction.

Your climax approached swiftly, and you silently thanked Geralt that he didn’t take the opportunity to be a complete arse about that. Instead, he moaned against your skin as he softly kissed your sensitive clit before moving up again until his lips found yours. Somehow, tasting your own arousal on his capable tongue made you even wetter, and you soon squirmed helplessly as he trapped you beneath his enormous body, unable to move away from him so you could beg him to finally take you.

Eventually, he pulled back, breaking your passionate kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he pulled you along as he sat up on his knees.

“I was going to ask about the logistics,” he chuckled, “but this seems fine?” You nodded in reply to the question he so cleverly – yet poorly – attempted to disguise as a statement. After checking whether you were really sure about this, he held you up with only one hand, using the other to line himself up to your core.

The intense feeling of his thick cock slowly entering your body made you screw your eyes shut and knocked the air out of your lungs as your pussy struggled to accommodate his incredible girth.

“Too much?” he asked, his eyes locked on yours, looking for signs of discomfort.

“No,” you breathed, gritting your teeth as you tried to get used to the fullness, “keep going, I told you I can take it.” You searched his eyes for the feral need you had seen in them before, but you found nothing other than concern – until you caught a glimpse of the immense restraint he was showing. It was then that you realized that it took absolutely everything he had not to slam you down onto his cock – it took everything he had not to give you exactly what you wanted. “Come on, big guy,” you growled into his ear – as close as you could get to it, anyway, “put this big, fat dick in me. I want to feel every inch of you inside my tiny little cunt.”

Your crude words were rewarded with a pained low grunt, his quickening breathing, and the pounding of his heart in his chest so ridiculously loud that you could hear it when you put your head on his shoulder. Somehow, it wasn’t enough yet, and you didn’t let up on your pleading until he grabbed the side of your face with his hand. One quick look into his eyes told you you’d finally reached your goal; your relentless begging had eaten away at the resolve to take this slow, and Geralt bowed his head to roughly crushed his lips against yours, as he suddenly dropped you all the way down onto his cock.

“Oh Gods, yes!” you shrieked – the sound swallowed by his mouth firmly locked over yours. He did you the courtesy of giving you a few – brief – moments before lifting you off his cock again.

Compared to the second one, his first thrust had been gentle, and he only got rougher as he plunged into your core again and again, making you scream with every last move. They were mostly cries of utter bliss spilling from your lips – only very few escaped you out of pain. Fact of the matter was that the slight burn you felt as Geralt’s thick cock stretched your walls to their limits – and slightly beyond, perhaps – only added to your pleasure, heightened your arousal, and steadily drove you towards the edge of yet another freefall into rapture.

He had been scared to hurt you before, but seeing you so completely overcome with pleasure seemed to change something. Before you realized what was happening, your back hit the moss, and he hovered above you. One of his hands captured both of yours and pinned them to the ground above your head, while the other managed to manoeuvre your legs onto his chest. Geralt chuckled as he took notice of the fact that your feet barely reached up to his neck.

“So fucking small,” he growled before pulling out and slamming his hips into yours, “so tight.” The angle was amazing – you weren’t the only one who thought so, judging from the sounds that came from the enormous man that hovered over you, who muttered an almost uninterrupted string of profanities as he pumped his cock in and out of your aching cunt. With every new thrust, your tight, clenching walls pulled him closer and closer to his release. “Fuck, I’m going to flood this tiny little pussy,” he growled into your ear in between ragged and uneven breaths before erratically chasing his pleasure with complete, reckless disregard for your comfort – just the way you liked it. When he came inside of you, you clamped down on him, milking his fat cock for all it was worth, until every drop of his seed had spilled into you.

You knew the worst was yet to come; the moment he would pull out, and your sore muscles would clench around nothing, cum dripping from your battered hole… And indeed; when the pressure slowly disappeared, you winced and cried out in pain as you had oftentimes before – only now, you were pulled into a strong embrace, and kissed gently on your parted lips as you gasped for air.

When you woke up, Geralt was behind you, curled up comfortably around your body, and you sighed deeply. You hadn’t felt this way in a very long time; connected, sheltered, wanted. An outcast to your kin, you knew you would never be able to return ‘home’. Refusing the hand of the man your parents had chosen for you might have been excused after the first time, if you had followed that with long weeks of grovelling and begging his family for forgiveness, but since you had run away, you had naturally fallen from grace completely, while bringing grave shame upon your family. Since that day, you had often wondered if the freedom your choices brought you had been worth the price you had to pay for it. Now you knew. It was.

You yawned and stretched – or at least; you attempted to do so, but you were captured in the iron grip of Geralt’s embrace, and the strong arm draped over your waist weighed heavy on your body. It was impossible to move. Absentmindedly your fingers traced the bulging veins in his thick forearm while you remembered how those same arms had lifted you up so effortlessly the night before.

For a while, you basked in the glorious aftermath of your… you’d have called it ‘lovemaking’, perhaps, if you had any indication that he felt for you what you were starting to feel for him. For now, ‘tryst’ would have to suffice. You clearly felt the evidence of his presence in your body – you were sore all over, particularly there where you had so gracefully taken the brutal beating that had seemed such a good idea at the time. Not that you regretted your decision, far from it, even! It was rather the case that you had forgotten how taxing your particular proclivity for sizeable appendages could be. And you were sure you’d gladly forget again, in a few short days.

After some time, you really couldn’t stay put any longer. For one because your stomach was growling, and also because – and this matter was indubitably the more pressing of the two – nature was calling. Next to you, your behemoth prison keeper was fast asleep, somehow snoring considerably less annoyingly than the night before.

“Geralt,” you whispered, to no avail, leaving you with no other option than to raise your voice. “Geralt!” Unsurprisingly, that did not work either. It would simply have been far too easy if it had. It was obvious to you that kicking this man anywhere would hurt you more than it would hurt him. He carried both werewolf and orc genes, for crying out loud! You squirmed in his arms, and when that yielded no result either, you cried out. “Geralt, for the love of the Gods, you don’t even have to wake up, but please let go of me!”

“No,” he muttered, voice thick with his continued slumber, “don’t want you to leave.”

“I’m not leaving, you grandiose fool,” you chuckled, “but I do need to… step outside for a moment. I will be back in a minute.”

With a sigh that was indicative of great reluctance, he lifted his arm off you, allowing you to get dressed and set out to do what needed done. Now that you were free of his grasp – though you wouldn’t dream of abandoning him – you scurried through the woods for a moment, in search of something to still the growling of your stomach.

Your quest for food was successful, but as you began to make your way back to the cave, something grabbed your arm pinning you against a tree.

“What do we have here?” the figure – cloaked, of course – spoke in the Elven tongue. It was a dialect you weren’t quite familiar with, but you managed to understand his words just fine as he spoke of his intentions – malevolent, naturally. With your hands pinned in place, you were unable to wield magic, and thus utterly defenceless against the man, leaving you with two options. The first was to suffer his abuse quietly, as you had done countless times before as you travelled the woods by yourself, the other – and preferable – option was to cry out as loud as you could and hope that help would come swiftly.

Under different circumstances, you would have uttered a general cry for help, and though you were certain that that was exactly what you had set out to do, what came out of your mouth was Geralt’s name, loudly, the sound filled with terror and agony.

“Shut up!” the man before you called out, pressing a dagger to your throat. A single tear escaped your eye as a familiar incantation was followed by the growth of vines from the tree, shackling you to it. Now that the man had a hand free, he let go of your hands and trailed your arms until he reached your face. He gently caressed your cheek – a gesture that made you feel sick to your stomach. Then, before his hand could trail further down, another figure appeared behind him. You were fairly confident it was Geralt, but before you could make sure, you were forced to close your eyes as blood splashed in your face.

When you opened them again, you saw the lifeless body of the elf at your feet – a head shorter than he’d been when he’d been threatening to harm you. You stared at the dead man on the ground, letting your hands drop to your sides as the vines disappeared now that their conjurer was no longer among the living.

“G-Geralt… You… You killed him,” you stammered, still attempting to process what had just happened.

“I did,” Geralt growled as he stepped closer. You felt his large hand, heavy on your cheek as he turned your face towards his and kneeled. “Don’t touch what’s…” His voice trailed off, his unfinished sentence heightening the tension between you.

“Say it, Geralt,” you whispered, “please.”

“No one can touch what’s mine,” he snarled softly, staring intently into your eyes. Without thinking, you lunged for him, wrapping your arms around his neck, and pressing your lips to his so fiercely that it made him laugh before he made an effort to match your fiery passion. When he broke the kiss, the look in his eyes had changed. “Are you scared of me?” he asked hoarsely, to which you answered by shaking your head decisively.

“At the very most I’m covered in elf blood, and I’d like something done about that,” you said, stepping away from Geralt to inspect the elf. When you bent down to check the body, Geralt asked what you were doing. “Free cloak,” you answered as you took the thing off the man’s shoulder. The violence from before had left it with a pretty large tear in the fabric, but it was nothing you couldn’t fix.

“That’s stealing,” Geralt mused softly.

You shrugged. “Why? He’s got no use for it now.” Beside the cloak, you found some rations and money. Geralt allowed you to grab his hand and pull him along to the stream, near the waterfall, where you quickly discarded your clothes and stepped into the chilly water. “Come here,” you called to Geralt, who hesitantly followed.

“It’s far too cold for this,” he grumbled as he helped you wash the blood off your body first, and your clothes after that. There was a hint of something else to his voice; a kind of confusion, though you could not quite put your finger on what the cause of it was.

“I’m sure we can find a way to warm up,” you said as you stepped out of the water, the cold breeze raising goosebumps all over your body. Geralt graciously offered you his shirt – a floor-length gown on you that would in no way stay on your shoulders, but at least it was warmer than being fully exposed to the cold air.

That day, as well as the next two, was uneventful; hunting and gathering, the pile of animal hides slowly growing in a corner of the space you occupied.

“We could stay, you know,” you spoke softly one night, as your fingers drew patterns through the hair on his chest and your empty pussy ached after yet another round of passionate lovemaking.

“Here?” Geralt asked, looking around the dark space.

“I know it’s not much, but we could make it into something?” you pleaded. “I haven’t had a home in a while, and I think the same applies to you.”

“My home will be wherever you are, my love,” Geralt whispered, as if that was all there was to it.

[my-midnight-musings-xoxo]

Major spoilers for MadK!

---

We're returning to MadK, as promised. Makoto is one of my favorite manga characters, there's so much to him and I utterly adore the character writing in this story. I don't know if I've said this before but no one in MadK is a perfect victim, something I've noticed people expect, even subconsciously. Makoto is far from the perfect, even ideal victim if you view it in how people believe victims "should" appear. To refrain from a tangent, let's move on to his design!

(Laby has a great video essay on Jinx that dives into multiple topics including how Dan isn't viewed as a victim because he isn't a "real" victim, highly recommend it).

First the bolo tie. I've mentioned before how it represents J passing on his trauma. Still, in my research to find more symbolism for it I found it was appropriated by Westerners, specifically cowboys and ranchers because of course it was, leading to its worldwide fame. If you want to learn more, Palms Trading Company has an article on its history. I'm going to view the passing of it on to Makoto as an allegory, but that doesn't mean we're finished!

Kiernan's wings. In Japanese culture dragons don't fly as often as Chinese ones do hence they're depicted more serpent-like. I don't believe I'm qualified to deep dive into the symbolism through a cultural lens, so I'll analyze through a story and characters lens.

An interaction that stuck with me after I finished reading was Makoto confronting Kiernan about his..infatuation turned love (this is in Vol 3 Chapter 17 towards the end). Makoto says outright, "I belong to him, which is what makes me so attractive to you. You know you'll never make me yours. You pine. You feel safe." Kiernan partly agrees, thinking that now it's more like being with J himself. Both fail to gain what they truly want from each other, they want J through the other. Kiernan never achieves getting J, but Makoto does at the very end, becoming him only worsens this fate. Taking the wings from someone as obsessed with J as he is serves to contribute to figuratively and literally reaching J. In Vol 2 Chapter 12 after Makoto takes Kiernan's wings he flies up to J, along their wings spread out it's clear he's slowly but surely climbing up to J's position. He asserts he's not going to become a demon like he wants, despite him doing just that. Destroying himself entirely to mold himself into exactly what J wanted, what he was.

The werewolf teeth aren't talked about often, but I find them interesting. Werewolves aren't really a part of Japanese mythology, so I'll be analyzing this generally. They symbolize the duality of humanity and primality, along with repressed desires and the struggle with said desires. It's usually a curse that can be dealt with through a silver bullet. Through some skimming, apparently, that's a myth? Silver represents purity, protection, and along with other things it's associated with the moon. Werewolves turn beneath a full moon. Overall the moon is a symbol of emotion, with full moons symbolizing heightened emotions, completion, and transformation. The sun and moon are direct opposites in this position, adding to the dichotomy of werewolves.

J and Makoto reflect and oppose each other perfectly. Both are clearly victims, both destroyed by decades (even centuries) of suffering, and both reflect their inner child. Both wanted to be truly loved. In a way, they found each other. In J's case, he shed his facade, revealing a lonely child who simply wanted love, the very notion distorted from years of abuse, even from Kiernan, someone who was supposed to love him. We get little information about their relationship, and I know they're demons, but it's still tragic. Makoto lost himself the way J did, becoming nobody.

This manga is wonderful and has endless content to analyze and muse about! The day I can hold it in my hands I'll be over the moon, I just don't want to have to explain to my parents what depravity I've bought ehe.

I hope this was sufficient, or at least interesting to read. Not quite sure what I'll muse about next. I have a draft about MadK and how it'd function as a musical, unfortunately I have next to none musical theater knowledge so that probably won't be posted for a while. Maybe I'll muse over certain scenes I'd like in MadK.

Hope to post this weekend, no promises <3

[taeswolfie]

𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝑭𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 : 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑺𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏

☽︎𝑵𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝑺𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒍☾︎

Ch.06 - Ch.08

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x fem!Reader

Word count: 5.5k

Y/n, Stiles and Scott pull the school doors closed behind them as they hide from the Alpha. "Lock it, lock it!" Scott urges.

"Do I look like I have a key?" Stiles snaps.

"We need to grab something." Y/n says.

"What?"

"I don't know! Anything!" Stiles thinks for a moment and gets an idea. He gets up and looks out of the windows at the bolt cutters left on the ground. Y/n and Scott also look out the window spotting the cutters as well. "No." She shakes her head.

"Yes."

"Stiles, no, don't." Scott tries to stop him but it's too late, Stiles slips out of the doors. He looks around and carefully makes his way towards the cutters. Scott and Y/n keep an eye out and soon enough the Alpha stalks out from behind the Jeep. "Come back, come back!"

"Stiles!" Y/n and Scott bang on the door to warn him. Stiles looks back at them before noticing the Alpha. The Alpha charges and Stiles bolts back towards his friends, slipping back into the school and placing the cutters into the door handles. They all hold the doors for a moment before looking out again, finding the Alpha nowhere in sight.

"Where is it? Where'd it go?" Scott asks. Stiles takes his flashlight and shines it outside. When he doesn't find anything they back away from the door. "That won't hold, will it?"

"Probably not."

"Definitely not." Y/n sighs. They take a moment to breathe, but a howl ripping through the air makes them bolt down the dark halls. They scramble into a classroom.

"The desk." Stiles directs. He and Y/n pull one side and Scott pushes the other. It scrapes against the floor and Stiles stops them. "Shh, stop, stop. The door's not gonna keep it out."

"I know." Scott sighs.

"I hate your boss."

"What?" Y/n and Scott both asked.

"Deaton, the Alpha?"

"Are you insane?" Y/n glared. "Alan is not the Alpha."

"Yes, murdering psycho werewolf."

"That can't be." Scott argues.

"It definitely can't."

"Oh, come on. He disappears, and that thing shows up ten seconds later to toss Derek 20 feet through the air? That's not convenient timing?"

"It's not him."

"He killed Derek."

"Alan is not the Alpha!" Y/n growls out. Stiles double takes as he notices her glare and subtly leans away from her. It's never fun being on the receiving end of her anger.

"No, Derek's not dead." Scott denies. "He can't be dead."

"Blood spurted out of his mouth, okay? That doesn't exactly qualify as a minor injury." Stiles points out.

"He's a werewolf, you don't know what they can heal from."

Stiles ignores Y/n's comment. "He's dead, and we're next."

"Okay, just... What do we do?" Scott asks.

They all pant from the adrenaline as Stiles thinks. "We get to my Jeep, we get out of here, you seriously think about quitting your job, good?"

"If he's the Alpha what happens to me, huh? Where do I go?" Y/n questions him.

"Uh... You could move in with me." Y/n rolls her eyes at him as they go over to the window. Scott tries to open it, but Stiles suddenly stops him. "No, they don't open. The school's climate-controlled."

"Then we break it." Scott suggests.

"Which will make a lot of noise." Y/n points out.

"Then we run really fast." He notices how far the car is. "Really fast." He looks at the Jeep more and furrows his brows. "Stiles, what's wrong with the hood of your Jeep?"

"What do you mean? Nothing's wrong."

"It's bent."

"Dented?" He moves around Scott to look for himself.

"No." Y/n also examines it. "Like bent."

"Wha- what the hell ha-" Stiles is cut off by Y/n's scream and a window shattering. They duck down as an object slides across the floor. Stiles shines his light on it and they can see the scratch marks on the battery to the Jeep. "That's my battery." He goes to get up only for Scott to pull him down.

"Don't."

"We have to move."

"He could be right outside."

"He is right outside." Y/n snaps.

"Just let me take a look." Scott hesitantly peeks his head over the sill to look outside, but doesn't see anything.

"Anything?" Stiles peeks up too.

"No."

"Move now?"

"Move now." They get up and go out into the hall, Scott looking both ways before starting to go to the right. "This way."

"No, no, no, no. Somewhere without windows."

"Literally every room has windows." Y/n says.

"Somewhere with less windows."

Scott gets an idea. "The locker room." They make their way to the locker room and close the door. "Call your dad." He orders Stiles.

"And tell him what?"

"I don't know, anything. Gas leak, a fire, whatever. If that thing sees the parking lot filled with cop cars, it'll take off."

"What if it doesn't? What if it goes completely Terminator and kills every cop in sight, including my dad?"

"They have guns."

"Scott, it took a wolfsbane-laced bullet to slow Derek down. Regular bullets are gonna hardly scratch that thing out there." Y/n gestures vaguely outside.

"Then we... We have to... We have to find a way out and just run for it."

"There's nothing near the school for at least a mile." Stiles says.

"What about Derek's car?"

"That could work." Stiles perks up at the idea. "We go outside, we get the keys off his body, ugh," he lightly grimaces, "and then we take his car."

"And him."

"Fine. Whatever." They start walking towards the door but Scott, hearing something, stops them.

"I think I heard something."

"Like what?"

"Shh, quiet." Y/n listens and hears shuffling, her and the boys backing away. Stiles' light shines on the door and Y/n snatches it from him, turning the light off and sitting it aside.

"Hide." She orders. Stiles goes for a locker, it rattles as he opens it and gets inside. "Stiles, what-" He shuts the door. Y/n groans as she and Scott also hide in a locker, her being a bit more quieter. She closes her eyes and tries to calm her breathing. There's something she could be doing, there's something she should be doing, but she's too scared. She can't even spark a candle with how rattled her nerves are. She hears the door handle turn, then the door opens. There's a scream and she and Stiles fall out of the lockers. The janitor had discovered them.

"Son of a bitch!" He exclaims and the teens try to shush him. "Quiet my ass, what the hell are you trying to do, kill me? All three of you, get out."

"Just listen for half a second, okay?" Stiles tries.

"Not okay. Get the hell out of here right now." He ushers them out and pushes them out of the locker room.

"Please, just listen to us." Y/n pleads, but it's no use.

"Just shut up and go." He suddenly screams as he's yanked back and the door slams, a growl being heard. The janitor slams against the door with a scream, blood stains the window. He screams more and Scott tries to open the door. It doesn't budge. Stiles and Y/n pull him away and they run.

They make it to another door outside, but when they try it they find it's blocked from the other side. Scott looks through and spots a dumpster blocking the doors. "It's a dumpster."

"He pushed it in front of the door. To block us in." Stiles said.

"At least we know he's sorta organized." Y/n huffed.

"Come on, help me." Stiles tries to push the door open, but Scott pulls him away.

"Stop!"

"I'm not dying here." The trio go down the halls. "I'm not dying at school."

"We're not going to die." Y/n tries to assure.

"God, what is he doing? What does he want?"

"Me." Scott snaps. "Derek says it's stronger with a pack."

"Yeah, great. A psychotic werewolf who's into teamwork. That's- that's beautiful." Scott stops them as he looks out a window. The Alpha sits on the roof staring at them. Y/n's breath hitches when he starts running along the roof towards them. The teens take off and a moment later the windows shatter as the Alpha bursts through and chases them. They turn and go through the doors to get to the stairwell and go down. They run through the basement area and hide behind some old lockers. Scott looks around the corner and sees the Alpha just down the way and ducks back. The Alpha growls as it looks around for them.

"Go." Scott mouths and they move away and further into the basement.

"All right, we have to do something." Stiles says.

"Like what?" Y/n pants.

"I don't know. Kill it, hurt it, inflict mental anguish on it- something." Glass shatters somewhere making them flinch at the sound. Stiles looks over and sees that they're standing in front of a random room with a heavy door. He reaches into his pocket, his keys slightly jangling.

"Stiles, what-"

"Shh, shh, shh." He shushes her. He carefully pulls his keys out and tosses them into the room. He pulls the two back as the Alpha growls, barreling down the hall and into the room. Stiles and Y/n push the door closed. "The desk. Come on, the desk." Scott pushes a heavy desk forward and they position it to block the door. The Alpha tries to open the door, managing to move it a bit, but the door remains closed. They smile at each other for their small victory.

Then they all jump when the Alpha rams the door again. It still doesn't budge. "Come on, Scott." Y/n urges him to hop over the desk.

"What?"

"Come on." She gestures for him again and, with a nervous glance through the small window, he obliges. Stiles starts inching towards the blocked door making Y/n tap him. "What are you doing?" She whispers.

"I just wanna get a look at it."

"Are you crazy?" Scott asks.

"Idiotic more like it." Y/n bit out.

"Look, it's trapped, okay? It's not gonna get out."

"Which is our chance to leave, don't ya think?"

He ignores her and climbs onto the desk to peek through the window. "Yeah, that's right, we got you."

"Will you shut up!" Scott whisper yelled.

"I'm not scared of this thing."

"You should be." Y/n scolds. A thump against the door and Stiles jumps back, scrambling off the desk.

"I'm not scared of you." He yells at the door. "Right, 'cause you're in there, and we're out here. You're not going any-" There are crashing sounds as the Alpha tears through the ceiling.

"Stiles." Y/n whines, the ceiling starts caving as the Alpha crawls through the vents and they run again.

They're running through the basement when Scott stops them. "Wait. Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Stiles asks. Y/n listens and her eyes widen.

"It sounds like a phone ringing."

"What?"

"I know that ring. It's Allison's phone. Stiles, I need your phone." Stiles rummages through his pocket and hands Scott his phone. He immediately dials Allison's number.

"Stiles?" She answers.

"It's me, where are you?"

"I'm in the school looking for you, why weren't you at my place?"

"Where are you right now?"

"On the first floor."

"Where? Where are you exactly?"

"The swimming pool."

"Get to the lobby. Go now."

"Okay, okay, I'm coming." Scott gives Stiles his phone back and the three rush to meet up with Allison.

"Why did you come?" Scott asks as soon as he sees her. "What are you doing here?"

"Because you asked me to." She says it as if it's obvious.

"I asked you to?" He glances back at his friends in confusion. She pulls out her phone and shows him a text that she had gotten.

Meet me at the school. URGENT -Scott

"Why do I get the feeling you didn't send this message?"

"Because I didn't."

"Did you drive here?" Stiles asks.

"Jackson did."

"Jackson's here too?" Scott exclaims.

"And Lydia, what's going on?"

"Lydia? What-" Y/n frowns.

"Who sent this text?" Allison's phone rings and she answers. "Where are you?" A door opens behind her and Lydia and Jackson group together with them.

"Finally." Lydia sighs. "Can we go now?" Heavy thuds sound from above them and Scott grabs Allison's hand.

"Run!" Y/n orders and they all start to sprint just as the Alpha bursts through the ceiling. They run down the hall, the Alpha in hot pursuit, and they crash through the first door they could. Scott locks it right behind them. Y/n backs away and lightly bumps into Stiles as he stares at the wall. When she turns around she realizes why he stopped. "Oh no." She muttered.

The two turn as the other four start to barricade the doors. "Help me get this in front of the door." Scott directs.

"Scott, wait, not here." Stiles tries to warn.

"What was that? Scott, what was that?" Allison questions.

"What came out of the ceiling?" Lydia sounded scared.

"Will you just help me?" Scott says. "The chairs- stack the chairs."

"Guys- Can we just wait a second? You guys, listen to me, w- can we wait a second? Guys? Stiles talking. Can we hang on one second, please?" Stiles repeatedly tries to get them to stop, but they're too panicked to listen.

"HEY!" Y/n yells and the sound makes the frantic teens stop and actually listen.

"Okay. Thank you." He says to her. "Nice work. Really beautiful job, everyone. Now... What should we do about the 20 foot wall of windows?" He gestures widely to said wall. They're quiet for a moment until Allison breaks the silence.

"Can somebody please explain to me what's going on, because I'm freaking out here. And I would like to know why." Scoot takes a few steps away to think. "Scott?" She calls after him.

Y/n and Stiles glance between Scott and the waiting teens when Stiles decides to speak up. "Somebody killed the janitor."

"What?" Lydia whimpered.

"Yeah, the janitor's dead."

"What's he talking about? Is this a joke?" Allison laughed a bit.

"I wish it was." Y/n frowned.

"What? Who killed him?" Jackson asked.

"No, no, no, no... This was supposed to be over... The mountain lion killed-" Lydia was cut off.

"No, don't you get it? There wasn't a mountain lion."

"Who was it? What does he want? What's happening?" Allison whispered the last part. She then looked at Scott. "Scott!"

"I-I don't know." He stuttered. "I-I just- if- if we go out there, he's gonna kill us."

"Us? He's gonna kill us?" Lydia said.

"Who? Who is it?" Allison demanded.

Y/n and Stiles were at a loss. Scott sighed. "It's Derek. It's Derek Hale." His two friends slightly widen their eyes at him.

"Derek killed the janitor?" Jackson furrowed his brows at Scott.

"Are you sure?" Allison asked.

"I saw him." Scott affirmed.

"The mountain lio-'' Lydia tried to deny it again.

"No, Derek killed them."

"All of them?" Allison's voice seemed to get a bit quieter.

"Yeah. Starting with his own sister."

"The bus driver?"

"And the guy in the video store. It's been Derek the whole time. He's in here with us. And if we don't get out now, he's going to kill us, too."

They're all quiet for a minute until Jackson speaks up. "Call the cops."

"No." Stiles shakes his head.

"Wh-what do you mean, 'no'?"

"I mean, no. You wanna hear it in Spanish? Noh. Look, Derek killed three people, okay? We don't know what he's armed with."

"Your dad is armed with an entire Sheriff's department. Call him."

"I'm calling." Lydia fished her phone from her purse.

"No, Lydia, would you just hold on a sec-" Stiles tried to stop her, but Jackson pushed him back making Y/n shove Jackson's arm away.

"Don't touch him." She warned, placing herself between them.

"Hey." Scott stepped forward and Jackson backed off.

Lydia perked up a bit when someone answered her. "Yes, we're at Beacon Hills High School. We're trapped, and we need you to-" She pauses. "But-" Lydia pulled the phone away from her ear and frowned at it. "She hung up on me."

"The police hung up on you?" Allison asked incredulously.

"She said they got a tip warning them that there are gonna be prank calls about a break-in at the high school. She said if I called again that they're gonna trace it and have me arrested."

"Okay, then call again."

"No, they won't trace a cell, and they'll send a car to your house before they send anyone here." Stiles informed.

"What the- what- what is this? Why does Derek wanna kill us? Why is he killing anyone?"

No one can answer and they all end up looking to Scott for answers. "Why's everyone looking at me?"

"Is he the one that sent her the text?" Lydia asked.

"No. I mean, I- I don't know."

"Is he the one that called the police?" Allison questioned next.

"I don't know!" Scott snapped. Allison's mouth went into a thin line and she looked away, upset.

"All right, why don't we just back off the throttle here, yeah?" Stiles gently grabbed Scott and pulled him aside, Y/n following. They began to speak in quiet tones. "Okay, first off, throwing Derek under the bus, nicely done."

"I didn't know what to say. I had to say something. And if he's dead then it doesn't matter, right? Except if he's not." He sighs. "Oh, God, I totally just bit her head off."

"And she'll get over it." Y/n assured. "For right now, we need to focus on how we're getting out of here alive."

"But we are alive. It could've killed us already. It's like it's cornering us or something." Y/n nervously clenched her teeth at this. They were being cornered, trapped, hunted. She's been hunted before, and although the hunter is different, the circumstances are the same.

"So what, he wants to eat us all at the same time?" Stiles asks.

"No! Derek said it wants revenge."

"Against who?"

"Allison's family?"

"Maybe that's what the text was about. Someone had to send it."

"Okay, assheads..." Jackson calls the trio. "New plan. Stiles calls his useless dad and tells him to send someone with a gun and a decent aim. Are we good with that?"

"Can you just shut up for once, Jackson? Or is your head shoved too far up your ass to hear anything but your own voice?" Y/n snapped and the blonde glared at her.

"He's right." Scott agrees with Jackson. "Tell him the truth if you have to, just call him."

"I'm not watching my dad get eaten alive." Stiles glances around and shakes his head, turning his back.

"All right, give me the phone." Jackson rushed at Stiles. As soon as he touched him Stiles whipped around and decked him. Y/n gasped, a little startled at the action as Jackson fell to the ground.

"Jackson!" Allison called and she rushed to check on him. "Are you okay? Hey, are you okay?"

Stiles breathes a bit heavier and he pulls his phone from his pocket to dial his dad. "Dad, hey, it's me. And it's your voicemail. Look, I need you to call me back now. Like, right now." There's sudden banging on the barricaded door and everyone backs up together while looking at it. "We're at the school. Dad? We're at the school." He hangs up.

The Alpha keeps pounding at the doors so much the screws holding the locks in place begin falling out. "Oh, God. Oh, my God." Lydia clutches onto Jackson's arm. Allison and Scott hold each other and Y/n unconsciously grabs Stiles' hand.

Y/n's mind races like a trapped animal as she tries to think of a way to get away. "The kitchen." She blurts. "The door out of the kitchen leads to the stairwell."

"Which only goes up." Scott says.

"Up is better than here." Stiles agrees with her and they all bolt to the doors. There's a crash as the Alpha breaks through the barricade and the teens run up the stairs, into a hall. They try a few doors until Allison finds the Chem room unlocked and they all rush in, Scott putting a chair under the handle to 'lock' it. They all let go of each other and stand as still as possible as low growls are heard in the hall. The Alpha's shadow passes the window of the door.

This isn't right. Y/n thinks to herself. He can hear us, our heartbeats are too erratic to ignore. He knows we're here. What's he doing? What's he planning? Everyone relaxes slightly as the shadow passes, except Y/n. Every single cell in her body is screaming at her 'run, you are being hunted, run!'

"Jackson, how many people can fit in your car?" Scott whispers.

"Five or six if two people squeeze on someone's lap."

"Six? I barely fit in the back." Allison whispers in protest.

"It doesn't matter. There's no getting out without drawing attention." Stiles comments.

"What about this?" Scott goes over to the other door in the room, Stiles and Y/n follow. "This leads to the roof. We can go down the fire escape to the parking lot in, like, seconds."

"That's a deadbolt."

Scott sighs then perks up again. "The janitor has a key."

"His body has the key." Y/n corrects.

"I can get it. I can find him by scent, by blood."

"Well, gee, that sounds like an incredibly terrible idea. What else you got?" Stiles says.

"I'm getting the key."

"Scott, don't-" Y/n tries to protest, but he brushes past them.

"Are you serious?" Allison asks when he gets to her.

"Well, it's the best plan. Someone has to get the key if we wanna get out of here."

"You can't go out there unarmed."

He looks around and grabs a plastic pointer in the shape of a little pointing hand, everyone just looks at him. "Well, it's better than nothing."

"There's gotta be something else." Stiles says.

"There is." Lydia answers and tilts her head toward the chemicals cabinet.

"What are we gonna do? Throw acid on him?"

"No. Like a fire bomb. In there is everything you need to make a self-igniting molotov cocktail."

"Self-igniting..." Stiles trails off.

"Molotov cocktail!" Y/n enunciates excitedly while everyone else just looks at Lydia in question.

"What? I read it somewhere." Lydia brushes off.

"Lydia, you genius!" Y/n gushes and Lydia lets slip a small smile at her friend's praise.

"We don't have a key for that either." Stiles points out.

"Sure we do." Y/n shrugs off her jacket and wraps it around her fist before punching the glass, clearing the shards away with the fabric so they could get things safely. She shakes out her jacket and puts it back on. Pretty soon various bottles are set on a table where Lydia starts mixing things in a conical flask.

"Jackson, hand me the sulfuric acid." She asks. He reaches for a bottle, hesitating at the sight of two brown bottles right next to each other. After a moment he picks the one on the right and hands it to her. She pours in some of the liquid, mixes it a bit more, and corks it, handing Scott the completed molotov cocktail.

"No." Allison protests. "No, this is insane, you can't do this. You cannot go out there."

"We can't just sit here waiting for Stiles to have to check his messages." Scott says.

"You could die. Don't you get that? He's killed three people."

"And we're next." She sighs and shakes her head at him. "Somebody has to do something." He steps around the table, she steps in front of him.

"Scott, just stop." She starts to tear up and her voice gets watery. "Do you remember- do you remember when you told me you knew whether or not I was lying? That I had a tell. So do you. You're a horrible liar. And you've been lying all night. Just… Just please- please don't go. Please don't leave us. Please." She looks at him pleadingly, but his mind is already set.

"Lock it behind me." He moves away until she pulls him back and kisses him. One more look and Scott leaves the classroom for the dark halls of the school.

Everyone stands in silence, either too scared or too tense to speak. Y/n would hardly be able to hold up a conversation anyway if there was one. They all linger near the door, waiting for Scott's return. Y/n stands across from Allison, Lydia and Jackson, Stiles stands next to her. She can't get that word out of her head. Hunted. The feeling of being stalked and not knowing if these are your last moments is something she hasn't felt in years and never wanted to feel again. She notices her hands shaking slightly and clenches them to try and stop it, stop the fear. I'm not weak, I'm strong. I'm-

She feels a soft hand grab hers to gently unwind her stiff digits, intertwining their fingers with hers. She looks down at the hand and follows the arm up to Stiles' face. He gives her a small comforting smile and she offers a wobbly one in thanks.

"I don't get this." Allison speaks for the first time since Scott left. "I don't get why he's out there, and why he left us. And I can't... I can't stop my hands from shaking." Her voice gets shaky from fear and anxiety.

Jackson gently grabs her hands and comforts her. "It's okay. Okay, it's gonna be okay."

She nods and gives a small smile. "Okay."

Lydia glances over at the chemical bottles nervously. "Jackson, you handed me the sulfuric acid, right? It has to be sulfuric acid. It won't ignite if it's not."

"I gave you exactly what you asked for, didn't I?" He slightly snapped.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure you did." Y/n frowns at him, the sudden pit in her stomach telling her he didn't actually give Lydia what she asked for.

A sudden roar shakes the school, Y/n's breath hitches and she clenches her hands over her ears. She feels her eyes shift and she squeezes them shut to hide the flare of purple. Jackson gasps and grips the back of his neck, grunting in pain. "No, no, no, no." She mutters to herself.

"Hey, hey. What's wrong?" Stiles puts his hands on her shoulders and his brows raise at the few tears making stains on her cheeks.

"I can't." Her voice is barely above a whisper. "I can't- Don't do it." He doesn't understand what she's talking about, but he pulls her to him anyway, wrapping his arms around her to try and ease whatever is happening. It seems to work as her hands fall from her head to hold onto his jacket instead.

Jackson screams in pain as he falls to his knees and Stiles looks at him to notice the claw marks. Allison and Lydia help him up as he lightly pants. "Uh, no, I'm fine." He shrugs their hands off. "Like, seriously, I'm okay."

"That didn't sound okay at all." Allison says.

Y/n loosens her grip on Stiles a bit as she calms. She forces her eyes to become e/c again before she opens them to look at Jackson. "What's on the back of your neck?" Stiles questions as he reaches towards Jackson. He slaps Stiles' hand away.

"I said I'm fine."

"It's been there for days. He won't tell me what happened." Lydia said.

"As if you actually care."

"Don't talk to her like that." Y/n snapped at him. Y/n doesn't care how she's feeling, you don't treat her ginger princess that way. There was a sudden little noise that caught her attention, the faint sound of a key turning drawing her eyes to the door. Scott is right outside, but he's not himself.

"All right, can we not argue for half a second here?" Stiles tries to diffuse the situation.

"Where's Scott?" Allison wonders. "He should be back by now." Y/n can feel him. He wants to kill, but Allison's voice has triggered something in him, he's fighting the Alpha's call. He snaps the key in the door to keep them safe from himself. Everyone turns their head at the sound and Allison spots Scott's silhouette in the window. "Scott!" She rushes to the door, it won't open. "Scott!" She jiggles the handle and bangs on the door, calling for Scott.

"Where is he going?" Lydia asks.

Allison keeps trying to get the door open. "Scott. Scott! Scott!" She calls, but he won't answer.

"Stop. Stop!" Allison turns to look at Lydia. "Do you hear that?" Everyone listens and the sound of approaching sirens greets their ears. "Listen." They rush to the window to see police cars pulling into the lot.

...

"You sure it was Derek Hale?" Noah asks his son, Y/n and Scott as he leads them into the parking lot.

"Yes." Scott affirms.

"I saw him too." Stiles backs up.

"What about the janitor?"

"We're still looking." Noah responds.

"Did you check under the bleachers? Under them?"

"Yeah, Scott, we looked. We pulled them out just like you asked, there's nothing."

"I'm not making this up."

"I know, I believe you, I do."

"No, you don't. You have this look like you feel bad for me. Like you wanna believe me, but I know you don't."

"Listen... We're gonna search this whole school. We're gonna find him. Okay? I promise."

"Sheriff!" Someone calls.

"Stay. All three of you."

"Well, we survived, dude." Stiles says once the Sheriff walks away. "You know? We outlasted the Alpha. It's still good, right? Being alive?"

"When we were in the Chemistry room, he walked right by us. You don't think that it heard us? You don't think it knew exactly where we were?" Y/n knows he knew where they were, she could feel it.

"Well, then how come we're still alive?"

"It wants me in it's pack." He sighs. "But I think, first... I have to get rid of my old pack."

"What do you mean? What old pack?"

"Allison. Jackson, Lydia. You and Y/n."

Stiles was quiet as he processed this. "The Alpha doesn't wanna kill us."

"It wants me to do it. And that's not even the worst part."

"How in holy hell is that not the worst part, Scott?"

"Because when he made me shift... I wanted to do it. I wanted to kill you. All of you." He admits and Y/n frowns. She remembers the call, the call to shift, to kill. An Alpha's roar is a powerful thing. Other wolves or similar creatures are compelled by it. She doesn't understand why it affected her at all, she wasn't a werecreature. But she could feel it, the power behind the command, the authority that said obey me. It made her eyes change and she doesn't know why.

They're quiet for a moment. Scott looks at his friends guiltily until his eyes focus on something over her shoulder and his brows furrow. He walks around them and they follow, Y/n lets out a gasp when she sees what caught his attention. "Dad!" She yells and pushes past the boys in a rush. Alan looks up from his spot on the back of an ambulance just in time to see Y/n skid to a stop in front of him, happy tears in her eyes. "You're okay!" She hugs him carefully in case he's hurt.

"I'm okay." He assures. He has a small smile on his face as he pats her back. Once or twice, when he was hurt or she was extremely panicked, she has slipped and called him 'dad' and, while he may not be her father, it still makes him happy that she cares enough to think of him like that. She lets him go, but still stays near him. "There you are." Scott and Stiles catch up to Y/n.

"How..." Scott trails off. "How did you…"

"Get out? Not easily. And from what they tell me, I'm alive because of you. I think I owe you a raise." Alan chuckles.

"Guys, come on, let's let the EMT's do their job. You can talk to him later." Noah directs the teens.

"But-" Y/n panics a little at the thought of leaving her guardians side.

"You can stay with him, Y/n." He allows and she gives a grateful smile. Scott goes to talk to Allison and Stiles glances back at Y/n to make sure she's really okay. He still thinks Deaton is the Alpha, but his conviction dies a bit when he sees how relieved Y/n looks that he's okay.

Ch.08

[zwy01]

Noble OCs - Paradiso

More OCs from one of my four original noble clans, the Paradiso! They are the Clan of Miracles and Wisdom and their current Clan Leader is Titus Paradiso, whose heir is undecided at the moment but both of his twins Anastasia Faye Paradiso and Anabella Fleur Paradiso have the potential. Their clan’s soul weapon is book Liebe.

For complete info please check out the link below:

(Just a quick note, everyone is a noble here. There are no hybrids. In my headcanons “pureblood” and “non-pureblood” are just terms that nobles use with each other to broadly describe how affiliated someone is with their own clan. And I say “broadly” because there is much more to it and I think it deserves a post of its own. For now “pureblood” can be seen as a “strong enough and qualified to inherit the clan’s soul weapon and become Clan Leader” and “non-pureblood” as “an ordinary clan member” kind of thing. And being either has little to do with lineage and more of just the individual itself. Again, definitely posting more on that in the future)

Straight to the characters.

Kronos Paradiso: Pureblood. Uncle of Roctis Kravei. Alive in the present day, belongs to Gejutel’s generation.

Kronos oversees floors 1 to 100 of Minerva, the Paradiso Clan’s library tower. He’s part of a team that takes care of the tower, but he’s not exactly a protector or defender per se; neither are any of the nobles of his rank in Minerva. One unique characteristic of Paradiso nobles is that none of them can fight, which includes the Clan Leaders. They’re the only non-combat based clan in Lukedonia. This would mean that Kronos and his colleagues are more like figurative guardians than literal knights. Minerva does have knights as well, just that it’s not what Kronos and his colleagues do. Kronos is a member of the “Keepers”, a team of five high-ranking Paradiso Clan members whose job is to monitor the floors they’re assigned to. As one of the Keepers, Kronos’ job is to maintain a list of who comes and goes, report any incidents, assist the scholars and tend to their needs, kick out the troublemakers, ensure that everything is in order, etc. Each Keeper is also the leader of their own team of Paradiso nobles, the “Pages”. Pages assist Keepers with theirs tasks. Kronos is responsible for giving orders to his team of 143 Pages. Pages report to Keepers, and Keepers report to Titus. Kronos has been a Keeper of Minerva since his youth. He is the second longest-working employee of the tower, only to have his record beaten by a fellow Keeper named Varduhi, who is Titus’ aunt.

Kronos patrols his floors regularly and checks in with all of his Pages one-to-one. Being in charge of the busiest bottom floors also implies that Kronos is the one who greets and guides the guests at the main entrance. It’s not a requirement in his list of tasks, but he nevertheless took up that role because he is an extrovert and enjoys being around people. As a result, Kronos is the most occupied Keeper. Excluding the clan-members-only exclusive areas, Minerva is open to guests at all times and Titus encourages nobles from all over Lukedonia to come visit his library tower because it’s always nice to learn something new, and they probably have more books than there are stars in the sky. Kronos completely agrees with his Clan Leader and always tries to convince nobles to visit their Paradiso spectacle. Feeling a bit bored? Come to our tower and read a book! One of our scholars returned from a trip to the snowy mountains and brought back a new collection of werewolf legends if you’re interested; they’re up on the shelves of floor 87. Want to be surrounded by people but don’t want to directly interact with any? Great timing, Professor Titus is about to start one of his lectures on Pangu Ceresthalassa’s chronicles. There’s still space in seating area but it’s going to fill up soon, so better hurry! Want to go on a date but can’t find the perfect location? There’s a nice, cozy corner on floor 42, just keep it down so the scholars don’t get distracted by the noise; poetry analysis is a great romantic bonding activity too! Please, come in, you won’t regret it. Our Pages will be very happy to help.

Kronos’ enthusiasm and love for Minerva also shows up in his reluctance to take days off. Titus is very generous with vacation days and while he appreciates Kronos’ dedication, he wants his employees to have fun too. To Kronos, work is fun. Titus then has to kick him out and order him to “go get a breather”, because he won’t step outside otherwise. Kronos is one of the tower hermits, which is what the nobles call Keepers, Pages, scholars, and anyone who has their own place of residence outside Minerva but is so obsessed with their career that they basically just live inside the tower full-time instead. Kronos sometimes gets sad about having to put a pause on his work, but he understands that his Clan Leader is ordering him out of good will.

Kronos’ hobby is reading autobiographies of other nobles. Minerva accepts them from anyone who is willing to submit one, so new ones are constantly coming in. Kronos thinks reading autobiographies is a way to “befriend” other people even if they’re no longer alive. These friendships, despite metaphorical, transcend time and space. Kronos is currently reading an autobiography of a Mergas knight from the ancient generations. When he’s done with that, he’ll read one by a Landegre butler. Then he’ll pick another one from the new batch his Pages have collected recently. Kronos plans to write one for himself so future generations can “befriend” him. Maybe he should get started soon because he’s old. Well, he always jokes about he looks younger than most people his age because reading smooths wrinkles. The secret is brain power. It’s magic!

Kronos is currently single and thinks about dating once he retires. Who knows when he’ll actually retire because he’s been saying that for years but he never actually does it. Someone set this workaholic grandpa on a date.

Fyodor Paradiso: Non-pureblood. Older brother of Tomomi Paradiso, cousin of Yamuna Pyradros. Alive in the present day, belongs to Raskreia’s generation.

Fyodor is a young scholar. His area of expertise is comparison and analysis of the reigns of past and current noble Lords. When he is done with his current research, he plans to do a thorough study on the motives behind each traitor noble’s deeds as well as the dynamics between them as a group. Fyodor understands that this is a bit of a sensitive topic, but he wants to commit to it nonetheless. He believes that there’s more than meets the eye, and he’s probably right. There just has to be, even if Lord Raskreia doesn’t seem too enthusiastic about admitting it. Perhaps his fellow scholars would agree with him, but quite a few of them don’t feel comfortable voicing it. On the other hand, Titus is quite supportive.

Fyodor plans to interview people who knew the traitors to gather clues. It could be their family, friends, acquaintances, maids, knights, anyone. And he’ll narrow it down so he gets every single one of them. This will be difficult to accomplish since some of them may refuse cooperation out of fear of being associated with the traitors, but Fyodor still wants to try. He needs to gather every last clue for his research to happen. This applies to territory outside Lukedonia as well. Fyodor is willing to pack his bags and go on a solo quest to search the ends of the earth for traces of evidence if he has to. He’s already thinking about what he should do once he gets to werewolf island to ask about Ignes Kravei, a traitor noble who worked for the notorious werewolf Lord Maduke as a scientist before she died. If Fyodor does embark on this journey, he has to do a lot of preparation beforehand because he has never stepped outside of Lukedonia before, let alone interact with werewolves. He might also have to learn how to be around humans, because he thinks there are remnants of the traitors’ deeds in the human world and they too will be valuable puzzle pieces. It’s going to be a big project either way. Fyodor hasn’t taken any action yet, but he has already begun to think about it. He isn’t in a hurry, but evidence will fade with time, so he has to make up his mind sooner or later. For now, he’ll just keep working on the history of Lords. Besides, his little sister Tomomi needs him; she’ll grow anxious if he’s not present, so it might be better to stay. Her wellbeing is more important than his vision of a fulfilling career. Fyodor won’t go if she tells him not to. He’ll still think about it every now and then, though.

Fyodor likes to exercise in his free time. As a Paradiso, he is weaker and less durable than other nobles, but that won’t stop him from going on a long jog in the forest. It’s a good way to shake off stress from work.

Fyodor is rumored to be the partner of a certain Volo researcher who is studying lifespan loss reversal.

Varduhi Paradiso: Pureblood. Aunt of Titus Paradiso. Alive in the present day, belongs to Lagus’ generation.

Varduhi is a Keeper and oversees floors 401 to 499 of Minerva. She’s been a Keeper since before Titus, her nephew and Clan Leader, was born. She currently holds the record as the longest serving member of the library tower. Titus and Auntie Varduhi have an ongoing joke between the two of them and they’re casually betting on who is going to retire first. He’s old, she’s even older. Varduhi is confident that she’d still be a Keeper by the time either Anastasia or Anabella succeeds Titus as Clan Leader. Just try her. Well, time will tell! Aunt and nephew are close, as Varduhi was the one who watched young Titus whenever his parents were too busy. Varduhi has no children, and her nephew’s twins are like grandchildren to her.

Varduhi is not as busy as Kronos even though both of them are Keepers. The higher you go, the less people there are. Varduhi is in charge of Minerva’s top floors, so she gets to chill a bit while Kronos is always on his feet. Still, being a Keeper is no easy job for anyone. Varduhi is glad that she doesn’t need to do what Kronos is doing with all that guest reception business near the main entrance on the first floor. Perhaps it’s due to her age or simply part of her personality, but being subjected to unnecessary periods of prolonged contact with others annoys her. Varduhi’s Pages know to not waste her time and just get to the point. Report, and leave. She also dislikes it when they come to her for insight on “trivial” matters that they could’ve dealt with on their own, but she tactfully deals with it by telling her Pages that she trusts their judgement, and while they should fully utilize that judgement, they are still welcome to come to her if they think her intervention is required for an emergency. Varduhi is calm and practical, though she can come off as cold sometimes. People might be scared of her at first, but they end up appreciating her for who she is. Varduhi is very no-nonsense when it comes maintaining certain standards. She thinks Titus and Kronos are too lenient towards incompetence from subordinates. Varduhi is focused and efficient, and expects that from her people well. If she catches one of her Pages slacking off, she’d demote them or even fire them on the spot. Grandma doesn’t give second chances. If they show that they don’t have what takes to be here, they’re out. How can they even call themselves a Paradiso if they aren’t ready to serve Minerva to the best of their ability? This means no daydreaming, no gossiping, no workplace dating. Varduhi has a strict zero-distraction policy. As long as they’re here for work, they can’t zone-out. For this reason, many of her Pages are envious of those who work under the four other Keepers because none of them are as extreme as her. At the same time, working under Varduhi has its perks, especially for those who share her sense of organization and responsibility. Titus jokes that they’ll all resign if she keeps being mean to them. Auntie just replies that she has standards. It’s called professionalism, sweetie.

Varduhi likes to bake in her free time. While she does most of her baking at home, she also has an oven on floor 473 of the tower. That’s where she makes pies, cakes, muffins, and cookies when she’s free but too lazy to go home. It’s mostly for making goodies for Titus and his twins because she adores them, but sometimes she’d also be in the mood to reward her Pages for a job well done. If Varduhi is feeling generous, she might even bake for all the scholars on her floors. Free treats for everyone!

Varduhi’s partner is an unnamed Tradio.

Isolde Paradiso: Non-pureblood. Niece of Esther Volo, lover of Calytrix Agvain, and mother of Urokai Agvain. Alive in the present day, belongs to somewhere in between Gejutel’s and the Previous Lord’s generation.

Isolde is a retired Page who worked under Varduhi. She started out as a scholar but never really found her one true passion despite spending centuries jumping between different areas of interest. Ultimately, she decided to work as a Page instead because she felt like she was more suited for assisting scholars rather than being a scholar herself. Before Isolde made her career change, she was one of the record keepers who focused on preserving traditions on behalf of the other clans. She did most of her work on the Agvain Clan.

Isolde enjoyed working under Varduhi as a Page. Like Varduhi, she is very no-nonsense and thinks that the Pages under the other Keepers treat Minerva like a circus and don’t take their jobs seriously enough. Isolde is convinced that the only truly qualified Pages are the ones under Varduhi, who is the only competent Keeper.

To Isolde, her coworkers who got demoted or fired by Varduhi for workplace dating deserved it very much because it is unacceptable to put your own love life above being ready to serve the scholars and Minerva at all times. It doesn’t matter if they weren’t busy at the moment; work is work and that should be the number one priority. That is, until the charming, adventurous, and passionate Calytrix Agvain starts visiting Minerva.

Isolde just assumes that Calytrix comes here to escape from her clan members who are looking for her. Minerva is a good choice for hiding because they’d never guess that their Clan Leader reads. Calytrix catches a glimpse of Isolde and instantly falls in love. She thinks this pink-haired woman’s scrunched up frowns near her nose are so cute, and loves how attentive she is to the scholars. So beautiful and kind. Calytrix knows how Varduhi manages her Pages, so she flirts with Isolde whenever there’s an opening because she doesn’t want to get her fired for violating the zero-distraction policy.

At first, Isolde would run inside the clan-members-only exclusive areas to escape from Calytrix whenever she sees her coming because all she does is flirt. Isolde only goes back outside when she thinks Calytrix is gone, but then the latter would pop out from behind a bookshelf and now she’s stuck because attending to guests is the polite thing to do as a Page. Calytrix is smart, so she would ask Isolde to introduce her to… poetry, or whatever is on the shelf right here because Varduhi is walking this way so must appear busy to not get Isolde kicked out. Isolde actually ends up getting praised by her Keeper because she must be doing such a good job for the honored Agvain Clan Leader to become a regular at Minerva. She even rewards Isolde with the position of “Spine”, which is a Page who leads their own small section of ten other Pages. Well, an accidental promotion is still a promotion. Varduhi then tells Isolde that she should continue to serve the Agvain Clan Leader when she visits. Calytrix and Isolde basically get to be around each other without needing to be secretive anymore. Calytrix develops a genuine love for poetry, and the ever-so-distant Isolde eventually returns Calytrix’s feelings. Sometime later, Isolde offers a soul fragment to Calytrix and they have their son Urokai. At this point, Isolde has retired from being a Page because she’s intrigued by Calytrix’s passion for life and wants to explore the world for herself with her beloved. They coparent Urokai as casual lovers and friends, and visit Minerva together as a family bonding activity. Varduhi sometimes gives treats to her former employee’s son as well.

Isolde currently writes fiction and non-fiction novels as a hobby, but she only picks it up when she’s in the mood. No one knows how she’s doing now. Isolde doesn’t seem to go outside anymore since Calytrix and Urokai have died. If her lover’s death broke her, then her son’s death crushed her.

Isolde lives in solitude and most likely won’t date anymore.

Tomomi Paradiso: Non-pureblood. Younger sister of Fyodor Paradiso, cousin of Yamuna Pyradros. Alive in the present day, belongs to Raskreia’s generation.

Tomomi is a young scholar just like her older brother. Her area of expertise is modern human culture. That’s a very vague way of putting it, because what she actually researches is… memes! Yep, those things human post on “social media” and send to each other. Many of the older Paradiso scholars view these so-called memes as inferior to the more traditional and sophisticated ways of expression. It works but lacks elegance. Tomomi would like to disagree. The whole point of memes is that they’re simple and straightforward. They evolve and adapt just like any other form of media. Tomomi believes that the cultural significance behind memes should even be studied as an art form. Surely the nobles can make use of such an efficient method of transmitting ideas to each other. Why work hard when you can work smart? At some point Titus overhears Tomomi arguing with an elderly scholar about how memes deserve a permanent place in their library’s records, and he promptly shows her his full support. Titus is very curious about this “new art form”, and everyone could see his eyes light up. He tells Tomomi that she should totally go for it and how much he is looking forward to enjoying the fruits of her labor. Boom. Hah, take that, you oldies. Even our Clan Leader agrees.

Tomomi is the master of humans memes. She analyzes them, adds them to her tree diagram of “meme evolution”, and transcribes them by hand for Titus to enjoy. Titus’ book soul weapon Liebe can instantly display content from any other book at any given time as long as it was written by a fellow Paradiso clan member. That’s exactly what Tomomi is doing here. She feels great about being her Clan Leader’s primary supplier of endless entertainment. The others can be jealous about Titus showing levels of enthusiasm he has never shown before in any of his researchers.

Tomomi works on the same floor as her older brother Fyodor because she likes to stay close to him. She knows that he’s thinking about leaving Lukedonia to pursue his research one day, and dreads the time when it comes because she doesn’t know what she’ll do when he leaves. If she can’t convince him to stay, then she might just leave with him. While Tomomi would prefer to stay inside Lukedonia, she does have some curiosity about the outside world, so going on a quest with her brother doesn’t sound bad at all. Maybe she’ll even get to enhance her own meme research in the human world. Who knows.

Tomomi has a crush on an unnamed Page who is responsible for her floor. His Keeper is one of the more lenient ones like Kronos, so the two of them get to have small talk quite often.

(Fyi Keepers can’t interfere with each other’s management. They also can’t give orders to another Keeper’s Pages, only their own. Their power is limited to their assigned sections)

Thank you for reading and stay tuned for future posts!

[seraphicsage]

The Three Musketeers

Chapter 7

a/n sorry it took so long! Been a busy summer! Hope you enjoy this! Disclaimer it has not been proof read (much like most of my work). Please leave feedback, reblog, tell me what you enjoyed and what you want in future chapters! (Do i sound like a youtube channel yet?)

“Grab something!” Scott yells out as we all hold the doors shut. 

“Like what?” Stiles yells back in frustration. 

“Anything!” Stiles seems annoyed still for a split second then seems to think of something, pulling himself up and looking at something outside. I look up through the window and see what he’s looking at. 

“Stiles no you’re not going out there, it’s too dangerous.” I turn to him and say with as much determination as I can. He looks between me and Scott but I can already see his mind is made up and without a word, he turns and opens the door, sliding through quietly. 

Scott shuts the door and we both watch him tensely as he takes a second to look around before moving to grab it. Then, we see it. It crawled out from behind Stiles’ jeep, looking terrifying and snarling at seemingly nothing in particular. 

Scott starts banging on the window and yelling, “Come back! Come back!” Trying to get his attention. When Stiles looks up he realises what we’ve seen just as the alpha seems to notice him and the snarling gets worse.

He runs back in, closing the door and slamming what he picked up into the door to stop it opening. They look out the window as they pant and start asking out loud where it’s gone. Stiles grabs his touch and shines it out, trying to find it.

We all step away from the door and realise that that probably won’t hold the door for long. I cling on to Stiles’ arm, not wanting to let him go again. 

We hear the howling next, and Stiles grabs onto my hand before we all run into the closest classroom. We all go to move the desk but Stiles stops us quickly. 

“The door’s not going to hold it.” He says, I nod in agreement and Scott agrees too. “It’s your boss. Deaton? The alpha? Your boss.” Stiles goes onto to sag, directly his frustration and probably fear onto Scott.

“No.” Scott says, providing no reasoning whatsoever.

“Yes, murdering psycho werewolf.” Stiles leans forward to emphasise his point. 

“That can’t be!” Scott is obviously distressed and doesn’t want to believe it but it’s the only lead we have right now. Stiles points this out to Scott with no hesitation. 

“He killed Derek.” Ouch, did he have to say it so brutally?

“No, Derek’s not dead. He can’t be dead.” 

“Blood spurted out of his mouth okay? That doesn’t exactly qualify as a minor injury. He’s dead and we’re next.” Stiles replies. This is getting ridiculous and my head’s gotten pretty clear now.

“Both of you shut up. Scott, even Derek will have struggled to survive that. And Stiles? Try to have a little compassion please, yelling about it is getting us nowhere.” Both boys blink at me, apparently surprised at how level headed I am right now. “We need to get to Stiles’ jeep now and get out of here before anything happens.” They keep staring at me. “Now!” A whisper-yell, not wanting to attract the attention of a certain alpha. 

They glance at each before nodding and we all rush towards the window to try and work out a way out. Scott tries to open it before Stiles points out that it’s climate controlled so won’t open. Then Scott stupidly suggests we break it, which again Stiles points out will make a lot of noise. 

Scott then says something very worrying, “Stiles what’s wrong with your jeep?”

“What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong?”

“It’s bent!” I look over and see what Scott’s talking about. Shit. 

“Like, dented?”

“No Stiles, bent.” I turn to him and say. He leans over to look through the window properly. 

“What the hell-“ Stiles starts before something is thrown through the window at us. We all duck down and Stiles grabs onto me, bringing me closer to him. We realise it’s the car battery. Well now we’re really screwed.

Stiles tries to move but Scott stops him reminding us how close he is, not that Stiles is claiming to have forgotten. “Just let me take a look.” Scott tries. He slowly pulls himself up, looking out the window at all angles and tells us that he can’t see anything. We all agree to move while we have the chance.

We slowly creep out of the classroom. Me and Stiles are clinging tightly onto each other, and it feels like we’ve mutually decided not to let the other go. 

Stiles suggests we find somewhere with the least amount of windows possible and we decide on the locker room, quickly rushing towards it. 

“Call your dad.” Scott suggests when we get into the locker room.

“And tell him what?”

“I don’t know anything. There’s a gas lean, a fire, whatever. If that thing sees the parking lot filled with cop cars, it’ll take off.”

“What if it doesn’t? What if it goes completely Terminator and kills every 

cop in sight? Including my dad?”

“They have guns!” I roll my eyes at that.

“Yeah and Derek had to he shot with a wolfsbane-laced bullet to even slow him down, remember that?” 

Scott agrees and we discuss more options for a moment before we come to a slightly disturbing but good option. Derek’s car. We’ll have to take the keys from his body though, which is just… ew. 

We start to leave the locker room but Scott hears something coming towards us. We all quickly hide in a locker each, though it’s a bit of a tight squeeze. 

Next thing I know I hear what sounds like a middle aged man yelling out and being shushed, so I quickly step out and try and help Stiles make him listen to us.

He pushes us out the locker room while Stiles is still desperately trying to reason with him. Suddenly he gets dragged back into the locker room and pressed against the now closed door with blood covering him. Oh my god. 

Scott tries to open the door to help but me and Stiles quickly grab onto him and drag him away, he has no chance now. We run away fast, Stiles gripping my hand again. 

We run back to the fire exit and try to get out, but when we push it we can’t move it, it’s like something’s blocking it suddenly. Scott peers through the gap and we realise that the alpha pushed the dumpsters into the way so we can’t get out. 

Stiles keeps trying to push it, the panic setting in but I pull him away, he’s making too much noise. We start walking away, trying to find another exit. “I’m not dying here, I’m not going to die in school!” Stiles emphasise, and I squeeze his hand lightly trying to reassure him but I doubt anything I say will help. “What does it want?!” He asks frustrated.

“Me!” Scott nearly yells back, “Derek says he needs a pack.”

“Great a psychotic werewolf who’s into teamwork.” As usual Stiles jumps to sarcasm. “That’s… that’s beautiful.” 

Scott looks like he’s about to respond but freezes as he looks out the window. We both turn to look where he is and realise the alpha is on the roof on the other side of the building. And it’s seen us. And it’s running toward us. Shit. 

We started running just as it jumps through the window, chasing after us immediately. I’ve never been a good runner but if we manage to get out of this alive, I might start practicing.

Eventually we come to a dark area and we don’t know where the alpha is. “We need to do something or we’re going to die.” I say as firmly as I can. 

“Like what?” Scott asks incredulously.

“Kill it, hurt it, inflict mental anguish on it, something Scott!” Stiles defends me. We all think for a moment, not sure where the alpha is.

Stiles starts taking his keys out of his pocket and Scott quickly shushes him as it makes a noise. But because Stiles isn’t an idiot he does have a plan. He throws his keys in the opposite direction to us and we quickly leave through the door behind us as we hear the alpha growl and move in the direction of the keys. 

We block the door with the desk and hear growing and pounding at the door. Where we’ve pressed each end of the desk against the door and the wall he can’t seem to get out. We might actually make it out alive if we act fast. 

Scott quickly climbs across to the side of the desk that me and Stiles are, and I see Stiles inching closer to the door. I tug him back as Scott asks what he’s doing. “I just want to get a better look at it!” He defends.

“Are you crazy?” Scott yells.

“We need to leave, now!” I yell as well, holding his hand tight hoping he listens to me. 

“It’s trapped okay? It’s not going to get out.” Stiles keeps trying to convince us. 

Still holding my hand, Stiles climbs onto the desk and shines the torch into the small window on the door. Stupidly Stiles starts teasing it and making it angrier. It growls and Stiles jumps away from the desk but keeps teasing it. Then we hear a crash. And then creaking over us. It’s gotten into the ceiling. We all started running in the opposite direction. 

Then something weird happens. We hear a phone ring. Allison’s phone. I quickly call her and sure enough we hear a phone ring. Scott grabs the phone out of my hand before I have a chance to say anything and he starts talking to her. 

He tells her to meet us in the lobby and we try to get to her as soon as possible. Why is she here? That’s the first thing Scott asks her when we find her, turns out she got a text from someone claiming to be Scott asking her to meet at the school. This is so wrong and creepy. 

Then Allison reveals that Jackson and Lydia are here too, this is an absolute disaster. Luckily Lydia and Jackson quickly appear so we don’t have to spend ages finding them. Then we hear the creaking over our heads and Stiles slowly grabs my hand again before Scott tells everyone to run. 

I hear it behind us as it falls through the ceiling and chases us up the stairs. We barge through a door and I hear someone lock it behind us. Me and Stiles both seem to have the same thought as we stare at the windows. This is not a good place to hide.

Everyone but us starts barricading the doors with chairs, desks, anything, while Stiles tries to get their attention before we trap ourselves in. They don’t seem to hear us through all the moving about and their own fear. Eventually Stiles just shouts at them, getting their attention.

“Okay, nice work. Really beautiful job everyone.” I roll my eyes, this is not the time for sarcasm. “Now, what should we do about the 20-foot wall of windows?” He points out. 

Allison is freaking out and grabs onto Scott’s arm. This is going to get complicated, “Can someone please explain what is going on, because I am freaking out. And I would like to know why.” Scott pulls away from her, clearly not knowing what to say. 

Stiles decides to take the lead. “Someone killed the janitor.” He says, sounding incredibly sure of himself. 

“What are you talking about is this some kind of joke?” Allison is clearly directing her question to Scott.

“Who killed him?” Jackson asks, scared too by the looks of it. 

“No no no no no.” Lydia starts, I feel very sorry for her. “This was supposed to be over, the mountain lion-“ Jackson interrupts her. 

“Don’t you get it? There was never any mountain lion.”

“Who was it? What does he want?” Allison asks and Scott still doesn’t seem to know what to say. After some more back and forth, Scott finally saying something even if it’s unhelpful, Scott says something incredibly stupid. “Derek Hale did it, he killed the janitor.” Not only that but after being questioned further he claims that *all* of the recent deaths were Derek. This is going to backfire quickly. 

“Call the cops.” Jackson says.

“No.” Stiles replies, we’ve already had this conversation. 

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I mean no. You wanna hear it in Spanish? No.” I squeeze his hand. “Look Derek killed 3 people okay? We don’t know what he’s armed with.” He tries to reason. 

“Your dad is armed with an entire sheriff’s department.” If it really was just Derek then yeah this would be a good idea, there’s no way to reason this without telling the truth. 

Then Lydia decides to call them. She doesn’t get far into the conversation before the call ends. “She hung up on me.” Turns out the got an anonymous tip that there would be prank calls about a break in at the school. Allison insists that she call again so they trace the call but Stiles says they’d go to her house before they trace the call. 

Allison starts questioning things again, which isn’t helpful. They start questioning Scott further which really isn’t a good idea because this is a stressful situation. Scott snaps at Allison a bit which upsets her, causing her to turn away from him.

Stiles drags us away from the others and talks as quietly as he can. “Okay first off, throwing Derek under the bus, nicely done.” I roll my eyes, I have a bad feeling about that. 

“I had to say something! And if he’s dead it doesn’t matter right? Except if he’s not.” He glances over to Allison for a moment. “God I totally just bit her head off.”

“Not important, we need to get out of here, she’ll get over it.” I try to reason, that small thing really is the least of our worries right now. 

“But we are alive. It could have killed us by now but it hasn’t.” Scott points out, good point. “It’s like it’s cornering us or something.”

“So what? It’s wants to eat us all at once?” Stiles asks. 

“No. Derek says it wants revenge. Against Allison’s family?” 

“Maybe that’s what the text was about?” Stiles suggests. 

“Okay! Assheads.” Jackson interrupts. “New plan. Stiles calls his useless dad and tells him to bring someone with a gun and decent aim. Are we good with that?” For some reason Scott agrees with Jackson quite aggressively.

“I’m not watching my dad get eaten alive.” He mutters back. He moves away from Scott, turning his back to everyone. Jackson quickly approaches him and tries to turn him to grab his phone but Stiles turns quicker and punches him in the face. Oh shit. 

“Stiles I’m sorry but I really don’t see an alternative.” He looks down at me and I hold his hand again. “It’s your decision.” I say. He nods and pulls out his phone. I rest my forehead on his arm as he calls his dad. But when he does call it goes straight to voicemail. He starts talking, telling him he needs to call back when we hear this banging against the door. Oh god it’s back. We all move back away from the door as Stiles tells him we’re at the school and hangs up.

“The kitchen.” I quickly suggest and Stiles agrees, defending me when Scott questions it and we all run towards the door. We all run upstairs to the next floor and keep going, we run into a lab room and block the door. We all stay quiet and wait until we see the shadow go past.

“How many people can fit in your car?” Scott whispers. 

“5, if someone squeezes on someone’s lap.” He says but Allison quickly interrupts and disagrees. 

“It doesn’t matter, we can’t get out without drawing attention.”

Scott suggests the stairwell that leads to the fire exit and down to the parking lot, which would work if it wasn’t deadlocked. “The janitor has a key.” He then suggests. “I can get it, I can find him by scent.”

“Gee that sounds like an incredibly terrible idea, what else you got?” Stiles argues back.

“I’m getting the key.” Scott decides after a moment, walking away from us. 

“Scott no, you’re not going out there just to die!” I try to get his attention as he moves towards Allison. He blanks me. Great. I move away from Stiles and sit on a desk. Amazing, now my brother is going to die getting a key after all of that. And then, I’ll really be alone, and he’ll be gone. What do I tell mum? Am I going to have to live with the truth and never tell her? I’m meant to look after him! I’ve done a crap job of that. 

I zone out for a moment but tune back in when I hear Lydia say something about a self-igniting molotov cocktail. Oh thank god she’s a genius. “Lydia you genius.” I say, looking over at the chemicals cupboard. She tries to play it off as usual but I don’t listen, moving over to the cupboard. Jackson quickly smashes it and Lydia gets to work. 

When she finishes she passes it over to Scott and Allison starts questioning things again. “Do you remember when you told me you knew when I was lying? That I had a tell. So do you.” Allison worked that out quicker than I expected. “You’re a horrible liar, and you’ve been lying all night. Just please… please don’t go. Please don’t leave us, please.” He seems to think for a moment before looking over at Stiles.

“Lock it behind me.” He says and tries to leave but Allison pulls him back and kisses him. I can’t tell whether she’s saying goodbye or hoping it will make him stay, maybe it’s both. 

I can feel myself getting upset too, he really could die. I feel Stiles approach me after he locks the door. He places a hand on my shoulder and I look up at him. He doesn’t say anything and just brings me into a tight hug, holding the back of my head and wrapping his other arm around my waist. I bring both my arms up to wrap around the back of his neck. I rest my head on his shoulder and let some of the tears fall quietly. Somehow being in his arms makes me feel safer. 

I hear Jackson reassuring Allison from near us, but I can’t bring myself to care what they’re feeling right now. Stiles seems to think the same as he hugs me impossibly tighter, not letting me go. 

“Jackson you handed me the sulphuric acid right? It has to be sulphuric acid. It won’t ignite if it’s not.” Oh shit don’t say that. I pull away from Stiles slightly as he does the same to me and we face Lydia. 

“I gave you exactly what you asked for, didn’t I?” Jackson snaps back, I don’t trust him. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m sure you did.” Lydia replies but even she doesn’t seem sure. I cling onto Stiles’ arm tightly, praying that he did. 

Suddenly we hear some kind of groaning noise and Jackson falls down in pain and starts screaming. Lydia and Allison grab onto him and pull him up and he insists he’s fine. 

“What’s on the back of your neck?” Stiles asks. Jackson doesn’t seem to want to answer and slaps Stiles’ hand away, but Lydia quickly steps in. 

“It’s been there for days, he won’t tell me what happened.”

“As if you actually care!” Jackson snaps back and honestly I decide I’ve had enough of him treating Lydia like crap. 

“Okay acting like a douche is not going to help anyone so just stop or I might consider getting Stiles to punch you again.” I roll my eyes. Stiles holds my arm gently before speaking.

“We all need to stop arguing for half a second or we’re never going to survive.” I nod in agreement and lean into Stiles’ touch. Allison voices her worries about Scott again but I decide not to answer again, I don’t think I’d help.

Then we hear a clicking noise coming from the other side of the door, making us all turn around. Allison comes to the conclusion that it’s Scott and starts trying to open the door, unsuccessfully, and yelling his name over and over. I don’t say anything but I desperately try to think why he seems to have locked us in here. The only one I can think of, is that he’s ‘wolfing out’, and if he is then we could be in even more danger. 

Lydia yells at her to stop, telling us to listen to something, at first I don’t hear anything but then I realise what she’s heard. Sirens. Getting louder and closer. 

We all rush to the window, and I beg to the universe that they’re coming to us. We quickly see 2 police cars pulling up outside the school and I feel my knees almost give way in relief and I grip Stiles harder. He holds me tight, letting me lean on him. 

Stiles’ dad and a few other officers come into the building and find us, me, Scott and Stiles walk with the Sheriff out of the building while the others are looked after by other officers.

He asks us questions about what happened, the boys stick with their story of it being Derek Hale and while I don’t say much, I agree and confirm their story. Scott reveals that he found the janitors body under the bleachers but when the officers look they don’t find anything, much to his frustration.

The sheriff promises that they’ll find the body and tries to reassure Scott that he believes him, but Scott doesn’t believe it. 

Eventually once the sheriff is satisfied he walks off leaving us alone, Stiles tries to lighten the mood by pointing out that we all survived. I haven’t let go of his arm, even in front of Scott. 

Scott doesn’t seem to notice though, he’s clearly occupied with his own thoughts, which he quickly voices. He tells us that the alpha knew where we were when we were in the chemistry room, and that the alpha must want him in the pack. 

“But I think first, I have to get rid of my old pack.” 

“What do you mean? What old pack?” Stiles asks, though I’m scared I might already know the answer to that. 

“Allison, Jackson, Lydia. You both.” He seems almost defeated, like he’s giving up hope. 

“The alpha doesn’t want to kill us.” Stiles realises out loud, making Scott sigh and look away before muttering.

“It wants me to do it.” I lean my head against Stiles’ arm, hoping I provide some kind of comfort for him like he does for me. “And that’s not even the worse part.” 

“How the fuck is that not the worst part?” I ask, standing up straight again waiting for an answer. 

“Because, when he made me shift, I wanted to do it.” He looks at me, really looks at me for the first time since this all started. “I wanted to kill you.” I feel Stiles grip my hand tighter and shift slightly closer to me. Scott looks away from me and up at Stiles. “I wanted to kill all of you.” 

I move forwards, letting go of Stiles’ hand, and pull Scott into a hug. He hugs me back but still seems tense, there’s still a huge weight on his shoulders. But I decide to be selfish and hug my big brother, hoping it reassures him for even a small moment. 

It’s not long until he pulls away and I almost say something but I see he’s focused on something behind me. Stiles seems to have noticed too and when I turn around I realise what they’re looking at. Deaton. We all walk over and ask how he got out. He seems, calm almost. Eerily calm even, he makes a joke about Scott deserving a raise for saving his life. 

Stiles’ dad comes over and tells us to leave him with the EMT and we all follow behind him, confused. Then Scott spots Allison and quickly runs over to him.

Me and Stiles stand by his dad’s car and watch them talk. “What do you think she’ll say?” He asks, quietly. 

“I think she’ll break up with him.” I say bluntly and sigh, looking up at him from the side. He seems surprised. 

“Really? Why? He risked his life for her!” I give him a pitying smile. 

“It’s what I would do if i was in her position.” He turns to face me fully, his mouth hanging open in surprise. 

“Think about it,” I start, “from her perspective she just almost got murdered. Potentially by someone that claims to know Scott quite well. She knows that Scott was lying all night, which means that she knows that he lied about what was really happening. Then he left for way longer that he should have for what he was claiming to do, and then he came back just to trap us in the room. Oh and don’t forget that the only reason she was there is because she got a fake text from someone claiming to be Scott. If I was her, I’d be scared. I’d think that he could have been involved. I wouldn’t trust him. Honestly I would stay very, very far away for as long as possible.” I look at them talking. “He’d be lucky if she gave him another shot at a relationship.” 

Stiles still seems surprised but looks like he can understand it better now. “I guess it is weird for her.” I snort at that.

“That’s the understatement of the century.” 

We stand quietly for a minute watching them, until I feel Stiles wrap his arms around my shoulders and pulling me in. He rests his head on mine and holds me tight. I hold him tight too, letting that do the talking for me. He pulls away slightly and leans down, resting out foreheads together. “I thought I was going to lose you.” He whispers. I shake my head slightly looking at him. 

“We’re okay, we’re both alive.” I whisper back, reminding myself as well as him. He nods and breathes in deeply. 

“I never want you to be that close to death again.” I pull him back in close, holding him as tight as I can manage. 

“As long as we’ve got each other we can survive anything, right?”

[howdy-cowpoke]

TIMING: Some time shortly after Monty rescued Manzanita. LOCATION: Alan’s boat / The Cave of Voices PARTIES: Alan (@alan-duarte) & Monty (@howdy-cowpoke) SUMMARY: Monty and Alan go on a boating trip which leads them to the Cave of Voices and down in an unexpected place. They meet a friend and a foe. CONTENT WARNINGS: None.

—

Alan was checking the equipment when Monty arrived. It had been a while since he last went to sea. Escaping from the stench of that black sludge could only be a relief. His shop being in oldtown, he didn’t have to suffer from it at all times, but most of the properties he sold were downtown. Alan’s employees seemed to have been just as disturbed with the smell which was the only comfort he found about the situation. It was easier to go through hardship with people willing to rant over the same things. It was easier even to leave the town for an afternoon with a friend. He liked hanging out with his employees, but there was always a certain distance there. He was their boss, and he couldn’t really talk about everything with them. Monty was someone he could trust with anything, down to his own life. 

“We’ve been blessed with nice weather,” he exclaimed, walking down the deck to give him a proper greeting. “How have you been doing?” He hadn’t really conversed with Monty since they had dinner at his house. Dropping off a severed head for him to eat was not precisely what he would qualify as hanging out. He wasn’t too worried about it, per say, but it meant a lot to him, knowing that his friend was doing okay. One of the good things about Monty was that he always knew when he was lying. Alan sometimes let him get away with it. “I’m gonna get my shoes back on. You can undo the moorings if you want.”

—

Monty had a slight preference for the cold since dying, but his conflicting love of spring meant that on days like today, he wasn’t going to complain about the sudden heat wave. Anyway, it wasn’t hot—a place like this rarely got hot. Not like in México. It was warm in the sun, warm enough that he could barely feel it, which was nice. 

Alan’s request to go boating hadn’t exactly come as a surprise—the man was often itching to get out on the water the moment the weather improved after the long winter. Monty had hesitated, however, worrying more than usual about leaving the farm hands on their own, in case that nasty slayer decided to return for round two. He knew Monty was undead at the very least, and it wouldn’t take much more snooping for him to realize that everyone working on that farm was.

Trying to push the fears from his mind, the zombie reluctantly agreed to join his friend. Recalling the gentle admonishment he’d gotten for his attire the first time they’d done this, he made sure to pull out the only clothes he owned that weren’t also work clothes, helpfully provided by the very same werewolf that wanted to see him make an attempt at not looking grungy once in a while. He even showered before leaving! Alan would be pleased.

Arriving at the docks a few minutes late, the zombie broke into a soft grin as he spotted Alan coming his way to greet him, barefoot as the day he was born. “Oh, you know… surviving,” he answered, letting his gaze fall to his friend’s bare feet. “You’ll get splinters doing that,” Monty commented casually, clapping a hand against Alan’s shoulder. “Sure, amigo. I got it.” Following him a short distance back to the boat, Monty threw his jacket on board and proceeded to detach the boat from the deck, tossing the lines back and hopping over the small gap onto the boat when he was done. The smell of the ocean was strong enough to cut through his deadened senses and he turned his face to the wind, closing his eyes for a brief moment to enjoy it before finding Alan again. “Please tell me we’re heading into Storm’s Eye Trench, to both our deaths,” he joked with a cheeky grin.

—

“I’m not going to get splinters,” well, probably not on his feet at least. Running around the woods had made his feet feel more calloused over time. Though he generally brought a change of shoes, Alan wondered if running around on paws didn’t have a slow effect on the state of his feet and hands. “I like the shirt, and the rest. Nice outfit,” if the other had lost his usual scent of hay, farm life and horses, Alan didn’t comment on that. Sitting at the front of the ship, against the railing, the werewolf was putting on a pair of boat shoes, if only not to slip and fall on such a quiet sea. 

“Storm’s Eye Trench?” Alan glanced up at Monty with his eyebrows furrowed. It wasn’t unlike him to make jokes, but they didn’t usually have such a dark undertone. “If you want to die by my side, just say it,” with a saccharine grin, the realtor got up to his feet and headed toward the other end of the boat. 

Its sails swelled by the wind, the sailboat slowly moved away from the shore. The sound of the wavelets crashing on the pier quieted down the more they sailed. Above their heads, gulls and kingfishers continued their ballet, controlled by the breeze which carried the two friends far from their town.

Alan, if he was more comfortable at the controls of his plane, had acquired a taste for the sea in the last few years. It was a much quieter activity, and he enjoyed being alone in the middle of nowhere almost as much as he enjoyed spending the afternoon with him. His eyes fell on his friend. He worried about what was going on in his head. He had experienced a painful event not long ago, and it seemed obvious that it would stick in his throat. 

—

“You say that like you didn’t pick all of these for me,” Monty chuckled. Still, it was something. 

Offering a shrug, Monty realized with a bit of regret that it had been an usually dark joke for him to make—surely that wasn’t the result of… everything that had been going on lately. Surely not. Biting the inside of his cheek to quell the embarrassment that threatened to rise, he did his best to look cavalier about the whole thing as he added, “Oh, sure, I’d love that. Someone could write one heck of a novel about it someday.” 

Distracted by the birds, Monty failed to notice his friend looking at him. A soft smile had settled on his face, and for what was far from the first time in his unlife, he was thankful that the sun didn’t have such a negative impact on him as it did vampires. He might have given in to the call of the void a long time ago if he was never permitted to sit in the sun again, wind whipping his messy hair around as he watched a kingfisher dive and burst from the surface with a fish in its beak. 

Turning to ask Alan if he’d seen it, Monty’s voice caught in his throat when he realized he was already being watched. It was a momentary stutter, fixed with a grin, though what he’d been about to say had entirely left his head. “What?” he laughed, hugging his arms a little tighter around his knees. 

—

“Nothing,” it was tricky to tell Monty he’d been worried about him when he looked radiant. “You looked like you’d been sucked in by the ocean,” that might have not been his first thought, it was true. “I’m glad you agreed to leave the farm for a bit,” Alan might have done his best trying to reassure Monty, he knew that it would be a while before he felt safe in his home again. 

Hand on the tiller, he returned his gaze toward the horizon, his eye darting toward the sails for a second. “I understand if you would rather speak of anything but that,” wasn’t that the point of all this? They left their problems behind here. There was nothing to worry about here : no hunters, no angry homeowners, no problems. He wanted to keep it that way. Otherwise, what was the point in running away? What was the fucking point? 

He had to change the subject. “I had a meeting with the city council the other day,” he began. He wanted to build somewhere, and of course some ecologists wanted to save the frogs. “Anyway, I guess it went well,” he had to figure how he’d get the frogs to fuck off some place else, which meant he’d need to collaborate with the leaf fuckers. “You know, it’s the thing with the toads, the frogs, the… bog creatures,” he wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know what to do man,” it was easier when he was fucking with people. Even he didn’t like to disturb the peace of animals. 

—

Not only was Monty bad at lying, but he was equally terrible at being able to tell when he was being lied to. So he took Alan’s answer at face value, grinning widely for a moment before that little twinge of fear, of regret crept back in, and made the smile grow smaller. “Ah… yeah. Yeah.” He didn’t know what to say so he just left it at that, only nodding his head as he looked out at the ocean as Alan offered an out.

Thankful when the werewolf turned the conversation elsewhere, Monty finally dragged his gaze back to his friend, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Well, you could always build somewhere that isn’t a stinky bog,” Monty laughed with a shrug. “Or… I don’t know. Get yourself a pied piper, but for frogs instead of rats.” It was an utterly unhelpful suggestion, which Monty knew, based on the humorous glint in his dark eyes. 

“Ah, really though… maybe make them a really enticing habitat nearby, so they’ll want to move. Then everyone wins. Frog rights, and so on.” 

—

Why did Alan have to mention the farm. Now Monty was probably picturing Emilio waltzing, or rather cha-cha-ing his way around the place with a stake in one hand and a knife in the other, stabbing away his grudge and sorrow. 

Alan couldn’t help but laugh at the other’s offer. Yeah. Alan didn’t purposefully pick plots because they’d bring controversy. Most of the time, he didn’t get into any trouble buying land, homes… But there was always, every once in a while, a Tobias Greene (usually sans mafiosi), or a bog of frogs. “A pied piper?” That’s when he chortled. If the other had been closer, he’d have shoved him away. “You prick. That’s…” He sighed, his shoulders still shaking with amusement. 

“I know. I will work with the associations. Council likes me, I’m probably going to get the okay,” he blew a raspberry and reached down to tie the tiller still. “How’s the sludge situation on the farm?” Giving it a go to make sure it was secure, he let go of some of the wind in the sails and went to sit at the front. “It’s hasn’t reached the office yet, but going downtown is torture.” 

—

“Hope you do,” Monty answered honestly, marrying it with a soft smile. As the boat slowed and Alan came to join him at the front,the zombie made a face at the next question. “It could be worse, for sure… just some out on the eastern fringes, nearest the Flat.” He shook his head, wondering what on earth that crap was. “My catoblepones seem curious about it, but I don’t think I want them eating it.” Sure, they were designed to eat poisonous flora, but this sludge was… well, it was something else.

“At the very least, it doesn’t seem to affect the stink levels much,” Monty added with a breathy chuckle. Farms always had a particular smell to them, and Prickly Pear Acres’ proximity to the death pit certainly didn’t make matters any better. It really wasn’t a surprise that whenever their weekly visit came around, Monty was the one going to Alan’s. The poor wolf’s nose just couldn’t take it. 

“What do you think, wey? Will it overrun the whole place?”

—

“If I had known… I’d have found you a plot north of the town,” what was it with that fucking abnormality. How bad would it get? He heard the noises in the past weeks, whenever he drove in the area, worked around Serpent’s Flat. “Mmmh, I spoke to a geologist who works at the university. They didn’t want him to investigate. That’s fucking weird, don’t you think?” Running a hand over his face, he let go of the railing to let himself slip to the wooden deck, crossing his ankles as he looked up at him. “I wouldn’t let them eat that. Poor things might get sick.” And finding a veterinarian who could care for them mustn’t have been easy.

Not that Alan would know. 

“Huh uh,” surely, someone who lived there all the time would forget about the smell, but Alan had a feeling his nose wouldn’t. He didn’t seem too keen to laugh about it. This was worrying. People wouldn’t want to invest in a town who was covered in goo and stenched of that god awful smell. “I don’t know. I don’t fucking know,” rubbing at his face, he pulled his knee up against his chest and sighed. “This town man…” He sighed and turned his gaze toward the horizon. You could see the town from here. It looked normal, peaceful even, in a word : deceptive. 

“Anyhow, surely there are nicer subjects to discuss.” Nothing quite like death and doom to spend a great afternoon with a friend.

—

“A nice sentiment, but you and I both know I was only able to afford the land you got me because it’s by that pit of dead people.” Monty threw Alan a knowing glance, and then a smile. He was sweet. Brows rose at the mentioned of the geologist—that was weird. “The… whoever runs this place, yeah, they sure are being… what’s the word… ah, cagey about it all. Like they know things we don’t. Or they don’t know anything, and that’s even scarier to them.” He shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out.”

Of course Alan had a larger stake in whether or not this town went belly-up, and Monty suddenly felt bad for laughing about it. “Ah, I’m sure it will all work out, my friend,” he tried to reassure the other, though his comforting skills left something to be desired. It always did in this place, didn’t it? 

“Right. Well. Umm—oh! Oh, I didn’t get a chance to tell you yet, but a very nice man that works for the town’s animal control contacted me the other day!” About… “He—someone surrendered a horse at their shelter, and they didn’t have the facilities to take care of it, so he asked if I’d come get her.” Monty smiled, remembering seeing her for the first time. Definitely… just her. “She’s beautiful, Alan. Champagne coat and a bright red mane and tail, like fire. I’m still trying to decide what to name her.”

—

“I know, I know,” and the price per square meter had gone up ever since. Alan figured that with the state of the town now, it could substantially drop. If people started to leave the town en masse, it certainly would. Yet, it would be a while before that happened. People didn’t like to leave their home behind. Alan knew he would never be able to leave. His whole life was here, and he was too old now to restart over somewhere else. His shoulders relaxed, they often would in the face of the inevitable. He never was one to fight the current. Instead, he preferred to learn how to sail on bad waters. 

“Animal control huh?” Although Alan was still listening to the other, his cheeks turned pink as he remembered his embarrassing encounter with that guy. That was a moment he would have happily forgotten about. “Champagne coat?” He reached at his collar for his sunglasses, pushing them up his nose. “You could call her Cliquot or Ruinart,” it was perhaps a bit of a cliché but champagne perhaps ought to be called like champagne. Leaning back, he looked at his friend, wrinkling his nose a little. “You took pictures, right? Of your new girl?”

—

Monty rolled his eyes at the suggestions, letting out a laugh. “How very Alan of you,” he teased, lifting his butt off the boat to fetch the phone in his back pocket. “But yes, I did.” Pulling up the photo album before passing the phone to Alan, the zombie leaned back on his hands. “Kaden—the man that helped me get her settled—seemed to like Manzanita, so I might stick with that. It was the first thing that came to mind, but I wasn’t positive about it.” He smiled, running a hand through his hair to get it out of his face. There was a beat of comfortable silence before Monty decided to elaborate a bit, hoping that Alan would be pleased with the news. 

“I asked him if he’d—well,” he struggled for a moment, clearing his throat. “He seemed fond of her in the short time we had together, so I said he could come visit anytime. The horse, or… me.” An exasperated laugh made an appearance then, and Monty gestured at his friend with brows raised. “I’m trying to make friends, like you keep saying I should. So there’s one. Maybe. We’ll see.” 

—

“What is that supposed to mean? It’s on theme,” he furrowed his eyebrows in apparent shock. Anyone who dared question his taste clearly had none, after all. Reaching out to take the phone from him, Alan pinched at the screen to zoom in. “Manzanita?” He would have guessed a French name would be the man’s pick but it seemed he was wrong to assume that. Handing back the phone, the realtor offered his friend a fond smile. “She’s a beauty. Makes you wonder why people can ever give up on their animals,” Alan knew he couldn’t commit to a pet. He was too busy, of course, but he also wondered what would happen to the poor thing if something happened to him. He might have a tendency to boast, but the werewolf was all too aware that tomorrow might be his last day on Earth. 

His brows furrowed some more, but this time, there was a hint of amusement and a wrinkle of his nose added to the shock. “Would you look at that, making friends with the not so local locals, heh?” This was new. Crossing his arms over his chest, Alan’s fondness grew and reached his eyes. “I’m glad you’re trying. That’s what counts,” reaching over to pat his shoulder, the wolf turned to gaze at the sea. “This being said, if he’s the guy I think he is… I didn’t tell you about something that happened to me, the other day.” 

—

“You know I can’t pronounce French words for crap,” Monty laughed, just… assuming that both those champagne names were French. Or maybe Italian, which was a little easier for him, but still bad all the same. Taking back the phone, he smiled at the photo for a few seconds longer before storing it away again, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. “Beats me, hermano. But I’m happy to help them as much as I can.”

Alan’s praise really and truly meant the world to him, and Monty smiled widely. “Thanks,” he answered in a hushed tone, perhaps too quiet for the werewolf to even hear over the slap of the waves against the side of the sailboat. At the next statement, though, his head cocked to the side curiously. “Well, how many animal control officers named Kaden can there be in a town this size?” He paused, brow furrowing. “What… happened?” He hoped to God it wasn’t bad, something that would have put the pair at odds. 

—

“And I can?” Well, yes. Alan knew French just enough to know how wines were pronounced. Since he wasn’t trying to be elected douchebag has-been of the decade, he refrained from pronouncing it the French way however. It didn’t help that he didn’t speak a word of French aside from Pinot Gris or Sauvignon. “I don’t think I should ever go anywhere near a shelter,” he’d end up bringing home more than he could care for.

Returning that bright smile right back, he didn’t quite catch what the other said. Alan wondered how the other would react to his story. It was quite ridiculous, and one he wasn’t really proud to tell. “I told you about the kid who stole my sandwich one noon and didn’t even say thanks?” Who cared if she never said thanks, honestly? Alan didn’t even care, but he was proud and he wanted her to apologize, at the very least. “Well, I found her, and well, I had to … well…shift. It was an emergency.” The wolf hadn’t even gotten to the part he was mortified about yet his cheeks were tinted pink again. Maybe it was that he always sought to impress his friend, but showing vulnerability never failed to make him feel naked. Not to say that he would have rather ran into someone with only a duvet to save his dignity, but his cheeks sure were burning now. “I didn’t have my backpack with me this time and I walked back to my car near-naked. I say near because I had a duvet,” he was aware that this really wasn’t a good look for him. If he had seen himself that day, Alan would have cringed so much he’d have turned into diamonds. “Anyhow…” He pressed his lips together. Did he really need to add more to this? 

—

Nodding slowly and wondering where on earth this could possibly be going, Monty listened with an attentive ear and a curious mind. He let the other seemingly finish before speaking, though there was still a lot left unsaid. 

“Wait, hang on. Okay. First of all, why did you have to shift when you found her? Who—what was she? It was an emergency?” His brow furrowed in confusion and he shook his head, continuing, “And what does this have to do with Kaden?”

—

It took a moment, but before Alan could muster the strength to respond, the pieces sort of clicked into place. Monty’s eyes widened and he let out an explosive laugh, slapping his hands against his legs. “Alan! No! You ran into him while you were post-shift naked?!” The zombie howled with laughter, squinting his eyes shut and flopping back onto the cushion, hands splayed over his stomach. “¡Ay, Dios mío! It’s the freaking oral exam all over again!” he cackled, not feeling the slightest bit bad for getting a kick out of his best friend’s embarrassment. 

“I don’t fucking know, she turned into a damn bear. I don’t know if it was the surprise or something else, but I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in a long time,” part of his explanation was a call for empathy in those trying times, the rest was the actual truth. He was more concerned about his life around her than he had been with these damn mafia guys. 

But it seemed he’d have to explain everything, didn’t it? Why did his friend have to be so cruel ? 

Truth is, Alan couldn’t say whether having to explain or seeing Monty burst in tear-inducing laughter was the most painful to his self-esteem. The wolf kept his gaze fixated on the horizon, his lips pressed into a thin line that could have spelled out pain and a desire to disappear right on the spot. His cheeks were burning red, he knew that. Fucksake. “I sure did. He had a lot of questions about it, let me tell you.” With a sound of anguish, Alan let his back fall onto the deck and sighed. “I mean you’ve seen the guy. He looks like a Ken doll or something,” not that it should have mattered, but pretty people’s opinions somehow had more importance to him. It was incredibly shallow, he was not proud of it, but this was how things worked for him. “I told him I’d give him a discount if he didn’t mention this to anyone. D’you think he’ll call me back?” It was Alan’s turn to snort and chortle. “Oh man, I … Hey ! Fuck you with the oral exams,” he reached over with his hand to clumsily slap him quiet. “Fuck off, you…” At loss of words, the werewolf covered his face with both hands, falling again into a fit of laughter. “Let’s just say, don’t invite him when I’m around. I might make it very awkward.” 

—

A werebear? That was new. Sounded like it was new to Alan, too, or at least alarming enough to make him shift unexpectedly. He didn’t have time to feel bad about that now, though, because everything was falling into place in the most hilarious way. 

“I bet!” Trying to rein in his giggling, Monty pressed a hand to his own chest and muttered a string of Spanish kid-friendly expletives, but it wouldn’t do him any good, because Alan was doing nothing to help make this less funny. “A Ken doll! Ahh, I—” he had to stop again, snickering too hard to continue. “Mi hermano… te amo, pero no estás bien,” he wheezed, waving a hand in Alan’s general direction. 

Feeling the smack only exacerbated the humor of the situation, but finally, Monty was able to calm himself down and quit cracking up at his best friend’s expense. Wiping the tears from his eyes, the zombie reached blindly for Alan and gave whatever part of him his hand found first a soft pat. “I tell you what, I tell you what,” he chuckled, grinning up at the sky, “I’ll make sure he sees me naked at least once, eh? Then we’re even.” He was joking, of course, pressing his free hand over his eyes and fighting the urge to start laughing again. 

—

“What? You’ve seen his hair. It’s ridiculously shiny,” Alan said matter-of-factly. Sure, he managed to tame his own mane after all this time, but it was graying already, which was something that made him feel self conscious. The other kept on laughing in the meantime. The wolf looked down at the zombie, his jaded expression ruined by hints of amusement, a twinkle in his eye, sketches of a smile. Fucking hell. “No? ¿No estoy bien, en serio?” He gave him another smack for that. “No estoy bien. Vete a la…” Biting on the inside of his cheek, he found himself once again fighting back a smile, then laughter. “Oh fuck off,” he scoffed. 

One knee folded up to support his arm and chin, the other leg folded to rest under his ass, Alan watched his friend search for his leg before settling his hand on his knee. Though it didn’t match Monty’s words, he found comfort in that touch. He knew there was more truth there than in those words, and it managed to make him feel better just as much as the thought of poor Kaden being introduced to the local nudist club. “And then you dare say you’re not an asshole,” he gave Monty’s ankle a pat. “D’you wanna go somewhere specific or do you wanna stick around here for a while?” The wolf usually had trouble staying grounded, and more often than not, the other managed to help with that. He could thank his childhood, and being the first of his siblings for that. No time to rest when you were the house’ cook, cleaner, courrier and example. 

—

All he could was shake his head, still grinning as Alan tried to tell him off. “I’m not a—I’m so nice,” the zombie argued with one final chuckle, sitting up again and scrubbing his hands over his face. At the question of where to go, Monty glanced around them, trying to get a sense of their position. “We could go check out that weird sea cave at Harborside’s south point,” he suggested with a cheeky grin, knowing that disembarking anywhere but at the docks would mean getting wet. “Or, you know. Float here. Here’s nice, too.” He glanced at all the birds flying overhead, squinting against the sun. “Could get pooped on, though.” 

And then, as an afterthought, Monty leaned forward until his hands met the deck, scooting closer to his friend until he was well within reach. “Also, I like your hair. I think it looks nice.” Even windswept as it was, what with their being on the open ocean, and all. He was sure he didn’t look any more kempt, himself. He smirked for a moment, then pushed himself up onto his feet to go retrieve his jacket and pull the sunglasses out of its pocket, holding onto the rope railing for support. “Up to you, though!”

—

“So nice,” Alan repeated with a roll of his eyes and a fed up smile. Turning his head the other way, in the direction of the Cave of Voices. Weird certainly covered the stories they had both heard about that place. You heard the same stories about the woods, the sea, the mountains, and even some of the streets of Wicked’s Rest. Alan knew some were true, and some were fabricated. The trick was to know which were which. “Could get pooped on,” he agreed, turning to find the other scooting closer. 

His expression softened, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly. Switching his posture to hide the pink hue of his cheeks against his palm, Alan then stood up and attempted to fix his hair, which had been ruffled by the wind. Heh, Monty must have been teasing him about a cow lick spike in his hair. He looked over his shoulder while the other scouted away, though he didn’t have the heart to ask him what he meant by that. With a scrunched up nose, the disgruntled wolf headed toward the stern. “Let’s head to the cave. Maybe there will be a bit less wind over there,” he agreed. Pulling on the rope attached to the sails, he tied a knot once he had enough winds caught in here. “If you want something to drink, help yourself,” he motioned toward the cooler, while he checked on his phone for tides. 

—

The boat tilted as the sails caught the wind and started to move again, and Monty was glad he’d had a firm grip on the rope. Stepping carefully, he moved back toward the stern and plopped down nearish the tiller, beside Alan, then reached for the cooler to pull it closer and fetch a couple drinks for them. 

It was a bit of sail over to and then around the rocky outcrop that hid the cave in question, but the journey was far from a bad one. The pair had fallen into comfortable chitchat, which somehow felt even easier now that he didn’t have that rain cloud hanging over his head. He had no more secrets from his best friend, and that was honestly an incredible relief. Alan knew him like no one else did, and it was freeing. 

Hopping up to his feet when he saw the dark, gaping maw of the Cave of Voices come into view, Monty looked back excitedly at Alan. “There it is!” He pointed with his free hand, the other still clutching his drink to his chest. He knew the story behind the name, and was painfully curious about hearing it first-hand. He couldn’t help but wonder what he would hear.

—

“There it is,” he confirmed, though his voice wasn’t as vibrant as his friend’s. Those stories were always a source of worry. If there was something to hear in here, he’d be the first to know. Though Alan tried not to show it, that thought frightened him. He always tried to keep his chin up. Call it being the big brother to 3 younger siblings, it just wouldn’t have done him any good to show frailty. 

He took a sip from his bottle, before reaching over to release the wind. If they were to approach that place, they’d do it slowly. “That’s a fucking big cave,” the realtor commented. It resembled what the maw of the void must have looked like, uninviting, cold, empty and stunningly dark and quiet. 

There wasn’t one bit of wind now, and yet, as they stilled, Alan could have sworn he heard a whisper. He glanced over at Monty, half expecting him to look back at him with a cocky grin on his face, muffling back his laughter as best as he could. “You didn’t hear that, I presume?” Nope, he didn’t like this at all.

—

Oh, Alan was already getting a taste, and they weren’t even in the cave yet! It made sense, what with his keen senses and all, and the zombie was eager to get in there himself. “No—come on!” His deeply buried sense of adventure was clawing its way out now, making him more closely resemble the young man he’d been that first year after meeting Hector, and the near twenty that had followed. Taking a long swig of his drink before setting it aside, Monty went to the bow of the sailboat and laid flat on his stomach, reaching for the nearest rock. His fingers gripped it and tugged, pulling them closer. “Anchor her!”

He didn’t exactly wait for his friend to join him, scrambling to his feet and tethering the rope between the rock and the boat, which left him standing alone on its slippery surface. Something deep in the cave made a sound—it was a little bit ethereal, like a voice calling to him, and his grin cracked wide. “I hear it,” he breathed, motioning for Alan to follow as he scampered over the rocks to head into the darkness. 

What he found, though, was not an empty cave as expected. Instead, a black stallion stood in the spot where the ground evened out, its coat wet from the ocean mist, seaweed dangling from its mane like it’d gotten caught there after a swim. Monty slowed to a stop, mouth agape. “... what.” It wasn’t an intelligent reaction, but the farmer had never claimed to be that. “Alan…!” His voice was uncertain as he called for his friend, gaze never leaving the horse. It lifted its head and stared at him, big eyes blinking as it craned its head forward curiously. What the heck? What the heck?

—

He had seen Monty before in a similar state, close to euphoria. Alan never got tired of it and it was difficult for him to hide his smile. Seeing them both, it was hard to tell ourselves that it was the zombie who had the taste for adventure and not the werewolf, but Alan had had his dose of adrenaline when he was in the army, when he was attacked by this beast. To be honest, he got his adrenaline fix every month, every full moon. He knew full well that every full moon could be the last. That sort of realization certainly didn’t make you crave any other sort of danger. 

“He hears it,” Alan repeated, though he lacked the unchained enthusiasm the other displayed. “Alright, wait for me,” he called out, and checking the ties on his shoe laces, jumped off the boat to follow him inside that damn cave. His eyes adjusted to the darkness with ease and he kept them fixated on Monty’s back, worried as he was to see him slip or disappear, somehow. In the past five years, that man had been one of three fixed points in the werewolf’s life, the other two being the course of the moon and his business. It was nice to have something that wasn’t either a burden or a responsibility. Something easy, at last, that made him unconditionally happy. To risk losing that, it wasn’t a good thought, it would be a terrible truth. And so he stared, even as a second silhouette showed itself. 

Approaching his side, he finally looked at that animal in wonder. It wasn’t a ghost. It seemed real, although it didn’t precisely look like that champagne horse or Habanero. It was beautiful, for certain, but you had to wonder what it was doing here, and how it got here. Could horses swim at all? “How did it get in here?” He asked, eyes darting toward his friend. He knew the other was passionate about those animals and probably would want to get closer. 

—

There shouldn’t have been a horse in here. But there was. I mean, sure, they could swim, but this wasn’t exactly an easy spot to get to. It was a miracle the creature wasn’t hurt. Unless it was, and he just couldn’t see it yet.

“I… it must have… swam. But I don’t know why it would have? There’s nothing in here for it, except shelter…” Maybe something had chased it in here. Given it no choice but to flee to a damp, dark, treacherous cave. “I need to make sure he isn’t hurt, hermano,” the zombie breathed, looking at Alan with concern etched into his features. He gave the werewolf a pat on his arm and then moved closer to the horse, hand outstretched for him to sniff. Soft Spanish words of assurance spilled from him as he stepped forward, allowing the animal to lean his nose closer to Monty’s hand. His ears flicked forward, intrigued rather than afraid, and Monty smiled. “Buen niño…” he hummed, running his palm up the animal’s muzzle. 

Now that some trust had been established, Monty made a slow circle around the animal to check him for wounds, but didn’t find anything. His hands glided across the horse’s damp flanks, his eyes bright with wonder. “Why are you here, niño? A cave is no place for a caballo.” He turned, looking back at Alan. “... I don’t feel right leaving him here.”

—

"Swam?" Alan looked over his shoulder. It was a dangerous walk for someone who came from the nearest beach, with a chance to twist your ankle or slip and injure yourself. The horse would have swam for a bit. "That's a long way," he commented, rubbing at the back of his neck in apparent confusion. He doubted that to be likely, but he supposed it was plausible.

Dropping his hands to his hips, the werewolf stayed one step behind. He didn't know a damn thing about horses or tending to animals. If there was something unexpected to come, he supposed Monty would know best. 

"No te preocupes, I don't see anything," as far as he was aware he was the only one out of them who could see as clearly as if it were broad daylight, and the animal seemed unharmed. 

“Monty, we’re not gonna manage to make him climb into the boat,” he began. He was pretty damn sure the poor animal would freak out and try to escape anyway. “We could try animal control but I’m not sure they’re equipped for that,” Alan commented. Squatting down, he took a look up at the horse, his eyes narrowing as he wondered how the fuck he got in here. Swimming, right. But from where? 

—

“No, no, I know…” Getting the animal on the boat had been the furthest thing from his mind. But as he stood in front of the stallion, stroking his nose, he didn’t know what to do. 

Then a voice came like a whisper in his ear, and he knew. “He swam here. It’s the only thing that makes sense. But he has to swim back out.” Monty glanced back at Alan, shooting him a soft, lopsided smile. “I’ll ride him out.” It was by no means safe, but it was the only idea he had. He absolutely could not leave this cave without helping the animal, and as he already knew… animal control was not equipped to deal with this. “It’s the easiest way. Getting other people involved will only make it more challenging.” The horse tossed his head almost like he understood, pushing his forehead against Monty’s chest and angling his body toward the cowboy. Like he wanted to be ridden. 

A peculiar feeling settled in Monty’s head and chest, and he decided he wasn’t going to question this, even if Alan did protest. 

—

“Well he’ll swim ba-” ck out by himself, was what the werewolf meant to retort. Cut off by the other’s counter offer, he fell silent. That wasn’t a good idea. Wouldn’t that make it harder for the horse to swim? And what if the animal started drowning? What then? Monty wouldn’t allow it to happen, and while there was a chance he didn’t need to breathe underwater, Alan’s chest felt tighter at the idea of watching him sink below sea level for a time that was just too long for anyone who resembled a human being. “You’re not serious,” he finally retorted, his voice echoing against the walls of the cave. Quieter this once, he glanced at the horse, who seemed to agree with Monty. Well that was a ridiculous thought. Horses couldn’t possibly be so clever. Ignoring that thought, Alan looked back at his friend and shook his head. 

“That’s fucking stupid, Monty. I’m calling animal control,” he warned, stepping a couple feet away to get reception on his phone. “Just stay there, alright, I’ll call the damn…” He fell quiet while he searched online for their phone number, oblivious to what happened beyond that small screen.

—

“I am serious!” His hands came up to the animal’s neck almost protectively as he pouted at his friend. “I have ridden horses through deep water before. It’s fine.” Rivers, sure. The occasional lake. But not a sea cave with jagged rocks and swelling tides. But if this stallion had made it all the way in here on his own, then he had to be a strong swimmer.

“It’s not stupid,” Monty grumbled, looking away from Alan. “I already know they can’t handle horses. That’s why Kaden called me.” There was a chance he wasn’t even speaking loud enough for his friend to hear, his words more directed at the horse in question. His resolve was solidified, and he nodded. “Right. C’mon, niño. I’ll guide you back out.” 

Shrugging off his jacket and dumping it on the rocks, it was quickly joined by his shoes and his phone. Alan could get those, if he saw fit. And with that, the cowboy gripped a handful of the stallion’s mane and jumped, heaving himself up and over the animal’s back. 

There! That wasn’t so bad! 

“Alan,” Monty called to get his attention, wearing a grin, “we’ll be heading due… west.” He pointed to the left. “See you there!” The horse was already making his way into the water, somewhat to Monty’s surprise, who had thought it was going to take a bit of coaxing. But everything seemed fine, and for a moment, they bobbed in waves as the horse kicked off the land and began to swim. Perfect. No problems. 

Until of course, there was. With a startled gasp, Monty watched the stallion drive his head down into the water, with the rest of him quickly following. Which included Monty, who was now… somehow stuck to the animal’s back. He didn’t even have time to look Alan’s way before he disappeared beneath the surface, a stream of bubbles in their wake as he yelled and attempted to pull himself free.

It was no use. He was trapped. 

—

He didn’t try to further argue any of it. It was absolute nonsense and Alan knew better than to throw himself into a conversation that would only turn sour. The tide would move into the cave before they agreed to anything. Hearing that Kaden, the animal control guy, was no good with horses didn’t manage to make him put away his phone. “There’s no fucking reception,” he mumbled, climbing up on a rock to get closer to the cave’s opening.

He just had to befriend the most fucking stubborn guy in town, huh? 

Truth was, he fully expected every single attempt to get the horse to move out of here to fail, and he wasn’t really worried about the noises he heard in his back. What worried him, however, was what would happen if Monty had to accept that they couldn’t save that poor animal. 

And still no reception. The forty-something moved further away, his eyes riveted on the small bars at the top of his screen. Of course, he would never pick up any signal while they were inside that fucking damp cave. He put the phone back in his pocket, glanced briefly at Monty who was happily perched on the horse’s back. “You’re a moron, you know that, right?” With a smile, and a scoff, he turned his back on him again, hands on his hips and tried to think of a solution, one more time, even if there was most likely no way to make it work. 

It was expected : he blanked, and his mind only offered him thoughts regarding what he should say to convince him that there was nothing they could do. But while he mentally peregrinated, Alan was no longer focusing on what was happening behind him. If he figured the horse would back out of the water, neigh in fear, rear up and cause ruckus, it took a few seconds too much before he realized the cave was a bit too silent. They couldn’t have swam so far already. He would have seen them pass him by. He would have spotted Monty’s gloating expression. Fuck. 

“Monty?” He called out. “Monty ?!” The werewolf roared this once, his eyes searching frantically  around until they finally spotted them, underneath the surface. The zombie’s name was uttered once more, hurriedly, while Alan rid himself of his jacket, kicked off his shoes and entered the water without hesitation. It was nowhere near as warm as he would have liked it to be, but a force commanded that he ignore that and instead dove head first after the drowning pair, noticing only then that Monty was not trying to bring the horse back up, but rather fighting to get off of it. What the fuck. 

It was one of those situations where being a monster wouldn’t have helped him. He could only rely on himself. What a terrifying thought that was. 

Catching up on the pair, he wrapped his fingers around Monty’s wrist first, to let him know he was here, and with the hopes that he could just pull him out of here. 

—

Feeling something grab onto his wrist, the zombie’s frightened gaze flicked to Alan as he tilted his head back. He wanted to say no, to tell the other to get back to the surface, but he couldn’t. Any sound he attempted to make was lost in the water that filled the space between them, and the horse… thing was just dragging him deeper. It craned its neck and bared its teeth, which were now much sharper than they ought to have been. 

Monty shook his head, trying to pull Alan’s hand free from his wrist. He’d drown down here, and Monty, well… he didn’t need to breathe. He still often did, but the seawater that filled his throat now was pretty good at preventing that. Still, the force his friend was managing to exert in the opposite direction seemed to have slowed the creature enough to agitate it, and it turned its gaze on Alan. The equine body twisted sharply, unnaturally, and those teeth snapped at the werewolf, missing only by centimeters. Monty let loose another muffled cry, reaching forward to wrap his free arm around the monster’s neck and heave it back toward his chest. He’d… have to kill it, wouldn’t he? Or they’d both die down here. And his bite was much stronger than Alan’s, at least when he wasn’t shifted. 

As his gaze focused on the animal’s throat—no, not animal. It wasn’t real. Whatever it was, it was a trick. He still felt sick. The horse-thing fought against him, kicking with its powerful legs in an attempt to separate the two men. Monty felt the clock ticking and again urged Alan to return to the surface as best he could, but… well, his friend knew he was not a strong swimmer. He would likely be loath to leave Monty behind, even if he wouldn’t drown, knowing he would simply sink to the bottom. 

As the beast struggled, the zombie bit down on its neck. Which was a big neck, but he had the benefit of being very familiar with horse anatomy… assuming this thing wasn’t different on the inside. One bite wouldn’t do it, though. No, he had to rip and tear and dig, employing his hand when he could. The water filled with blood and the creature began to panic. As it panicked, something else started happening. Its horse-like features were slowly melting away, giving way to a much more human appearance that had hands that could fight back. They scrambled to gain purchase on Monty’s lithe form, but the human neck that was now his target was much, much easier to destroy. He couldn’t think about how horrifying this was, first having to maul his favorite animal (or what had appeared to be his favorite), and now having to do the same to… a man. Just a fucking man. 

—

Kicking away from that monstrous jaw, Alan didn’t try to make sense of anything that happened. They were both in peril, down here, fighting this beast in an element that was playing against them. This was all Alan could focus on, the fright, the urgency of it all. Even if Monty couldn’t drown, he couldn’t possibly survive being devoured by that monster. 

He’d have to act quickly for his own sake too : the more time the wolf spent down here, the more he exposed himself to the chance of never coming back to the surface. Nowadays, he wasn’t much of an athlete. His days as a footballer were far behind him, as were his days in the army. Yet, running through the woods still counted as exercise, right? Perhaps it would have been wise to think about all this before he dove in, but he hadn’t thought about that at all. All that mattered was saving him.

Shaking his head if only to voice his refusal the only way he could and denying his friend the right to end up all by himself in this hostile environment, Alan swam back to his side, careful not to get too close to the death trap that constituted the horse’s jaw. 

The water turned red, and Alan felt his heart drop in his chest, while he stared with wide eyes through the sea water. He didn’t expect to see Monty digging his teeth into the beast’s neck. He’d never have expected violence from him, even more so when facing something that looked like that animal he cherished. Many times, he had listened to the zombie as he told him about Habanero. Alan couldn’t really understand that connection the other had with his horse, but it didn’t take understanding it to realize how heart wrenching this must have all been. Perhaps it was a relief to see the monster switch into something else, into a human. Hands wouldn’t do much to Monty, and they wouldn’t do much to Alan either. 

Approaching the wrestling pair, Alan wrapped an arm around the shapeshifter’s neck. Strangling him would be a waste of time : Alan would suffocate long before the other met its end. Bringing his other hand up to cradle that thing’s cheek, the wolf counted on Monty to hold away their arms and help him get over with it. 

—

As Alan’s arm came to wrap around the creature’s neck, Monty pulled his head back, eyes fixed on the open wound before refocusing on his friend’s face. Taking his cue, the zombie held on tightly to the fighting assailant, holding it still so Alan could snap its neck. The moment it went still, Monty was pushing on Alan, pushing on him to get back up to the surface. He was a much slower swimmer, though, and couldn’t help his friend get any higher any faster. He just hoped the idiot wouldn’t waste time trying to help him. 

Slow progress became no progress, and Monty growled in frustration as he sank all the way down to the bottom, his bare feet meeting rock and sand as he looked up at the far off, glimmering waves above. There was a dark, vaguely-human shaped spot, which he hoped was Alan, breaking through them and lingering for a few moments. 

Well, at least he hadn’t drowned. 

So began the long trek back toward the cave, and the cliff that rose up to form its bottom where Monty had found the horse—the thing—in the first place. At least climbing would be easier underwater. 

—

The cave’s ceiling reflected onto the water above Alan’s head, dark and menacing, and as he swam up, his lungs burning, begging for fresh air, the werewolf told himself that perhaps he wouldn’t manage to make it. Maybe he dove too deep, maybe it was too far above him. Maybe. 

And yet, after a while, he could tell the surface was right there, just an arm’s length away, right there. Just right there. His hands pierced through the veil first, followed soon by his head. The sound of the waves crashing gently against the shore, that gentle melody was broken by Alan’s gasping and coughing as he filled once again his lungs with oxygen, and tasted the salt on his tongue. 

Well aware that the other wouldn’t miss the fresh air as much as he had, he took a few more moments before he dipped his face in the water again, if only to get an idea of where he was. One day, he’d need to teach him how to swim, he told himself. Defending himself seemed to be far from an issue. It was a relief, the sort that brought a light to his face. At last, he swam back toward the shore, and took a seat on the rocks, pinching at the top of his nose and running his hand through his hair. He could hear the voices again, coming from the cave, though he was too busy with his thoughts to care at all this time. What would have happened if he hadn’t jumped into the water? What could have happened in the water. They were both safe now, but if he had just listened. What fucking madness had this all been. Alan wiped at the corners of his mouth, trying to get that bitter taste out of his mouth. Maybe he had no right being furious. It all had gone well, in the end. Maybe so, but maybe he was terrified of what could have been. His mouth trembled briefly before he decided to pull his shit together and stand back up. 

—

It took a few minutes, but finally Monty was heaving himself up from the edge of the pool of ocean water that lapped at the rocks of the cave, retching as he did so, his body expelling all the water he’d… inhaled? Swallowed? Whatever the case, it felt terrible. But as soon as he could lift his head again, his gaze darted around the darkness of the cavern until it fell on Alan, and he could breathe a sigh of relief. He spoke in frantic Spanish as he struggled to his feet, wading through the shallow water over to where Alan was standing. “Alan, I’m sorry, I-I didn’t think—I didn’t realize—!” He couldn’t quite form his thoughts into words, feeling them catch in his throat as his emotions got the better of him. 

You should have just left me was what he was thinking, of course, but he dared not say it aloud. Because he knew, really, that he shouldn’t have put Alan in the position of needing to rescue him in the first place. Hadn’t he done that enough for one lifetime? “I’m so sorry, my brother. I—” He wanted to reach for him but couldn’t and so he remained awkwardly standing in the water up to his knees, looking just as wet and bedraggled as his companion. Also, there was horse hair stuck in the back of his throat. 

—

“You think I don’t already know that?” Alan gave him a glance. His lips quivered. Fuck. He shook his head and wiped his fingers beneath his nose. What was even the fucking point. They were fine, weren’t they? 

But what if they hadn’t been fine. Alan shook his head, chasing those thoughts away, trying to pry that possibility away. “You could have fucking…” He stopped himself mid sentence. He couldn’t say that word. The word felt like needles in his throat, and Alan who always longed to have someone who could understand him, and who had found just that in Monty was beginning to realize that perhaps the zombie didn’t understand how necessary it was that he just lived. Or perhaps Alan hadn’t realized before that he wasn’t really immortal. Perhaps he should have told him to stay away from that damn fucking horse with more conviction or even said no to going anywhere near that damn cave. 

Closing his eyes, he brought his hand up to his lids. They trembled beneath his finger tips. “I don’t…” He took a breath, and another, collecting himself with every single sip of air that he took. “We should head back to port,” if his voice sounded too even for the occasion, the look in his eye betrayed all of his efforts, and it was swiftly that he turned on his heels to pick up his shoes and his jacket. 

—

As the events of the day settled over him, sinking in deep just how foolish he’d been and how badly that could have gone, Monty lapsed into silence. He could only nod when Alan spoke, announcing that it was time for their departure. 

He still didn’t know what they’d killed down there, and a part of him never wanted to know. But the warmth of its blood was not a memory quickly pushed away and it lingered like a bad taste on his tongue, reminding him of the one of two types of brutality he was capable of. But worse than that was what he’d done to Alan. Put him through. Just another mistake in a long line of mistakes, ones that Alan always had to bail him out of.

He deserved better than that. Monty knew this, but the truth of the matter was that he was selfish when it came to Alan, and he couldn’t make himself walk away. Besides, Alan wouldn’t let him. Just like he wouldn’t leave him to sort out his own problems when he got dragged underwater by some bloodthirsty beast because of his own idiocy, and just like he had covered up the other’s fuckup in the woods all those years ago to help him stay… It was a useless thought.

What he could do, though, was be better. So he quietly gathered his things and rejoined his friend on the boat, helping as was needed to get them out of there, but otherwise keeping to himself with his head down and knees pulled to his chest. He hated that the expression his friend had worn was his fault. But he could apologize until he was metaphorically blue in the face, and that wouldn’t change a damn thing.

So, he thought, he just had to be better.

[snowbatsims]

VAMPIRE INTERMISSION #4

It's Rune's birthday today!

At least, according to the in-game calendar, where I once gave my vampires birth dates that remain consistent every year. No aging will be occurring, due to the whole vampire thing, but yeah.

It sure is Rune's birthday.

MORTEN: You know... I think we should throw him a little surprise party this year. EINARR: Oh, Rune? Sure. EINARR: I don't know exactly how birthday parties really work, so I'll leave you to it. MORTEN: hell yeah

And the decorations are up!

While waiting for the day to pass, they put on a movie: Moonlight Massacre III.

Einarr picked it this time. He has never seen it before, and honestly, Morten hasn't either. Not this one, anyway.

It was kind of... hmm.

character 1: oh, i can't wait to go camping in the woods with you guys today! :D character 2: ooooh but watch out......... isn't this where they said there would be... WEREWOLVES??? character 3: psssht, werewolves aren't real! we'll be fine ♡ character 1: yeah!! :D character 2: eh idk... i'd rather be safe than sorry. character 3: lmao coward ♡ 1 and 3: *laugh* character 2: wha- hey! wait for me!!

EINARR: They're all about to die. MORTEN: I mean that would make sense, it's called Moonlight Massacre after all. EINARR: And it'll definitely be to werewolves, which happen to be real in their world too, much like in ours. Calling it. MORTEN: Yeah... there have been werewolves in this series before. Wouldn't surprise me.

MORTEN: ...Wait, did you just say they were real?

EINARR: Well of course! If immortal bat-shifting blood-drinkers like ourselves exist, why wouldn't some people who turn into a wolf at the full moon exist too? EINARR: Some even claim we're two sides of the same coin, though I haven't truly fact-checked that. EINARR: Either way, they are reclusive creatures! I may have run into some a couple times over the centuries... they all wanted me dead, of course. EINARR: Vampires and werewolves really don't mix at all.

MORTEN: What are they like in real life, anyway? Do you remember enough? MORTEN: Are they like, these horrifying bloodthirsty manwolves, or... are they more like furries. EINARR: Who's Furries? MORTEN: ...

EINARR: It's a strange name, but I know better than to question the validity of it. What context am I missing here?

MORTEN: ...

EINARR: Well? Don't leave me hanging like that. EINARR: Did this Furries person do something egregious? MORTEN: Um. Well, it's not a person. MORTEN: Let's just say they're cute animal characters some people like to draw. They got human features like the ability to talk and maybe walk on two legs, that sort of stuff. MORTEN: And I guess in this context I mostly referred to them as like, the opposite of bloodthirsty powerhungry evil manwolves who rip people apart. Sorry. EINARR: I see...

MORTEN: So! Which one is a real werewolf the most like? EINARR: ... EINARR: I'd say both, actually. MORTEN: Oh?? So you mean like- EINARR: Wait. The movie...

EINARR: That does not look like a wolf at all. MORTEN: Oh right, we were supposed to be watching this slop...

MORTEN: .... MORTEN: Is that murderer guy seriously just a man in a cheap bunny costume? EINARR: Looks like it. MORTEN: Aaaaand all the characters are already dead. EINARR: Yes. That didn't take very long, did it?

MORTEN: And here I was actually almost looking forwards to seeing that werewolf they were going on about!! Bruh. EINARR: Budget cuts, probably. MORTEN: Sure, or it's just the film-makers' poor idea of a cool plot twist. Like wow, look! It wasn't a werewolf after all! It's just another budget scoobydoo villain, here to kill everyone... EINARR: Scooby doo was that cartoon about those kids and that talking dog, right? MORTEN: Yeah. EINARR: ... EINARR: Does... Scooby doo qualify as a "furry"?

MORTEN: That sure is a question.

-------

MORTEN: Welp, movie's over! And I just remembered that our human guests will probably want food. EINARR: Oh! True, I almost forgot about that. MORTEN: Party starts in maybe three hours. Go do your stuff while I bake Rune a cake. EINARR: Alright! Just remember, do not put on the candles. Those seem to have mysterious magical properties when placed on a cake... even a vampire can grow older from blowing those out. I've seen it happen. MORTEN: Wait, who? Vlad Straud? EINARR: Well, why do you think he looks so grey already? Vladislaus blew out those candles and now he looks like an old man. And that was the last birthday he ever celebrated. MORTEN: Alright, good to know. I do think our human guests will want cake either way! EINARR: They'll love it.

It was at this point Mort decided they actually really enjoy baking.

Meanwhile...

EINARR: BAT... How many times-

EINARR: The laundry basket is RIGHT THERE.

EINARR: It's no use. I cannot wake him until the sun is down anyway, he'll just get extremely pissy about it.

EINARR: What ever. Every day is laugardagr with these kids in the house. EINARR: It's fine. I chose to live with them.

And the cake is done. No candles, as ordered!

CONTINUE ->

[losthacketteer]

what an excellent day for an exorcism.

Horror prompts. | Accepting.

❝ An exorcism?! You have got to be fucking kidding me. ❞ There couldn't have been something she knew about in this grotesquely haunted place, could there? Laura's eyes scanned their surroundings with a growing sense of dread at the insinuation that their new problem was something beyond the supernatural. It was spiritual. At least one of them seemed confident in that recognition. A werewolf was physical. It could be shot at, wounded, even killed with the right preparation and tools - last she checked there wasn't anybody slinging guns at ghosts or demons.

-- ❝ Don't you need a priest or something for that? I don't think we're exactly qualified for this kind of thing! ❞

[mintedwitcher]

I just rewatched the s2 finale, and I'm sorry, were we supposed to cheer for the guy who just justified a massive violation of Derek's autonomy with "you might be an alpha, but you're not mine"??? literally what the fuck was that?

Straight from the start of this show, Scott has been hypocritical and flip-flopping with his "morality" and it's absolutely fucking horrendous that we're supposed to side with him over characters like Derek, or Stiles.

Stiles who, by the way, was always right when it came to the "villain" in almost every season. His "bad feelings" about people were almost always correct. And Scott always brushed him off.

And do not even get me STARTED on Scott's obsession with Allison. She tried to kill him and Derek in season 1. She tried to kill Erica and Boyd and Isaac in season 2. She was all on board to kill Derek too, and even Scott himself if he "got in her way" and he STILL made her the most important person in his universe. That obsession led to a kind of wilful blindness that got too many people hurt, including his own best fucking friend, and he didn't even care.

He is selfish, childish, spoiled, manipulative, and obsessive to an unhealthy degree, and he hates that he's a werewolf, so what exactly makes him qualified to be a "true alpha" again? oh right, he didn't kill an alpha to gain his power. like that's somehow a moral high ground when he's more than willing to kill when it suits him. (my opinion, personally, is that he didn't kill to become an alpha because he didn't even want to be a werewolf, much less an alpha, not because he had some kind of moral high ground.)

I cannot stand Scott McCall. He is absolutely the worst candidate that Peter could have bitten. (and clearly Peter had some cognizance during that period of time, since he didn't just go on a mindless biting spree, he picked and bit Scott on purpose, and that was probably the worst decision he'd ever made.)

so like, are we ready yet to talk about how Scott McCall was literally the worst person Peter could've turned, or are we still ignoring that?