#both in sound and with the amount of ums and self-corrections/info left out

[elidee-art]

Makin horrid little low-poly Fortunes while teaching myself Blender

[infinite-hearts-333]

Broken pack, Broken wolf

Sander sides, Analogical (Eventually), Logan Angst, Werewolf AU

WARNING: really bad writing, angsty, lack of sleep and starvation, swearing I'll add to this

Before

Part 2- Purpose, and... family?

Logan never left his room. Well, that's what the sides believed. Truthfully, every second night, he snuck out of his room in the middle of the night to steal snacks from the kitchen- well, once he found it. It was hard to sleep without the comforting weight of his pack around him, so Logan read and fingered out what his purpose was here until he passed out from exhaustion. Which... wasn't healthy... but he couldn't help it.

Moving on, his purpose. Apparently, he was inside a human's head- in the form of a figment of the male's imagination also known as one of his 'sides'. Logan, was the male's- also known as Thomas- Logical side. There are other sides as well, Morality and Creativity, the ones he met when he first manifested, and others as well, known as Deceit and Paranoia.

Logan, once informed on where the hell he was, began to work. How he knew what to do- he had no clue whatsoever. He just sat, and suddenly, he was typing and writing and planning, it helped to pass the time, distracting him from the hole in his heart that craved touch from his pack.

Logan stayed in his room, never coming out to interact with any of the sides. Even when Creativity lost stability and split in two, Logan remained seated in his room, the only change in routine was that he stayed in the den, curled up to hide from the scream as a side split in two.

Days turned to weeks, then to months, then years. Life became a sick pattern, wake up (sometimes he was already awake), eat any leftovers, work until he was exhausted and crawl back into his den. Some nights, Logan would cry himself to sleep, unable to remove the last image before his death- Jackson's horrified face, maw opened in a shout. 'LOGAN!'

The bags under his eyes became darker and darker, for Logan couldn't sleep without his pack, and the couple of hours of sleep he got from collapsing from exhaustion were cut short from Logan awakening, screaming and crying from night terrors.

Eventually, Logan came to the facts that crying was going to do nothing. His pack would move on, not knowing he was alive. .....could this even be counted as being alive? So he got rid of it all. All of his emotions, he repressed them, ignored them, hid them, and focused on his work instead.

And soon enough, Logan could hold a straight face from dawn till dusk. Only then, did he go outside in the day. He walked to the cupboard that he had never touched, swinging the door open and studied the clothes inside.

He got unchanged, dressed, and brushed his hair carefully, folding his ears down until they vanished against his will. Two flicks of his tail, and his tail vanished as well. A unicorn onesie sat in his cupboard, and he stared at it for a few minutes and then tossed it into the den. Removing his glasses, Logan smeared foundation under his eyes to hide the bags, before placing his glasses back on.

He inhaled, clutching the key hanging around his neck, and then unlocked the door for the first time, and stepped outside into the hallway.

Logan hadn't expected a welcome, more of a... threat for near-attacking Morality when they first met. But, instead when he walked into the kitchen he got a happy, cheerful: "Oh, hi!! You came out of your room!"

Was this guy serious? Or did he have some form of brain damage or memory issue? "Um... yes?" Logan said slowly, unsure. Morality giggled softly, beaming up at him. "Sorry if i scared you when we first met, i'm a little too affectionate sometimes. I moved a little too quickly for your liking right?" Logan blinked, once, twice before mentally screaming at himself to talk. "Oh.. um, yer. I'm also sorry." he shuffled a little on the spot.

"It's okay, you were scared!" The bubbly side chirped, turning back to cooking pancakes. Logan blinked again. He just dropped it? Just like that? Wasn't he mad? "Your.... Your not mad?" He asked quietly. Morality quickly turned, a horrified look on his face. "God no! Why would I? You were scared, and I got too close. And you didn't harm me, only knocked me over."

Logan frowned slightly, filing the info away for later. Empero and Jackson warned the other pack mates of the dangers of being near and interacting with humans, how they are selfish, self absorbed beings that only care about themselves. Empero's birth pack had been genetically changed, forced through artificial selection so the humans could take the strongest pups and use them to hunt and as weapons. Jackson was born domestic, and submission was beaten into him, causing the loss of his front left leg.

Logan expected to at least be yelled at. Well, he did look human, maybe they were kinder to their own species. Who knows, maybe humans have packs of their own. A bolt of hope rocketed through logan. Maybe... just maybe... he would be able to be part of a pack again. The idea of being rid of the horrid pain in his heart made Logan want to curl up on the floor and cry from relief.

"HELLO PADRE AND SMALL NERD~!" someone yelled from behind Logan, spooking him. Logan whipped around, and without thinking decked the man in the face. Morality yelped, and the man- who looked absolutely ridiculous in a pristine white prince outfit- stubbled back, blinking rapidly. Logan froze, eyes wide. Shit.

Prince-boy as Logan decided to dub him, stared right at Logan, before a massive grin broke out on his face as he stood upright and rubbed his jaw. "Nice to know i'm not the only one who knows how to throw a punch! Chill nerd, i ain't gonna attack you." Logan was in a near crouch position, prepared to bolt or attack, but semi-relaxed after prince-boy's words. Humans were truly strange.... "It's: i'm not going to attack you." Logan corrected, narrowing his eyes slightly as he lowered his guard.

Prince-boy scoffed, and rolled his eyes. "Whatever, name's Roman, what's yours?" Prince-bo- no, Roman, asked holding a hand out to shake. Logan flinched at the sudden movement, and slowly took the hand with a firm grip, shaking it before releasing. "Logan..." Logan said in a soft voice. "And i'm patton, but you can call me dad!" Chirped Morali- Patton, beaming as he flipped a pancake.

Roman snickered, and Logan raised an eyebrow studying over both of the sides that he would be living with for the rest of Thomas's lives. Roman bounded over to patton, leaning against the other affectionately as he peeked over Patton's shoulders to look at the pancakes. "Looks good patty-cake!" Roman said with a smile. Logan watched, heart throbbing with the want to be apart of that, to be held and hugged and be back with his pack-

No. That life, it was over. He couldn't have that any more. Instead, Logan trotted around and sat at the bench, lifting one hand and flicked his wrist to summon a book he had been reading. He ran his tongue over his teeth as he opened to the book-marked page, and began reading. He read in peace for a while, until the smell of pancakes and freshly melted butter increased causing his stomach to growl in demand of food for being so neglected.

"Here you are kiddo!!! I hope you like pancakes, I was in a bit of a baking mood!" Patton giggled, beaming that unnaturally bright smile and it took all of Logan's willpower not to shy away. Logan's gaze dropped, down to the neat stack of pancakes with butter, jam and syrup, causing him to salivate. "This.... This is mine?" He asked softly, tilting his head. "Of course!" Patton said, pushing a plate to roman who had seated next to him. "I wouldn't give it to you if it wasn't!!" Logan paused, swallowing, and then carefully reached out and pulled the plate closer.

He watched Patton and Roman carefully, and he cut off a piece, quickly sniffing it before sticking it in his mouth. Roman wasn't paying any attention to the werewolf, shoving the pancakes into his mouth happily, relishing the sweet taste. Patton was half watching, not enough to pick up on Logan's cautious behaviour, but enough to know they were eating.

Logan slightly melted. It was delicious, the light and fluffy pancakes seeming to melt in his mouth, and the jam proved the perfect amount of sweetness. Logan was starving from his bad diet and couldn't help but shove more food into his mouth, stuffing himself silly. The back of his mind warned him that if he continued he was most likely going to be horrible sick, and have the worst of stomachaches, but he was too hungry to care.

"Woah! Easy there kiddo, you'll give yourself a stomach ache! The food isn't going anywhere!" Patton joked. Logan forced himself to go slower, out of the want for the others not to know about his... lack of self care, but also out of a primal fear that they may take it away if he didn't slow down. He slowly chewed his food, focusing on the texture and taste to distract himself.

Soon enough all of Logan's food had vanished, and he already felt a little sick. He scooped up his plate, wandering into the kitchen, washed it, put it away and went to turn to leave before twisting his head over his shoulder to look at the others. Roman was chattering on about something, and Patton had just turned his attention to Logan. "Were you going kiddo?" He asked, tilting his head. "Back to my room, I have a lot of work I need to attend to." Logan answered simply.

"Oh... okay then! We'll see you again right? Maybe tonight or tomorrow?" Patton asked, sounding a little disappointed that the new side didn't want to stay longer. "Maybe." Logan said, and turned disappearing down the halls. When Logan got back to his room, he definitely regretted eating so much, for his gag reflex kicked in and Logan rushed to the bin near his desk and threw up half of his breakfast. Acid and bile mixed together horribly in his mouth, leaving him gagging even more as tears formed in his eyes. He whined softly, causing more pain to form in his throat as his ears and tail appeared, ears flat and tail tucked in between his legs.

'Eat less next time.' he thought bitterly to himself, summoning a glass of water, chugging the whole thing and then crawled into the den, curling up into a tight ball leaving Logan to wander in and out of light uneasy sleep for the rest of the day. So much for 'work he had to attend to.'

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

Next

[skaylanphear]

Light of My Life

Here’s my story from the Little Light Zine! All the donations will benefit the victims of Hurricane Matthew, so donate while you can!

A Little Light is a digital Miraculous Ladybug charity zine to benefit the victims of Hurricane Matthew. The zine includes art, fanfics, and cosplay. Zine orders will be open until Feb. 1. Orders  –  Participants  –  Previews  –  Info

Marinette was doing her best to hurry home. Sure, it was December, so a certain amount of chill was expected, but it was colder than usual and she had no desire to be out in it longer than she had to. Granted, the snow that was drifting lazily down into the glittering, lightened Paris streets was a pretty sight to behold, but not pretty enough to keep her from hot chocolate and a cozy bed.

Huddled up in her pink jacket, she resituated her bag on her back and hunkered onward. She was almost home—the sparkling, holiday decorated park on her left the one only just outside her house—and it might have been only moments before she was welcomed into the warmth of her parents' bakery were it not for the familiar silhouette that stopped her dead in her tracks.

Staring through the glare of twinkling lights and falling snow, she watched as he walked from a bench to the bundle huddled nearby. In a perfectly fitted gray pea coat and the blue scarf she'd given him for his birthday, he hardly stood out aside from the usual glow of his blonde hair, but she knew it was him.

Adrien.

As a natural reaction, her heart did a little flip before pounding faster, hands tightening around her bag straps. Suddenly, staying out in the cold didn't seem like such a bad idea if she could get herself into Adrien's company.

Like a well-oiled machine, her mind started coming up with one scenario after another—all the excuses she could use to explain why she was walking over. Ultimately, she came to the conclusion that—since they were classmates—she didn't need a reason to start up a conversation. Taking a deep breath, she told herself to stay strong and not fall to pieces before she marched off the sidewalk and into the park.

Right up to Adrien, who was…

He was crouched down in the snow, talking to the tiny bundle. A child, of course—one swathed in a snowsuit so thick that only their braided hair stuck out over the top. Becoming curious, Marinette stayed quiet as she crept closer.

"Hey, it's alright," Adrien was saying, folding himself lower so he was on his knees in the snow. "It can be sewn back together." The child was crying, nose red and sniffing as she reached up and wiped her eyes.

"But w-who will fix it?" she asked. Marinette paused once she was close enough to take in the scene, watching as the little girl held up a black, homemade doll. Or, rather, the pieces of one. The head—little more than a blonde mop—was torn from the uneven shoulders, stuffing sticking out both ends respectively.

Though they were hardly recognizable, Marinette could make out tiny black ears in the dolls yarn hair.

"Well, who made it for you to begin with?" Adrien asked.

"N-No one… We made dolls in school."

"You made this?" Reaching down, Adrien delicately took the shabby Chat Noir from the girl's hands, futilely trying to fit the pieces back together.

"Y-Yes." Reaching up, she pulled self-consciously on some of her braids. "I- I like Chat Noir best, but… I didn't do a very good job making him." Looking all the more ashamed, tears came to her eyes anew despite how she tried to wipe them away with the heels of her hands.

"I think you did an excellent job," Adrien assured, smiling as he did. "Besides, you think an injury like this would keep Chat Noir down for long?"

The little girl's lip curled. "His head fell off."

Well…" Adrien clearly had nothing to say to that, which had Marinette giggling despite herself. And that, of course, drew attention her way. Both Adrien and the girl glanced up at her, which inspired her to clear her throat and think of something to say instead of making the situation worse.

"He's right," Marinette decided, going a bit closer before crouching down as well. "An injury like that would never keep Chat Noir down. Head or no head."

"But… how will he fight without a head?" the girl asked.

"Chat hardly fights with his head," Marinette concluded. "Ladybug does all the thinking between them."

"Hey, you don't know that," Adrien objected.

Marinette cast him a flat look.

"Well… maybe…"

"But he can't live without a head…" the girl reasoned, once more wiping her eyes before reaching out and taking the doll back from Adrien.

"Marinette could sew his head back on," Adrien said suddenly. "She's really good at that sort of thing."

"Really?!" The hope in the girl's eyes was beyond being able to refuse.

"Um, w-well…" Reaching out, and forcefully ignoring Adrien's compliment for the time being, Marinette took the doll and looked it over. "I could try, but… the fabric is so thin and frayed, I don't… I don't know that he'd stay together."

Eyes once more welling with tears, the girl slumped with disappointment. "Oh…"

"But!" Handing Adrien the dismembered doll, she pulled her backpack around and unzipped the big pocket. She'd just been coming back from babysitting Manon, which meant she was full to the brim with hero and villain dolls. "You can have this Chat Noir instead."

Pulling the familiar doll from the bottom of her bag, she held it out and was rewarded with an excited gasp.

"He's so good!" the girl exclaimed, touching a finger to one of his tiny ears. "Can I- Can I really have him?"

"Sure!" Marinette smiled, giving the doll to the girl fully. "I can always make another one." No, she didn't exactly want to give away her Chat Noir—Manon could attest to that—but this seemed like a worthy reason.

"Wow…" The child held the doll like it was some kind of priceless treasure, very gentle as she petted it's layered felt hair. "I'll be careful with him."

"Not too careful," Marinette replied knowingly. "Chat Noir isn't the careful type."

"He's so cool! I named my kitten after him."

"Really?" Adrien asked, one of those small, subdued smiles gracing his lips.

"Yeah. I hope I get to meet him someday. And Ladybug too. But I like Chat Noir best." She was continually petting the doll, holding it closer and closer all the time.

"He is pretty awesome," Marinette agreed.

"Pawesome," Adrien corrected.

"What?" Turning, Marinette looked directly at him.

"He's pawesome," Adrien explained. "Get it? Because, you know… cats have paws…"

Marinette pursed her lips in disapproval, while the little girl giggled.

"It's funny…" Though Adrien didn't sound totally convinced himself.

A moment later, an older woman across the park called to the girl, gesturing her over. With short farewells, Marinette stood up beside Adrien as she watched her Chat Noir doll scamper off in the hands of his knew owner. She'd miss him, but supposed it was better he find a home. Like she said, she could always make another one.

"You're amazing, you know that."

Surprised, Marinette turned once more to Adrien, unable to stop the flush that rose up across her cheeks. "I-I just happened to have the doll with me, that's all…"

"You made that doll, though, right? And you just… gave it away like it was nothing." Still holding the torn doll, Adrien stared down at the pieces. "I wish I could do something like that for people…"

"What… What do you mean?"

He smiled softly once again. "It's nothing. Um, but I do have something to ask you. Since you're here. If it's not too much, anyway."

She waited, too afraid of what would come out if she spoke.

"I know you said he probably wouldn't stay together, but do you think you could sew this doll for me anyway?" He held it up. "I know it seems kind of silly, and I'd do it myself if I could, but…"

"Sure." She agreed to it without hesitation. "I mean, w-with a child he'd probably fall apart, but so long as you're careful… Why do you want him anyway?"

"Uh, I dunno. Maybe I'll give it to Chat Noir." Handing her the doll, he chuckled a bit as he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I'll fix him," Marinette assured quietly.

"Thanks, Marinette. Really. Is there anything I can do for you? I'd be happy to do something for you in return," he said earnestly.

"Oh, no, no, that's f-fine," she replied, more so out of insecurity than anything else.

She hadn't meant to snuff out the tiny spark that had ignited in his gaze.

"Okay. Awesome."

"Pawesome," she corrected.

"Right." He grinned. "Have a good holiday, Marinette."

"Y-You too."

He left shortly after, the next time Marinette would speak with him coming of as much of a surprise to her as it did him.

"You should name him after yourself," Ladybug decided, petting the black kitten's nose. Chat was cradling the tiny creature in his arms, hoping to get it warm despite the evening's chill and snow.

"Because that would be original," Chat quipped sarcastically. "I can't name him anyway. I'm not going to be the one keeping him, so…" He shrugged.

"I bet you already have at least four cats," Ladybug decided, supposing they'd have to take the kitten to the shelter like they did with all unclaimed animals they rescued.

"Contraire. I have none."

"What?!" Yes, Ladybug was aghast. "You're Chat Noir! How can you have no cats?"

He laughed. "I'm not allowed."

"All the more reason you should keep this one," Ladybug decided.

"I told you, I'm not allowed." Glancing fondly down at the kitten, his gaze went distant. "I'm not allowed to do anything…"

Ladybug cocked her hips thoughtfully. "You could always break the rules and keep it anyway."

"My Lady!" He feigned shock.

"What?! It's just wrong that Chat Noir doesn't have a single cat of his own. Goes against nature or something."

He laughed. "Honestly, I'd keep him if I could, but I really can't. I'm not even allowed to have friends over at my house, let alone a pet."

Ladybug frowned. "Your parents sound pretty strict…"

He barked a bitter laugh. "That's somewhat of an understatement. My father wouldn't even allow me any money to get my friends gifts, even after they'd already gone to the effort for me…"

Expression dropping even further, he put his entire focus on the kitten, who was managing a light purr despite how it'd shivered and shook when they'd initially rescued it from under a dumpster.

"I'm sorry, Chat," was all Ladybug could think to say.

"Don't be," he said, smiling again. But the expression was different than his usual—lacking in the wide, teethe trademark. Instead, it appeared tight and… and fake. "I shouldn't have said anything—you don't need to worry about my problems."

A statement that still left her at a loss on how to reply. She and Chat, they were friends, sure, but their personal and professional lives were supposed to stay separate. She wanted to be there for him, but she wasn't so sure if she should.

"I just wish I could do something for them too, you know?" he murmured. "My friends, I mean. I can't even make them anything. Sometimes I feel like I'm not good for anything…"

"You know that's not true." She hadn't meant to scold him, but that was just how the words came out. "You're Chat Noir—a hero of Paris. If there's anyone who's more than done their share, it's you." Reaching out, she laid a hand on his arm. "You should give yourself more credit, Adrien."

She hadn't meant to let the name slip out. The realization of his identity had barely occurred to her, let alone become concrete enough for her to voice. But the soft, sad smile he'd worn, and the words he'd said, it'd reminded her so much of him. And his wide-eyed shock only solidified further that she was right. While it was surprising, she was much more preoccupied with making sure he knew just how valuable he was—especially to her.

She didn't want to watch the light fade from his eyes yet again.

"You've saved my life more times than I can count," she continued. "And even without that—without all your 'heroics'—we all know how good of a friend you are. We don't need gifts to prove that."

She smiled. "You light up my life every day, Chat. Even when you don't realize it."

The shock was still apparent on his face, but it'd faded some as she'd spoken. Still cradling the kitten, he smiled warmly, the expression caught somewhere between Adrien and Chat Noir—proving all the more that she wasn't wrong.

"Thanks," he murmured. "Whoever you are."

Grinning herself, Ladybug took a step back and held up a knowing finger. "I was actually on my way to your house when I, well, saw you rummaging around that dumpster and transformed."

Skirting back through the snow, she went to a bush along the street before crouching down and retrieving the bag she'd stashed there previously. Rummaging through it, she pulled out the tattered, child-made Chat Noir doll before turning back to him.

"Guess I should give it to you now, since it sounds like your father's kinda difficult anyway." Not that she didn't already know as much.

Holding out the doll, which was whole and patched around the neck with new bits of fabric, she offered it to him, supposing the gift hardly looked worth giving to anyone who didn't know any better.

Still holding the kitten in the crook of one arm, Chat's lips parted some before he slowly reached out and retrieved the doll. Staring down at it, he ran the claw on his thumb lightly over the stitches. Ladybug watched him the whole time, noticing the way his mouth eventually clamped shut and how his jaw tensed. Eyes blinking rapidly, he swallowed hard and failed to meet her gaze.

It wasn't the first gift she's given him. Prior to the holiday break, she'd given him a set of mittens she herself had made—a gift similar to those she's given all her friends.

But maybe it was too much.

"How about we make a trade," she said abruptly, reaching out and wiggling her fingers around the small body of the kitten. Pulling it into her embrace instead, she smiled at the curious look Chat finally dared to give her. "You take that," she nodded to the doll, "and I'll keep this little guy."

A kitten too young to have been out in the cold, and who remained curled up and fast asleep in her arms.

"I'll name him…" She hummed thoughtfully. "Hero. That sounds like a good name, right?" Catching Chat's eye again, she raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"Yeah." His tone was breathy. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"Fitting for someone so much like Chat Noir."

He finally smiled again. A real smile—one fully accented by that spark Ladybug had become all too familiar with since they'd become partners.

"Thank you," he said a moment later, breaking the momentary silence that had sprung up between them. "I mean it.

"Thank you, Marinette. You light up my life too."

Ladybug curled her nose and tried not to blush. "Why'd you have to say that?"

"You said it first!"

"Ugh! It's just too corny when you say it." Turning away, she marched off into the snow, Chat bounding up beside her.

Right where he belonged.