#꒰ the moon reveals the wolf's true form ꒱ ⌗ physical

[wulfdreaded]

[escapedaudios]

Long post! (Discussing Gothic Horror, Der Wolfsjäger, Werewolves, and why I love all of these things) I love Gothic horror, the aesthetic, of ruin, the haunting atmosphere, and the feeling that something old and dangerous and powerful lingers just outside of sight. The biggest aesthetic hallmark of Gothic horror is probably the lone decaying castle, this haunting vestige of the past intruding on our present day idea of normalcy and safety. But there's another aspect of Gothic horror that isn't as prominent that I have an affinity for.

I like the primal side of it. Statues inscribed with symbols no one can read anymore devoured by vines and fallen leaves. I like the beastly and barbaric side of that haunting feeling. That strange hereditary reminder of a time when forests were endless and dark with little refuge for man. Enter the werewolf. I am fascinated by the idea of people, even against their will, being returned to this savage state. I think most humans have an inherent discomfort with the idea that we are animals. We are fragile, we hunger, we are made of soft flesh that can be devoured.

Remembering that we are no more than animals somehow reminds us of a time we didn't exist in. That time when the forests were endless and we were few. It's frightening, it makes us feel small, it takes away our sense of control and safety. It shatters our delusions of power. But there's also something cathartic about completely immersing yourself in the things that make your afraid and uncomfortable. The Gothic werewolf is symbolic of this. The man living among us who has completely submitted to the brutal nature that still exists in all of us.

I say Gothic werewolf as a distinction from other kinds of more sympathetic, palatable, and less horror-centric werewolves. The Gothic werewolf is haunting. He's cunning and cruel. He does not see human life as special or valuable. He never stops being a wolf, even when in the form of a human.

I adore this. It's also one of the things that makes the Werewolves in my writing special. They don't see themselves as humans who become wolves, they see themselves as something completely different. They're characterized by their sickening disdain for civilization. In Matador Gothic when Alfonso asks Rampage to reveal his true fork he rebukes him, telling him that his wolf form *is* his true form. Mondheulers in Der Wolfsjäger wait patiently for the full moon, waiting to kill again, sometimes killing and maiming impulsively even as humans.

Blutschreibers in Der Wolfsjäger have to spend over a decade in the wild as wolves before they gain the ability to transform back into humans. This return to feral barbarism, and the allure of giving into it, is what gives them their flavor. The Blutschreibers are particularly unique, not only in the sense that they are haunted by spirits, but because underneath all of their barbarism and savagery there is a frightening level of intelligence and cunning that we as humans find frightening in something so animalistic.

We see barbarism as beneath our intellect. Something we left behind in the past for more intellectual and sophisticated virtues. Seeing something as intelligent as us, if not more, rip flesh and wield brutal strength is disturbing not only for its physical danger, but in the way it assaults our comforting worldview.

I'm excited for all the neglected and untapped potential for werewolf horror in audio roleplay. I'm writing Der Wolfsjäger with renewed enthusiasm now. Have fun! And remember, if you see a wolf in the wild, he always saw you first.

[wolfislost]

Hello there, I dunno how to actually start this conversation but, you caught my interest since that otherkin training post

I just wanted to ask you, a fellow werewolf to another fellow werewolf, what things would you suggest me to do in order to feel more like myself?

It's been a long time since I've felt really *alive*, my actual self.

Every time I try to feel more like myself, I get hit with this pain... that I cannot actually be myself, I cannot transform, especially when I go in dark places, where I feel like I should run away in the dark, but I actually can't.

So, what would you suggest to help me feel better?

Going through your tumblr reveals certain limitations that have to be taken into account.

Limited access to gear, unknown proximity to nature, currently living with others.

I don't know what your relationship to your wolf is like, so I'll have to assume it's similar to my own.

Okay- all that boring admin stuff out of the way. Here are my suggestions:

Get Outside

It seems obvious but there's a method to this, even if you can't go as far as the woods- there is nature a lot closer than you think. For me that means stalking birds, feeling the rain on my face, and occasionally getting into stand offs with animals like foxes. I don't exactly recommend the last one since you guys may have significantly larger wild animals- but interacting with other species and experiencing the weather can be great ways to reconnect.

Lunar Tracking

The stages of the moon are a pretty important influence on me. They can trigger shifts, and sometimes alter my behaviour in the days around a full or new moon. Even if the moon doesn't cause the same reaction in you, it can be helpful to pay tribute or have a routine for full moons. I like to track the full moon on my phone's calendar, rather than using a separate app. It's really straightforward, you can just look up the last full moon and mark it as a repeat date every four weeks in your calendar. You can also do this with a physical wall calendar if you prefer. As for tribute or routine ideas, it can be a form of whatever hobby you prefer. You might listen to a specific song or playlist, draw what the moon looks like, make a journal entry to mark the occasion, or sing something. It's up to you, and should ideally be personalised. For you, that might mean a specific videogame at a certain time of day, since you enjoy those. The key here is to be intentional, and actively mark the day or time as something important.

Instincts

Not all of our instincts can be acted on. I think most werewolves can tell you that. That said, these instincts are a great way to get in touch with your wolf side. I think of them as my wolf communicating with me. Since I can't transform, it makes it even more important that I listen to my wolf when it expresses itself. That means finding safe ways to follow my instincts. That can mean stalking wildlife, feeling the wind on my face, winding down the window on a car trip, staring at the moon, stretching the parts of my body where the need to shift is felt the most, eating higher protein foods when I crave meat, and avoiding people or places that make the wolf uncomfortable. That last one is also just general safety. I trust my instincts, so if I see someone that makes that part of me uneasy- I follow that feeling. The more you follow those instincts, the easier it gets to "hear" them. Figure out how you can compromise with the wolf.

Social

Take this with a grain of salt, as it's completely up to you and your circumstances. It can be helpful to normalise your wolf among your human friends. This is NOT the same as coming out as a werewolf. People are remarkably accepting of my odd behaviours as long as they don't know WHERE they come from. When I get asked about my jewellery, I just say I like werewolves. It's true. It's not the entire truth, but it's enough that they can accept it and move on. I follow my instincts around friends. They make fun of me, but they also play into it- and they never look any deeper because it's "just what I'm like". You don't have to do this, but it's easier to stay in touch with yourself when you don't have to pretend around your human friends. I'm the same with my closest family members. If I'm going to spend a lot of time around you, I'm definitely not going to hide what I am for your benefit. You know what's safest for you, so again- grain of salt.

Clothing

Gear isn't all paws, tails, masks and fangs. All though I do love my fangs, they really help with the teeth shifts. Gear can also be something as simple as a comfortable shirt that matches your fur colour. It can be a bracelet that reminds you of the pine forests you call home. It can be shoes that help you walk on mud or dirt. It can be anything that makes your body feel more like home. I like to draw wolfsbane and lunar phases on my arms with pen or eyeliner. When I look at them i'm reminded of what I am. I have a full moon necklace, I wear leather bracelets. Find some stuff that you can wear without raising suspicion, and if it does then have a half truth ready to placate people. I suggest looking for materials that are comfortable and similar in colour to your fur. Grey and white are a fairly available colour combination, so it should be relatively easy. Jackets, shirts, trousers, t-shirts. Whatever you wear, I guarantee you can find a comfortable version that matches your fur colour. If not, you're also allowed to customize your clothing by hand. I have a brown jacket with a fur hood that I wear everywhere, no matter how cold it gets, because it's really euphoric for me. Find the right clothing for you.

Don't Panic

Sometimes it feels like our identity is slipping through our fingers. We can go through long stretches where we question if we made it all up. Don't panic if things seem more human than wolf at times. It's normal for your connection to your other side to fluctuate. For me- I know that the week of the new moon, and periods where i'm super busy with human tasks, lead to my wolf being more dormant. Let yourself ebb and flow. We're shapeshifters. Skin dancers. We're more song than stone.

Closing Thoughts

We're strange creatures in a strange world, but we don't have to surrender ourselves to it. If you need help or more ideas, or something in here needs tweaking to fit your life better- then send another ask or dm me. My blog will always be open to you.

[writing-in-sin]

DEATH HC: CHAOS & HER 5 CHILDREN

Fair warning, this is can be pretty long. Either way, i hope you'll enjoy 🤩👍

• Chaos or Caos is the primordial entity of the Shrekverse. She's known as the Abyss by many

• since the Shrekverse is based on fairytales, Caos in her true form resembles an inkwell or a womb. She later on gave birth to the Five, with Death as the eldest

• once the Five are born, Caos created the Shrekverse not unlike how ink spread across the pages of a blank storybook

• the Core or the Void is her domain, and where everything began

• she loves all of her children but trusts Death the most as he's the most level headed and fairest amongst the Five

Caos:

Physical form: unlike her children, her physical form doesn't resemble anthropomorphic animals. Instead, she takes the form a humanoid abyss black liquid with three pairs of bright white eyes

- Personality: stern yet very motherly. All of her children deeply love and respect her, and would without hesitation, cower in fear if she's ever angered

- Symbol: ●

- Mortal name: Caos de la Abismo

- Human form: a beautiful plump woman of average height, white pupils with black sclera and long white hair in a bun. Usually dresses modestly in patterned dresses and a shawl over her shoulders

Signature traits of the de la Abismo family:

- white coats

- black sclera

• The Five Children of the Abyss from oldest to youngest:

1. Muerte:

- eldest child, prefers to be a loner but has a strong sense of family. The most responsible of the Five, known to be fair and coldly logical. While people would say he resembles a wolf, its the other way around as wolves are the closest mortal creatures to resemble him. Another would be jackles as Vida based their ears on her brother, which is how Anubis came to be for the Egyptians

- True name: unspeakable for the mortal tongue. Usually goes by Muerte now

- Symbol: crescent

- Human form: a man who stands 7ft tall and dangerously powerful. Short messy white hair (with an undercut) that frames a ruggedly handsome face. Notable for his sophisticated beard, fanged smirk and jagged birthmark over his red eyes. Retains his black sclera even in his mortal form

- Mortal name: Muerte de la Abismo (literally Death of the Abyss)

- Consort: Puss...eventually 🤣 it's a slowburn, what can you do?

- Children: the 3 Diablos (when he and Puss got together, eventually biologically as well which will be revealed later on)

2. Tiempo:

- 2nd oldest, known for his calm meditative personality

- is the older twin brother to Espacio

- Physical form: a tall, white rabbit with orange irises and black sclera. Wears a monocle and a deep red coattail jacket. always has an hourglass in his pocket

- Symbol: hourglass

- Human form: looks very much like a tall nobleman, with a thin moustache and his family's signature white hair slicked back

- Mortal name: Tiempo de la Abismo

- Consort: ?

- Children: Day, Night

3. Espacio:

- the 3rd child, known for his natural airheadedness and eccentric wisdom

- the younger twin brother of Tiempo

- Physical form: a pure white eagle with a tail of a peacock. Has violet eyes and wears a long galaxy coloured toga

- Symbol: star

- Human form: looks and dresses like a scholar with sharp aquiline features. His long white hair is tied into a low ponytail and is never without a compass

- Mortal name: Espacio de la Abismo

- Consort: Ganymede

- Children: the 4 seasons, the 9 planets, the Moon, the Starweaver, the Sun

4. Destino:

- the 4th child, known for her cryptic personality and is widely agreed by the family as the resident 'little shit'

- Physical form: a white spider with heterochromatic eyes of blue and yellow who wears a yellow blouse and a blue barret on her head

- Symbol: web

- Human form: a petite woman with blue and yellow eyes and a white pixie cut underneath her barret. She dresses like an artist, complete with a smock over her frame

- Mortal name: Destino de la Abismo

- Consort: ?

- Children: every known emotion, with Hope being the eldest

5. Vida:

- the youngest of the Five, known for her cheerful yet shrewd personality. Has an ongoing rivalry with her brother Muerte and is the resident prankster alongside Destino

- Physical form: a white snake with deep green eyes and has a waterlily on the side of her head. Wears long flowy dresses

- Symbol: circle

- Human form: a tall, lithe woman with long white hair tied in a french braid. Tends to wear long, flowy dresses and goes barefooted all the time

- Mortal name: Vida de la Abismo

- Consort: Prometheus

- Children: ?

[zinbu]

Ugliness. Such an intriguing concept, isn't it? People often associate it with outward appearance—crooked noses, blemished skin, an asymmetry that makes them cringe. But for me, true ugliness lies deeper. It festers within the weak, those who lack the will and strength to grasp what they desire, who cower in the shadows, waiting for someone else to seize their dreams for them.

Weakness. The most repulsive form of ugliness. It's not about physical strength, no. It's about the lack of resolve, the absence of a backbone. Look at them, shuffling through life, their heads bowed, eyes averted. They exist, but they do not live. They conform, blend in, terrified of standing out, of making a mark. They whisper their complaints in the dark, too feeble to voice their desires in the light.

They cling to each other, forming a mass of mediocrity, as if their combined weakness might somehow amount to strength. They celebrate the mundane, pat each other on the back for simply surviving another day, never realizing that mere survival is the lowest bar to clear. They disdain ambition, label it as arrogance or greed, because ambition would demand they lift themselves from the muck of their own making.

And what of their dreams? Pitiful things, those dreams. Small, safe, uninspired. A better job, a slightly bigger house, a holiday now and then. They never dream of dominion, of shaping the world to their will. Such thoughts are beyond them, frightening in their intensity, for they might require action, and action carries risk.

Ah, but the weak loathe risk. They cower from it, erecting walls of excuses and what-ifs. They'd rather languish in their safe, predictable misery than dare to reach for something greater. They tell themselves they are virtuous, that their contentment with little is a sign of humility, of wisdom. But it is not humility. It is cowardice, dressed in the robes of false virtue.

I, on the other hand, understand the beauty of strength. True beauty lies in the power to shape your own destiny, to bend the world to your will. It is the fire that burns within those unafraid to seize what they want, to carve their own path through the chaos. It is the unyielding spirit that does not break in the face of adversity but grows stronger, sharper.

The weak? They are fodder. They are the gray, lifeless backdrop against which the strong shine. Their ugliness, their lack of will and courage, serves only to highlight the splendor of those who dare. And so, I will take what I want, crush those who stand in my way, for I am not bound by their petty morals and fears. I am the storm that sweeps through their stagnant lives, and I revel in their terror, for in their fear, they reveal their true, hideous nature.

The world belongs to those who have the strength to take it. The rest? They are but shadows, ugly in their insignificance, destined to be swept aside.

A story told by GREED, VIOLENCE, MANIPULATION, DOMINANCE.

MAINS / Gucci Gang: @tides-of-clarity , @maljefe

MY OTHER PAGE: @stanislawkowalski

CHARACTERS: Geto & Sukuna & Muzan & Tengen Uzui

OCs: Little Moon & Akira & Wolf & Noxie & Axel

Welcome to my selective, mutual-only, literate, magical, and beautiful role-play blog! This space is open to OCs, canon characters, and everything in between. Written and run by yours truly, N., located in the UK time zone. I've been writing since before I could walk, so sit back, relax, and enjoy the journey!

rules:

No follow-first requests, please. If you follow, I'll assume you're interested in writing with me. Let's keep my dash filled with people I know and love!

I reserve the right to choose who I role-play with. As much as I love diving into new adventures, I have a full-time job and want to keep things manageable. If we don't vibe or if I'm not feeling a connection, I may not follow back right away.

I'm 30 years old old with 12 years of experience in role-playing and writing. Please note that I will only follow back those who are over 18.

Dark plots are welcome here, including themes like violence, blood, and gore. . If there's something specific you'd like tagged, just let me know.

I have a strict policy against writing pedophilia, incest, etc. These themes may be referenced in backstory but will never be written out.

Basic role-play etiquette is expected. No godmodding, and any form of hate will be blocked and deleted immediately.

Feel free to reach out with any plot ideas or just to chit-chat! I'm always up for new adventures.

Just because my characters may say or do something doesn't necessarily reflect my own beliefs or preferences. If I use a character's name vc (voice chat), it's in character.

I'm happy to dive into established or previous relationships and am open to exploring different ships if I have the muse for it. Don't hesitate to shoot me a message if you're unsure about something. Also, I absolutely love OCs!

I hard blocked pages I used to interact with. I guess, a need to keep myself sane and clean was, is and will be stronger than any of the other need. Please note that I've done it with a heavy heart, however my mental health is more important than anything.

[bittenlore]

( ryan destiny. 19. vampire/wolf hybrid. ) BRIANNA HUGHES, you’ve been haunting mystic falls’ streets with your desire to STAY ALIVE AND REPAY KLAUS FOR GIVING YOU A NEW LIFE. it’s only a matter of time before your RETICENT & BLUNT tendencies prove to be your own undoing; unless your LOYAL & PROTECTIVE nature helps you obtain allies before it’s too late.

B A S I C S 

full name: brianna hughes. nicknames: bri gender:  cis woman. pronouns:  she/her. sexuality:  pansexual. age:  19. date of birth:  november 5th. zodiac sign:  scorpio. birthplace: new orleans, louisiana. current location: mystic falls. species:  werewolf (formerly) werewolf/vampire hybrid (currently). occupation:  unemployed. languages spoken: english, french, spanish.

A P P E A R A N C E

faceclaim:  ryan destiny. height: 5'2. build:  petite and lean. eyes:  brown. hair:  dark brown. piercings:  ears.  tattoos:  none. other distinguishing features:  slight southern drawl. style:  casual, yet trendy. 

P E R S O N A L I T Y

traits:  (+) loyal, protective, honest, quick witted , determined. (-) reticent, blunt, stubborn, non trusting, obsessive.  mental health:  abandonment issues.  physical health:  superior. likes:  feeding, running, cooking, art, fashion, sports, yoga, literature, nature, hiking.  dislikes:  people who disrespect her boundaries, large bodies of water, loud and obnoxious people, being underestimated.  fears:  death, drowning (not realistic given her hybrid status, fear left over from childhood near death experience). 

B A C K G R O U N D

death tw

brianna hughes was born in new orleans, louisiana to a triggered werewolf father and an untriggered werewolf mother. unfortunately, her mother died in childbirth while having brianna, and not too long after that, her father was murdered by vampires. thus, brianna was placed into the foster care system due to her parents being estranged from their respective families.

she was bounced around from foster family to foster family, each one being worse than the last. by the time she was fifteen years old, she had been apart of three different foster families and had pretty much learned how to take care of herself due to the neglect she faced in each environment.

hyper independent, almost to a fault, brianna would rather chew broken glass than admit to needing help from anyone. asking for help or assistance makes her feel weak and less than, and she'd struggle to hell and back before even admitting that she can't handle something on her own.

she accidentally triggered her werewolf curse when she was sixteen years old. an intense verbal altercation with her foster father at the time led to her pushing him while they were arguing in the upstairs hallway of the house, which ended in him falling over the stair railing to his death. it was then that she decided to run away instead of facing the repercussions of her actions, and she's been on her own ever since.

finding out about her activated werewolf gene was one of the most difficult things she'd ever had to endure. given the fact that she was alone and had no idea of her heritage, it was obviously shocking and distressing for her the first time she transitioned during a full moon. it took her a solid year to form an understanding of her nature, and even then she didn't truly understand everything she was going through.

it wasn't until years later when she came across klaus during her search for others of her kind that she found answers. and a new life's purpose. she was, and rightfully so, wary of the original hybrid upon first meeting him, but was quickly convinced to join his hybrid army and pledge her allegiance to him. he gave her everything that she wanted - purpose and a place where she belongs.

personality wise, brianna is very closed off and emotionally stunted. she doesn't like to reveal her true thoughts and feelings to people, and tends to keep a rather neutral expression in order to make it harder for people to read her. in her eyes, it's so much easier to avoid people hurting her if she doesn't let them in.

she may seem like she doesn't have a sense of humor, but she does. it's very dry and sarcastic, with a heavy dose of morbidness. most people don't even realize when she's joking because she's rather deadpan 90% of the time.

she's taken to being a hybrid like a fish takes to water. she loves her new found abilities and immortality. plus, she loves the fact that she's no longer a slave to the full moon and can control her transformations.

incredibly loyal to klaus, and in turn, the mikaelson family. she's been referred to (in my mind lol) as her sire's little guard dog. she's tiny but incredibly fierce and aggressive when it comes to protecting her sire.

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

what are your character’s goals? do they have any present allegiances? brianna has two goals for the time being - stay alive and repay klaus for gifting her a new life.

what has your character been up to before/during the start of our group, at the beginning of tvd season 3? ( feel free to play with or mix up canon events as you like ! ) brianna has been sticking by klaus' side and doing whatever he needs of her.

what songs do you associate with your character? ain't it fun by paramore, here by alessia cara, the void by kid cudi.

have you altered anything about your character’s canon? n/a.

do you have any other random headcanons worth mentioning? brianna is, surprisingly, a huge lover of sports. back when she was in school, she was apart of numerous sports teams. she also has a fear of large bodies of water due to nearly drowning in a pool when she was 11 years old.

is there anything you’re potentially interested in exploring romantically for your character / what do you, or could you, ship? i would love to explore romance for brianna in the future. she's never had any romantic relationships in her life and it's something that she's always been intrigued by when she sees couples out in public or watches movies involving romance. someone that could get her to open up and be more vulnerable and show her that life isn't all about duties. i'm open to any kind of ship! f/f or m/f.

what sort of current or future connections/plots are you looking for? i would love to see an estranged relative for brianna, or a former foster family member!

[tryingtowriteplease]

See: Werewolves/Lycans (Race) Status: Magic Information:

“This disease will kill us all one day! Make monsters of all of us!” –Anonymous

Lycans, more colloquially known to most humans as “werewolves,” are humans who have been infected with lycanthropy. Lycanthropy gifts the afflicted with a considerably lengthened lifespan, increased physical strength and stamina, and heightened senses, however these traits come at the cost of being tied to the lunar cycle with a beastly transformation. The name of the affliction comes from the Greek word ‘lykos,’ for wolf, because the transformation lycans assume resembles a wolf. The transformation itself is forced under the light of the full moon, but may be taken partially or fully at will during other hours. Other aspects of the affliction reportedly ebb and flow with the lunar cycle as well (ex: a lycan might lack the strength they would otherwise possess during the new moon).

The origins of lycanthropy are mysterious and clouded. Some believe the affliction began with a cult, some believe it a curse, but the most likely origins are an immortality spell gone wrong, according to current research, though the truth is the full story is likely lost to history. The affliction from its origin has spread, sometimes purposefully but often accidentally, among the human populous, leading to a notable lycan population. Lycans themselves have sometimes been revealed to humans and hunted for it, but prior to the war breaking out they were relatively hidden amongst humans. At current, lycans have been forced to uproot, and many have taken shelter with other magic races due to no longer being able to hide. 

Lycans often appear completely human to anyone not looking. The only thing that may stand out about them is their fangs, but even those appear dulled in human form. The true ways to reveal a lycan are their eyes, which reflect light in the dark like an animal’s, and their sensitivity to silver. Lycans are highly resistant to injuries of most forms, but silver is known to inflict serious injury to them.

Family is extremely important to lycans in the modern era. As it stands, it has become a common value amongst them to attempt to limit the spread of lycanthropy amongst humans to the best of their ability, but that does not prevent the passing of the affliction to children. Lycans have been known to form tight-knit communities to raise their children safely and keep themselves hidden. This includes extending their hospitality and protection to humans willing to keep their secrets or those who willingly become lycans to join the family group. These groups will relocate themselves if suspicions arise in local humans, but otherwise will maintain themselves harmlessly. 

The lycans have been one of the races most displaced by the war. They are often seen fighting, despite being without magic beyond the innate ability of transformation. Due to many of them previously holding human identities and their displacement, they are not currently organized, and none of them are particularly well-known to the magic races at large. 

~End entry~

[troquantary]

Cutting Hair as Punishment in the Twilight Saga

Okay, I’ve been trying to organize my thoughts around this into a sort-of-essay format for a while, because I find it disturbingly mean-spirited: Meyer has a pattern of using hair-cutting as a form of punishment for characters, especially female characters, who fail to embrace Bella and the Cullens with open arms. I’m talking particularly about Leah and Lauren, both of whom, while not outright antagonists like Victoria or James, are situated along with Rosalie as “against” Bella throughout the series. The Quileute pack, meanwhile, is situated largely “against” the Cullens, meaning Jacob and the rest of the pack get the Haircut of Shame, too.

(Also, I’ve been creeping through @panlight ‘s blog because I thought she had a recent post relating to this -- I was probably thinking of this submission and her addendum, which does discuss Meyer’s “punishment” of certain characters, but that post was about characters suffering for not waiting for True Love, or daring to do the Devil’s Tango before marriage. Still, it’s on-theme and very much worth reading, like all her stuff!)

So here’s the general outline: first I’m gonna talk about the shapeshifters and how their overall lack of choice frames cutting their hair as something forced on them and therefore punitive. Then I’m going to discuss Meyer’s FAQ response where she reveals that Lauren was tricked into cutting off most of her hair over the summer before New Moon, and how this adds an extra fun misogynistic element to the hair-cutting theme with respect to Lauren and Leah. I also use way too many words to do it, sorry.

Punishment | The Shapeshifters Are Given No Other Option

I don’t have the background or knowledge to discuss the significance of long hair to indigenous culture and identity in detail, and my understanding is that different tribes ascribe different meanings to it. What I’ve read it about it suggests that, generally, long hair represents strength of one’s individual spirit and of the community. It’s a source of pride, and is only cut off voluntarily in extraordinary circumstances, often as an expression of grief, or to mark a significant life change.

This sort of works in the context of the shapeshifters all cutting their hair -- phasing into a giant wolf, discovering the existence of the supernatural, and assuming the role of protectors is a major life event for these characters. But the negative associations make it a troubling choice on Meyer’s part, and that’s without even getting into the problem of her imposing her own worldbuilding onto the legends and culture of a real tribe. Because of the lack of choice involved in becoming a shapeshifter, the whole situation feels like a scenario in which the Quileute characters have their hair forcibly cut -- a degrading and traumatic act that (depending on their particular tribal belief) might symbolically sever them from their sense of cultural identity and connection with the rest of their tribe.

It all kind of begs the question: why does Meyer even have shapeshifting work this way? What narrative utility is there in having the length of their hair in human form determine the length of their fur as wolves, thereby compelling the shapeshifters to cut it so it isn’t a physical impediment? It’s another sign of the changes in Jacob, sure, but he’s already being uncharacteristically cold and distant, plus suddenly has the physique of a fit twenty-five-year-old; Bella already knows something’s very wrong. His short hair is just another jarring thing for Bella to notice and mourn, like the loss of Jacob’s “baby face” and general sunniness.

It does work as a symbolic thing, representing another sacrifice Jacob has to make and the change in how he now has to perceive himself -- but he’s already got a literal giant wolf form to represent that change in identity/self-perception. Forcing him to cut his hair too just feels like piling on. My argument here, which I hope will be supported when I discuss Lauren and Leah further in, is that it’s not just piling on, but actively punitive -- because much like Leah and Lauren are “against” Bella, the pack at large is “against” the Cullens pretty much through the end of the series.

The Quileute pack is definitely not a Cullen fanclub. The entire purpose of their existence is to destroy vampires, and the truce they have with the Cullens isn’t friendly. They still don’t particularly like or trust the Cullens even after allying with them in Eclipse, and in Breaking Dawn Sam is fully prepared to go to war against them to enforce the treaty. Bella expresses frustration with Jacob and the pack for not appreciating the Cullens more, yet is curiously less willing to scold Alice, Edward, or Rosalie when they call the Quileutes dogs and complain about their smell. (I think she might reprimand Edward for it at some point, but I don’t remember the exact passage.) Bella even starts throwing around “dog” and “mutt” as an insult herself -- I think we know whose side ol’ “Switzerland” is on, here, and whose side Meyer is on as well. The Quileutes aren’t exactly enemies, and in fact are crucial to the Cullens’ survival in both the newborn and Volutri conflicts, but they’re punished nonetheless because they aren’t wholeheartedly Team Cullen from the get-go.

So to explain why I’m so convinced that there’s a link between hair-cutting and punishment in particular, let’s talk about Lauren. There’s a definite gendered element to it this time, too -- by being tricked into cutting her hair, Lauren isn’t just diminished/shamed, but rendered (*thunderclap*) unfeminine.

Lauren Was Rude To Bella Like Twice, Let’s Humiliate Her

I think Meyer’s answer to the question “What happened to Lauren’s hair?” on her FAQ page speaks for itself:

Ha ha. I had fun imagining this one—I only wished that it had fit into the book somewhere. Lauren fell victim to the “model discovered in the mall” scam. An alleged modeling agent approached Lauren in a mall in Victoria, B.C., and told her she was a natural model. Lauren ate it up. The agent told her that if she did something edgy with her hair, and took some high quality head shots, her future was assured. Lauren followed the instructions—dropping fifteen grand on the pictures taken by the agent’s partner—and waited for her career to begin. She’s still waiting. Snort.

It’s pretty obvious that this was done spitefully. Here’s the list of Lauren’s crimes against humanity Bella at this point in the series: 1) she was jealous of the attention Bella was getting as the new girl; 2) she talked behind Bella’s back once, saying Bella might as well just sit with the Cullens now (and she isn’t wrong); 3) she eyed Bella “scornfully” the day of the La Push beach trip; and perhaps most damningly, 4) she’s blonde.

Post-haircut, she has the gall not to be thrilled that Bella’s deigning to speak to the lowly non-Cullens again, then sides with Jessica after Bella uses Jessica to make a point to her dad, is shitty company, and then risks getting them both raped and murdered in Port Angeles so she could get off on her hallucination of Edward’s voice.

I think it’s pretty common knowledge that long hair is tied to patriarchal notions of femininity and attractiveness. Women with short hair are still derided for being ugly, or assumed to be lesbians in a derogatory sense, or simply considered less feminine and therefore less desirable/worthy (because a woman’s worth depends on her desirability, after all). For many women and girls, losing their long hair -- whether because of illness, or gum getting stuck in it, or whatever -- is very upsetting and a hard blow to their self-esteem. Just look at Alice as an example of Traumatic Short Hair; her hair was shorn like that because she received electroshock “treatments” in an asylum. (Although in Alice’s case, I don’t think her having short hair is punishment, but a facet of the traumatic backstory all female characters in Twilight have to have for some reason. Plus, she started the series with short hair, which distinguishes her from the pack and Lauren, who were tricked or compelled into cutting their long hair during the series.)

But Lauren’s so bitchy, so she deserves it, right? Ha ha, she was mean to Bella and cared about her appearance too much, so now she’s ~ugly!

Leah Has It the Worst and It Makes Me Want To Burn Everything

The misogynistic aspect of hair-cutting as punishment is taken up to like, twelve with Leah. Not only does she suffer for being “against” the Cullens along with the rest of the pack (and Bella, too, so extra sinning), but she suffers uniquely for being the only female shapeshifter. A bunch of teenage boys regularly see her naked body against her will. Her previously devoted boyfriend imprints on her cousin/best friend, Sam dumps her and can’t even explain why, and the whole pack -- including her own brother -- resents her for being upset about it, even though she can’t help the lack of mental privacy. Because of that same lack of mental privacy, she has to hear every gripe the boys have about her, plus every enthralled thought Sam has about Emily while she’s still deeply wounded by their breakup.

She blames herself for her dad’s death, because she phased at the wrong time. We don’t get any indication that her fellow shapeshifters or the elders are trying to reassure her otherwise.

And of course, because she’s a shapeshifter, she has to cut her hair. In addition, because Leah’s a woman, this has the same misogynistic connotations as it did with Lauren. In Leah’s case, though, the de-feminization is compounded by her sudden infertility. It’s clear that Leah attaches her sense of womanhood to her fertility, rightly or wrongly -- she bitterly calls herself a “genetic dead end” in Breaking Dawn and thinks of herself as a freak. She feels like there must be something wrong with her, some un-womanly flaw, that made her one of the shapeshifters at all.

Then, just when Jacob starts to see her as a human being worthy of compassion, he imprints on Renesmee and doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything else anymore. No more bonding with Leah, no blooming friendship to help her heal and come to terms with the new realities of her life. (This is one of those dropped threads that aggravate me to no end -- what was the point of having Leah opening up to Jacob, or starting Jacob on the path of realizing he was being a dick to her this whole time and that she’s a person with  value, if he was just going to spend the rest of the book as Renesmee’s love-zombie and never think about it again? Disgusting.)

Leah was a lot more forgiving of Jacob than he deserved at that point in the story, for all the good it did her -- I think she’s mentioned maybe once in Book 3 of Breaking Dawn. At least she got her god-tier moment of yelling at a deranged, pregnant Bella Swan.

Speaking of Bella...

I’m just going to note, for no particular reason, that in Breaking Dawn we get to hear explicitly that Bella’s got hair that falls “almost to her waist” and that she looks like “a freaking supermodel” because she’s so “beautiful and pale.” It just strikes me as a telling contrast at this point.

[salenakingston]

Mystery March Day 21 - One of Us

(This is by far the most involved prompt I have done for Mystery March, and so I hope it turned out alright. There will be some more detailed author’s notes at the end of the writing, as there’s no possible way I can fit them all here before it. Just let me express how much of an inspiration you all have been! ENJOY!)

I said, even if I told ya

It all started with an idea, as most every work of art does. Concepts were put in place, branching off from that one base idea. From there, others came together to help get this little project off the ground. Characters were fleshed out, just as the world they lived in where. The team worked hard on everything planned, a true passion project.

When the first video dropped, we were all invested. We fell in love with the characters, story, and music. We couldn’t wait to see more, and despite all the time having to wait, it has always been worth it. Great works take time, and even with a team as dedicated as this one is, they fueled our own passions with previews, updates, character and worldbuilding, merch, and as of the most recent video, a branch into another medium to further tell their story. Their group continued to grow, bringing on more talented individuals, including voice actors.

Fours videos under the belt and one more still to come, they pour their heart and soul into this series, though they are not the only ones who do so. There’s a theory in our world known as the ‘multiverse.’ It is said that all these universes living side by side with one another create everything that exists. Can the same not be said for this team and all the fascinating works of art that came out of this one little series of four videos?

They've been looking for you and only you

It’s a tale of three friends and their dog, all stemming from a terrifying incident inside a cave. One lost their life, one lost their memory, and one lost their arm. What of the last member of their group? He lost his identity. Karma for his trickery would come back to haunt him. Guilt came to consume another, and the last to make it out alive was left wondering what was even going on.

Revenge fueled the one that came back, determined to get back at the one ‘friend’ that managed to cut his life short, and reunite with the love of his life. What started with a chase through a mansion led to the appearance of a tree woman searching for the trickster. The ghost refueled hijacks a truck, gunning down for the familiar van he once drove for all of them.

The woman catches up, shattering the glass wall protecting those in the front seat. The ghost blows the back tire that causes the van to crash. Two encounters branch from this point, one shrouded in the past, and another in the pursuit of revenge. Blonde and blue-haired humans nearly falling at the hands of their captors.

But they survive.

The dog’s true form revealed, the battle commences, blood spilling. As one disintegrates, an opening is left over for a familiar evil to take hold. White became black, demonic nature taking over the once noble being. The three friends left being the ones to bring him free of this grip. What are they to do? It’s all left to be seen...

Darkness is my signal

Not too much is known about this blonde, though despite the change to his physical appearance, there are parts of what defined him that have not changed. He’s had to adjust his lifestyle, but seems to have made the most of his new life. He may have even found some comfort in a bit of an unusual source. Anything to keep him from the self-isolation he seemed content to bring upon himself because of his condition.

So what are you to me, what are we to you?

The cave incident plays out like normal, there is one major change in the timeline of events. The blonde is sent tossed over the cliff along with his best friend, the entity that caused all their problems still trapped inside his body. When the ghost reformed, his anger was washed away at the sight of his friend suffering the same fate, or so he believed. Once free, it was nothing but a rough struggle to hold onto sanity, not just for one of them, but both.

One to keep calm, helping his friend to try and stay lucid.

The other fighting the terrifying entity inside him for control, while changing his body to fit the demon’s needs.

The blonde won, but at what a cost? Green skin covering his body, feet and hands sporting yellow-tinted claws. The posture of his own feet changed, causing him to have to learn how to walk all over again. A tail with a tuft of orange hair, and two large wings attached to his back. Last of course, were the horns on his head, and the blacked out eyes with amber pupils. He was in despair over the turn of events.

At least he had his best friend to help him. He wouldn’t have been able to do this without him. Well, this, and the series of events that came to follow. The two were eventually united with their final friend, but their not-dog wasn’t convinced of the blonde’s mind. It didn’t matter that he didn’t act like a demon, as he still looked like one, accepting the pain brought on him.

Drastic measures were taken to ensure freedom of the ghost, no matter how unnecessary it was. Adjustment takes time, and a good talk was what the four of them needed.

But are you one of us?

Are you one of us?

What seemed like a simple task, well maybe not simple, but one that was plausible spiraled into a long drive across the country in search of a cure for the ghost’s condition. All it took was one ingredient: werewolf blood. Seven weeks after the start of their trip, two were starting to lose hope, the last of their trio determined as always. A blur running across the front of their van was enough to bring their hopes back up, chasing down what looked like a big wolf.

To just miss it. It seemed like another dead end for their search.

Until the blonde was all alone.

The wolf jumped out of the shadows, teeth sinking down into flesh. Were it not for the arrival of the kitsune, who knows what would have happened. The injured one was brought back to his friends, patched up, and taken in for proper treatment. A headache marks the night of the full moon, a night when werewolves are said to be forced to transform. What will happen for them? Most left to the whim of try blue ghosts deemed as blueberries. We shall see where their questions and actions take this new werewolf and his friends.

Tell me, are you one of us?

Said, are you one of us?

Tales of legends are passed down, but come from a place of truth. Those that speak of a king gifted a sword with a beautiful, glowing, purple gem just before the silver of the blade. This is a gift from the Lady of the Lake, and one not to be taken lightly. It comes as a surprise when the weapon turns out to be sentient, and the two not always getting along.

Sometimes the king can be a little harsh on his partner.

And sometimes the sword can refuse to work in situations where his help would be greatly appreciated.

They must learn to work with one another if they hope to overcome the obstacles placed in front of them. The question is can this be done, or will they continue to bicker with one another?

I know that this sounds crazy

An unfortunate case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time causes the members of the separate mystery solving groups to be body swapped with one another. A kid stuck with adult hunters that deal with magic, as well as otherworldly dangers, and an adult stuck with a bunch of kids that seem like they may be in way over their heads. The ultimate goal is for the two groups to come together, and find a way to swap the souls in each body back to their original home.

Easier said than done.

One gets to learn the truth of a horrifying incident, something that tore friends apart, and damaged the people of their group beyond some repair. A kind heart is offered to them despite all this, helping to try and ease the burden even if he has nothing to do with them.

The other sees first hand what kind of trouble a group of kids can get themselves in. His own problems arise, and in typical fashion, does not wish to push them onto anyone he’s been stuck with. It’s a little harder to convince some of this new group of the world he has seen, and learned from; but, if there’s one thing he can do, it’s to still help those around him, and lend a hand when a mystery comes along their way.

Two outsider perspectives looking in, and it’s a matter of what adventures they will have before and after they come together again.

Waiting for this moment, can you see me?

A whirlwind of emotions, pushed only further at the hands of abuse, a blonde is left to flee from his own home to try and preserve himself. He fled through the states, ending up at another corner of the US. His mind might have been broken, but that didn’t stop one person from becoming the most important in his life, nor the three that came to follow from their union. The haunts of old were constantly clinging to him, no matter how careful he was so that none could find him, and even when those fears returned, he never let them get in the way of his family. There was an understanding between them.

But all that fear came crashing back when one single letter was hand passed to him by his former friend’s father.

Even terrified out of his wits, he found the courage to pack up some of his family to return to his old home. The past came back in full force, as well as the reveal of a curse that only seemed to have the power to vanquish. The people that treated him the worst came back to him for help. The same blue-haired girl who’s father delivered the father nearly brought the end of three children with her partner in crime. The wraith that made his life a living hell came back trying to act as if there was something he could do to make up for what he had done.

And the demon that caused all this to happen in the first place was now roaming free...

'Cause I know that you're out there

Almost as if the reset button had been hit, the blonde wakes up thrown into the past, a time when his best friend was still alive, but… it wasn’t the same. The blonde was still the same one from the future, and new friends that his past friends would know nothing about showed themselves. How was he meant to be like his old self when anytime he looked at the purple wearing man, all he saw was the vengeful ghost out for his life?

Events aren’t meant to play out the same way, and they don’t. Despite this, some things can not be changed. The demon still found his way to the same host, though what he chose to do was different. Even with all the chaos, at least the one man didn’t lose his life.

And he gets a front row seat to what his blonde friend had to go through in the future he once came from. It hurt. Emotions still rang high, even if the circumstances are not the same.

This darkness is my signal, come and find me

Sometimes the past can be changed and have one new timeline play out, but what if that same man from the future was now thrown into multiple iterations of the same events, each one spent trying to make it a perfect outcome for all four of them? Well… after a few rounds it didn’t matter if he got to be part of their ending. All that mattered was fixing things for the other three. That was his assigned duty.

Death ended each try, waking the man back up in his bed, whether that be at the hands of someone else, or himself. He just needed more time, plan, and make sure he got it right. He could do it, he was determined to do so.

No matter how much it was tearing him apart.

And when enough was finally enough, it was up to the three left to try and convince him that even with pain, they could continue on with their lives. He didn’t have to keep fighting anymore. He could take an ending that hurt, but one they could heal from, rather than spending so many years trying and trying, all to end with a repeat.

As having to remember all of that hurt.

Are you one of us?

Are you one of us?

What started out as just another night of sleepwalking led the blonde to the steps of a very familiar mansion. Fleeing from an unseen threat caused him to swallow his fear, taking the first step inside. There was no greeting this time, save for the slamming of doors behind him. The only light provided was a light purple of three candles, lifted by the only hand he had. A journey up a flight of stairs and down the hall, coming to a plaque with his name on it.

Entrance strangely granted to him with the twist of a knob from a hand that wasn't there.

The night spent in a bed, waking up to find he had become a prisoner. It seemed death was what would come to him, whether it be at the hands of his former best friend, or by his own. After all, there was a reason his room was on the second floor. Revelations come to light with the appearance of a certain green arm… wearing a familiar, black wristband.

Friendships ruined, for another reason than before. Another friend found searching for him. Both started for selfish means, but it was selflessness that sent him back into the house, even though an evil from the past threatened them once more.

Tell me, are you one of us?

Said, are you one of us?

It’s not everyday that some dive into the past of these character’s lives, but what would happen if one young, scared blonde came across an ancient tree? One that was alive in more ways than one. A strange feeling washed between the two of them, a bond made from the day the blond fled into her woods to hide from the one hunting him. He came to her more than once, and yet every time he did, she sought to rest his soul.

And soon, the tables had turned. Now she was the one in need of rest, though she did not realize it yet until she got the same comfort she once gave to the blonde. His pack adopted her, and he took care of her rot. Names of a powerful thing to these beings, and they knew each other by that power word.

This was not the end of their story. The three friends and dog were reunited, of course the blonde being the one to decide to choose the home where his wooden friend resided. There’s no denying that he was still healing, but he found the courage to try and seek it for himself. The bluenette grew curious about the tree in their backyard, and the final finds an outside source to try and round his curious status.

Are you one of us?

Are you one of us?

The once ghost only turned out to be half deceased, but the hatred still remained. Whether he liked it or not, the blond was at fault; but, he had a plan. One that was sure to fix everything. Find the true cause of their misery, proof that he was just as much a victim.

It was a plan that split their group apart. The dog chose to go with the man on his search, while the bluenette stayed with their half dead friend. The hunt is on, but who’s to tell how the story is to go on from here. Will they each succeed with their goals? We shall see.

Are you one of us?

Said, are you one of us?

The ghost finds himself in the company of others like him. Not ghosts, but skeletons from various worlds. The logistics of how this came to pass is a mystery, though he does not seem to find these details too important. Separated from his ‘friends,’ he finds new ones in this strange group of individuals. They seem to naturally bounce off one another, though some still have trouble catching the ghost’s triggers to his anger. Thankfully, most situations involving this aren’t left to fester.

Their local hang out at Manny’s place is full of stories, interactions between these liked characters. Some funny, some more serious. Whatever the case may be, even if he’s not in the same place as most other ghosts like him, he’s found a place where he can fit in.

Are you one of us?

Are you one of us?

A prince and a noble of green came together, an unholy union that was meant to lead to a prosperous life. Perhaps, but only for one half of that pair. Concerns were dismissed, comfort was sought by an evil man from the one he supposedly loved, and the other tried to find what little comfort there was in his constricting hold. It took the support of two outside his kingdom, and two strangers that wormed into his life to stand up to the terror in his life.

And yet… even with their help… and his desire to lend his help in return…

It wasn’t enough.

A life ended, but the king came back. He was not about to give up on the kingdom he always poured his heart and soul into. Years he seemed to be alone, though one by one, four beings came into his company. He still had those that aided him in life, but now he had more to add to his family. A pink rabbit, golem, a purple imp, and a dark girl with a skull marking. Each had their own story, and a place with him.

And he would see to their safety as much as anyone else in his kingdom.

Tell me, are you one of us?

Said, are you one of us?

Some characters are unique to the world, not all always branching off the main four. Of course, that doesn’t mean there aren’t some made with connections to them in mind. Each is special, and built with as much care as anyone else…

Whether it be a cousin to the blonde, gray with orange highlights rather than the way around, a darker aesthetic, but still similar style to his cousin. A tattoo pattern along his left arm.

A green haired ghost, one met when the group of friends were out together. Something seemed about ready to suck her inside, the ghost reaching out to save her. She seemed to stick with them since.

A young woman dressed in red, blue, and brown. Golden pearls hang from her neck, and a black shawl wrapped around one shoulder. A brown cat accompanying her and group at times, and one that seems to have a power of her own hidden just underneath. 

Are you one of us?

Some characters branching off the core four, and even some of those that were created as their own entity for this series chose to build their stories and characters with one another. Their worlds cross over to one another, relationships naturally build, and so too do the special elements and plots to separate them from one another. Each one of them is equally unique.

Whether it be from the multitude of different colored ghosts, each of them centered around their own story and emotions.

A blue-haired girl with one strand that is lighter than the other. A snowflake twinkled in her left eye, and a roller derby team she has been dedicated to for years counting on her.

The same mechanic, though with more visible scars to the incident in the cave. So much love and care to give, even to those in other worlds, even if the gray faes take a little too much pleasure in bringing him grief.

A black robed king, living far beyond the grave, glowing locks of hair flowing through the air. He’s been seen before, but this one on another plane, a chance to interact with others outside his grown family.

Are you one of us?

Are you one of us?

This amazing group of people, as well as many others come together over a series we all love and cherish. We create our own works of art, but not without credit to the original source. From this point and on, we only seem to grow as a collective, continuing to create as we wait, and surely even after the series comes to a close, it will hold a special place in our hearts. So long as we are all here, we shall continue to spread our joy over mystery skulls animated, supporting one another, no matter how small or big someone may be.

We extend our open arms to one another, and to those new to this fandom...

“Said, are you one of us?”

-----

(Author’s Notes: Seriously, this fandom has been an amazing inspiration, and I’m so happy to be able to take part in Mystery March. There was no other good prompt to really do this for, and I thought this would be a clever way to give tribute to the many amazing people and ideas/stories they have come up with. I tried to keep things short and vague for some, as there are some things I don’t want to give away, so you can check them out if you haven’t. I know there’s no possible way I could get everyone, but I tried to get as many as I’ve fallen in love with and not repeat anyone twice (even though I think I broke that rule twice). Again, thank you all so much, and I hope you enjoyed this.

Credits: (In order of appearance)

@mysterybensmysteryblog, @heilos, @artsyfeathersartsyblog, and the rest of the amazing team!

@lottafandoms (Vampire Arthur)

@ectoimp (Demon!Arthur) / @providentially-demonic (The Devil and the Dead Fic)

@askmysteryskullswerewolfarthur (Werewolf Arthur)

@heilos (King Arthur)

@phantoms-lair (Mirror’s Gaze Fic)

@braveskyered (Knights Fic)

@pi-cat000 (Time Travel Idea Fic)

@thefandomcassandra (The Future Fic)

@tyigra (House of Strays Fic)

@hecallsmehischild (Rest Nestling/Explain it like I’m a Tree Fics)

@neversleepagainau 

@atomi-cat (Boneheads)

@ask-twoyearsafter / @kanaiekla (The Cruel Irony of a Prophetic Love Fic)

OC’s: @nerv0usm3chanic (Lucan), @binaconfusa (Frog), @lauritanaomystery (Laurel)

RP Blogs: @splatterlewis, @lamentinglewis, @frenzys-furnace, @bluescarfvivi, @punsandfuturekingsmen, @diviinc​)

[wulfdreaded]

[lyallblacklupin]

I am fighting for you.

Remus can’t easily escape the most heart-wrenching memory from his mind that was clinging stubbornly, only making his transformation worse; Sirius Black fighting alone against seven hooded opponents, the red sparks suddenly hitting his chest, and the screams echoing the alley. How can Remus forget the fact that those howls craving nothing but death, were of the most foremost person in his life, the only hope, only dream, only love, only the reason to keep living in this war. Sirius was his everything and the only thing. 

Just for once, he wanted to live...

Just for once, he wanted to unfeel the pain...

Just for once, he wanted to love without fear...

Remus was lying crumpled on the floor, the pool of his blood beneath his wounded body. The sharp breeze of the cold dawn swishing from the opened window of the Shrieking Shack, that spasmed his already trembling, naked body. He peeked from his one of his heavy eyes to see the deteriorated window that was hanging on its rusty hinges, waving in and out, back and forth by the currents of the wind, and the sky was light blue as if witnessing an almost twilight sky, except it had started getting brighter. The view was quite scenic enough for Remus to distract him from his physical pain. However, the pain was not just physical.

He barely acknowledged the severely maimed hand of his own that was laying lifelessly before him. His wand was not far from his reach. He could grab it and cast healing charms at his wounds and he could apparate back to his flat. It was all physically possible, and yet very unwanting.

No one had come to accompany him on his full moon, and he was not mad. He was just tired, and so was James who was fighting for his wife and son, and Peter who was fighting for his dying mother, and Sirius...who was he fighting for?

Suddenly, the previous day enrolled before him, again.

"NO SIRIUS! COME BACK! APPARATE BACK!"  

Remus was shrieking like the way he had  never shrieked before, the blood dripping from his forehead, trickling down his eyelid, didn't bother him because they were outnumbered by another troop of death eaters who had apparated right after James had taken an unconscious Lily back in the nearby shop in Diagon Alley. There was fire, jets of red and green sparks, ashes of the burnt shops that once used to glitter with vivid colors and had the whiff of excitement for going to Hogwarts.

And then there was Sirius in the middle of the alley, fighting alone against seven hooded opponents. His eyes were hard and furiously fixed on the masked people. Remus could see how Sirius' wand was not relaxing for a single second, blocking every curse, jinx, and hex.

He wanted him to stop! He wanted him to come back! He wanted him alive! Why was he not listening to him? Remus' throat felt thorny because of screaming pleas for Sirius to come back. No voice on earth was going to stop him, no jerk was going to make him retreat from his charge. What was he fighting for?

"WHAT ARE YOU FIGHTING FOR!?" Remus cried.

Sirius abruptly stopped and his widened gaze fell on Remus. And that was when a bitter voice yelled, "Cruicio!"

In the fleeting moment, Sirius' body thrust to the ground as the red spark hit him in the chest. And then, there he was violently twitching, jerking, reaching nowhere, his eyes rolling, his screams were echoing in the alley.

"KILL ME! KILL ME NOW!"

Remus' chest was tight, and his already trembling body felt a strange shudder when that memory replayed in his head. He was struck with the most bitter realization; This was it. This was his reality. This was the true picture of his life in which he had to suffer with infinite amount of pain in every way possible, especially by watching the pain of his loved ones, and above all, Sirius.

Something broke inside him—like his ribcage suddenly lost the strength that held him and his stiffened muscles slumped down in defeat as he sobbed over his misfortune. His howls were making him realize how much he was torn inside. His tears were dissolving in his blood, and he wanted everything to stop, the war, the suspicion, the terror, the agony of being a werewolf, a terrible lover, and...just himself. He wanted to end...die. There was a voice inside him saying that  there was a life beyond death where he could live without pain, love without fear.

Just for once...only for once...was it too much to ask?

Crack.

He immediately recognized the familiar footsteps, the strong scent, and the heartbeat which suddenly panicked him. How can he wish to die when he had one person who loved him more than they loved themselves?

"Merlin...Moony..." Sirius murmured under his breath, as he rolled Remus over so that his back was against the floor, exposing his bare chest. Sirius' eyes were tensed but he was wearing a poker face. Remus knew that he was pulling himself together just for him.

Padfoot doesn't cry when Moony cries, he will not yell when Moony yells—even if he yells completely unfairly—that was the rule because that was how they had been able to make this far.

Remus was just serenely studying Sirius' face: Those grey eyes were concentrated in casting healing charms all over his body, his nostrils were flaring but there was no hint of anger on that face, just deadpanned, he was frowning at the very unexpected wounds, his mouth was formed in a thin line, and his dark hair falling in his eyes which he didn't bother tugging behind his ear. He was so, so beautiful. And then the memory flashed in Remus' brain, again, and suddenly Sirius Black looked ten times more precious than he was right now. Remus didn't realize a whimper escaping his mouth until Sirius' eyes stopped to meet his.

Remus felt his heart skipped a beat, but there was a strange sense of satisfaction in exchanging a long stare. He could stare at him forever. He lifted his trembling hand and reached for Sirius' hair as he tugged a thick lock behind his ear, and a tear escaped Sirius' eyes.

"Don't leave me." Remus whispered.

"Selfish, are you?" Sirius' voice was hardly recognizable. Remus nodded, despite the pain in his heart, he knew how raw Sirius would become when he had been hurting. Sirius' plain expressions exchanged with the helplessness. Remus' hand was still tracing his damp face.

"Let's run away, then. Far away. Just you and me." Remus said, wanting to be just as raw as Sirius.

Today they were not being fire and water. They were being fire and fire, water and water. This was going either going to end in flames or a raging flood.

Little did Remus know, Sirius started sobbing as he shook his head. They were eventually back to being themselves. This was how it always ended. Either of them would break, and the other is there to pick up the pieces.

As much as broken Remus was, physically, Sirius was wounded deeply as he cried. He had never cried when Remus was suffering. He had known how to stay strong, but this time he was quivering in between his sobs.

"We wouldn't have to return, you know. Let's do this." Remus was also silently crying, but that didn't mean that he was ignoring Sirius shaking his head in disapproval. He held Sirius’ forearm to sit up, and he wrapped his aching arms around him.

"Don't do this," Sirius whispered in his hair.

"Then why do you make me do this?" Remus pulled away to face the other in the eyes. "Why do you throw yourself into hell as if you are searching death and wanting it to hit you!?

He was suddenly speaking so loudly and Sirius was looking down at their hands. Remus had wanted to say those words to put some sense into Sirius, but few hours after the dueling, he himself had disapparated to the Shrieking Shack when the wolf inside him had started to signal his arrival. In the meantime of his transformation, he hadn’t forgotten the dueling, the cruciatus curse hitting the love of his life, and most importantly, the urge to see him in one piece before him.

"As if you completely forget that I am here too! At your side. You don't even acknowledge the fact how much your actions would hurt me! Your pain is my pain, Sirius Black!" He poked him harshly on his chest. "You don't let only yourself be dead, but you also kill me! You don't fucking realize how much I love you! You fucking dumb tosser! I can't watch you die! I can't let you get away from me! I can't live without you! Why don't you understand!?

Remus' chest was heaving raggedly. He had forgotten about his wounds, and now he was just staring at Sirius' glistening eyes. They were leaking tears so silently. He looked so small and vulnerable. Remus held his face in his hands and pulled his forehead to his lips to press a chaste kiss there.

"I am sorry." Sirius' raspy voice sent a shiver down to Remus' body.

"I want to get out of it. But I don't think I can without you. I want to protect you like you have your whole life. Let me protect you, please."

"I'd die for you-"

"I don't want you to die for me!" Remus grabbed Sirius' wrists and tugged him close at his eye level, "I want you to live for me!"

"I'm responsible for this, Moony." His voice was weak and muffled because he had slipped his head in the crook of Remus' neck.

"What are you talking about?"

He met Remus' eyes. "I know...I can't say if I disagree with you because I don't. But then when I look at you, James, Lily, and Peter, I feel like I owe you all. My own blood is out there killing innocent people..."

Suddenly, everything was making sense to Remus; the hard glare of Sirius while he is dueling with those masked death eaters, the concentration that would be keen to linger when he disarms them, aiming charms and spell on those masks which could reveal their identity and Sirius would either sigh in relief if Regulus Black isn't behind that mask.

"I feel like I am responsible for every life because my blood is aiming to kill the people I so dearly love, Remus. I can't give up on you so easily. I don't care about myself!

“You can't see me dying, can you? I saw you on the verge of death every month since for years and I still do, but I cannot fight that miserable fate. I actually thought when I was twelve that I could find a cure for your lycanthropy. I actually believed that one day I will be the one to take the pain away from you. I was so naïve. Now these people, who are also my unfortunate family, are trying to kill you. I can’t stand that.

“So you asked me who am I fighting for? I am fighting for you."

Remus opened his mouth to speak but the words died in his mouth. Sirius had left him utterly speechless.

"You don't care about yourself," He spoke after a lingering silence, "but I care about you so you have to care about that."

Remus knew that his words sounded very stupid but Sirius chuckled and shoved him in his embrace.

"I love you, Remus John Lupin. I love you more than anything. And I promise that I will be careful for you, just for you because I don’t want to hurt you in anyway."

“You better not,” Remus leaned close and pressed his forehead against Sirius’. “Otherwise, I won’t share my jumpers with you.”

“A little less tyranny, Moony, I’m fragile!”

[covairecity-promo]

~ WANTED CHARACTER! ~

❝ I’ve dug my grave, made my choices. ❞

Name: Alden Fields

Species: Werewolf

Age: 120

Sexuality: Pansexual

Prisoner 

Face Claim:  Milo Ventimiglia

✑ BACKGROUND: Some men go to war to defend their country, to bring a sense of pride to their family and honor to themselves. Alden went to war to escape his life. The broken home in Iowa - he was born in in 1898 - was difficult enough to look at, let alone live in with two brothers, one younger sister, an abusive father and a mother deteriorating like the peeling wallpaper. When he was 18, old enough to enlist, he left the slanted structure with nothing but a few things on his back and the promise he’d return to save his fellow siblings. Living in his home had felt like hell and surely the war couldn’t be any worse than what he had already endured. Safe to say, he was wrong.

He quickly found himself shipped overseas and landing in the deepest trenches. The bloodshed and disease that spread throughout the muck was more than most men could handle. It was only natural that Alden adapted to his environment and numbed most of his feelings and emotions to get through the day, if he wasn’t shot and killed that is. Two years into his term something changed, something happened to the man that was more natural for his blood than the ways he had adapted to the life into which he’d thrown himself: he changed from a human into a wolf.

Keep reading for full biography & visit our group!

Alden had never known he was a werewolf. His relationship with his father and mother wasn’t commendable and they certainly didn’t talk about their dark little secrets. He didn’t know his father’s abusive actions were the result of rage from the primal characteristics that surged beneath his skin, that his sexual rampages were a cause of the moon’s influence, and how he always seemed gone the day of the full moon. Alden discovered all these truths the hard way when his skin ripped apart and his human form was shed for that of a wolf. His werewolf gene had been triggered late and all his comrades around him had paid for it.

A fleet found him three days later in a trench soaked with blood and littered with bodies, and thought his squad had been ambushed. But Alden couldn’t let his enemies take the fall for what he had done. He confessed that he was the one at blame, frantic and terrified by his own actions. His fellow soldiers condemned his confession as war trauma babbling, and so he was carried off to be examined by numerous doctors till the next full moon when all doubts were erased. While Alden wanted them to cure him of this alarming disease, the army had different intentions: they had before them a super-soldier, a man who could take a bullet, be ripped and torn by sharp wire and resurface alive. A creature that could devour fleets; they used him as a weapon, even going as far as making him bite other soldiers to amass an indestructible army.

Alden hated it, being treated like an animal and set loose on others like a wild dog. Towards the end of the war he made a run for it, condemned for fleeing his post and hunted by the government. It was only years later that he was found, captured by the Germans who found identification on him and revealed him to be a U.S. soldier. Not long after, they discovered something wasn’t right when he was forced to stand among other soldiers and a fire squad. He was the only one left standing.

Bleeding and barely conscious, holding but a heartbeat, he was taken to the nearest concentration camp and offered up to the sadistic scientist held there to assess the indestructible creature they’d happened to find. It was there in Auschwitz that Alden met the infamous Josef Mengele who was very interested in the wolf’s heredity and genetics. The doctor’s order was to utilize whatever Alden had, and find a way to weaponize it or him for military purposes. But first, Alden suffered a great many tortures if not for the sake of sating the man’s curiosity, than to test his endurance.

The “treatments” on Alden ultimately physically severed his conscious connection with his werewolf side. Meaning simply—when he shifts under the full moon, he has absolutely no control over his actions and no thought process. He is merely a wild wolf till morning.

It wasn’t till the war had nearly ended that Alden was released. Or rather, stolen. He thought he had been rescued by a human SS officer that worked around the labs Mengele’s patients were contained in. It was only later the man’s true intentions were revealed. He was a hunter, but not the hunters wolves typically encountered, no, this man was a collector. He hunted breeds to add to his own personal display. To him, Alden was a toy soldier, beautifully broken and a delight to behold. Held in the remnants of an old warehouse were cages, holding thought to be mystical creatures, anomalies and the abnormal. Most were just freaks of nature, creatures born with different genetic structures that added a head here or tail there. Alden became something of a pet to this human, confined in a small cell constructed of silver and made to abide by the man’s rules and forced to take part in his games.

For 76 years Alden was part of this collection until the hunter’s son sold him in 2020 to Covaire City so he could acquire enough money to purchase a vampire to starve and force to bite him in order to gain immortality. He has remained locked away at the slave castle ever since…

✑ PERSONALITY: Alden has been fighting a war his entire life. He encountered his first battlefield in his childhood home, his father would cast the first strike; his younger brother would fall. He found his second battlefield beneath barbed wire, looming above the trenches. The loss of his connection with his primal side has a direct cause into the wolf falling into an omega status in Covaire, aside his lack of money. He has no ability to communicate with a pack. He will never experience the full moon like the others, his veins run hot and his vision becomes clouded till the dark of night consumes him. Alden has lost a part of himself he can never retrieve. He has lost those he loved: his brothers and sister. Loss is a casualty of war. After the actions of the Hunter Alden settled into bitter submission, he doesn’t fight the cages he’s put into as much as he did before. But there is a fire in his eyes, a call for a rebellion. Given the chance, he would not hesitate to strike those who have kept him captive. He’s numb to most emotions, distant, quiet. The years of abuse he’s endured have made him distrustful and hesitant around others. His words are simple and crafted, made to please the ears of the masters and mistresses they find in a way that cannot be misinterpreted. To most prisoners he is somewhat kind; he feels like all those kept in the Chateau are prisoners of war and does what he can to make their circumstances more bearable. Few ever get close with the wolf however, the Hunter taught him one grave and horrific truth: the beast inside him, unleashed during the full moon will attempt to murder any of those close to him, friend or foe.

MAIN || PLOT || SPECIES || CHARACTERS || EVENTS || APPLY || MOBILE

[universestreasures]

@wvlfdmn​​ Sent: A Soft Intimacy Prompt (Accepting)

🤛🏼 - Show my muse how to throw a proper punch

He had come up to the wolf demon tribe’s mountain territory in search of her, the quarter-demon gal who Gao had become both friends and rivals with. She had heard from her folks she came up here to train with the pack’s leader Koga every once in a while, and that would explain her speed and agility that seemed unmatched by most in their age group. Though, what Gao had not been expecting was for the leader to want to train him. Perhaps, it was to see how he measured up to his ‘niece’, or that he was curious about his strength considering the unusual nature of the half-demon. 

His strength and appearance during the day was on the level of an average full breed flame dragon demon, even if he did look way more human than dragon. He had typical features such as horns and wings, and even control of fire. However, all of that would seep away as the sun would set and the moon would rise, his demon form all but shedding away to reveal nothing but a mere mortal. While he had more strength than the average half-demon during the day and could pass for a full one, the drawback was the losing of all that when night fell. Though, Gao had accepted that aspect of himself a long time ago, shortly after the passing of his older brother Yota.

That was why he was so interested in learning hand to hand combat, despite not really needing it in his dragon form. After all, he had to defend himself when night fell right? Thankfully that’s what Koga had in mind to teach him, Gao suspecting Moroha might have slipped a tidbit or two out with that chatterbox mouth of hers during one of her lessons with the wolf demon.

“Man, I can see why you’re one of Moroha’s teachers. You’re amazingly strong!” The half dragon demon compliments, blocking a direct bunch from Koga by crossing his arms in defense to take the hit. Even if the blow wasn’t to push Gao back, the boy was able to feel the true power Koga possessed just by the attack alone. He certainly wasn’t the leader of the wolf demons and a rival to Moroha’s legendary father for nothing.

“But...I think I understand how you do it now! So, let’s just see what I can do! Watch out, Koga!” With that Gao bursts forward towards him, using his legs to support his takeoff as his wings glide him right towards the adult. He knows that he will not have the luxury of the wings on his back when night fell, but for now, why not use them? They were just training, after all. And once he is in range, Gao strikes forward with his right arm with everything he’s got. Now, all he could do was wait to see how Koga would respond, both in his physical response to Gao’s attack and his evaluation of him trying out his method for doing a proper punch attack.

[ask-de-writer]

MET BY MOONLIGHT : (Part 1 of 3) : Flocking Bay

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Flocking Bay

MET BY MOONLIGHT

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

5740 words

© 2020 by Glen Ten-Eyck

written 2003 by Glen Ten-Eyck

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express written consent of the author or proper copyright holder.

//////////////

Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.

All sorts of Fan Activity, fiction, art, cosplay, music or anything else is ACTIVELY encouraged!

///////////////////////

It was evening in Flocking Bay. My last patient had gone home hours before and I had finished up my day’s lab work, ground the last lens, and eaten a leisurely dinner. The second day of July was a fine one and I planned a quiet stroll by the last light of the sun and to finish by the light of the full moon which would not set until almost morning.

The long shadow of the ridge behind the town had covered my home and place of business, The Blackwall Street Ophthalmology Clinic, an hour before. As I sauntered along Blackwall, which ran across the back of the town, just under the ridge, I admired the lush green foliage fading toward black as the sunlight failed. I like the evening and the dark.

My ramble had taken me up the street nearly a mile. By now, the full moon was providing all of the light. The sun was just a glow of memory beyond the ridge. I passed the old Hilstrom House. It was the oldest house in Flocking Bay. Built in 1647 by the first Hilstrom. He had got the land for the town by shooting an Indian Shaman in the back. Peeling paint revealed hand squared beams and other details that showed its age. Many generations of Hilstroms had been born here, raised here and died here.

Seven years ago, the last of the Hilstroms had vanished. The courts had just declared him dead and now the place was due to go on the auction block for back taxes. I remembered all of the questions that I’d had to answer when it was realized that he had vanished — And I was the last to see him.

I had truthfully told them that I had last seen Mr Hilstrom in front of my clinic. Of course he was still there, – in slightly altered form – for any who knew what to look for. Only one living person that I was aware of did know what to look for. Myself.

I am the last descendant of the Marquost Shaman that the first Hilstrom had murdered by that shot in the back. That black deed and its bloody aftermath had gained the land upon which Flocking Bay had been built. The slaughter that followed that killing was the result of cooperation between white and Indian. The other tribes had not even coveted the Marquost land. They gave it away to the whites after they had used the whites to break the grip of our magic upon them.

The other Indians had sold the Marquost children into slavery with other tribes . . . a mistake. There has, as a result of that bit of greed, been a Marquost Shaman to hound them down the full tale of the years since the massacre in 1647. And the descendants of those Indians still think that the tribulations that they suffered are the result of white-man’s duplicity. . .

Hilstrom House was at the edge of town. Only a little further, just out of town, was the old Wikes place. I planned to turn around there and go back, loop through town, past the library to the waterfront and then back to my clinic. About four miles altogether.

I spent a short time contemplating the perfectly done, absolutely ugly, example of Carpenter Gothic architecture that was the old Wikes place. On my return, I became aware that I was being followed. At first glance, I would have thought that it was a wolf. That couldn’t be. The Maine Wolf has been extinct for over two hundred years.

It had to be a stray dog. Big dog. One of those Husky types, maybe. One good glimpse showed it to be a female. The dog kept its distance and I ceased to worry about it once I realized that it was not being hostile. Curious perhaps. I had no real fear.

Flocking Bay has little crime and few stray animals of any kind. Such crime as there is comes mostly from outsiders. We get along with a town constable and a justice of the peace.

The latter is a woman some thirty or forty years of age whom I met during the investigation of Mr Hilstrom’s disappearance.

I completed my walk and the dog followed me almost to my door. She paused at the round black stones that line my walk and parking lot. Her hackles rose just a bit as she sniffed at the stones, in particular the one that used to be Mr Hilstrom . . .

The beast disappeared into the night more silently than a ghost.

The next morning I looked up animal control in Flocking Bay’s tiny phone book. I dialed the phone and it rang a number of times before it was picked up.

“Laelia Darkmoon, Justice of the Peace,” said the voice from the receiver cheerfully. “What can I do for you, Dr. Fredricks?”

“Hi Laelia. Isn’t caller I.D. wonderful? I must have dialed wrong. I wanted animal control.”

“No, you dialed right. I wear both hats. Lost a critter?”

“No, I don’t even know if I should bother you with this but last night I saw a big stray dog. No collar, looked to be sort of a Husky-Wolf hybrid or something. I was out for a walk and it followed me from the woods out near the old Wikes place.”

She laughed, “I know it. Don’t worry. It’ll never harm a soul. Grey, white blaze, bit of a ruff at the neck, straight tail with long hair?”

“You’ve seen it before?”

“Only a few times. It’s the Flocking Bay werewolf. Not really a werewolf. It seems to be the very last Maine wolf. It wouldn’t matter if it did hurt somebody. It’s protected to the hilt by the Endangered Species Act.”

“Why’d you call it a werewolf?”

“Due to better light, its mostly seen at or near the full moon. It’s there anytime though, don’t worry about that. It’s real enough.”

“Thanks for telling me about the wolf. That was fascinating. I’ve only met you professionally. Coffee and the pastry of your choice at the Stone Oven, noonish, say?”

“You’re on. See you there.”

I got through my morning appointments without any problems. Simple glasses, a set of contacts, all the usual minor difficulties. I told my receptionist that I would be out for two hours at lunch.

Allison grinned at me. “Got a hot lunch date, Doc?”

“You wish,” I retorted with an equal grin. “I’m going to go talk to the Justice of the Peace about a wolf that I saw last night.”

“You saw the wolf?” asked Allison, wide-eyed. Wistfully she added, “I’ve lived here all my life and I’ve only heard other people talk about it.”

“I really saw it. I thought it was a stray dog until Laelia set me straight about it. It came right up onto the front walk of the Clinic.”

“It did?” She pointed, “You mean right out there?”

“Yes. Say, Allison, why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon off? My dime. Go take out your little sailboat or something. Enjoy.”

With a “Thanks, Doc!” thrown over her shoulder she was gone before I could change my mind. I locked up and walked down toward the waterfront. The Stone Oven Bake and Coffee Shop was only a block back from the water and had a nice view through a small park to the docks and the sea.

Laelia was waiting for me at a small table out in front. She was a large, spare woman, nearly 5'9" tall, with gray-black hair that had a white streak near the center of her forehead and icily blue eyes. I could not even make a guess at her age. Belying her otherwise formidable appearance was a smile of genuine warmth.

One of my little accomplishments is the reading of heraldry and she had a pin shaped like an escutcheon that could be heraldically interpreted. “Sable, wolf’s head proper erased argent, in the sinister chief an anulet argent,” I read.

She looked startled and then laughed. I liked that. She had a good laugh. “Not many can read that pin. It’s an heirloom. The family crest from the old country.”

“It looks like a wolf under a new moon,” I said and added, “Just coffee and pastry or would you like lunch? They have a fabulous stew served in a fresh baked bread bowl here. I can smell that it’s ready.”

“Lunch sounds and smells fabulous,” Laelia said stretching in an animal-like fashion. “The pin does represent a wolf under a new moon. Our family name was unpronounceably Polish before it became Darkmoon. That was a long time ago, though. 1648, I think.”

“Truly interesting.” I said as I seated myself. “Few know much at all of events that far removed in time. I had people here in Flocking Bay but the last of them was gone in 1647.”

She looked at me curiously and said, “1647? That was the Year of Founding, as they called it in the Annals of the Township. The Year of the Massacre would be more like it, I think.”

Slightly on my guard, I asked, “What do you know of the Marquost massacre? Most people haven’t even heard of it.”

“Did I tell you that local history is one of my hobbies?” she asked. “I have the complete Darkmoon Diaries, the older Hilstrom Diaries, the Annals of the Township – 1647 through 1882, and a long standing friendship with Mrs. Alderman, the Librarian. What she can’t lay hands on, hasn’t even been rumored to exist.”

I laughed. “I, too, have met the formidable Mrs. Alderman. Have you seen her file on the Wikes place? Now there is a mystery for a long winter night!”

I was surprised at the grimness of her response. “I not only have seen it, I entered a legal true copy into the Court Records when I got the order to block further sales of that house. Sixty innocent people have disappeared there!”

She relented and added, “Both the Township and Flocking Bay Realty opposed the order. The Township cited the loss of tax revenue from the estates of the missing persons!

“Flocking Bay Realty tried to cite loss of income by using the historic sales record. I asked if they wished to be named as accomplices in an investigation into the deliberate disappearance and probable death of sixty people. They shut up.”

Next==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Flocking Bay

[loveoaths]

DEITY AU:  GOD OF THE WILD HUNT .

SUMMARY .

haku is a demi-god said to be the offspring of a powerful yuki-onna & her lady lover.  while their domains are plentiful, haku is most aptly categorized as the god of THE HUNT & THE HUNTED . 

like any true god, haku embodies conflicting sides of the same coins:

devotion & self-sacrifice; opportunities & untimely ends, winter & thaw, strategy & impulse, the hunter & the hunted. when you pray to haku you pray for guidance on forks in the road, upcoming decisions, internal warfare, waning timeline between you & disaster, survival & all its enemies. however, since haku is the gods of both sides of the chase, both the hunter & hunted may beseech them & both be heard.

though deeply associated with the white snow rabbit & prey animals, haku actually embodies both halves of the hunt – chasing & being chased, outmaneuvering & thinking ahead to gain the upper-hand  in some regions it is alleged that if you hunt a white animal during a full moon, haku’s two halves can be heard running alongside either party, urging both on. 

WORSHIPPERS .

a minor member of the major japanese pantheon, haku is worshipped reverently in rural areas, particularly mountainous regions & those of colder climes. they are frequently beseeched by trappers & hunters in pursuit of particularly crafty & dangerous game, for haku is a god of strategy & wit rather than brute force. 

however, haku also hears prayers concerning figurative hunts. searching for a job, love, clues, what have you; their banner is as long as it is broad. as a demi-god who was once more human than god, haku’s connection to the earth is stronger than gods residing on the ethereal plane, meaning their insight on humanity is far more nuanced & empathetic than other immortals.

PERSONALITY .

compassionate, mischievous, soothing, honorable, calm, slow to anger, but their fury ends in blood-red snow.

APPEARANCE .

haku is a deity often found walking among mankind, & is one of the gods most likely to visit you in person or in the form of an animal ( typically a shrike, winter wolf, or snow rabbit ) should you desperately need guidance. if they appear in human form they are barefoot, draped in white wolf pelts, & wearing a blood-red mask. haku is typically quiet on first appearance -- they have learned that most supplicants do not actually want words of advice, but rather the acknowledgement that someone hears their prayers with compassion.

if they do not feel like revealing themselves, they will appear as a moonbeam on a full moon’s night; you can catch them if you refract the moonbeam between two mirrors, forcing them to manifest physically until the moon’s light tapers off.

haku rarely unmasks. when they do, however, in their physical form they are exceedingly beautiful: skin the color of moonlight, thick-lashed doe’s eyes, a soft & comforting voice, a river of dark brown hair pooling from their shoulders, & lips like rubies.

haku always smiles with their lips closed, for their teeth are sharp, thorny, & cruel like a wild dog’s. they wear traditional clothing & furs from head-to-toe, & snow plum blossoms braided in their hair. 

if you see their face then you have proven your devotion via service, sacrifice, or some other acts; occassionally haku chooses mortals to imbue with power as a boon. however, they warn that a god’s favor is never truly a gift, & that whatever gift is given you will one day be taken back in equal measure.

EPITHETS .

the splitting god: haku is also known as “the splitting god,” for when you summon haku into a mirror they appear in the reflections as inverses of themself: one feral & the other tame. some believe one is a “good” version & the other is a “bad” version of the god, though no one knows which is which.

ASSOCIATED WITH .

moon phases, mirrors, snow, inner conflict, hunts, winding journeys, strategies, duality, wildness.

SACRED PLANTS .

hyssop ( bitter herbs ), ume ( plum ) blossoms, moss, holly berries, kudzu vines.

SACRED STONES & GEMS .

glass, moonstone, obsidian, slate.

SACRED ANIMALS .

winter wolves, snow rabbits, shrikes, owls, red-capped cranes.

COLORS .

snow white, blood red, ice blue.

FOODS .

sour pickled plums, snow peaches, meat porridges, smoked venison. 

SCENTS .

cold, ozone, petrichor, the scent of plum flower with the faintest hint of blood.

ACCEPTED OFFERINGS & WAYS TO HONOR .

blood & bone, the first & best cut of a kill, peeled fruits, wildflower bouquets, chocolates.

[alternislatronemhq]

Congrats, Steph, you have been accepted to AL for the role of Remus Lupin (FC: Ross Butler). Steph, wow, what a great application! I think it can be really easy for Remus to be portrayed only one way, and I’m so excited to see how you explored his differences in this storyline. He’s really hurting and bitter because of the betrayal of his friends, and that is going to be such an interesting thing to see played out. With the way you got into his head, I have full confidence that you’ll do that really well! Please send in your blog (no sideblogs for first characters, please) in the next 24 hours and be sure to take a look at our new player checklist.Welcome home, we’re so excited to have you join the family!

OOC

name — Steph age — 26 pronouns — she/her timezone — GMT+1 activity level — I work in a supermarket which is very busy at the moment, so won’t get on every day necessarily but will be around a few times a week easily, particularly afternoon UK time.

IC Overview

name — Remus Lupin age — 26 gender — Male (he/him) sexuality — Gay (closeted)

patronus — Wolf. Remus hates that the animal which best represents his soul is the one which has defined his life in such a negative way. Therefore, he never casts a corporeal patronus when he summons one.

boggart — The Full Moon. This is representative of Remus’ fear of what he becomes each month, his dread of each upcoming full moon and the way each that has passed leaves scars mental as well as physical.

IC In Depth

personality traits —

+ selfless: Remus would do anything for his friends no matter the cost to him.

+ compassionate: Possibly an odd trait for somebody known as a prankster, Remus sees the good in those around him and empathises with them. He would take the side of an underdog over the easier but less righteous choice. His compassionate nature has also helped him to forgive people when they have done wrong in the past, in particular Sirius after the incident of Severus Snape and the Whomping Willow. However, forgiving himself and forgiving Sirius again after the breakdown of the Marauders feels impossible.

+ astute: While Remus generally has to work at being book smart, his sharp perception of the world comes naturally. He can think quickly and intuitively to turn a situation to his advantage, whether that is in finding loopholes for the next marauder prank, in assessing a situation that might be about to turn sour or in identifying somebody who needs a word of encouragement.

- people pleaser: In school, this manifested in Remus’s tendency to look the other way when the other Marauders are breaking rules. He would not participate if he didn’t really agree with what they were doing but he certainly didn’t do anything to stop or stand up to his friends. The biggest threat to his self-esteem is the idea of being unwanted, unloved, or a disappointment.

- self-deprecating: Remus hates everything that reminds him of his lycanthropy, especially the parts of his personality which are shaped by his condition. Though the support of his friends has helped him come to terms with his fate in the past, Remus has always been prone to some doubt and shame over the werewolf part of him. Knowing that Sirius lost trust in him was hard for him but now he almost accepts it as inevitable because he doesn’t feel like he deserved the friendship of the Marauders in the first place.

- vengeful: While Remus will forgive somebody for one wrong if they show contrition, if somebody earns his anger then they should beware. On the wrong side of him, Remus is a force to be reckoned with.

character biography —

(Tws: illness, smoking-related illness, death, depression, poverty and homelessness)

From the night he was bitten, Remus grew up in isolation units and hospital wards and the confining four walls of his bedroom. His life would forever be shaped by that monthly pattern and a fear of others finding out. His home-schooling involved not just basic numeracy and literacy but also astronomy and muggle physics and an extensive education into what it meant to be a werewolf. Every last galleon that they owned went into searching for a cure or moving to another town after their latest neighbours started to suspect something was amiss with the family, a few spare coins each month for each of their vices: Lyall’s italian coffee and books, cigarettes and music records for Hope, and chocolate frogs and colouring pencils for remus. In between other lessons, Lyall Lupin did everything he could to ensure Remus would be prepared for a nomadic adulthood — a life on the streets, friendless and penniless — deaf to Hope’s pleas that they try and help him get back to some notion of a normal life.

Hope’s wish finally came true in the form of Professor Dumbledore, not long since appointed as headmaster of Hogwarts, showing up on their doorstep. Remus was so excited to go to school that he barely noticed his parents’ worried exchanges and fears. It was only later, when Remus started to compare the next year’s full moons to his new school calendar that it dawned on him just how complicated this would be. It was his mother who suggested that he could say she had a chronic illness and that he was visiting her whenever there was a Full Moon but he had not known James Potter, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew for long before he realised they would not buy that as a reason for skipping classes or being absent from the dorm every month like clockwork. Remus, glad to finally have friends and terrified he would lose them if they found out the truth, made up different and increasingly more elaborate stories but he wasn’t a good enough liar to hide from his best friends.

The four of them grew closer than Remus could have ever hoped for. They accepted him and supported him. They helped him keep his secret from their other classmates and they were constantly coming up with ways to make things easier for him, whether it was ensuring he didn’t fall behind in classes or sneaking him sweets and tea the morning after a transformation. They learnt to become animagi and Remus couldn’t be more grateful.

Everything seemed to go wrong at once. a betrayal from his best of friends — his only friends — revealing the secret his life had been devoted to keeping for the purpose of playing a cheap and fatal prank on Snape. Remus felt convinced all three of them were in on it because they always were. He avoided and argued and was the most miserable he had been since starting Hogwarts. It was during this period of low that he had a careers meeting that highlighted how dim his prospects after school would be and remus was reminded of what his father had tried to impress on him all these years — that werewolves weren’t supposed to have the sort of life he had been playing at, with education and friends and happiness. The next full moon was during the Easter holidays and unable to bear sitting in the Shrieking Shack alone, he went home. He asked his parents why him. Unable to fob him off with any more half-truths or excuses, his father finally opened up about Greyback. Remus had to hear how his father had once held the same prejudices about werewolves as the rest of the wizarding world and make his own conclusion that maybe he still did. After all, he had almost stopped Remus from living his life after the bite, no matter how much he claimed it was for Remus’ own good. The resulting argument was brutal but soon cut short by hacking coughs and Lyall turning on his wife and snapping at her to stop smoking those damn things. Her hand was shaking as she ignored him and tried to light the cigarette anyway. Remus noticed for the first time that she looked very ill, so ill that his using her as an excuse all those months appeared to be coming back to bite him.

They had been his first ever friends and when Remus returned to school he knew he could avoid them no longer. He needed them. Life would be much too lonely without them, especially if Hope’s days were numbered and, besides, he had grown too used to their being by his side during transformations. He refused to let them talk about it, insisting he didn’t want to relive it when in fact a part of him was worried that talking it through would remind him how betrayed he had felt. He reminded himself of what he had always believed: that he wasn’t good enough for them. That he was nothing more than a monster and at least he should be grateful that they still wanted his friendship. He was indebted to them. How could he keep pushing them away when they equalled the happiest moments of his life so far? Even with that awful incident, none of them were a part of the worst moments of his life. So, he let them fall back together and patch up the cracks in their friendship with jokes and pranks and throwing themselves towards war, knowing that it didn’t matter to him how they felt. They could pity him and fear him and be prepared to brush him away without a second thought again. He would die for them anyway.

Life after Hogwarts was predictably difficult. Employers wizarding and muggle alike did not look kindly on him taking sick leave less than a month after being hired and inevitably after the second Full Moon he was circling ads in the newspaper again. It wasn’t long before the Order of the Phoenix became his primary concern and though the very thought of seeing Greyback again made him felt akin to walking into hell, he found himself accepting the mission of the Order’s spy amongst the werewolves. Only Dumbledore knew the task he was undertaking, the majority of the Order having no idea of his condition and those who did he was forbidden to talk to them about it. Remus started to slip away from himself. He was incredibly lonely without being able to talk to his best friends and each minute with the werewolves brought more danger, more emotional strain, and more questions about whether he had ever really deserved his years pretending to be a normal wizard. The werewolves he had befriended didn’t understand why he would want to live amongst humans and there were others who would never be friendly with him as long as that was the case.

By 1981, Remus felt completely isolated. His mother died early in the year and his relationship with his father was worse than ever. Transformations with the Marauders were a distant memory and instead he spent his Full Moons forced into a life of violence he had always been determined to avoid. He barely saw any of the Order outside of meetings and his attendance at those was becoming increasingly difficult. When he did come back, it was hard to know his place in the meetings, unable to talk about what he had been doing and knowing so little about everybody else’s lives. Only Peter seemed to remember that he was missing so much and made a point of keeping Remus in the loop but so often that consisted of lost lives and disappearances and Remus came to dread the times he would sneak away from the packs. Talks of spies did not help. It was impossible for Remus to think of any of the Order as betraying them and he told the group as much, fiercely insisting that this was what the Death Eaters wanted ⁠— for them to be torn apart by their own paranoia.

So distant from it all, Remus did not realise how guilty he had made himself look until after it all was over. James was in hospital, basically gone, and Peter in Azkaban and it had only happened because Sirius suspected Remus. Fleeing from the werewolves the moment word reached him that the war was over turned out to be a bad idea because all of a sudden Remus found himself with nothing. The friendless and penniless life of the streets that his father had prepared him for was now a reality and he would rather sleep rough than face the guilt that if he had been there, if he had just disobeyed Dumbledore enough to tell the Marauders what he was involved in, if he had been a better friend to Peter, maybe none of this would have happened. It was better than facing Sirius, who was the one person he thought would understand that Remus could never betray them.

plot ideas —

I have always imagined James to be the one who is able to ground Remus and keep him together so without him there, Remus has spiralled. The memory of the Marauders is something bitter now, with Peter’s betrayal and the gaping hole that James leaves and this is a big part of Remus not making an effort to reconnect with Sirius. He definitely spends a lot of time next to James’ bed in St Mungo’s. Even now, if he needs to talk to someone, James is his first port of call. Remus’s certainty that James is never coming back means sometimes he will say things he wouldn’t voice otherwise. Maybe if James does wake up, he heard more than Remus wanted him to.

I would love some other werewolves and some plots involving those werewolves Remus did befriend during the war. He almost feels guilty for liking and empathising with some of them and hates that he relates to them but it had been nice to have people who really understood.

He’s trying to act like his life isn’t falling apart around him for Harry’s sake and so that he can still see Harry while trying to hold both Lily and Sirius at a distance. This will involve a lot of pretending that things aren’t as bad as they really are, that he can manage Full Moons alone and that he is finding legitimate ways to get a proper meal between offers of charity from old friends.

The love he once had for the Marauders is difficult to define. They were his found family and his brothers, the first friends he ever had, the only people he trusted with his whole self. The battle to come to terms with himself not only as a werewolf but a gay werewolf was something he never fully managed though had there been no war the Marauders would have got him there eventually. Now, he’s left wondering where the lines are between platonic and romantic love. The men in his life have been nothing but sex, his ability to trust having been broken too far for anything more. In terms of ships, Remus will be slow to get into anything and it would have to be based on chemistry and a gradual building of trust. He might wonder sometimes if he was in love with James though that is mostly because in his anger at Peter and Sirius he has transferred all the love he held for the Marauders as a unit onto James to make it easier to process the betrayal. It’s no longer the three of them he is grateful to for making Hogwarts the best seven years of his life, but James. No longer the three of them who made him feel worthy of love and friendship but James. In believing that, he can almost cope.

If he’s going to accept help from anybody these days it will be someone who was less a part of the war and who doesn’t have their own family to think about. Much as he values people like Mary and Frank for sticking by him through all the lowest points of his depression, they have their own lives away from him, their own children to consider and Remus feels guilty whenever they express any concern for him. I’d love for him to develop a friendship with someone who makes it easier for him to let others help him, and who might be able to offer him a place to stay more permanently.

extra —

in terms of the canon that Remus believed Sirius to be the spy, I’ve always headcanoned that as being after the war. He apologised to Sirius because he believed the world when they told him Sirius had betrayed the Potters but I can’t see Remus as having suspected that beforehand. I can’t see Remus being able to think badly of the three boys who became animagi for him, not until it’s all too late. Also, I have a general pinterest board for Remus here, though it includes things from various RPs