#...which means if he’s say; getting chased while in wolf form; he’s probably too scared to change back to a hylian

[skyward-floored]

Okay but how many "werewolf" sightings happens when Twilight was younger and what's the funniest one?

More than he hopes his parents ever find out about, but the number is actually pretty low considering. Twilights a pretty careful person, and guards his ability well.

...though there is a rumor flying around of a mysterious blue-eyed wolf that can turn into a human. Kids took off with it a bit, now it’s somewhat of an urban legend (much to Twilight’s annoyance, and Wild’s amusement)

And I don’t know about funniest werewolf sightings, but there were a bunch of rumors floating around after the Zoo Incident. Plus there was the time Twilight was maybe three and turned into a puppy in the middle of the grocery store

[shtern-and-art]

In The Dark – a cryptid AU about Bad and Skeppy – part 1.

All text is captioned under the cut!

BACKGROUND

Story is set somewhere in the 90s – neon colors and the brink of major improvements in lgbtq+ status at least in US.

The place we’re in is a small nameless town near the forest, and let’s say it’s the US, but in my mind it has an old European country feel to it too. At least in the small old towns like this. With old buildings, and paved roads, and steep roofs, and everything.

The forest is very dense and not much light gets in the deeper parts of it, so it’s called The Dark Forest which may sound quite unoriginal. But no one really calls it that. With how many weird things happen in that forest, among the locals, it is mostly referred to as “bad forest”. To the point that it’s basically the common name for it now.

SKEPPY

Skeppy is a Thing. A supernatural thing. The sort of thing that, unlike most spn things, hangs out around humans a lot. Socialized thing. Because, due to his spn nature, he has a compulsion/tendency (and desire) to create small mayhem and chaos around himself, disrupt communities. And also because he’s a changeling and initially was brought up by people.

But the way he is, he can’t stay living in one place/town for too long, always having to bounce before people clock him, or stuff gets too intense.

He’s name is still Zak, it’s the one his human parents gave him. However, he officially changed it to something different in all records after leaving home at 18, cuz names are important for creatures, and having his real one out there might be dangerous.

Generally, he still goes by Skeppy.

Skeppy can consciously do minor mimicry and illusions (by light bending)/cause light dissociation/confusion in people and creatures around him/do other minor mind tricking fae stuff.

He is drawn to nature and shiny things, although nature can be just a potted plant, and a shiny thing – anything from a gemstone to pieces of broken glass. Skeppy doesn’t know this yet, but I’m pretty sure he can find more valuable gems and metals by pure instinct. But he never explored it properly, and he just thinks that he likes collecting pretty rocks. Skeppy has at least 3 of them on himself at any time.

Evidently, he is not fully aware of everything about himself, and he didn’t have much contact with other creatures like him.

He is just. Living his life. Going from city to city, trying to have a good time.

THE STORY

Skeppy comes to a new little town near the forest. Forests are good for him, even if he still prefers to be around people.

And he’s just chilling, trying to settle in and shake things up a bit, roaming the woods to kick up old local rumors about a werewolf.

Speaking of, the town has a LOT of old rumors with the fleur of a little-town-near-the-woods creepiness to them. Like a werewolf, yeah, and crazy cults, and people making sacrifices in the woods, all that jazz.

But it’s all alright, all quiet now. All those things are always told by an uncle of a cousin of a grandpa’s friend, and, you know. Older people. Not a lot of townsfolk believe in these stories nowadays.

So Skeppy freely roams for a while: both the town, and the woods.

BACKGROUND

Local tree logging business is starting up again – twice removed cousin of the old owners brother’s son inherited the company. He’s fresh out of college, and came to bring Industry and Movement back to the little town he visited couple summers as a kid.

Some decades ago the wood export was what kept the town moving and bustling. It chipped away at the forest for many decades, bringing jobs and new people and everything.

But something happened back then, some shady business: perhaps money laundering gone wrong, or some out-of-town mafia dealings that came with the trades. That’s what the papers said at least. For a while, there were complaints of not safe work environment, and lawsuits flying, and rabid animal attacks happening on the outskirts of town (that’s where the werewolf rumors started).

But it’s been quite some time since then. It’s all settled now, old news, and the new generation doesn’t care much, and the twice removed cousin of the old owners brother’s son can start everything anew.

There’s hope and change in the air and the factories are getting upgraded.

THE STORY

So yeah, Skeppy roams the woods, and townspeople nowadays are starting to roam deeper in the woods too! Both because the woods came closer to the town again, and because people tend to… forget. Some young people, at least, who have nothing to remember or fear in the first place. Having all their hormones to fly, and baseball bats to swing, and beer cans to shoot.

The deeper woods are dark, there are a lot of good old trees in their prime time for logging, that make a lot of dark shadows to lurk in. And those are very nice for Skeppy, who can easily fuck with packs of teenagers and with elderly berry pickers. He can make them see things, and believe things, and prop up some fake cultist memorabilia on clearings and wolf fur in the bushes near the pass. And then he’d chat up the middle-aged workers at evenings, and watch it all unfold slowly, rumors spreading across town, giving Skeppy that little, small glow of joy, which that freaky, but harmless trickery always brings him.

It’s all going well and good, even better than expected! Even with that weird forest spirit Skeppy always felt lurking deeper in the woods. That thing was alright. Just there, watching. And Skeppy didn’t do anything too bad or disrespectful, he was pretty sure.

So, when the watching becomes following, and following becomes stalking and threatening, it… doesn’t feel right. Deep in the woods, deers and rabbits keep watching Skeppy’s back, and the trees are so tall it feels like the forest floor is the bottom of the ocean.

When stags stroll through the dark to you, carrying dead animals’ bodies on their antlers, that’s a pretty bad sign, right? Almost as bad as when the shadowy figure, that kept clop-clopping around you for the last couple of weeks, starts chasing you through the trees. And Skeppy just started setting up another “pagan ritual” site near the old berry picking trail!

Turns out, the forest spirit is a dang forest demon or something! And is also an asshole, who doesn’t want Skeppy (with his little True Detective stick figures and mayhem) on his territory.

(This is pretty much where the comic happens! And, yes, Skeppy also being a creature doesn’t mean much. Because Skeppy is too annoying, and too human-like to take seriously.)

So yeah, the Asshole In The Woods chases Skeppy out of them, but Skeppy doesn’t skip towns after that, oh no. He is a stubborn bitch, and he’s already settled, and he even found a small job… and unsettling and leaving is incredibly easy, yeah, but he DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. The Asshole In The Woods will see, he’ll understand. Skeppy is good at trick- well, talking himself out of trouble. Almost as good as he is at getting in it.

So, obviously, Skeppy keeps coming back to the woods whenever he can. And if the shadow demon asshole doesn’t come out to run him off immediately, he busts out his fake werewolf furs, props occult stick figures around, puts up tents like people were camping nearby, insults the trees, and duct tapes leaflets from local businesses on the them… Because irritating other creatures is just as fun as fucking shit up for people.

And this little turf-war settling is the most fun Skeppy had in a long, long while (possible death aside).

They meet up pretty regularly, getting various irritation and scare levels from each other. And the asshole shadow forest demon is creepy and all, but despite the big bad wolf attitude he never actually tries to kill or maim Skeppy. Or so it seems. So, it’s all going well. Yeah. Just better to lay off all the occult trolling, since it seems to make the forest asshole guy especially mad and uncomfortable.

(Basically this is the early trolling period, with Skeppy being annoying and pushing the boundaries, very close to how their videos of the time went).

And, again, Skeppy didn’t meet a lot of other cryptids, and the ones he found didn’t stick around for long. Because Skeppy is too much of a little shit, and “a low-tier human bootlicker”, anyway. So yeah, maybe Skeppy IS a little bit lonely. Been lonely for a while, now, hitchhiking around the country, never staying anywhere long enough to let people get that something is wrong in the air around him, or form any kind of lasting relationship. So what.

At least this asshole will not rat him out to anyone, or run away into the night with all Skeppy’s money. Probably.

So what’s the harm if sometimes they just argue instead of trying to one-up each other in magic trickery?.. Nothing bad will happen if, from time to time, they’ll just talk instead of shouting about who’s right and who should leave. It’s alright. It doesn’t even matter. No one in the town or spn world knows or cares about any of that. About both of them.

So they hang out more often. And if each time the forest asshole looks a little less scary, and more often takes his human-like shape, well. Maybe it’s just for convenience? Anyway, it’s easier to roll your eyes and turn your back on a fuming person, than a pissed off all-encompassing shadow, so Skeppy isn’t complaining. Especially if the person-shape is so nice to look at, too.

And Skeppy doesn’t know who exactly the forest asshole is, but in the town it’s always “bad forest this” and “bad forest that”. So, in Skeppy’s head, it becomes “Bad’s forest” – because he’s “the Bad in the Forest, heheh, get it, get it?”

Bad does get it. He isn’t as impressed as he should be by Skeppy’s genius puns and naming abilities though.

Speaking of Bad. He seems to be not really aware of what’s been going on in the town for the last couple decades. He tends to mostly hang out in the minds of forest animals, help them out a bit. Or nap. Nap a lot – days, weeks, years at a time, dissolved in the shadows. Unless someone (like can shooting teenagers, tree logging companies, or Skeppy) come around to bother his peaceful, dissociated, and at times even thoughtless existence.

Bad doesn’t mind though. Or so he says. The sleeping, that is. The people, them he really minds, people from the town especially. He really wants to be left alone by them. Discovering that Skeppy wasn’t from these parts of the country was one of the reasons Bad started to warm up to him.

The other major warm up was the first time Skeppy helped Bad scare off the messy annoying kids that were littering in the woods. But he convinced Bad to do it in a long winded, silly and fun (for them, not the kids :D) way. And after a while, teamed up like this, spooking and chasing people off, stopped being an irritating chore, and instead became something Bad looked forward to. Maybe even, put off his shadowy slumber for.

It’s been a long, long time since Bad actually wanted to stay awake like that. Wanted to do something, consciously, to talk to someone. That’s why he’s a “little rusty with all this communication thing”, he admits to Skeppy.

Bad never tells him how horribly bitter, and sad, and alone he was for years and years, huddled in the shadows. How he hid from that sadness, and from the people and their voices, and from the sound of their footsteps on the leaves. He ran away from them – in the soft, inhuman minds of the animals, and restless dreams, where his mind and sense of self stretched, and scattered across the forest, forgetting itself, and just living with all the living things. Of course, Bad doesn’t tell Skeppy about that. He always had his animals, and the secret springs, and little kids tying wishing charms on the branches of the old trees… Bad is fine. He just wants to be left alone.

Or at least wanted to. Because now, after staying awake for so long, it seems that he wants other things too. To troll snotty stuck up teens and kids. To learn more about new technology. To play with the shadows on the edges of clearings, and listen to the music player left behind by one of the kids he and Skeppy chased off.

And one day. One day sunbeams are dancing around the edge of the clearing deep in the woods, and Skeppy is lounging lazily in the grass, playing with his pretty glass shards, making light refract and reform through them, sending dozens of sun bunnies crawls and jump between the peaceful trees. That day Bad feels like his skin is warm, not cooled down by the shadows. And with that warmth – on his face, and in his chest – Bad finds that he can talk about it. That he can say it.

Bad tells Skeppy that back in the day, some decades ago (time is difficult for him to take note of)… that back then. He was a human. But he isn’t now, not anymore. Now he is part of the Forest. Kind of.

Because, see, something bad, really bad happened back then, and Bad got possessed by the, well. The spirit of the forest.

And he was living like this ever since.

Masterpost / first meeting /part 1 / part 2 / part 3

[anonymouslyangsty]

Bit of an old AU. But Werewolf!Taka finally getting a chance to let himself be justifiably angry

Oh nice

Kiyotaka's self expression in the monster au is definitely worth considering. Because yeah, he's the same ball of determination and feelings as in canon. The difference is that here that's something he feels the need to control

In canon, Kiyotaka has a lot of problems, but expressing his feelings is not one of them. This man bursts into tears every other conversation, both when he's happy and sad. He's honest about his feelings at every turn.

I think that comes from Toranosuke's downfall to some degree, though I'm sure a lot of it is also just who Taka is. Because Toranosuke was corrupt, a liar who cheated others for his own gain.

Taka wants to be nothing like him. So he's honest with his intentions and feelings. Taka's all about openness, even down to his whole "when the body's naked, so is the soul!" thing. Or however that quote goes.

In the monster au, Toranosuke's downfall isn't quite the same. He didn't fall just because he was corrupt, but because he used his wolf form to do something horrible. Toranosuke's downfall wasn't caused by him being a liar. It was caused by him not having self control

(Or at least, that's what he wants everyone to think. If they think he 'lost control' of himself, it's less likely he'll be imprisoned for mauling someone.)

And that would change Taka's philosophy. How can he be true to himself when he has a monster hiding just beneath the skin? He can't risk losing control, he can't risk making the same mistake as his grandfather.

After the scandal, the Ishimarus weren't just hated, they were feared. Rumors spread, especially when fueled by anger and anxiety. Some people say werewolves just can't control themselves, that they'll maul you with no warning. Some say it doesn't even need to be near a full moon to happen.

That's not true, not at all, but Taka wouldn't know that. All he'd know is that people are afraid of him. People get angry or nervous when he gets too loud. If he's getting bullied, the teachers always assume he's the aggressor.

Taka doesn't want people to hate him. He wants to prove that he isn't his grandfather, that he's better. But while he can prove he isn't corrupt like Toranosuke, there's nothing he can do about his werewolf blood. The only thing he can do about that is try to control it. To prove that he is disciplined at all times.

Which means keeping a tighter rein on his feelings than canon Taka. Because Canon Taka needs to prove that he's honest and truly well-intentioned. Werewolf!Taka needs to prove that he's in control of himself.

Werewolf!Taka would care so much more about what people think of him. He would care if people thought he was too intense, where in canon Taka would dismiss such a complaint. But it's not easy for someone like him. Because when Taka feels something, he feels it strongly.

Taka tries so hard. He'll bite his lip until it bleeds before he lets himself shout at someone. He tries to control his volume, though he fails to do so far too often. He tries not to smile too broadly, because he knows his teeth are just a bit too sharp for comfort.

Not that it's working, Taka's never been good with lying about who he is. But he tries.

That all being said, I'm going to get to your actual ask now.

I think if werewolf!Taka were going to get honestly, truly angry, it would take something more on the serious side. Taka's used to delinquent students and bullies. He's used to being unfairly discriminated against in stores, especially near full moons. He's not going to lose his temper over something like that.

Kiyotaka can handle people harassing him. People harassing other people though? That's a whole different story.

In a situation where it doesn't go beyond physical, I think Taka can keep his cool. Is someone discriminating against another student for their species? He's probably going to do that "so mad I'm tearing up" thing he does (Taka is an angry crier we all know this).

The most Taka allows himself is righteous anger. Because yes he doesn't want to scare anyone, but he will not allow his fellow students to mistreat each other. He will give out a firm verbal lashing when he needs to.

(But Taka can't work up that same anger when he's the one being unfairly hated. Taka's nothing if not self punishing and self sacrificing.)

But what happens outside of school, when there's no teachers to call on, and there are no officers to request aid from?

Taka will fight tooth and nail to protect someone else. Yes, he'll do his best to rely on the law for such matters, on trying to end things peacefully. But when he can't find the proper authorities, when words won't solve the problem?

Kiyotaka can and will fuck you up. Werewolf!Taka wouldn't have any martial arts training, because who in their right mind would let a werewolf into a class like that? So Taka fights dirty. And he's got the claws and teeth to do it if needed. In a real fight, Taka will leave a fool with stitches.

It'd be very rare that kind of thing happens, because Taka isn't willing to use that kind of force to defend himself. Afterwards, he'd feel absolutely disgusted with himself. Yes, he needed to protect someone. Yes, if he hadn't intervened,an innocent person would've been hurt.

But there's always that lingering fear. Was he too swift to resort to violence? Could he have de-escalated that situation? Did he resort to violence because he's got the instincts of a killer, just like everyone says?

Kiyotaka won't see himself as a hero stopping a woman from being mugged. Especially not when, after he's chased the attackers away, she looks at him like he's about to eat her alive.

After events like that, Taka’s even harder on himself than usual.

[melancholic-pigeon]

WIP Wednesday #15

Since Jason's birthday is tomorrow and all, I'm doing something longer as a treat. A triptych, if you will!

Content warnings for child abuse and neglect, alcoholism and food insecurity.

Thalia wakes up, like she usually does, to Jason curled against her with his fingers in his mouth. She can't easily put him in his crib by herself, but her mattress is on the floor and there's nowhere for him to fall, so she can ensure that she's there to hold him whenever he wakes up crying. Her shirt's a little damp, but this time it's just because he's drooling in his sleep. Last night, thankfully, was free from disruptions.

For him, at least.

He's a year old today, and she hasn't seen their mother since two nights ago, slumped on the couch with an empty bottle of vodka on the ground next to her. The door to her room is closed. Whether she's in there sleeping it off or out somewhere getting drunker, Thalia has no idea.

Bitterly, she doesn't care. It's not like their mom cares about them, either.

Jason yawns, his hair sticking up like a cockatoo's feathers. The first eye contact of the morning always leaves him giggling and reaching for her, and the feeling of his small, warm body flopping onto her brings her focus back to where it should be.

"Happy birthday, shrimp."

"Happy," he repeats, nosing at her stomach.

It's up to her, like usual, so she gets him dressed and ready and gives him the last of the cereal to occupy himself while she digs through her closet to find the old coffee can she stashed there.

Every time she thinks she can get away with it, she lifts a bill from their mother's wallet and puts it in the can. Every nickel she finds on the street, every dime she pulls from the couch cushions; it all adds up, a little at a time.

After carefully saving as much as she could for the past few weeks, she's squirreled away enough. She takes out a fistful and stuffs it in her pocket, then re-buries the can under a pile of her laundry.

Today's special, and she'll cover the loss somehow— by sneaking some extra groceries under her coat again, if she has to.

Jason's finished with his breakfast by the time she emerges, sitting patiently and playing with the plastic dish she'd given it to him on. Her sweet baby brother, looking up at her with a smile so sunny you'd think they were living like kings.

Her chest feels tight and her throat's in no better condition. After a deep breath, she reaches down to grab his hands.

"Do you know what birthdays mean?"

He takes a second to think about it as she pulls him to his feet, then shakes his head.

"Birthdays, Jason," she says, grinning— it's harder to dwell when he's holding onto her hand— "mean birthday cake."

The gas station a block away at least has the miniature kind wrapped in cellophane. He won't know the difference, since he hasn't even been introduced to the concept of cake yet, but she'll still have to make it up to him with a real one someday.

—

By the time Jason turns two, Thalia has shoplifting down to an art form.

People are usually too busy fawning over how precious her brother is to pay her much attention, and having Luke along makes it almost easy. Jason adores him, and he's happy to draw focus away from her by translating the toddler babble and proclaiming that they're his favorite babysitting clients, which conveniently explains the lack of adult supervision.

Thanks to him, she's managed to get Jason something a lot better than cake.

She saw it in the window of a toy shop and immediately knew it was perfect, but it cost more than she'd scrounged in the past six months. She'd been resigned to the idea of stealing a brownie instead, and then last night, Luke showed up at her doorstep with it tucked under his arm and his face split into a wicked grin.

She's not sure she wants to know how he managed to smuggle it out without getting caught, but the way Jason lights up when he lays eyes on it, happier than she's ever seen him, is enough to make her ignore the uneasy feeling.

"Puppy!"

She can't help but mirror it back to him, her heart swelling with emotion as he flings his arms around the stuffed animal's neck. It's almost as big as he is.

"That's right. It's a wolf puppy. She's named after a mama wolf called Lupa."

The real Lupa is the matriarch of a pack living at a conservancy in San Diego county. Her likeness is an embodiment of the fiercely protective love Jason should have gotten from his own mother, and which has fallen to Thalia and her limited capabilities instead.

Jason rolls over, still holding tight to his new doll, and lays his head in her lap. If she's coming up short, he certainly hasn't noticed.

"My Lupa?"

He's gently petting the wolf's fur, in a movement that's strikingly similar to how Thalia's petting his hair. She blinks a few times to chase away the burning in her eyes.

"Your Lupa."

She can't give him the childhood that he deserves. It's a struggle to make sure even his most basic needs are met, and some days it feels like the whole world is united against them, but then he hugs her leg or curls up against her shoulder or tells her in that sweet voice love you, Taya—

And everything settles in her chest, refining itself into a white-hot determination.

She's all he has, and the one thing she can make sure he'll never want for is someone who loves him enough to fight for him.

She understands how the real Lupa must feel about her cubs. She knows, with more certainty than she's ever known anything, that if anyone so much as thinks about hurting her little brother— hurting her baby— she'll tear them to shreds with her teeth before they have time to run.

—

Everything is perfect. Thalia's made sure of it.

The party doesn't start for another hour, so she has to keep Jason occupied until then. He thinks she has lunch reservations and they're meeting at her place for coffee first— the second part is true; she has a pot of Kona ready to go as soon as he arrives.

While she's preparing his decoy surprise, the rest of his friends are in Manhattan, helping Percy and Sally get his bash underway. She finds herself quivering with excitement as she puts the last few touches in place.

The doorbell rings and she squeaks, shoving the main item behind a bookshelf before racing to answer the door.

"Happy birthday, shrimp." She stands up on her tiptoes and hugs him around the neck. "I have something for you."

Jason beams, pink, and squeezes her back.

"I told you last year that you don't have to get me anything. Your company is a gift in and of itself."

"Ha ha," she counters dryly, knowing he can hear her getting a little emotional at the sincerity on his face. "Very funny. Like I'm not going to try to make up for the ten of them that I missed."

She takes hold of his arm and pulls him into the apartment, past the kitchen to the hall that leads to her bedroom. She opens the door beside it, the one that used to be her study.

Jason's eyes go wide.

The desk is still there, but the chair is new, much larger than the one she used. The bookcase is the same, too, but she's put her video games in a box in her bedroom and filled the shelves with fresh sketchbooks and paints and pencils instead. The bed is new too, as well as the nightstand and the dresser.

Sally stripped and varnished all of the wood, and built a set of floating shelves that are currently storing a series of framed photos from Annabeth's camera reel. Piper decided on the paint colors— sky blue with a deep purple accent on the wall that slants to the ceiling. Leo took care of borrowing Jason's favorite sketches to make the framed prints above his bed, by pretending he was doing a photography project with them.

(He'd burst into laughter when she gave him Jason's baby drawings to frame too, and she'd almost punched him in the mouth— but then she'd noticed his voice was a little tight when he told her the crayon scribbles looked just like her.)

"Wow," Jason breathes, staring around the room as though he doesn't know where to land his focus. "This— is all of this for me?"

"Anytime you need an escape, you've got one. Think of it as your safe house. And there's one more thing."

Reluctantly, she steps away and retrieves what she hid earlier.

Jason's mouth drops.

"Lupa," he whispers, raising his hand. He stops himself halfway through reaching over, like he doesn't know if he should. "How did you find another one? I thought they were a limited run."

Thalia takes his hand, wrapping his fingers around the new doll's front leg.

"I traded twenty-seven ultra-rare mint-condition beanie babies for her with a collector in Montana."

"Do I want to know how you got twenty-seven ultra-rare mint-condition beanie babies?"

"It's not as sordid as you're thinking, I just spent a lot of time on Ebay."

Jason laughs, shaky, and sits down on his new mattress. He's probably not even conscious of the way he's running his thumb over Lupa's paw, exactly the way he did the first time.

He said that donating the original to charity was his idea, but Thalia has a suspicion he was pushed into it with a healthy dose of shaming and manipulation, and the look on his face— shocked, bright-eyed, a little scared like he thinks she'll disappear if he blinks— pretty much confirms it.

Thalia sits beside him and wraps an arm around his back. He slides down along the mattress until he's lying with his head in her lap.

"My Lupa," he says quietly, and she knows he remembers doing it before.

"Your Lupa," she chokes back. "For real, this time. Nobody's going to take her away from you, ever again."

It's different now, because Lupa is about the size of a two year old child, and Jason very much no longer is. She fits in the crook of his elbow, and he couldn't wrap his arms and legs around her if he tried.

Thalia tries not to think about all the nights between then and now that he's needed her, and didn't have her.

He smiles, wiser than his fifteen years.

(He's fifteen years old. God. She missed so much— thirteen months isn't long enough to even really begin to catch up.)

"I know they won't," he tells her. "You won't let them."

She's never going to get those years back. The only thing she can do is make sure she appreciates what she has now.

"I believe you would."

"I'll bite anyone who tries," she whispers back, leaning down to kiss his forehead. He bursts into laughter, reaching up to ruffle her hair like she used to do to him.

@perseusjackson-jasongrace @msdrpreist I still feel self-conscious about pinging people tell me if you'd prefer I didn't difjvhg

[ellewritesathing]

So Close - S.S. XLV

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Masterlist   Prev. | Part 45

Word-count: 5.7k+

A/N: guys. guys. guys!!! happy birthday to the longest thing i’ve ever written!! this baby turns one year old today and that is fucking mind blowing. my life has been pretty weird this past year but this fic has been my one consistency so i guess what i’m trying to say is thank you for sticking around with me this long 💕

You’d done plenty of dumb things with Scott and Stiles - jumped off a roof and broken Scott’s arm, snuck a raccoon into the school and left it in Coach’s office, gotten trapped in the mall overnight, just to name a few - but you had never felt quite so dumb as when you had to explain to Noah why there were claw marks on the Beacon Hills Service van while Stiles got his wrist set. 

“What … in the hell … were you three thinking?” Noah asked. “From you two-” he waved an accusatory hand at Scott and Stiles “-I can understand. But you?”

“I wanted to make sure no one got hurt,” you said instantly. Considering all the bad guys you'd gone up against without squirming, it was a little embarrassing that it only took Noah a minute to get you sweating. 

“Uh, I got hurt,” Stiles said defensively, turning away from the medic to argue. 

“No one other than you,” you corrected.  

“Okay, you kids can battle this out after someone tells me what you thought you were doing speeding down the highway and chasing after a Beacon Hills Service vehicle,” Noah said. “On a school night.” He looked at each of you and you nodded sheepishly. 

Scott shrugged and looked at his shoes before answering, “We were just trying to help.”

“Well, why don’t you try and help me understand-” Noah caught his voice, leaned in, and angrily whispered “-what the hell happened here?”

Stiles picked at the brace on his wrist. “Right, well, we were trying to gently persuade him to pull over …” 

“He was getting away,” you added awkwardly. “So, Scott tried to stop him.” 

Noah didn’t look impressed. “He got away.”

“Right! Because, obviously, he’s some sort of criminal mastermind, Dad,” Stiles argued.

“Uh-huh.” Noah started walking away and motioned to you guys to follow him. “You want to guess what the stolen merchandise is?” He led you to the back of the van and opened it up to reveal gas canisters. “Hmm?”

Scott sighed next to you and you pulled a face. Stiles, however, was not so ready to give up. “Critical life-saving medical equipment?” he asked. 

“No.” 

“Poison gas?”

“Nope.”

“... Filled with drugs?”

Noah leaned in. He looked to the sides like he was checking that no one was spying on you, and said, “Helium.”

“Helium?” Stiles repeated, his face going from confident to unbelievably frustrated in less than a second. He was so sure that this time had been the real deal. 

“Like the stuff they put in balloons?” Scott asked. 

“Exactly.” Noah closed the doors and let out a sigh when he turned to look at you again. “Just go home. I’ll call you if I need anything.” 

You and Scott started walking Stiles back to the Jeep while he mumbled about how his dad hadn’t called them in months. And you guys all knew that Noah wouldn’t call for anything less than the apocalypse, so none of you even bothered to comfort him with the possibility of being called. 

Stiles was so agitated that he actually let Scott drive you guys home, even if he tried to keep quiet about it. After about five minutes of awkward silence, Scott looked over at Stiles for a second before turning back to the road. 

“This could be a good thing,” he said hopefully. 

“That we saved helium?” Stiles asked.

Scott laughed, a smile still on his face as he spoke. “I mean, that … they don’t need us anymore.” 

It was strange to picture your life where you weren’t constantly trying to defeat some omnipotent bad guy, but not in a bad way. As scared as the thought made you, it also excited you. You might actually have a life outside of the supernatural again, a life after high school.

That hope was extinguished ever so slightly when Stiles scoffed. “Okay, well, they need us,” he said. “They just don’t know it.”

“We’re all going off to college soon-” 

“Excuse me?” you asked. 

“Most of us are going off to college soon,” Scott corrected. He caught your eye in the mirror and gave you an apologetic smile. “So, Beacon Hills is gonna have to survive without us.”

“Beacon Hills will burn to the ground without us,” Stiles said softly. He looked out the window instead of at you or Scott.

Scott tried to be equally soft when he spoke again. “Stiles … they don’t need us.”

Stiles’ phone started buzzing before he could say anything in his defense. Noah was calling him. Just like that, he went from dejected to excited again. “They need us!” he yelled. 

Over the phone, Noah explained that there was a kid in the office, Alex, who was in an accident with his parents but couldn’t remember anything. His parents were missing and no one had seen anything. Noah was still in the middle of maybe, possibly asking if Scott would mind using his powers to access Alex’s memory when Stiles said you’d be right there and made Scott turn the Jeep around. 

Stiles gave you a cheesy grin as Scott made a u-turn and your heart ached. Stiles couldn’t shift his focus like the rest of you, which was why he’d had you guys looking into every vaguely-abnormal incident since he’d gotten out of the hospital. Fighting bad guys left him drained and nearly dead, but it was still all he wanted to do. He couldn’t picture a life without it. 

And you loved him for it. You loved the way he thought and the way his mind worked, but you worried how he’d react every time you chased down a bad guy on the highway and all you found was helium. You weren’t sure how many false alarms he had left in him.

It was difficult to focus on Stiles once you were in Noah’s office, though. Alex was so young and he looked so scared. He’d barely spoken, other to say that he couldn’t remember anything and that he needed to find his parents. 

Scott put a hand on Alex’s arm and gave him an encouraging smile. “You ready?”

Alex frowned but then he nodded, tears in his eyes. And then Scott sunk his claws into Alex’s neck. Alex’s head rolled back and Scott took a deep breath. 

“Uh, what do we do now?” Noah asked. 

“Time it?” you suggested. 

Stiles pulled out his phone and gave you a shaky smile. “Already on it.”

The three of you huddled around Stiles’ phone and took turns looking between the timer and Scott like you were watching a ping pong match. When the timer hit four minutes, exactly, Scott pulled his claws out and sprang away from Alex as they both tried to breathe again. 

You and Stiles pulled Scott up to his feet. “What happened?” you asked, holding onto Scott's hand.

“I saw a guy on a horse,” Scott said, not taking his eyes off Alex. 

“A horse?” Stiles asked. Behind Scott's back, he shot a look at you that said, Cowboys? Is he serious?

Scott slowly looked away from Alex and at Stiles. “He had a gun.”

“Okay, a guy with a gun. That sounds like my department, not yours,” Noah said with a confused but hopeful expression on his face.

“What about his parents? What happened to them?” Stiles asked. 

“I don’t know. That’s all I remember,” Scott said. He tried to focus on the memory and shook his head after a few seconds “But … I got this feeling.”

“What kind of feeling?” you asked, ducking your head slightly to look at him. 

“They’re coming back,” Alex said. You almost jumped - it was the first thing he’d said since you’d been in the room with him. He looked up and stared at you guys; his eyes were haunted. “They’re coming for me.”

“I think this is our department,” Stiles said quietly. 

Noah was still hesitant to hand the case over to you - you figured he liked the idea of you guys leading semi-normal lives, at least until graduation - but he let you look at Alex’s car with Lydia and Malia. 

Stiles didn’t need any more encouragement to take you and Scott to the evidence lot. It only took Lydia ten minutes to get to the lot, but she sat in the car for what felt like an eternity, running her hand along the hood and then the windshield, feeling up the doors and the interior. You and Scott stood outside, him trying to catch a scent and you waiting for Malia.

You heard a familiar howl and then Malia ran into the lot as a coyote. Every time you saw her in this form, you smiled at the thought of how proud it would make Derek. Another Hale in full control in full-shift. She shifted back to human in a few seconds and you handed her some clothes. 

“Did you find anything?” you asked as she jumped into some pants. 

Malia pulled her head through the hole of a sweatshirt and shook her head. “They’re dead. Probably torn apart.” 

“I don’t think they’re dead,” Lydia said as she got out of the car.

“The only thing I don’t get is why there’s no blood,” Malia continued. She shoved her arms through the sleeves.

“They’re not dead,” Lydia argued. “If they were dead, I’d sense it.”

“And if they were alive, I’d smell it,” Malia said.

“Yeah, I’m not getting anything either,” Scott said, determined to look anywhere except for Malia. 

“Scott, what are you talking about? You were in his head for four minutes,” Stiles said as he climbed out of the car. “I timed it.”

“Well, it’s not an exact science,” Scott said, looking over at Malia and Lydia for the first time. “And he’s a kid. Maybe he’s too freaked out to remember.” 

“No, Peter could see in Isaac’s head and he was just as freaked out,” you said. “If he can’t remember then there has to be another reason why.”

“What does any of this matter if they’re both dead?” Malia asked. She’d moved onto her shoes and looked up as she laced them. “Dead is dead.” 

“Okay, if it’s just a robbery, then we can’t help them. But if it’s something supernatural, then my dad can’t help them,” Stiles explained. 

“It sounds like you want it to be supernatural,” Lydia said. 

She didn’t mean it to come out so accusatory, you told yourself, but you still stepped in. “We just want to make sure that Alex has a fair chance of seeing his parents again,” you said. “And the longer we go without something supernatural happening … it just feels like this could be it, you know?” 

“Three months. It’s been three months since anything’s happened,” Stiles said, looking up from his hands to look at you. 

“Yeah, and once a week you drag me out of bed like I’m some sort of supernatural metal detector!” Lydia snapped. 

“Okay, it’s way more often than that,” Stiles admitted. Then he tried to recover his argument, “But you can’t tell me that you think this is just some series of impossible coincidences.”

“What I’m saying is maybe that wouldn’t be so bad,” Lydia said. She gave him a very deliberate look and then started walking away. Malia shrugged and followed after her.

You sighed and Scott shrugged at Stiles as he turned around to face you guys. Stiles seemed exasperated, like he always did when he wanted something to be supernatural and the others blew him off. He walked back over to the car and slammed the door after he got in. 

You walked over to the car, putting your hands on the doorframe and debating whether to rest one on Stiles’ shoulder. He stared so intensely at the windshield that you weren’t sure if he noticed you. “Hey,” you said gently. “You okay?” 

“There’s something wrong with the windshield,” Stiles mumbled. 

“Well, yeah. It’s broken,” Scott said as he walked closer. He took a spot next to you, standing next to the side mirror. “And it wasn’t a magic bullet. It was a regular bullet. That blew out a regular windshield.”

But if it was a regular bullet and regular windshield, there would be a bullet hole and fracture lines just like every other shot-up car in this lot. You were willing to bet that it wasn’t the windshield that was magic.

“Just like that one.” Scott looked over at one of the other cars. “And that one. And that one-” he stopped. He realized the same thing you did. 

Stiles reached forward and picked up a shard of glass from the dashboard. “Magic bullet,” he said quietly. 

--- 

Talking Stiles out of spending the entire night researching ghost cowboys on the internet and ordering about a dozen library books wasn’t an easy task. In an attempt to compromise, he ordered three books from the library and stayed on the phone with you until he fell asleep. As weird and terrifying as the idea of another supernatural evil coming to Beacon Hills was, it was nice to see Stiles so excited about something again. 

“Hey, do you know where my lucky coin is?” Stiles asked as you got in the Jeep the next morning. 

You moved your backpack around by your feet to get comfortable. “Your lucky coin?” 

“Yeah. The game token from that night we went to the arcade on one of our first dates. I got home, found it in my pockets, and like almost immediately you called and told me you loved me because you forgot to say it when we said goodbye,” Stiles said. He tapped on the steering wheel anxiously as he waited for the frown to disappear from your face. “My lucky coin.” 

“I think that would technically make it your lucky token,” you said, keeping an eye on him as you buckled your seatbelt.

“Okay, then do you know where my lucky token is?” Stiles asked. He was getting more and more frustrated at your bantering.

“Not a clue. I can check my room after school.” That didn’t seem to do much to ease whatever was worrying him. You turned and put a gentle hand on the side of his face, turning it away from his tapping hand to look at you. “Hey, are you going to tell me why you need your lucky token?” 

Stiles smiled. He stopped tapping and cupped your hand, turning to kiss it. “Would you believe me if I said it was back to school jitters?”

“No,” you said, giving him a matching smile. 

“Then give me a minute to come up with a better line.” 

He was joking, but whatever he’d learned in his hour of frantic googling had clearly freaked him out. Stiles gave your hand one last squeeze before turning back to face the front and pulling the Jeep out of your driveway. 

Without another mention of the lucky token or the ghost cowboys, the two of you fell into your familiar routine of walking each other to your lockers and then going to find your friends. Some days, you disappeared to catch up with Liam and Mason but today you went with Stiles to find the others. You wanted to ask Scott to keep an eye on him. 

You found him and Lydia sitting at one of the tables outside where Sydney was taking the yearbook photos. Stiles immediately went to harass Malia and you sat on the table between Scott and Lydia. They were talking about one of their advanced placement classes that they were both taking this semester and you barely got the chance to say anything before Malia stomped over with Stiles on her heels. 

“Why would I want to ruin your yearbook photo?” Stiles asked. 

“Maybe because you haven’t signed up for your own photo yet?” Malia asked. She broke her eye contact with Stiles to smile and give you a nod that was her version of saying good morning as she sat on the table on the other side of Lydia. 

Stiles dug a piece of paper out of his pocket. “Yes, I did,” he said as he unfolded it. He handed it to her and it was a blank order form for yearbook photos. You leaned over Lydia’s shoulder to see that not a single one of the boxes had been filled in.

“It’s blank,” Malia told him.

“Uh…” Stiles took the paper back and frowned at it.

“Or maybe you’re sublimating the stress of graduating by avoiding key milestones,” Scott said, looking up from the notes he’d been writing to look at Stiles. You turned to frown at him when you saw the textbook he was taking notes from. That explained why he sounded far more like Lydia than himself. He shrugged. “Psych paper.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” you said with an attempt at an easy smile as you reached a hand out to Stiles. He took a few steps closer and let you hold one of his hands. “You can be in mine with me.” 

“See, this is what being supportive looks like,” Stiles said, giving you a smile before turning to glare at Scott. “Take notes.”

“Plus, if you’re in one photo, it’ll be so much easier to make fun of you for being the most nauseating couple in the world that way,” Malia said. 

You laughed. “Yeah, thanks, Mal.” 

“Anytime.” Malia winked at you. 

You thought Stiles was going to argue with her but he just got a serious look on his face again and changed the subject. “Hey, so the Deputy searched the car - no slugs, no exit holes. And the address Alex gave my dad? It’s an abandoned house,” Stiles said. Your friends were quiet. “Come on! Missing parents, suspicious guy on horseback, magic bullet … who’s coming with?”

“I’ve got to retake my photos,” Malia said.

Lydia shook her head and pulled a face. “Yeah … not interested.”

Stiles turned to Scott but he was too quick. “I cannot miss any more classes,” Scott said before Stiles even had the chance to ask. “I missed thirty-eight last semester.”

“Scott-” 

“Lydia’s mom is the only reason I’m still in school,” Scott continued. “I can go with you after school.” 

“You know what? Forget it,” Stiles said. “I’ll take Y/N and Liam.” 

“Uh … you sure about that?” You nodded over to the quad where Liam was trying to suck Hayden’s face off. It didn’t look like he was going to an abandoned house any time soon. 

“Ugh, I change my vote for the most nauseating couple,” Malia mumbled.

“Yeah, I’m not taking Liam,” Stiles said, pulling the exact same face that Lydia did at the mention of the abandoned house. He straightened up and squeezed your hand. “But you’ll still go with me, right?” 

You hesitated. As much as you wanted to, you’d also missed more school than the school board deemed appropriate. Luckily, Sydney popped up with her camera before you needed to answer. 

“Hey, can I get a candid?” she asked. 

“Yeah, sure!” Scott said over Stiles protests. He pulled Stiles down onto the spot on the bench between him and Lydia where your legs were. 

You moved to make space for Stiles and held onto his shoulders as he slumped into his seat. “Okay, fine,” he said. He pulled out a shard of glass from his pockets and gave it to Scott. In a low voice, he added, “If you can explain to me why this is blue, I’ll let it go.”

“Everyone smile!” Sydney said. 

You guys huddled slightly closer and pulled out your best smiles. Sydney loved it and then asked for another, more fun shot. Obviously, your first instinct was to harass Stiles and Scott from your higher vantage point while Lydia and Malia did the Charlie’s Angels finger gun pose.

---

The plan was to go with Stiles to the abandoned house during your free period, but after one very angry text about how Lydia’s mother was ruining your lives, you figured the plan had changed. Stiles promised to meet you at the Jeep after school, so you went home to look for his lucky token instead. 

Every couch cushion, jacket pocket, and shoe was checked but you couldn't find the token anywhere. You were lying on the floor next to all your pillows and blankets when something shiny caught your eye under your bed. Underneath Cora’s old geometry notebook, you found a game token for the Feliscore Arcade. 

You flipped it over in your hands a few times, thinking about the night Stiles had gotten it. Movies, bookstore browsing, and then the arcade. It was one of the first real dates the two of you had gone on. Smiling, you slipped the token into your pocket and headed back to the school. 

You only had a few classes left until the end of the day, so you didn’t mention the token to Stiles. You’d tell him in person after checking out the house with him, maybe if the house turned out to be nothing then you could cheer him up with the token and some diner food.

The classes dragged on but you met Scott and Stiles at the Jeep as promised and the drive was rushed and full of complaints about how Natalie and Noah really should be more understanding considering that you guys had saved them on more than one occasion. You and Scott didn’t interrupt but you did catch each other’s eye in the rearview mirror. 

The house was face-brick and old, the street gravel and empty, and all the plants overgrown. If that wasn’t enough to creep you out, the clear sky from this morning was full of dark clouds that cast shadows all over the abandoned house.

The front door was unlocked and it creaked as Scott pushed it open, revealing a house that was completely bare except for the spiderwebs. At least, there was a table in the dining room, with two very dusty places set. 

“You wanna split up?” Scott asked. 

“No way,” you said at the same time that Stiles said, “Absolutely not.”

Scott shrugged and led the way to the dark and decaying staircase. You held Stiles’ hand as the two of you followed, reminding yourself that you were way scarier than anything that might have been lurking in this ghost house. 

The second floor was just as empty as the first, but almost all the doors were shut which made it darker. 

“Maybe Alex got the address wrong,” you said quietly. 

“Yeah, or he lied,” Stiles said, poking his head into one of the empty rooms as you made your way down the passage. 

“Why would he lie?” Scott asked.

You reached the door at the end of the hall. It looked more beaten up than the others, with its paint peeling away and scratches on the frame. Hesitantly, Stiles reached forward and opened it. 

The room was clean. It had furniture and a neat bed, blue painted walls, and decorations on every available surface. This room didn’t belong with the rest of the ghost house; it was the room of a thirteen-year-old boy. 

“He didn’t lie,” Stiles said over his shoulder as he sped into the room. 

“Why didn’t the cops say anything about this?” Scott asked as he looked around. 

Stiles tore his gaze away from a bookshelf to say, “They don’t know it’s here. They can’t come in without a warrant and there’s no owner of record to serve a warrant to, so unless there’s some kind of threat or imminent danger, they wouldn’t come in.”

Something rattling downstairs made you jump. 

Stiles reached out and touched your arm. “Hey, you okay?” 

“Someone’s downstairs,” you whispered.

“I’ll go check it out. You guys stay here,” Scott said. He didn’t give you a chance to argue before he left and closed the door behind him. 

You sighed and closed your eyes for a moment. Stiles was still holding onto your arms but he was looking at Alex’s corkboard when you opened your eyes again. 

“Do any of these look weird to you?” he asked in a low voice, taking one of his hands off to point at the pictures. 

You took a step closer to see them more clearly. “He’s alone in all of them,” you said. Your eyes caught on a photo on the table underneath the board. The frame said Number 1 Dad but there was no one in it except for Alex. “It’s like everyone else was taken out.”

“Yeah, I-” Stiles stopped and looked behind you. Slowly, he walked over to the bed and crouched in front of it. He got on all fours and pulled the sheet up to look underneath. For a second, he stayed in that position like he was frozen, and then he bolted up to his feet. “Did you see that?” 

“See what?” you asked. 

“The- the horse. I saw it’s hooves and heard it snarl. Is that the right word? Do horses snarl?” he asked. His breathing was quick like before his panic attacks. 

“Hey-” You put a hand on either side of his face so he looked at you and not the empty space in front of the window. “I didn’t see anything, but I believe you, okay? Let’s just find Scott and get out of here.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” Stiles said with a nod. He grabbed one of your hands and started you out. He stopped so you could close the door, but he was staring down the hallway when you turned around again. His eyes were fixed on something you couldn’t see.

Stiles pulled you behind him and then the first shot went off. You weren’t sure where it came from, but the two of you fell into the wall and slid down to the floor. Stiles pulled your head into his chest as two more shots went off. 

“Where is this coming from?” you asked, trying to look over his arm. 

“You can’t see him?” Stiles asked. His heart raced as more and more shots went off. 

Then it was silent. 

“What happened?” Scott yelled as he ran up the stairs with Liam and Mason. 

You and Stiles scrambled back to your feet as they closed the distance. 

“He was here. He shot at us,” Stiles said. “It was one of the guys you saw in Alex’s memory.”

“The guy who took his parents?” Mason asked. 

“No. No, they weren’t just taken. They were- they were made to disappear. That’s why there’s no furniture. That’s why they weren’t in any of the photos,” Stiles said quickly. He took a breath and looked at you. “They were erased.” 

Stiles spun on his heel and tore open the door again. The walls were still blue and it was relatively dust-free, but it was empty. All of Alex’s stuff was gone. Even though you’d seen it only minutes before, your brain tried to tell you that Alex’s stuff had never been there at all.

---

Stiles’ first stop was the library, which meant your first stop was the library. Scott, Liam, and Mason disappeared for lacrosse practice, and Lydia wasn’t there for very long before Natalie texted her to come home for dinner. She asked if Stiles could walk her out since it was dark and there were lunatics with guns on the loose. 

“Sure,” you said with a smile. “He’ll be down in a sec.” 

Lydia smiled and started walking to the stairs, leaving you and Stiles alone with all his research books. He started closing them and piling them together when you reached out and put your hand over his.

“I’ll pack these up, okay?” you said. 

“Uh, sure,” Stiles said. “Why did you want me to stay then?” 

“I just want you to promise me that whatever this is, we’ll figure it out together.” You took his hand off the book and held it in both of yours. “I know it’s easier to do it by yourself than to wait for me to catch up, but please-” 

“I promise,” Stiles said. It surprised you how easy that was. “Whatever this is, we’ll figure it out together. No matter what, alright?”

“Alright.” You smiled and pulled him closer so you could kiss him. With your head against his forehead, you sighed and said, “I guess I should let you go before Lydia leaves without you.” 

Stiles laughed. His thumb grazed your cheek as he pulled away. “Meet me in front?” 

“Be safe,” you said with a smile. “I love you.” 

Stiles gave you one more smile as he started walking backward. “I love you, too.”

Then he turned around and disappeared down the stairs after Lydia. 

It didn’t take you long to pack up the books, but once the last one was on its shelf, you struggled to remember why you’d taken it out in the first place. Chalking it up to a lapse in memory due to too much late-night studying, you tried to shrug off the feeling as you grabbed your bag. 

But there was still something wrong when you stepped out into the hallway. You couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were supposed to do something. Before you got the chance to figure it out, your phone buzzed and an unknown number flashed across the screen. 

‘At the station. Alex is next.’ 

“Who the hell is Alex?” you mumbled, locking your phone again and sliding it into your pocket. 

You wandered around the school, trying to find one of your friends to take you home. Scott was nowhere to be found but after about half an hour you eventually found Liam, Hayden, and Mason being harassed by some guy.

He was taller than them, wiry, with choppy brown hair. As he spoke, his hands flew around in the air and tugged at the red flannel he wore. There was something so familiar about him, as erratic as he was. You knew him.

“-So you guys, you can’t be alone,” he said. His voice was so familiar, as was his heartbeat. There was a tiny, almost imperceptible lilt in his heartbeat. “You gotta stick with Scott or with me because I can see them.” They didn’t say anything. Did they know him? How did he know Scott? “Why the hell are you looking at me like that?”

Hayden whispered something to Liam as you came closer. He said he didn’t know him. 

“Do you … go to this school?” Mason asked.

“What’s your name?” Liam asked. 

He was confused. Something about his face made you want to reach out for him and comfort him, but you didn’t know why. It was more an instinct to protect him than anything else. 

Then he pushed Liam and Mason aside and started running. He stopped Noah and pulled him into a hug. You were so busy trying to work out how you knew him that you couldn’t focus on what he was saying. You couldn't focus on anything other than the lilt of his heartbeat.

He froze again. Then he started walking away like he was in a daze. He pulled out his phone and called someone, and it took you a second to realize he was talking to Scott. 

He hung up. 

“It’s me. I’m next.” 

And then he started running. 

You bolted after him, not wanting to lose him again. Whoever he was, you knew him and you weren’t going to let him disappear. 

“Hey!” You yelled and grabbed his hand. It took him a second to realize that you weren’t a threat. He stopped running but he was still restless. “Hey, let me help you.”

“What’s my name?” he asked. His voice shook. You tried to think about it, but you just couldn’t remember his name, no matter how familiar his hands felt or how badly you wanted to make him safe. “Oh, god. You don’t remember me.” 

“I know you,” you said. “I don’t- I don’t know how, but I know you.” 

He put his hands on either side of your face and kissed you. It was over in a second but it felt like you’d been kissing him all your life. “I love you, but I’ve gotta go.” He pulled away to start running again when you grabbed his hand to make him stay.

“No! Let me come with you.” 

He looked heartbroken. “You don’t even remember me.” 

“But I know you,” you said. You held his hand tighter. “And I’m not letting anything happen to you. So wherever you’re running … I’m running, too.”

“Okay,” he said quietly. He nodded, more to himself than to you. “Okay, let’s go.”

He started running. He was fast, but he was undoubtedly human. He kept looking at things that you couldn’t see and pulling you out of invisible danger. Maybe he was like Lydia. Maybe you could help him. 

“Don’t look at them,” he said. “Whatever you do, don’t fight them and don’t look at them or they’ll take you too.” 

“But I-” 

“Promise me.” 

“I promise. No matter-” The words caught in your throat. They rolled off your tongue without thinking, but it bothered you that you couldn't remember why you were saying them.

Whoever he was, he dragged you to a powder blue Jeep and fumbled for the keys as you slammed the doors. Then he stopped. He looked around and took a breath. 

“Hey, we can still get out of here,” you said, leaning over to touch his hand. 

“No,” he said quietly. He looked over at you with the most heartwrenching expression you’d ever seen. You didn’t know why that look made you want to cry. “There’s no time.” 

“There’s plenty of time,” you said, needing more than anything for him to stop looking so sad. “Just start the car. We can go anywhere you want.” 

“Hey, listen to me,” he said. He turned and cupped your face like he did in the hall, but he didn’t kiss you this time. “My name is Stiles. I’m gonna be erased, just like Alex. You’re going to forget me.” 

“Stiles,” you repeated. “Stiles, I won’t forget you. Not again, okay? I can’t- I can’t lose you again.” 

“I love you,” Stiles said. And you knew he meant it. He knew you better than you knew yourself, and he loved you. 

“I love-” 

Something ripped him out of the car. 

And then he was gone. 

Stiles was gone. 

Tagged: @ietss​  @used-avocado​

[tobswrites]

Demon Au

Okay, so like listen, back in the Summer...or maybe not even in the summer, I can’t remember when I watched Inuyasha again, but anyways! I watched Inuyasha and these demon dogs and stuff got to me, so I wrote little drabbles for it, but it’ll never see the light or day, so this it in bullet point form!! Also it’s incomplete. 

Part 1! Part 2

Bakugou follows his nose to large, dying wolf. Black fur, matted at his belly because of the wound the caused blood to gush out. The creature was beautiful, if the sun shined on it’s shiny coat there was a hint of red not from the blood. 

He looked at peace like the wolf knew he would die there and here. That he would not escape death this time around, and seemed to have agreed it was time for him to go. 

His wound is large, as if a man tried to slice the creature open, the poor predator became the prey, yet the wolf still won, since it will not be a prize for another man. 

Bakugou’s own kitsune, red-tipped ear twitch at a noise, turning his head toward the bushes not too far from them both shake. The wolf himself has not yet heard the shaking of the shrub, meaning he’s letting go of life by the second. 

A small demon appears, a troll looking thing, it inspects the black wolf, looking hungry, another comes out after the other. Soon the wolf notices them both, growling out a warning. Bakugou doesn’t believe the wolf  has the energy to snap at the demons, but he won’t wait to see it. 

As soon as he’s about to reach down and help the dying wolf, a demon who does not heed the wolfs warning, has it’s neck inbetween the demon’s jaws. It scares off the other demon, the demon is shaken in the wolf’s jaw, ripping out black blood before it’s thrown away to the side. 

Bakugou is like whoa that’s cool that the wolf is still fighting. And if the wolf still wishes to live, then Bakugou, a kitsune cannot refuse him. 

Though, that wasn’t the only reason Bakugou wants to save the wolf, but something else brought him here but the scent, it was like a bond pulling him towards the creature. 

The wolf startles when the blond gets closer, but he doesn’t growl sensing that the fox deity was good. 

The fox asks the wolf if he wants to live, but the deity doesn’t speak dog, but is extremely surprised when the wolf does indeed speak back. “It doesn’t matter what I want, for I already feel death upon me.” 

Bakugou is like, fam if you don’t wanna live, then sure okay, byeee. But before he turns around to leave the dying wolf something pulls him back, screaming at him to heal the wolf.

So Bakugou turns around again, and gives the wolf an opportunity but the wolf says back, “To accept something from a Kitsune is like to be trapped in your class for the remaining time of my life.”

The fox snares, saying “I won’t hold you to it, I wouldn’t want a demon like you as my vassal.” because you know the wolf talks right? so of course it’s a demon, not a real actual wolf. 

“Do I smell that bad? Am I not worthy enough to be  your pet?” The demon laughs, shutting his eyes one last time before he lays on the ground. 

Bakugou only glares, raising his hand and slashing it down once, he heals the wolf and that tug deep inside him stops bothering him. He did his deed and walks back to the shrine. 

Years later, a man Bakugou is unfamiliar with comes to him to give thanks, but he reeks of dog and Bakugou is sure he isn’t human. Not to forget the man’s eyes are as red as Bakugou’s. 

The man laughs when Bakugou simply calls him a dog, introducing himself as Kirishima Eijirou. Bakugou is annoyed, not only because this demon probably wants something from him, but also because he acts cocky, like he’s untouchable. 

Bakugou asks the dog demon why he was there, Kirishima shrugs and tells him the truth, “I wanted to see you, we havent seen one another in a long time.” Bakugou searches his head for any recollection of the man or even the scent before him, but comes up with nothing. 

“It’s okay if you don’t remember me.” Kirishima says, He takes a seat on the stairs that lead up to Bakugou’s home not at all caring how Bakugou might feel about a demon like the dog putting his scent everywhere. 

Bakugou starts to guess what type of demon dog he is, but he’s wrong each time, or so Kirishima tell him. 

One last villager comes by to pay his respect, but he looks frighten and scared, which makes Bakugou curious. Turns out the demon dog had his own intense stare on the man, aura thick with readiness. The stupid dog was guarding him. 

Kirishima becomes part of Bakugou’s routine, he follows him in dog form, a redish brown kelpie with a busy tail and large erect ears. He’s small about reaches just below Bakugou’s knees. 

Every morning the dog is looking out the torii, sitting and sitting straight looking for danger. Every night, when all chores and prayers are done with he’s still there, watching Bakugou enter his home. But Bakugou watches the dog run off into the forest when Bakugou is safe inside his shrine. 

A year goes by and Kirishima is still there, Bakugou wonders if he should make the dog start working here too, fixing up old shit, and pull weeds. Keep him busy, but asking the dog for any help would be like offering a place for him at the shine. 

So he stays quiet, and lets the dog sniff the air and look out into the forest or down the hill. 

The demon feels too much like an actual dog than an actual demon, tail wagging and tongue out, he would sometimes stretch him out on Bakugou’s wooden floor, belly up as if he was asking for belly rubs.

To Bakugou, it would have been humiliating, but the demon dog was a lowly being, so it didn’t matter to him. Kirishima starts to get closer and closer as the days go by, and Bakugou even goes as far as whistling for him when he doesnt see him for an hour too long. 

One day Bakugou asks the dog, “Why do you guard me.” The dog’s fur fluffs yp, before disappearing and leaving behind a human. Kirishima tells him it’s to repay him back.  Bakugou doesn’t answer back or say anything else. Kirishima decides to turn back to his dog form and runs off into the forest. 

He doesn’t ask the dog demon where he goes, he doesn’t care for him anyways. Kirishima comes back with a boar in his jaws, although his small size makes him drag the poor dead creature causing the food to be dirted up more. 

The demon somewhat looks more happy and he’s more explicit in his actions. He rarely shows his human form, and Bakugou misses it. Kirishima acts clueless, like he’s hiding something but Bakugou thinks he’s too much of an idiot to be hiding something. 

Bakugou too, can shape shift into a fox, but he feels more vulnerable that way and thinks of something else besides the tales of those that say foxes are tricksters and pranksters. 

One day Kirishima actually asks him if he’s ever shape shifted into his animal, eating from a fruit basket and shakes and makes looks of disgust each time he eats a berry, causing Bakugou to tell him to stop eating them, but Kirishima ignores him and continues to probe for an answer. 

“Rarely.” bakugou says and he doesn’t know how to explain to Kirishima on why. He feels more comfortable in this form than of that, but then Bakugou asks Kirishima if he’s ever turned into his true form. Not one of a dog, and not one of a person, but a demon. 

Bakugou thinks Kirishima is going to dodge the question, but he answers truthfuly to his surprise. “I haven’t for a while, not that I don’t want to, just that I never needed to.”

Something inside Bakugou feels sort of happy that Kirishima is sharing instead of avoiding the questions, and even gives a request to see Kirishima’s dog form which he’s happy to do. 

He obviously so cute, and incredibly soft. His fur is thick and Bakugou sinks his fingers into his neck, with the way Kirishima stares up at him, Bakugou is pissed that a demon can look this cute. 

He takes a leap and asks if he could see his demon form, but Kirishima only whines in his dog self, and the fox doesn’t push. Then Bakugou does the unspeakable and asks Kirishima if he would like to see his animal form, which Kirishima is super excited for. 

Bakugou shuts his eyes once, before opening them up again looking at the larger world around him. He’s a small yellow pale fox, large ears with marking on his face that cannot be hidden because of the immense power he holds as a deity. 

“Are you happy now?” Bakugou can speak in any form, since he is a deity, and the dog before him twirls and jumps happily, climbing up the steps before nuzzling into the fox’s thick fur, just below his chin. 

It’s a sign of friend, acceptance and trust. 

I then wrote a part where Bakugou, in his fox form, was running in the forest, dodging rock and fallen logs, then stepping near a river. He stops to look into the shallow river and then he perks up at a sudden noise. Soon he’s jumps to another spot near the river, careful not to slip as a dog comes crashing down, falling into the river. 

They were playing chase, Kirishima the chaser, and Bakugou the chasee in their animal forms. Kirishima shakes himself from the shallow water and sees Bakugou. He tenses up which causes Bakugou to tense up. Both don’t look away from one another, as Kirishima jumps back to the land, and Bakugou dashes off, resuming their game. 

Soon, Kirishima finally catches Bakugou, wrapping his larger canines around Bakugou’s neck. The deity drops limp, he trusts Kirishima now, more than anyone before, and even if he feels the pinpoint of the dog’s fangs, he feels more safe there, than anywhere else. 

Kirishima drops him and waits for Bakugou to start running again, since it was the fox that teased Kirishima to run and chase him, but the blond is tired and shifts back, staring into the sky. Kirishima follows him. They talk and laugh, pointing at clouds and telling one another what each cloud reminded them off. 

So this was much longer than I thought, so I’ll type the other half into a different post. 

[iceywrites]

Something about your voice (Reader X Sirius Black)

Pairing: Reader x Sirius Black Words: 3.4K  Chapters: 1/? If you want to read it on AO3, click here

A/N: This is my first ever piece of fanfiction (any sort of it). If you have ANY suggestions, please feel free to share. Constructive criticism is appreciated. That’s it! You can scroll down now.

                                                             ***

The crowd cheered as their performance ended. James pointed his hands to the sky, then lowered them in an exaggerated bow while Sirius leaned forward from the edge of the stage and shook the hands of their fans. Remus started pulling out the wires from his microphone and other instruments that they had used in their concert; he just wasn’t the crowd person. Peter stood up from his seat where he was playing the drums and came into the spotlight, trying to make eye contact with everyone of thousands of people who had gathered to hear them sing. It was a wonderful night since it was last one from their world tour.

“Marauders! Marauders!” The crowd cheered for anyone of the four of them to say the magic words.

Sirius smiled a goofy grin. That was his favorite part of the performance. With his electric guitar still carefully balanced upside down on his back along the strap, he went behind a mic stand and removed it from its holder.

“Before we leave,” he paused for dramatic effect, “I solemnly swear,” he positioned turned the mic towards the crowd.

“I’m up to no good.” The crowd completed. The four of them – The Marauders, if you please – stood shoulders to shoulder, giving a final bow to express their gratitude towards the crowd and with that the lights went out. Even Remus smiled when he looked up at the crowds one last time before they left.

They made their way towards the backstage where they were supposed to have a small meet and greet session with about fifty of their fans who were randomly chosen from a crowd of thousands.

They spent about two more hours there with Sirius telling each and every one of them how thankful he was to see them at the tour. Remus was a tad bit more comfortable when there were lesser people. James was casually joking around with them as if they were friends. Peter usually busied himself with selfies and autographs, giving them a specialized souvenir.

When they were done, the boys resorted to the couch to update their social media feeds with their performance that night. Lily, their agent, came in with a bright smile on her face and not-so-unexpectedly, James looked at her as if she was the meaning of his life, which she probably was. Sirius sighed but smiled. There was no stopping to James pinning over Lily.

“Guys, this was a great show.” She smiled, this time more calculative in character like the agent she was. “We definitely have more profits this year.” She looked at them, her eyes turning soft again. “You did it.”

It was their second album, but they had already made the impression that made every singer in the industry know that they were there to stay. They had a dedicated fan base who supported their decisions without question.

It wasn’t easy to build the band. James was the founder of The Marauders. It was his idea to bring together his mates from their music school to build a band. James’ parents, the Potters, were supportive of his decision. Even though both of them were widely known directors, they didn’t mind their son diverging from their field of art.

But that, however, wasn’t the case with Sirius. The Blacks, just like the Potters, were famous directors only because of their scandals. Each and every member of his family was either an actor or a producer or something in that line of art. Sirius just couldn’t. He could always express himself better when he was singing or playing some instrument. When Sirius rebelled, they threatened him saying that he would be disowned. And so they did. Ever since then, Sirius lived with the Potters.

Remus and Peter were from normal families. They had no celebrity in their hereditary and therefore it was understandable that they were apprehensive.

Remus was the last one to join. He had scars on his body that everyone would claim as ugly and there would never be a day when it would be normal for him. He had been severely bullied when he was younger. It was so bad that he had to get stitches on several places on his body. Then he changed his school and found the biggest goofs he had ever met - James, Sirius and Peter – and life just changed its course.

Remus wanted to join the band, he really wanted. But he just couldn’t convince himself enough that he would be able to handle the negative intensity that would be thrown at him. He would spend nights, tossing and turning around telling himself that he should trust himself and his friends. Every day, those goofs would make leave him little notes like – they are a part of your body and every bit of it is beautiful – or something along the lines of you would create a new scar every time you fight with them. Remus had to admit that they were breaking his resolve. It took him time to understand why exactly was he so needed in that band. It was because the four of them were unbreakable and they hoped to continue it that way.

Sirius had proposed the idea of them having a sort of hieroglyph-ish symbol for each and every one of them. The symbols would tell their listeners about their character and add an element of mystery to their art.

The band was deciding their symbols. James took a stag, Sirius chose a dog and Peter selected a rat. Remus slowly whispered that he would like to be a wolf.

James gave him a toothed grin and said, “Welcome aboard, Moony.” And in that moment Remus understood that they were going to have nicknames too.

Lily told them that they could have a success party but somewhere private where they could be assured that no one was watching them. No one at all. At least not the media. Definitely not the media.

James asked her to join them at the pub they were going where they could have some discretion. She politely refused telling them that it was their success and for once she didn’t want to be a part of it.

Considering them, they got caught pretty easily. Remus had warned them that that place was very crowded and they should definitely not use their Porsche to go to the club and Sirius should definitely not where that jacket which said This is Sirius Motherfucking Black in all possible shades of glitter (which was his patent jacket that he wore at least once to every concert). James waved him off by saying that he was just being paranoid and nothing bad could happen that day. Remus sighed. It would be interesting seeing them face the consequences.

The media was on their heels before they even knew it. This time it was Peter who saw it.

“Mates, that guy right there with the camera has been staring at us for a solid hour.” He whispered.

The three of them slowly turned their head in horror at the man with the camera.

“Lily is going to kill us.” James gulped and Sirius hummed in response.

“I told you – “Remus started but was cut off by a panicked James who was desperately trying to push everyone out of that place.

The cameraman took his clue and started imitating their motions. Sirius eagerly looked over his shoulder to find the man and other such people tailing them.

“We are dead, guys. Lily is going to stab us with her stilettoes.” Sirius said while springing into a run. They had made the very dumb decision of – one - going to the same pub that they had been to a million times before – two – asking their bodyguards and driver to leave because their mansion was close by and they wanted to walk their way home – and three – they were heading to a direction away from their home.

“Why don’t we have alleys here?” Peter asked midst their run.

Remus looked back. They were still chasing them with the cameras and had probably clicked some pictures too.

“Okay, we’re going split. Peter and I are going left and you guys run straight.” They followed him without question because he was the only one who had brain cells among them four.

It worked. The media was totally confused in choosing a more profitable direction. And by the time they decided to split too, The Marauders had found a place to hide. Peter and Remus rushed in a hardware store, which was their only hope considering that most of the stores were shut off in that ungodly hour. James and Sirius found an old and worn out café and rushed in with the logic that the media wouldn’t associate them with a place like that.

You were busy working on your laptop and twirling your pencil. You just really had to complete your project soon as the deadline was rushing close. Your legs were crossed on the table and you balanced your laptop on your lap. You pinched the bridge of your nose and trimmed the video that you were working on, adding filters wherever needed, cropping out unnecessary details and highlighting the moments that were supposed to be important. It was almost done. The music video was meeting your expectations. You made sure that you had completed all tasks that you had made a note of when you were presenting at the site as an assistant director.

You shut your laptop and decided to take a break. You got up from your seat and stretched around a bit. It was 1 AM, so you were obviously caught off guard when two people walked in. And, what was more shocking that they were the bassist and acoustic guitarist of your favorite band, The Marauders. Wow! You stared at them as if you had just met the angels. Your gaze moved from Sirius to James and back again to Sirius.

James looked at your form staring at them and gave you a startled look. Sirius followed his gaze to you and for a moment he forgot that he was supposed to be scared of the fact that you could pretty much blow their cover. How could he be scared? Your eyes were hypnotizing him and he wasn’t against it.

James’ voice brought you and Sirius out of your trance. “Could you help us? Just please don’t tell them that we’re here. Please!”

You smiled. “Hiding from the media, huh?” Sirius could have sworn that he had never heard a voice as angelic as yours.

You walked out of your café and pretended to appear busy. From your peripheral vision, you could see some men with cameras heading towards your direction.

“Have you seen anyone of the Marauders come around here?” A man with a rather gruff voice asked.

“They’re here? Where?” You asked in a squeal. “You have to tell me.”

“Forget I asked.” He said quickly before walking away back to where they came from.

“No! Tell me! Where can I find them?” You pestered as they hurriedly got away from your vision. You waited outside for a few more moments to check if they were heading back. When the coast was clear, you walked inside. Sirius was patiently waiting for your arrival while James’ was in a more panicked state.

“They are gone. You can go, if you want to.” You informed them and James let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you so much. You’re our savior.” You chuckled and waved it off. You tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and resumed your editing.

James got up from his seat and started leaving. Sirius was reluctant to leave. He wanted to stay and know more about the stranger that his eyes had caught.

“James, let’s just wait for a while more to be sure that they aren’t coming back around here.” Sirius logically pointed out, buying himself time.

James nodded in agreement and decided to call Remus and Peter to that café as well.

In about fifteen minutes, each one of the Marauders had huddled themselves in the safe cocoon of your café. Remus and Peter seemed a bit apprehensive seeing you there but Sirius decided to tell the valiant story of how you saved them adding his own dramatization. You giggled quietly to yourself when you would know that Sirius was adding extra details and James was shaking his head.

When you were done, you saved your work and looked at the boys. “While you are here, would you like something? I’m sorry I can’t make anything fancy, so please be considerate. Also, I have couple beers with me, so if you want em…?”

Everyone looked a bit hesitant. Everyone except Sirius. He looked like an enthusiastic puppy who was eagerly waiting for his master to toss him something to fetch. Sirius nodded and you tossed a butter beer in his direction. James and Peter joined and you carried the carton along with you for extras. Remus looked hesitant.

“Come on Remus, I can’t poison a canned drink.” You joked and tossed him a can. He gave you a small smile.

You looked around to grab a seat. Sirius slid in, squishing James towards the wall but making space for you. James glared at Sirius but he just looked at you expectantly. You smiled and obliged.

The proximity of having Sirius in your personal space made a deep red blush creep up your neck. You tucked a loose strand behind your ear and bit your lip in hopes to calm your hyped up heartbeat. You decided you start a conversation to distract yourself from your feelings.

“Your performance was great tonight.” You started.

“You were there?” Peter asked.

“No, just saw some videos of people who did go.” You took a sip and continued. “But I was there during your Australia tour. It was phenomenal.” You pointed your can towards Remus. “Your fingers run on those keys as if that is the only religion they know.” Remus bashed away and muttered a thanks.

“What about me?” Sirius asked and James decided to slurp onto his beer a bit loudly. Sirius slipped his drink, fixing his eyes on you.

You looked in some arbitrary direction and drowned yourself in the memories of the concert.

You were standing close to the stage. It was the last song and the crowds were going crazy. You were surrounded by a harmony of screams. In all those voices, you couldn’t even hear yourself. There was a silence among the four of them. Everybody had braced themselves for whatever was to come. The crowd started chanting Marauders like a mantra. And to satisfy everyone’s desires, a spotlight shined on Sirius and he smiled at each breathing soul in that arena. There was something mischievous about that smile but it was subtle enough to not look devious. He was going to open the song with his guitar. His fingers lingered over the strings, playing each chord ever so slowly. And then, his eyes met yours and you felt as if he was going to sing that only for you, like no one else mattered in that moment. You felt your breath being taken away. He winked at you and you swore that your soul had left for afterlife. His fingers went wild on the guitar, resonating its sound in the stadium, making it the most prominent sound over the several thousand screams. Sirius moved his eyes to the next person and you felt yourself come back to your senses. You were feeling dizzy. You shook your head and palmed your forehead, never once letting your smile fade.

Soon James, Remus and Peter came in the spotlight and they commenced their song. You banged your head to every beat and living them as if they were oxygen.

“When you play that guitar,” you said pulling yourself out of your thoughts but not completely, “it feels like the world it only confined to you and your guitar. Like that guitar is your secret language - almost like a mirror - to your inner self. And when you sing, oh God, it’s like everything moving stopped to hear your voice for it is too precious to be missed. I won’t call it an angelic voice, because I don’t know how they sound, but when I hear your voice, everything feels alright. I am in this comfort place where I know that no one can hurt me. Your voice is like therapy to me.” You turned to meet Sirius’ eyes.

Sirius had never heard someone describe him like that. He felt himself loosening up and forgetting there were people around him. It was not the liquor, he was sure. He was just drowning in your words; not because they were about him, but because they were so genuine and pure. There was no want in them. It was just sincere appreciation for his art. Peter and James coughed at the same to bring you both out of your trance. You were suddenly made aware of the people around you. You looked away and cursed yourself for not having a filter. It was obvious that they thought you were a creep and you helped them plant that assumption in their mind.

Sirius eyed each one of his friends, questioning their existence. Remus gulped down his drink to stifle his laughter. James and Peter visibly wiggled their eyebrows suggestively and Sirius only hoped that he could throw all of them away to get a nice moment with you.

James coughed and changed the topic. “And what do you think about me?” He asked, placing his head on his hands and looking at you with faux dreaminess in his eyes.

You shrugged. “Um, well, you sing… good?” James dramatically put a hand on his chest claiming that you wounded him and you felt the need to clarify that you were kidding even though you knew that both him and Sirius were known for being over dramatic.

You didn’t realize how time flew away as you talked to a grey eyed idol and his band mates. You loved how he was so very down to earth when he talked to you. You adored his passion for his art. You admired the way his eyes would crinkle and he would throw his head back when he found a joke particularly funny. You liked when he would look in some arbitrary direction and talk about all the gifts he had received from his fans and how he had a place specially dedicated for those articles.

Over the time, you had learnt to admire the man from his interviews, his voice, his presence, his skills, his looks, his dedication, his passion, his story and whatnot. But now that he was actually sitting beside you, talking to you as if you weren’t a stranger; everything felt… surreal. You had learnt to trust this man and support him no matter what and now that he was interacting with you, you knew that he was real and he had never faked anything.

So, really, it wasn’t your fault that you fell for this grey eyed, long haired Sirius Black.

Sirius wasn’t really far from the page you were on. When he first saw you, he was attracted to the elegance of your form. But when he spent a little more time with you, he realized that there was more than just the outward beauty that he saw. There was more depth and meaning to you and for some absurd reason, he wanted to know it. He wanted to know everything about you. Everything that his brain could contain and more.

What could he say, the mysterious (E/C) eyed beauty just had that captivating aura.

Remus, being the only rational mind among the dorks, suggested – no commanded – that it was past one and they could go home now considering that the media would have gone back a long while back.

They started moving out, thanking you for saving them and sharing your beers. You smiled and told them that they could come around anytime they wanted.

“I open up the café at night only. So, it is pretty safe for you guys.” You said with a friendly chuckle.

When the rest of them had walked a little on the way to their home, Sirius ran back to the café to find you packing up your things.

“I almost forgot,” he said in between his panting, “what is your name?”

You felt a soft blush creeping up on your neck. You tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and whispered in a soft voice, “(Y/N)”.

Sirius’ lips stretched into a smile as he commented, “Beautiful.”

[shimmersing]

Best Intentions Masterpost | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Bonus! Soundtrack @ Spotify

Chapter Five: Trajectory

Aitahea watched, silent, as Brant Sonn ripped the Thul banner down from its place outside the warehouse, tossing the fabric aside and hoisting aloft the blue and gold of House Organa. The adjacent farmlands were clear of their enemies, and she hoped the families that tended them would soon be able to return, to have lives again peaceful and orderly.

The Thul warehouse had quickly become a staging area for the merged Organa and Republic forces once Aitahea’s rescue had been completed. A painstaking search of the building had revealed no trace of the Wolf Baron or his Blackguard, leaving them with only the low-ranking guards who’d been Aitahea’s unfortunate jailers. They would be sitting tight while prisoner exchanges were arranged and negotiations finalized.

The strike team that Aitahea and Erithon had agreed to lead had opted to wait until the following day to advance on the Thul and Sith forces. Qyzen Fess and Aric Jorgan had volunteered to scout the Sith camp, their experience making them ideal for the initial part of this new mission. Elara Dorne had efficiently organized the Organa subjects into something that suggested typical rank and file.

Aitahea found herself surprisingly grateful to be ensconced in the same warehouse in which she’d been held prisoner, working alongside Erithon as they organized the next morning’s attack. Though they’d barely had a moment to speak other than in communication about the impending battle, just being near him seemed to ease her spirits. It went without saying that his presence was making the wait and the work that much more pleasant, delighted as she was to see him.

Her abbreviated captivity hadn’t left her any worse for wear; she couldn’t help but entertain the morbid thought that she probably hadn’t had as significant a rest as those few hours of forced unconsciousness in weeks. Nevertheless, Elara continued to regularly check in with her, and Erithon remained within arm’s reach.

Erithon. She had known, even in the depths of her stupor, the Force still a guiding path for her unconscious mind, that she was safe and would eventually be rescued. But waking to that particular set of blue eyes? A dream come true.

“Jedi?” He appeared at her shoulder again, real and warm and safe; Aitahea swallowed hard and tried to calm her escalating heartbeat.

“Yes,” she answered, scanning his face again. Again.

She was looking at him too much. Someone was going to notice. Someone else, since the duke and the sergeant had obviously already witnessed her absolute nonsense upon awakening from the drug-induced sleep. What had she said? I was just thinking of you? She wanted to simply blame it on the drugs, but when he’d pulled her in close, what he’d said… How is it you end up in my arms every time we meet?

All she had managed at that singular moment had been a giggle. Honestly. Honestly.

“We’re close to done here, if you want to take a break. You’ve been going nonstop since you woke up.” He was trying to smile at her, but a crease kept appearing between his brows. Even had she not been a Jedi, his worry would have been palpable.

“Thank you, I think you’re right. Today has been… remarkable, to say the least. Like this, since before I arrived.” She waved a hand at the bustling warehouse before offering a rueful smile. “I’m sorry I haven’t had the chance to see your holo. It’s just been…”

Erithon chuckled. ���It wasn’t urgent, I mean. I just wanted you to know I was on the way here. Worked out after all.”

“It has indeed.” She folded and refolded her hands, eyes flickering to where Elara Dorne gave a small squad some cursory training drills. “Your team has grown since Taris.”

“Yeah, Sergeant Dorne is great. She joined us on Taris, actually.”

“Her accent…”

“Yup. She was an Imperial citizen. Didn’t like how they did business on the other side, so she joined us.”

“That’s incredible.”

He shuffled, distracted for a moment by some sheets of loose flimsy that shifted when he tried leaning against a table. “So, this is where you grew up, right?”

She smiled, delighted. “You remembered.” Much to her continued wonder, he blushed and stammered over the next few words.

“Hard to forget.” He paused, swallowed hard, and took a deep breath before continuing in a rush. “Well, we’ve sort of been on this, uh, trajectory, right? I mean we practically flew into each other over Nar Shaddaa.” He quieted and stepped closer, something wistful on his face. “Looking at the same stars over and over again.”

The rest of the room seemed to hush along with him, but even so, Aitahea could barely hear anything over her madly rushing pulse. Stars. She had a sudden wild urge to embrace him, just absolutely throw herself into his arms. I must still be suffering the effects of that gas. What am I doing? She promptly quashed the superfluous impulse, instead holding up her datapad.

“You said we’re finished for now? Let’s…” she trailed off, looking around the room for another suitable distraction. “Have a look outside? I’m sure the sergeant would agree to a quick lap around the perimeter, just to-” By the Force, did you just ask him to go on a walk with you? “-see how our allies are faring?” She finished in a rush, looking somewhat desperately for a charging dock for the datapad she still held.

He chuckled again, plucking the instrument from her hands and setting it aside. “I think they’ll be fine. But you seem to need it, so let’s get out of here.” She inclined her head gratefully as he gave her the lead and wasted no time in heading for the warehouse exit.

Aitahea blinked as they walked out into bright sunlight, raising a hand to shade her eyes. The farmland they’d be crossing tomorrow was lush, already planted with crops that she hoped would survive the battle. A farm vehicle still smoked among some of the scorched plants, but the Jedi felt certain that their team wouldn’t allow any more harm to come to the farmlands or its people.

Erithon fell into step next to her and angled their path toward the coast. They walked in companionable silence until they reached the rocks that marked the edge of the coastline, heedless of the light snow that had gathered in the shade of the evergreens. The sea churned against the rocks, calm but still very, very far below.

“What a view. Come on.” Erithon broke the silence, clambering onto a boulder and turning to offer her a hand. “Aren’t scared of heights, are you, Jedi?”

Aitahea laughed, recalling with some amusement when he’d pulled her to the edge of a much smaller, much nastier body of water on Taris, and reached to take the proffered hand. “I am not, fortunately. But I must admit that thranta is one of my least favorite forms of transportation.” She nodded toward a nearby platform where a few nests were visible.

“Those big bird things? Yeah, no thanks. I’ll take a speeder.” He pulled her close, sliding his free arm protectively around her waist until she had her footing.

Aitahea took a long breath, fighting the urge to look anywhere but his eyes, earnest and warm and still a little worried. Oh, I missed you, she thought and swallowed hard to keep the words to herself. They were well back from the edge of the sheer rock face, but she couldn’t help feeling a little bereft when he released her and dropped his hands back to his sides.

She turned away from the coastline, looking back toward the battered towers of Organa Castle. “Tell me about how you regained the Spears of Organa. The Duke only gave me a brief outline, but he wasn’t able share any details.”

Erithon grinned at her. “It wasn’t what we expected to be doing as soon as we were dirtside, that’s for sure.” He straightened, squinting at the surrounding landscape for some point of reference. “Haley Organa caught us at the spaceport, desperate as anything, asking us to disarm some baradium bombs. That was the first we saw of these Thul clowns.” He pulled a face, like he’d gotten a whiff of something foul-smelling. “Didn’t like their tactics at all. They fought dirty, set up ambushes all around those turrets. Took all three of us, if I’m being honest.” Any bashfulness he’d displayed since their reunion fell away as he spoke of his companions, giving way to a steadfast and proud commander. “Havoc’s becoming a good team.”

The Jedi had seen more than a few Republic military recruitment posters in her travels, but they paled in comparison to Erithon standing before her now, dashing and capable. Her fingers quivered as she reached out, but she placed her hand on his arm anyway. “They have a good leader.”

He gazed down at her, pensive for a moment before he broke into one of his now-familiar lopsided grins. “Just doing my job, Master Jedi.”

“You…” Aitahea pressed her lips together and swallowed hard, considering her hand on his arm before she lifted her eyes to his again. “Please, call me Aitahea, won’t you?”

“Of- of course. Aitahea,” he stammered in reply, and it was like hearing it for the first time. He hesitated for a beat before placing his own hand over hers, fingertips cool against her flushed skin.

Her breath caught in her throat, chased by a feeling like falling. Like gravity failing. Suspended and unsure how to move, what to reach out for. Oh stars.

“Lieutenant?”

Both their heads swung hastily toward the unexpected voice. Aitahea slipped her hand back to her side as surreptitiously as possible and willed her burning cheeks to cool. Aric Jorgan and Qyzen Fess approached, looking none the worse for wear, returning from their scouting mission. Jorgan saluted efficiently, while Qyzen remained unreadable as usual.

“Ready to debrief, sir. We’ve got footage to show you in the warehouse.” He nodded to Aitahea. “Master Jedi, we’ll need your assessment in particular, I think.”

“Many Sith,” Qyzen rumbled. “Soft things, but dangerous still.”

“Never a dull moment,” Erithon drawled, giving a perfunctory shrug. “Guess we better get back to work, huh?”

Aitahea nodded solemnly, tucking away the lingering feeling of loss that had lodged in her chest. “Indeed. Let’s head back.”

“Herald, a word,” Qyzen said, and Aitahea tilted her head.

“Of course, Qyzen.” She nodded to the Trandoshan, then to Erithon and Jorgan as they looked at her expectantly. “We’ll catch up shortly.” The Cathar shrugged, and Erithon gave her a smile and a wave as they turned back toward the warehouse.

She watched until they were out of hearing range, then turned to see Qyzen uncharacteristically fretting, a divergence from his usual composed demeanor. “Is something wrong, Qyzen?”

“Would ask the same.” His single seeing eye focused on her hands. She had one covering the other, as if she meant to hide the place where Erithon’s hand had lingered on hers.

She stiffened, sweeping her hands behind her and clasping them tight. “Nothing’s wrong, Qyzen. Why?”

Qyzen’s only answer was his own question. “When is last time Herald spoke to Yuon Par?”

Perplexed with the apparent change of subject, Aitahea shook her head. “Is that what you’re worried about? It’s been… weeks, I’m afraid. But she’s well; I can sense that much through the shielding.”

“Certain she is, Scorekeeper’s Herald.” The Trandoshan considered her for a long moment. “It is you who are not. Should speak with Yuon. For own sake.”

Aitahea nodded somberly. She glanced over her shoulder just as Erithon paused one final time before he and Jorgan disappeared into the warehouse. The consular closed her eyes and pulled in a deep, slow breath. “I will, Qyzen. I will.”

Best Intentions Masterpost | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 |  Chapter 7 | Bonus! Soundtrack @ Spotify

[twentiethcenturymoviesandtv]

Frankenstein: Genre and Themes

It doesn’t seem possible that Frankenstein can be sorted into any genre except horror.  A monster on a killing spree, a mad scientist in his lab, spooky shadows and an opening in a graveyard?  It can’t be anything but horror, can it?

Turns out, it can.

Like we’ve discussed before, every story ever created, no matter how simple or complicated, has to fall into at least one genre.  Genre is the sum of similarly themed parts that come together to give a style and theme to a story, a form of shorthand to give the audience an idea as to what kind of story they are about to see.  And in almost every case, it’s never as simple as it seems.

Characters, stories, settings, and even themes often correspond to different genres  As a result, it’s extremely useful as viewers to examine the categorization of films, as it not only sets up our own expectations for individual stories, it also helps us expand the boundaries of genres as their limits are tested.

Which is why Frankenstein is a bit of an odd duck.

I’ll show you what I mean.

Today, we’re going to be looking at the characteristics of the story of Frankenstein to determine what genres it is, what genres it is not, and the whys and wherefores behind them.  Let’s take a look.  Spoilers below!

An easy way to figure out the genre of any given film is to take a look at the setting of a story.  Movies set in outer space tend to be blanketed in the genre of science fiction.  Movies set in medieval times are often considered fantasy.  Movies set in creepy castles or spooky swamps tend to be considered horror.

Which would seem to be the case with Frankenstein.

It seems obvious.  Frankenstein, along with Dracula, The Wolf Man, The Invisible Man, and The Creature from the Black Lagoon created and codified the film genre of ‘classic horror’.  These were the templates from which all future monsters would spring, werewolves, vampires, zombies and fish-creatures alike.

The spooky, Gothic shadows and creepy angles, the mad-scientist lab, the scenes in the graveyard, skeletons at the fringes of shots, and of course, the monster himself, would seem to speak to an incredibly obvious horror leaning.  In fact, the story’s visual language was based on German Expressionism, which had been used in films like Nosferatu, a bonafide silent horror classic.

But…aren’t horror movies supposed to be scary?

There are no jump-scares in Frankenstein.  Characters do not die in horrifying ways.  They aren’t stalked, nor are they picked off in a way that’s traditional of horror films, and of the three characters who actually die, two were killed in what could be argued as self-defense by the monster.

Weirdest of all, except for possibly the initial scene of his creation, up until he breaks into Elizabeth’s room, the monster is not set up as being ‘scary’.  He’s set up as being sympathetic.

From the first real scene we have of the monster, where he’s lifting his hands in fascination towards light and then cowering from Fritz’s brutality, this is a creature that the audience finds themselves sorry for.  This is not typical of movie monsters.  There was no pity for Dracula, no concern for The Invisible Man or The Mummy.  They were truly monsters, who knew what they were doing.

The Frankenstein monster doesn’t.  For a long time, the monster reacts, rather than acts.  With that knowledge…he doesn’t really come out of this, at least, the first half, looking like a monster.  He’s a scared creature, mistreated into becoming a twisted version of what he could have been, a blank template upon which cruelty has been imprinted.

After the change has occurred, after the monster turns into an active character and goes after Elizabeth and attacks Henry, after so much time of the audience’s built sympathy for this creature, then we feel scared of him.  We realize that he is an incredibly threatening figure, that he can be dangerous, but we never truly let go of that sympathy.  At the end of the film, we don’t necessarily feel victorious that he is trapped, burning to death in that mill.  We feel sorry.  As much of a threat as the monster became, he didn’t start out that way.  It didn’t have to end like that.  But it did.

Hence my case for a rather unconventional idea.

I hypothesize that Frankenstein is a tragedy.

Like I’ve said before, this is a sad story, and I think it was that way by design.  I subscribe to the theory that you can best tell the genre of a film based on what kind of characters are in it, and that works especially well for Frankenstein.  

You see, as I’ve said before, there is no ‘good’ or ‘bad’ side in this film.  The monster is framed as both victim and threat.

And so is Henry Frankenstein.

As an audience, we are not encouraged to wholly dislike either character.  (In fact, the only character I believe we are meant to truly hate and fear is Fritz, a character who manipulates his power to inflict cruelty on the monster.)  We recognize Henry’s mistakes, we realize that he’s not making the best decisions and we want him to perhaps not reanimate the dead, or maybe at least once he does, treat his new undead son with some respect, but we don’t completely hate him, even as we accept that this whole thing is basically his fault.

Henry is framed as sympathetic.  We understand why he feels the way he does, even if we don’t agree with it, and we can figure out why he’s acting the way he is.  He has his redeeming moments: his relationship with Elizabeth, once he stops digging up graves is genuine, and the fact that he doesn’t want the creature destroyed could point to a sign of his caring about his creation, even if he sucks at showing it.  Even if we don’t relate to Henry, exactly, we understand him, and we don’t necessarily want him to die.  He’s a tragic character, a figurative Icarus who aimed too highly for a mortal.

Besides, he was so delightful in that whole ‘raising the dead’ scene.  I mean, that’s movie history, right there.

As for the monster?

The monster is actually the most sympathetic character in the entire cast.  (Except for maybe Elizabeth.)  We get to see his entire lifespan, his birth, life, and death, (Until the sequel) and it’s not a pretty picture.  He’s hurt, frightened, and alone, with no-one willing to actually help him function as a being, as a person, instead of as a successful scientific experiment.  Henry doesn’t seem to know what to do with him once he proved that he could create life, and as a result, the monster is left alone, with no education in how the world works.  He has to figure it out on his own, and the makeshift teachers don’t really help much, either.  Fritz abuses him, Dr. Waldman tries to dissect him, and Henry doesn’t pay him much mind after showing him light.  Even when the monster meets Maria, he doesn’t know enough about the world to understand that his actions would kill her.

Even further supporting my theory is the ending.

The end of the story, after Henry chases his creation down and faces off with him in the mill, eventually struggling and falling while the villagers burn the mill down, is not played as a victorious climax.  This is not the end of a good vs. evil struggle, there is no breath of relief that an audience feels after the defeat of Dracula, Michael Myers, or Freddy Krueger, or even Norman Bates.  The ending is solemn, if not sorrowful, as the audience is left with the death of a creature who had experienced misery for the few days that he had lived.

Both protagonist and antagonist share in what is, quite simply, a tragic ending.  Henry isn’t even the one to right his own wrong.  The monster is slaughtered by an angry mob.  Henry never reconciles his mistake.  People have died, senselessly, and it could have been avoided, and not in the no-don’t-split-up-you-idiots-there’s-a-killer-in-the-woods way.

The audience is not meant to feel happy or triumphant at the end of this film, in my opinion.  In my opinion, we are to mourn both Henry’s arrogance, and the monster’s demise, representative of a life wasted.

Does this mean that Frankenstein is not a horror film?  Absolutely not.

Frankenstein codified almost everything we know about classic horror to this day, potentially inspiring things like the zombie horror-genre and influencing Gothic horror in general.  None of this to say is that Frankenstein is not meant to be a scary movie, because, in 1931, it certainly was.  People were scared, and it was definitely the filmmakers goal to do so in some scenes.  The scene where the monster stalks Elizabeth in her room is definitely scary, and the dark lighting adds to the unsettling look and feel of the entire film.  The scene where Frankenstein creates the monster remains a staple of best horror scenes, and has influenced countless films since then.

No, Frankenstein is definitely a horror film, make no mistake about that.  It’s delightfully scary, full of creepy visuals, unsettling imagery, and a genuinely frightening core story idea: humanity being just capable enough to create life, but not capable enough to see it through competently.

But, horror is not the only genre that Frankenstein demonstrates.

Mary Shelley’s original Frankenstein novel, despite being an excellent example of horror fiction, is also considered the first example of science fiction.  If you’ve been following our ‘Legacy of Science Fiction’ series, you’ve probably noticed a few of the trends that tend to go along with science fiction.

A story doesn’t need to be set in the future for it to be a science-fiction story, nor does it have to have aliens or space-ships.  All it has to do is be about something just beyond our current understanding, founded in science of a sort.  With that understanding, it’s easy to see how Frankenstein fits that bill.

The very creation of the monster himself is the codifier of science-fiction.  Although it’s different in the original novel, the fact is, the idea of a man creating life that turns into a monster is an idea thoroughly grounded in the realm of science-fiction, a story concept rooted in the idea of science.  It’s also an example of speculative fiction: bringing the audience to contend with questions such as nature vs. nurture, man’s place in creation, and the dangers of not being aware of the limits of common sense and the laws of nature.

Mary Shelley’s original novel came at a time when technology was changing much of the landscape of the world as they knew it, and it makes sense that in her story, this strange, unnatural technology would create a monster to be feared and pitied.  In Frankenstein, the methods of this new generation of scientists, presenting seemingly no limits, is as horrific as the monster itself, the power that mankind can access without necessarily the wisdom to do so.

To quote Jurassic Park, the basic premise of the horror and science-fiction of this story is:

“Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether they could, they didn’t stop to think if they should.”

And in the end, much like Jurassic Park, it works out terribly.

Like we’ve discussed in the ‘Legacy of Science Fiction’ series, Frankenstein practically invented the science-fiction theme of humanity’s creations inevitably leading to our own destruction, whether directly or indirectly.  In the case of Frankenstein, it’s pretty direct.  Henry’s creation turns on him, and although Henry survives, (and the monster seemingly does not) the premise is still there as a science-fiction device, twisted into a bit of a horror spin.  The idea of human beings creating the things that will destroy them is legitimately frightening, especially when it’s played up as being ‘monstrous’.

But there’s a little more to Frankenstein than a tragic horror/sci-fi story.  It’s also a drama.

A drama film is a serious story, one that presents us with situations that show us realistic characters struggling with themselves, others, or sometimes, nature itself.  Drama usually doesn’t mix with horror, or science fiction for that matter, but it does here.

As I mentioned earlier, not only do we understand Henry and get where he’s coming from, we experience the exact same thing for the monster, if not more so.  Unlike many examples of horror films, we’re half on the side of the creature, and get to know him as a character, rather than just a monster.

The conflict is simple, and fairly obvious.  Henry’s created this being, and due to his own lack of care, is forced to ‘fix’ his mistake and go up against the monster himself.  While the idea of the creation of life, and the character of the monster isn’t ‘realistic’ in traditional terms, the character is understandable and sympathetic to the audience.  We understand him, and the conflict is made far more personal than it would be in a traditional ‘kill-em-all’ horror film.

In the end, that’s what sets Frankenstein apart.

Sure, the film is an excellent horror and science fiction film, but it’s not the scares or the sci-fi that we remember the most about this movie.  It’s the heart of it, the sad, personal stakes of the movie that sticks with us as an audience, and a culture.  There hasn’t really been another ‘Frankenstein’ type film, asking you to consider, not in a high-browed way, but in a simple, emotional way: who is the monster, and who is the man?

We don’t necessarily remember the ‘kills’ of this film.  Maybe we forget things like Henry’s wedding, or the scenes with his father, but we do remember the monster lifting his hands up to try to touch the light, his dynamic creation, and the ending, far from a happy one.

We remember Frankenstein because, not only is it a good horror film, it’s also a good story that, unlike a lot of horror films, forces us to care, not only about the men, but the monsters as well.  As long as we can still feel emotion for the ‘Other’, there will always be a place for Frankenstein, even almost ninety years later.

Thank you all so much for reading!  Stay tuned for next time, when we’ll be discussing the characters of Frankenstein.  I hope to see you all in the next article.

[written-on-the-trees]

Ricky Horror Fan Fiction - Under The Light Of A Full Moon

Prompt: Full Moon

Word-count: 2200 words

Warnings: none

Description: Unlike seemingly every other Werecreature on the planet, Ricky hates the full moon and everything about it...until he doesn't, thanks to Motionless In White's new merch girl.

In the past, were-creatures had worshipped the moon as a deity.

 With the full moon, their abilities were at the strongest: shifts were easier, all their senses were more sensitive, the whole world felt like it was alight with energy. Magic felt like it was dancing through the air, and to a were-creatures and shifters, there was nothing that made them feel more alive than the night of the full moon.

 Except for Ricky.

 Ricky hated the full moon.

 He despised it, loathed it, detested it, reviled it, abhorred it, felt revolted by it, was unable to stomach it…

 Words never seemed enough to describe how much Ricky hated the full moon, despite how often Chris rolled his eyes and complained that, for someone who felt that way, Ricky certainly used enough of them, but that was the truth. Where other shifters felt at their most alive with all the magic in the air, Ricky just felt itchy. The full moon made him uncomfortable, no matter what skin he wore…and worse than that, he never felt more alone than he did on the night of the full moon.

 The other shifters in the band didn’t get it; they weren’t like Ricky. Chris was a puma, he loped off to be on his own when he shifted, usually to go and sleep high up in the tree branches, abandoning the rest of them on the ground. Ryan, Justin, and Vinny were wolves, and they ran off together to do wolf shit together, their longer legs eating up the ground and leaving Ricky behind. They didn’t mean to, and always circled back to him when they realised - or Chris would drop out of nowhere, scaring the shit out of Ricky before play fighting or just forcing Ricky to curl up and go to sleep with him on a comfortable patch of leaves.

 Both the pack animals and the loner made time for him, even though he never asked them, but Ricky knew that neither Chris or Ryan, Justin, and Vinny could fully enjoy being shifted when he was around, so he’d stopped shifting with them, waiting for them to all go off before changing forms and skulking around on his own.

 It was awful.

 Ricky was a fox, and although foxes weren’t quite pack animals like wolves were, they weren’t loners like pumas, either. He was meant to be around other foxes, but foxes were rare in the shifter community: so much so that Ricky had only ever met one other fox in his entire life. The woman who had adopted him when they found him bawling in an alleyway had been amazing - but she was gone now, and Ricky was alone.

 Now it was the night before the full moon, and everyone had run off to be in their animal forms, and Ricky had volunteered to wait in to meet the replacement for their merch girl. Hyacinth was a nice witch, but she’d recently gotten pregnant, and a tour bus with a dozen different supernatural creatures on was not the best place for her and her unborn child. She’d held out until the record label could send a replacement, but now she was gone, and her replacement was due any minute.

    And as if by magic, there is the knock on the door.

   Getting to his feet, Ricky took a second to wait until his skin felt like it had resettled - fucking full moon - and went to go and greet the new merch girl.

 He opened the door…and froze.

 The knowledge hit him like a wave - he didn’t know if it was her aura, or her scent, or something else entirely, but he looked at the merch and knew instinctively that she was like him. Another fox shifter.

    “You’re a fox!”

   Both of them exclaimed at exactly the time, probably wearing matching expressions of shock and excitement, if the sight of the woman’s face and the feel of his own was any indication, and then both of them started blushing.

 Ricky couldn’t help but note how cute the woman looked with her dark skin flushing with the faintest shade of red - but she went from cute to beautiful when she played off the comment with a smile, her grin absolutely brilliant contrasting with the mahogany of her skin.

   “Well, I’ve certainly had worse compliments,” she teased, flicking her braids back in was playfully flirty.

 “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean - I just - uhm - ” Ricky stuttered, before regaining control of his mouth: “I didn’t mean to, like, come onto you or anything. It’s just been a long time since I met another fox shifter.”

 “It’s okay, I know the feeling, other than my family, I don’t think I’ve met another one of us since…like…middle school.” came the reassuring response: “I’m Desirae, but you can call me Des.”

 Ricky stuck his hand out and smiled in a way he hoped didn’t make him look like an idiot: “Ricky.”

 Des took his hand with a grin of her own: “I should probably tell you in advance that I know all you guys by name; I’m a bit of a fan. Not a crazy one, but you might catch me singing one of your guys’ songs in the shower. Thought it might be better to tell you in advance.”

 “Thanks for the heads up,” Ricky laughed, before helping her left her bags onto the bus: “Here, let me give you the tour while the bus is empty and there’s no-one to get underfoot.”

   Ricky gave Des the tour, explained the trick to getting the hot water to work in the shower, and pointed out the shelf that hers in the kitchen cabinet: warning her to mark her name on things, or the wolves would get into it. Des seemed experienced in tour bus living, and adjusted quickly to the space, greeting all the others with a friendly smile when they made their way onto the bus bit by bit.

 He didn’t comment, but Ricky could tell Chris was pleased - probably because he was one of the few people Ricky had confided in that he missed being around other foxes on the full moon.

 Ricky’s suspicion were proved right when Chris ‘casually’ asked Des about her plans for the full moon tomorrow - which was a perfectly normal question for shifters to ask fellow shifters, but Ricky saw right through, just like he saw through Chris’s neutral façade when Des gave him a non-committal answer.

 It was a disappointment Ricky shared.

 Saying that he hadn’t wanted to spend the full moon with Des would be a lie, but that didn’t mean he didn’t understand. They were still strangers, and it was a pretty common attitude among shifters that time spent in your other skin was meant to be spent with friends and family and loved ones. Ricky hadn’t known Des for more than a few hours - would’ve only known her for a day by the time the moon rose tomorrow, so he got why she wouldn’t want to shift with him, even if it meant another full moon spent with his skin itching all over, the ground not quite feeling right under his paws, and feeling the all too familiar crippling loneliness as he looked up at the sky.

 Was it a fun prospect? No. But it was something that he was used to, and Ricky was a grown-ass man: he’d suck it up and deal with it. Maybe next month he could approach Des, but until then he’d just grin and bear it.

 He really wasn’t expecting Des to approach him…but that was exactly what she did, knocking on the outside of his bunk just seconds after Chris had leapt out of a skylight - the fucking show-off - and left the bus empty aside from her and Ricky.

   She looked awkward when Ricky opened the curtain, but that didn’t stop her from being clear when she asked: “I wondered if you wanted to come and run with me?”

 Ricky’s brain heard the words…but didn’t quite manage to understand them: “You want to shift together?”

 “Only if you want to!” Des exclaimed quickly: “I won’t be offended if you’d rather catch up with one of the guys, or spend the night on your own, I just…well, I’m guessing you haven’t had the chance to run with another fox for a while, and I haven’t either and I know I missed it, so I just thought I’d offer.”

 Finally, Ricky’s brain kicked into gear and scolded him for being an idiot: “Yes!”

 “Yes?” Des asked, her expression relaxing and turning into something playful that made Ricky blush.

 “Uh, yes.” he repeated, managing to sound a bit less like a teenage boy asked if he’d like to lose his virginity this time: “Yes, I’d really appreciate that. You’re right; I haven’t had the chance to shift with another fox for a long time.”

   Des grinned, and led Ricky off of the bus.

 They stood in the parking lot, and for once Ricky could feel the light of the full moon on his skin without wanting to scratch it off.

 Des waited no time in shifting: disappearing in a haze of pale golden light, and reappearing as a lean, pale sandy coloured fox with short legs and big ears - a dessert fox. She yipped at him, and Ricky shifted himself, the world turning blue-grey for a second, before he opened his eyes again and found Des in a play bow: still shorter than him, but a lot less so now that he was on four legs too.

 He barked once, and Des took off, letting Ricky chase her.

 She was fast, for a fox with shorter legs than his own, and made up for his longer strides by being able to make sharp turns at the last minute, which sent him tumbling into things more than once. It was fucking fantastic, and Ricky was almost disappointed when he managed to nip her tail, tagging her as it, and marking it as his time to run and her turn to chase - but Des came out of nowhere not even minutes later, nipping his back leg, and making him it again.

 They went back and forth for hours, past the wolves tiredly meandering back onto the bus, and past Chris wondering over to watch them disinterestedly from the top of the bus for a few minutes, until the moon started to sink from the sky - but they still didn’t shift back. Instead they yowled at the door of the bus, until they heard Ryan swearing and grumbling on his way to open it, at which point they rushed past his ankles and slunk into the back room to curl up together on one of the many large cushions that were spread across the floor.

 It felt so good to give into the animal side for a few hours; foxes were affectionate by nature, and as nice as it was to cuddle with Chris every now and then (not that Ricky would ever stroke the feline’s already huge ego by admitting it) it was even better with a fellow fox. More relaxing, more grounding…more settling. It was all too easy to fall asleep in fox form, Des’s head tucked under his chin, and her shoulder pressed firmly against his.

   Best night sleep I’ve had in years.

   Ricky admitted as much when they woke up and shifted back, and Des agreed with another brilliant smile.

   “We’ll do it again next month?”

 “Why wait that long?” Des grinned.

 Ricky beamed right back: “Good point.”

   They were about to go and scrounge up breakfast from the cupboards, since the bus had long since started moving on to the next venue, and then look up the next area they were going to be in to see if there was anywhere good to run in nearby, when the door to the back room was slammed open and they were greeted with a glaring Chris.

 He looked every inch the pissy cat he was…but that didn’t mean Ricky didn’t take a step back when Chris lifted a hand to point at them ominously, and saw that Des did the exact same thing, at the exact same time. Ricky understood why.

 You didn’t piss off cats, no matter who you or what you were.

 They got mean, and they got mean fast.

   “If you two start anymore of that horrifying scream-y yowling shit again,” Chris threatened them, knowing full well what Des and Ricky were thinking: “I will stalk you. I will find you. And I will yowl right back until your ears bleed.”

 Ricky looked at Des: “He probably would. He’s done it before to the wolves when their howling got on his nerves.”

 Des just looked mischievous: “All I’m hearing is all of us should yowl at the wolves just because we can.”

 “Smart, Des,” Chris smirked: “Appealing to the one thing I like more than stopping things that irritate me.”

 “Irritating other people?” Des asked.

 “Exactly.”

   And just like that, it was a plan.

 Ricky couldn't wait.

[krizaland]

Puppy Love! A werewolf!Reader x Zim tail!

Special request for @cinnimonbunbunnie. I absolutely adore their art and I had a ton fun writing this! Hope you enjoy!

The full moon cast a mystical glow as Zim’s Voot Runner whizzed across the sky.

Ever since GIR had gone missing earlier that morning, Zim had been looking high and low for him.

From the Krazy Taco shop to the local dance club, Zim couldn’t seem to find GIR anywhere and was starting to get worried!

Zim let out an enraged growl and ripped off his disguise.

“C’mon GIR! Where are you?! TELL ME! TELL ME!” A few tears trickled down Zim’s cheeks as he shook the Voot Runner’s controls.

Unfortunately, all of Zim’s shaking caused him to lose control of the Voot Runner.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The Voot Runner’s warning sirens blared as the ship begun to rumble.

Zim screamed as he frantically tried to regain control. Alas, Zim’s attempts were in vain, for the Voot Runner was sent spiraling towards the ground.

“EJECT! EJECT!” Zim screeched as he rapidly pressed the Eject button

CRASH!

SMASH!

The Voot Runner slammed into a nearby forest.

“EJECT COMMAND INITIATED”

THUD!

Zim’s face kissed the ground.

Zim spat out the dirt in his mouth as he slowly peeled himself off the ground.

“Ruined. Ruined. Irken engineering reduced to..this.” Zim groaned as he stood before the ruins of his fallen ship.

Every bit of the Voot Runner was in shambles. It’s windows were shattered and it’s engines were in flames.

Zim let out an engaged growl as he turned away from what was left of his ship.

“Clearly, there must be some kind of disturbance in this area that interfered with the Voot’s directional signals. Once I find GIR I shall hunt down that evil disturbance.” Zim’s voice oozed with venom as the Voot’s flaming remains burned behind him.

Taking a deep breath Zim pulled out his communicator from his PAK.

“Minimoose, respond!”

The communicator projected an image of Minimoose sitting in front of the TV.

“Nyeh?”

“Minimoose, the Voot Runner has been damaged. I need you to send out the recovery vehicle at once! And be sneaky about it!” Zim commanded as he put his hands on his hips

“Nyeh?”

“No, still no signs of GIR but I shall not give up! Zim never gives up! NEVER!” Zim declared as he pointed to the sky.

“Nyah!”

“I think you’re cool too, Minimoose!” Zim giggled as he cleared his throat, “Now hurry up with the recovery vehicle!”

“Nyah!”  

And with that, Minimoose cut the call and got the recovery vehicle.

“Excellent! At least I still have Minimoose to help me…” Zim sighed as he folded his arms.

While he would never admit it, Zim truly did care for his insane little robot. GIR and Minimoose were the closest things to friends Zim ever had.

Without his robot minions, Zim wouldn’t have anyone to talk to. The Tallest were busy leading Operation: Impending Doom 2, and humans were stupid and inferior.

GIR and Minimoose were all he had and Zim couldn’t bear to lose either of them.

“HI MASTER!”

Speak of the robot! Zim whipped around and sure enough, there GIR was with his usual cheerful grin.

“GIR? Is that really you?” A few more tears formed in Zim’s eyes as he spoke.

“Uh-Huh!”

A few tears trickled down Zim’s cheeks as a relieved smile spread across his features.

“GIR…HOW DARE YOU WORRY YOUR MASTER?!” Zim roared as he grabbed GIR and shook him.

“Aww! You were worried about meeee?” GIR giggled as he clasped his hands together.

“NO!” Zim denied as he dropped GIR to the ground, “I was worried about..um…the amount of trouble you’d cause! Yes! That’s it!”

“Aww! You missed me! You missed me!!” GIR sang as he jumped off the ground.

“I did NOT! Zim misses no one! NO ONE!” Zim huffed as he folded his arms.

“Ok, Ok.” GIR giggled as he picked up a stick and started to play with it.

“GIR! Unhand that Urth filth!” Zim snapped as he gestured to the stick.

GIR pouted but obliged.

“Once Minimoose arrives with the Voot recovery vehicle, we’re going home and updating your tracking chip.” Zim grumbled as he pinched the middle of his forehead.

“Oh, I left that at home.” GIR scoffed as he flicked his wrist.

“You left what at home?”

“The trackey chippy thingy”

Zim’s eyes widened in shock.

“D’oh! Why would you do that?!” Zim snapped as he curled his fingers in front of his face.

“To make room for the cupcake!” GIR chirped as he popped a cupcake out of his head and greedily devoured it.

“Well that explains why I had such a hard time finding you all day. I’m guessing you also left your communication projector at home as well.” Zim grumbled as he put his hands on his hips.

“Yup! Had to make room for the ice cream!” GIR tried to pop ice cream out of his head but it had melted! All that came out was a soggy cone.

Zim dragged a hand down his face and groaned.

“Why must you do these things to me?!”

GIR sniffled as a few tears spilled from his eyes.

Zim’s face softened at the sight of GIR crying.

“I can see that me being frustrated will get us nowhere. We should probably-”

“AWOOO!”

Zim was cut off by a loud, pained howl echoing in the distance.

“What was that…”

“AWOOO!”

Zim felt a shiver run down his spine as the howling drew closer.

“I’ll go check!” GIR sang as he trotted off after the howling.

“GIR! Don’t go running off again! I command you to get back here at once!” Zim demanded as he pointed to his side.

However, Zim was too late as GIR had already disappeared into the woods.

“Ooh! GIR! Why must you be this way?!” Zim whined as he chased after GIR.

“AWOOO!”

The deeper Zim traveled the louder the howling became. Zim felt his body tremble but he carried onwards none the less.

It wasn’t long before Zim had finally tracked down GIR.

“GIR! There you are! Will you stop running off like-”

“AWOO!”

“That…”

Zim’s blood ran cold as the howling was louder than ever.

RUSTLE! RUSTLE!

Dead leaves crunched as the sound of footsteps drew near.

Zim wanted to run but fear kept his body frozen in place.

Two golden eyes peered out from with in the trees as the mysterious creature’s silhouette slowly started to appear.

“AWOO!”

You jumped out from the shadows of the trees, your caramel coat glistening under the light of the full moon.

Zim’s antennas drooped as his ruby eyes widened in shock. Never had he seen such a large wolf before!

You curiously inspected the two strange creatures before you. They were clearly aliens but whether or not they were friendly was the real question.

“HI MONGOOSE!”

GIR ’s cheerful squeal broke the silence.

Yup. They were definitely friendly. A bit confused but friendly.

You simply giggled and playfully shook your head.

You looked over at Zim, who had yet to say a word.

It seemed as if fear had robbed him of his usual loud, commanding voice along with his movement.

“Sorry, did I scare you?” You teased playfully as you tilted your head.

“Eh?! You can speak?! I didn’t know Urth wolves could speak!” Zim nearly fell onto his bottom.

“Well, most Urth wolves can’t speak but I’m a werewolf so I’m an exception.” You giggled as you sat up straighter.

“Were…wolf?”

“Yup, most days I’m human but when the full moon is out I turn into a wolf.” You explained as you looked up towards the moonlit sky.

“Really? So humans can turn into wolves when there’s a full moon?” Zim’s antennas perked up as his fear melted into curiosity.

“Not exactly…Only a few special humans, like me, turn into wolves.” You explained as you gestured to yourself.

“I see…Fascinating! So how long does the transformation last?” Zim asked as he stroked his chin.

“Well, it’s different depending on who you ask. For me it only lasts until sunrise. Which is good, since it can be pretty awkward for a talking wolf to show up to an all human skool” You giggled as you flicked your tail.

“Why would it be awkward? I thought humans were supposed to like dogs.” Zim scratched his head as he spoke.

“Ordinary humans think dogs are cute and fluffy. Wolves on the other paw, are considered to be big and scary. Not to mention the amount of drama if they found out I could talk! They would probably lock me away and experiment on me or something!” You shuddered at the mere thought of what horrors the humans could inflict upon you.

“Wait! Humans want to experiment on you too?”

“Oh yeah. My parents always told me that ordinary humans do terrible things to what that they don't understand. So I was told to stay away from them during the full moon so they won’t hurt me. I thought my parents were overreacting until….” You trailed off as you gently lied down on the ground.

“Until what?”

“Well…Let’s just say, humans can be more cruel than you’d expect..” You sighed as your ears flattened.

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Zim muttered as he sat down beside you, “Some humans can’t seem to keep their smelly big heads to themselves.”

Your head perked up at the mention of a ‘big smelly head’.

“Wait a second. You wouldn’t happen to know a human named ‘Dib’ would you?”

“Dib?! You know him too?!” Zim yelped as his ruby eyes widened in surprise.

“Know him?! He’s the one who did all this to me!” You whimpered as you gestured to various wounds near your backside.

Zim let out a gasp at the sight of your wounds. While he had definitely seen worse, he couldn’t help but feel terrible for you. Your wounds seemed fresh, indicating your altercation with Dib was recent.

“I was just trying to sleep and he tried to capture me in this crazy werewolf trap! It was awful! I managed to bust out but he tried to tranquilize me! Eventually I managed to out run him but I’m still scared he’s still following me…” You sniffled as a few tears trickled down your cheeks.

Zim’s antennas drooped as he noticed your tears. He tried to reach out to comfort you but decided against it.

He’d been dealing with Dib’s tomfuckery since the day he came to Urth. So he was used to being beaten and bruised. Dib never scared him so Zim was never bothered by his nonsense. If anything he actually found it fun to mess with him.

However, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Dib wasn’t so fun to deal with when he was someone else’s problem.

Zim always knew that Dib was obsessed with hunting all kinds of paranormal beasts, but he never thought that he treated the other beasts as terribly as he treated him.

Zim always assumed Dib fought with him because he was trying to destroy the Urth! He never thought that Dib would attack an innocent creature!

You were just trying to go into sleep mode! You weren’t bothering anyone! For a boy with such a big head, he sure had a small brain!

Normally, Zim couldn’t care less about a stranger’s pain. After all, Urth’s destruction wasn’t exactly going to be painless. All life on Urth would have to suffer for the sake of the Irken Empire.

However, something about seeing you in pain made his blood boil.

Maybe it was because he knew how it felt to be mistreated for simply existing. Maybe it was because he couldn’t stand seeing injustice. Or maybe it was because he really really hated Dib.

Whatever the reason was, Zim couldn’t let you live your life in fear of that big headed creep!

“Fear not, eh….What did you say your name was?”

“It’s Y/N.”

“Right! Fear not, Y/N! I shall offer my assistance! For It seems we have a common enemy, the FLITHY Dib-worm!” Zim growled as he pointed to the sky.

“Wait, what? Please tell me Dib didn’t try to capture you too!” You whimpered as you turned to look at Zim.

“Well of course he tried but my SUPERIOR IRKEN BRAIN outsmarted him every time!” Zim boasted as he jumped to his feet.

“Really? So you know how to get rid of him?” Hope twinkled in your eyes as you spoke.

“Of course I do! Now, join me, Y/N-Beast! Join Zim and together we shall end the Dib’s reign of terror once and for all!” Zim cackled as he dramatically stood on top of a large rock.

You couldn’t help but giggle at Zim’s over the top behavior. He truly was a quite the character.

You opened your mouth to speak but were cut of by an all too familiar voice.

“THERE YOU ARE! THIS TIME I’LL FINALLY CATCH YOU!”

Dib’s voice cut through the air like nails on a chalkboard. He rushed through the trees with his werewolf hunting gear in tow.

You let out a startled whimper and hid behind the rock Zim was standing on.

“Your reign of terror ends now, Dib! Surrender or suffer the wrath of Zim!” Zim bellowed as he put his hands on his hips.

“What the-Zim?! You’re working with the werewolf?!” Dib spluttered as he almost dropped his gear.

“This fluffy wolf beast has suffered with your pathetic Dib filth long enough! Give up now while you still have a brain to…give up…with!” Zim stuttered as he shot Dib a glare.

“Seriously, Zim? Since when were you into protecting werewolves-”

“DO NOT QUESTION ZIM!”

“No matter, I’ll just expose you both! Here I go!”

And with that, Dib pulled out a taser and lunged straight for Zim.

Zim was about to jump out of the way when.

FWHIP!

CLANG!

PLOP!

You jumped up and knocked Dib to the ground, causing him to drop his taser.

“You leave us alone, you creep!” You growled through gnashing teeth.

“Well, that was unexpected! But no matter! Prepare yourself for the end, Dib!” Zim roared as he jumped off the rock.

Dib slowly peeled himself off the ground and shook his head rapidly.

“Alright, you both asked for it!” Dib sneered as he pulled out a tranquilizer gun.

POW!

“Y/N-Beast! Look out!” Zim commanded as he pushed you out of the way.

POP!

CLINK!

A purple forcefield popped out of Zim’s PAK, protecting both you and him from the tranquilizer dart.

“Thanks for the save!” You panted as you stood behind Zim.

“Nice try, Dib-worm! But Zim is immune to all of your pathetic tricks!” Zim cackled as he deactivated the forcefield.

“Let’s see if you’re immune to this!” Dib chuckled as he pulled out a small blue ball and chucked it directly at Zim’s head.

CLANG!

You jumped into the air and swatted the ball back to Dib. The ball opened up to reveal a large electric net.

Dib let out a shriek as he managed to just barely dodge the net.

“Oh come on! Is that the best you can do? You’re making this too easy!” Dib taunted as he pulled out a shock collar and ran straight for you.

You managed to swiftly jump out of the way but Dib wasn’t deterred

“Oh no you don’t! I’m not going to let you get away this time!” Dib snarled as he jumped onto your back.

You let out a howl as you thrashed about, desperately trying to shake him off of you.

“GIR! Defensive mode!” Zim commanded as he pointed to Dib.

BEEP! BEEP!

GIR’s eyes turned red as he gave a salute. He was about to attack when he got distracted by a stick.

Letting out a giggle, GIR’s eyes returned to their usual cheerful teal color as he began to play with the stick.

“You’re terrible, GIR!” Zim growled as he dragged his hand down his face.

Dib used his free hand to grab onto your fur as he tried to get the collar around your neck.

“Once I capture you freaks, Mysterious Mysteries will be begging for me to be on their show! Then the whole world will finally see that I’m-ACK!”

Dib’s monologue was cut off by Zim yanking him off of you, causing him to drop the shock collar.

“That you’re a pathetic fool? You don’t need Mysterious Mysteries’ help for that.” Zim mocked as he loomed over him.

“Takes one to know one, space lizard!” Dib countered as he jumped up and shoved Zim to the ground.

Zim let out a scream as he tumbled backwards and landed right on his bottom.

Dib chuckled darkly as he pulled out his alien sleep cuffs.

Zim tried to back away, only for his back to smack into a tree.

“Give it up, Zim! I’ve got you cornered!” Dib smirked as he drew closer.

Zim was about to fight back when,

“AWOOO!”

FWISH!

PAF!

You slammed into Dib, causing him to drop his sleep cuffs and go flying into a nearby tree.

CLANG!

RRIP!

The impact caused Dib’s protective armor to fall to the ground, tearing a massive hole in the body suit underneath.

Dib groaned as he slowly opened his heavy eyelids. His vision cleared to reveal you and Zim looming over him.

You gnashed your teeth and let out a low growl as you put a paw on his chest.

Dib let out a gasp and tried to get up but your paw kept him trapped in place.

“You know, all it takes is one scratch from me and you’ll be the one being exposed.” You snarled as you shot him a glare.

“Heh. You think I’m stupid? I’m wearing silver armor…There’s no way your wolf claws can get through it.” Dib heaved.

“Are you, Dib? Are you?” Zim mocked as he held up the fallen piece of armor.

Dib let out a yelp as he looked down and noticed the hole in his body suit. Sure enough, the hole left his entire shoulder vulnerable.

“Now, are you gonna leave us alone? Or would you rather become a ‘freak’ yourself?” You growled as you looked down at Dib’s exposed shoulder.

“Ok! Ok! Just let me go! Please!” Dib whimpered as he frantically tried to wriggle out of your grip.

“Glad to see you’ve made the right choice.”

And with that, you carefully released Dib.

Dib gasped as he finally managed to catch his breath.

“Enjoy your defeat at the Zim hands of ZIM! Oh and Y/N” Zim let out a maniacal laugh as he reached towards the sky.

“Go on, laugh all you want! For I have recorded the entire thing! Irrefutable proof of both of your-HUH?! Where’s my camera?!”

Sure enough, Dib’s camera was in the hands of GIR. GIR happily giggled as he begun to smash the camera with his stick.

“HA! Great work, GIR! Just like we totally planned!” Zim cheered as he gave GIR a thumbs up.

“Aw, man! That was my favorite camera!” Dib whined as he grabbed the sides of his head.

“Heh. Payback’s a jerk huh, Dib?” You teased as you stuck out your tongue at him.

“You may have won this round but just you wait! I’ll be back with even more tools! And a stronger camera! I’ll expose you both if it’s the last thing I do!” Dib seethed as he ran off into the woods.

“Ha! I’d like to see you try!” You called out as you shook your head.

“Are you alright, Y/N-beast?” Zim asked as he looked you over.

“Yeah, I’m alright. How about you?”

“Never better! Zim can handle anything!” Zim boasted as he puffed out his chest a bit.

“I can tell. Heh. We make a pretty good team, Zim.” You giggled as you wagged your tail a bit.

“Indeed we do! Indeed we do! Which is why I am going to bestow upon you the honor of being an honorary minion!” Zim announced as he patted your head.

You were about to respond but the suddenly pinkish sky caught your eye.

“Looks like the sun is rising. I better get going!” You yelped as you turned to leave.

“Wait! Before you leave you must promise not to tell a single soul of what you’ve seen! Understand? NOT A SINGLE SOUL!” Zim demanded as he stomped his foot.

“Don’t worry, I promise I won’t tell anyone about you!” You insisted with a giggle.

“Excellent! Though, if you break your promise I will destroy you.” Zim threatened as he narrowed his ruby eyes.

You were about to respond when the light of the rising sun poured down upon you.

FSHH!!

With a bright flash, you reverted back to your human self.

Zim’s PAK sparked a bit as his face turned a deeper shade of green.

Despite your tattered clothes, you were absolutely lovely!

“Welp. Looks like you get to see the real me.” You chuckled nervously as you rubbed the back of your head.

Zim tried to speak but the words got caught in his throat.

“I really should be going now. I hope we can meet again someday!” You chirped as you rushed off.

“Uh-huh” Was all Zim could muster as he watched you vanish into the forest.

“Nyah!”

The sound of Minimoose’s squeaking woke Zim from his trance.

“ACK! Oh it’s just you. Have you brought the recovery vehicle for the Voot?”

“Nyah!” Minimoose nodded as they gestured to the large pig behind them.

“Excellent! Now, come on GIR! Let’s go home!” Zim insisted as he hopped onto the pig.

“Okie Dokie!” GIR giggled as he followed suit.

As the pig soared through the pink sky, Zim let out a sigh of relief.

“I hope you’ve learned a valuable lesson from all of this, GIR.”

GIR simply giggled in response.

“What’s so funny?!”

“Y/N sure was preeettyy, huh master?” GIR teased as he clasped his hands.

“They were NOT! Y/N is a filthy wolf-human… thing! I have no attraction to them whatsoever and I hope I don’t have to see them ever again!” Zim denied as his face turned a darker shade of green.

“Nyah!” Minimoose giggled.

“SHUT UP! BOTH OF YOU!” Zim roared as he tugged on his antennas.

“Ok, sorry, master.” GIR giggled.

Despite his claims, Zim still couldn’t get you out of his head. For deep down, he really hoped to see you again someday…

[thecorteztwins]

Werewolf Shinobi @esteicy-blog! Also tagging @acaprioglino @shattered-catalyst @sammysdewysensitiveeyes because I think you’ll enjoy it, as it has your chaotic dumbass boy! Shinobi Shaw was not a good werewolf. The first time he transformed, he didn’t rampage, or attack livestock, or eat people. He just had a really hard time adjusting to having four legs and tottered around the house falling all over his own paws, then barked at the mirror for two hours. He then had proceeded to just hide under his blanket with his nose poking out. His next few full moons had not gone any better. And worst of all, got sprayed by a skunk. His human form was just as embarrassing. He got distracted by squirrels mid-flirtation. He was starting to get really into sniffing people at parties. He attempted to run after cars, but still wasn’t in good enough shape for it so he just got worn out and started wheezing and whining and begging anyone he was with to carry him. And while making out with a guy at his apartment, the man’s cat had walked in. Immediately, Shinobi had jumped down to all fours to chase it...only for the cat to beat him up. Needless to say, his pack leaders were not pleased. He was before them now in his wolf form, which looked more like a coyote-sized black fox that anything, slim and silver-ticked with white paws. His tail was tucked, his ears were drooping, and his amber eyes were upturned in supplication towards the trio passing judgement on him from the rocks above that served as their thrones. Emma Frost. Erik Lehnsherr. And Sebastian Shaw, Shinobi’s own father. The representatives of the three most powerful werewolf clans in the territory, and the sternest, hardest-hearted, scariest people that Shinobi had ever met...with his father being the worst in all three categories. It wasn’t just that he was mean, or yelled, or told Shinobi he was a worthless idiot every time he saw him. It was the fact he hit him in human form, and bit him around the neck as a wolf, every time Shinobi disappointed or failed him. Which was often. Shinobi was trying not to cry.

Luckily, it was Emma who spoke, otherwise he might have lost that battle, and no one wanted to see a wolf weep. ”Shinobi Shaw, three times you have been granted the opportunity to prove yourself worthy as a werewolf of the Hell’s Fire Pack. Three times you have failed---and in rather spectacular fashion, I might add.” It had indeed been spectacular. The first time had involved a lake, the second a tanker truck, and the third time....a grand but accidental fireworks display that had frightened off every prey in the area during a hunt. Shinobi still wasn’t sure how any of it happened, but he suspected that the “liquid courage” he had consumed beforehand to “calm his nerves” might have had something to do with it. ”Three chances is traditionally all one gets,” Emma continues, “And it is typically MORE than one ever needs.” His ears drooped lower and he slumped. ”However...” His ears perked up. ”When the three of us assumed leadership of Hell’s Fire, part of the mandate that united us was the belief that some traditions must be torn down or at the very least modified to better suit the modern age and to best serve the pups of this generation. Lone wolves are a risk not only to themselves, but our species as a whole, and we would prefer for such a fate only to be earned by malicious action, not mere incompetence. Thus, for the time being...you are permitted to remain here, though you are still counted not counted as having any rank or truly belonging to the pack. But you are also not counted as a cub either. You are...your own category. Until we figure out what to do next with you.” His own category? He looked up. He was unique! He was special! He was so clever and amazing they had to make a new category just for him! As delusional as that was, it was either that or face the sense of crushing failure that was weighing down on his slim canine shoulders, so he embraced it...and avoided the stony GLARE of his father from on high, silent at Emma’s side, opposite of the other male, Erik. He had a feeling that his father probably had NOT been the one to vote to let him stay. But he would show him! He would show them all! He was just having a rough start, but he would be the best wolf ever! The best wolf the Hell’s Fire pack had ever seen in HISTORY! Bounding off into the woods after his dismissal, ignoring the laughs and taunts of packmates, his slender chest filled with determination, with confidence, with courage! He was going to--- He stopped in his tracks, kicking up quite a few leaves from the forest floor, as he realized, fuck, he didn’t know what to do. How could he prove himself? Let’s see...he had failed three attempts at the Rite of Passage, in which a young werewolf was given a task to prove himself worthy... Aha! That was the problem! The challenges were wrong! He would just have to make his own! And to do that, he needed inspiration! And for inspiration, he needed...BOOZE! So he trotted down to town and went into the nearest bar....and was promptly chased out with a broom by the screaming bartender. Oh, right, he was still in wolf form. He shapeshifted into his human state, and went back in...only to get chased out again, this time because he was naked. Man, some people were so uptight! After procuring some proper attire---meaning he swung by the designer boutique up the street where he had a personal account, rather than just go back to his penthouse to get clothes he already owned---he returned to the bar, told them they had made a huge mistake and he would now take his business elsewhere, and asked if anyone could lend him a $20 for an Uber. No one did. Then he remembered he had a driver he could just call. So he asked if anyone could lend him their cell phone. Wolves really needed to develop pockets in their coats. Eventually, he did manage to get to the upscale club he had in mind, though only by taking public transport like a SAVAGE. But he’d felt unsafe on the subway was a beautiful and affluent-looking human, so he’d shifted back into his wolf form for the trip... Meaning that someone was on a subway car with a wolf that was wearing fabulous sunglasses (at night) and a big fuzzy brilliantly purple haute couture coat. He was probably responsible for a WHOLE lot of people thinking they were either on drugs, or needed to quit them. He shifted back, got into the club, and... That was the last thing he remembered before waking up in the dog pound, in his wolf form again and without his new clothes. Oh, well, no big, this had happened before, he would just--- ”Hello there.” A WOMAN IN A LAB COAT was looking down at him. Something about her reminded him of Emma Frost, and not just because she was an attractive blonde. His tailed wagged and he hoped for pats. ”Don’t play puppy with me, wolf,” she said in a smirking tone, and his eyes went wide. She knew! ”Yes, I know what you are,” she continued, as though she had read his mind, ”Just stay in your current form, and everything will be fine. I’m getting you out of here.” Oh wow, he had found an ally! The pack would be so proud of him! She had on the white coat so she must be a doctor, maybe a vet! That was great! They needed people like her! After she had filled out his adoption paperwork, she walked him back to her car on a leash, something he enjoyed IMMENSELY. Once he was in the passenger seat, he turned into his human state again, to let her see just what a gorgeous specimen she had procured for herself. ”Hey there babe. I’m Shinobi Shaw, and I’m all ready to be your new pet. Or should I say---” ”Oh, shut up,” was the last thing he heard as she sprayed a can of knock out gas at him and he collapsed. When he regained consciousness, he was in a cage once again. A lab this time. Even he could recognize that, with all the beakers and test tubes around with unpleasant looking fluids in them, not to mention the other animals and people---people!---in cages there too. Many of the animals were squeaking or crying in pain, but the people...they didn’t move. And they didn’t look good either. Their naked skin had strange green patches, almost like they were growing algae from their flesh. Skin tags the size of plums drooped at random places. Liver spots were swollen and growing small horns. Teeth were sticking out of places that were NOT there mouths. And some of them were...kinda oozing. It had the antiseptic smell of a hospital...mixed, paradoxically and disturbingly with the smell of rot. Rot, and radiation. What kind of crazy medical kink play had he gotten into?! ”Oh hey babe---or should I say Mistress? Doctor, maybe?” he posed in as sexy a position as he could in the cramped cage as the blonde woman entered the lab. A hush fell over it, the animals too scared to continue their howls and squawks, the people too far gone to speak. As soon as he tells me everything I need to know, I’m wiring his jaws shut and excising his tongue, thought Dr. June Covington. Out of all the supernatural creatures she was studying, she’d expected werewolves to be the most taciturn, thinking they would be more like animals than people....although, in a way, she was right, this guy WAS an animal. And a dumb one at that. “Shut up,” she said simply, just as she had in the car. She unlocked the cage, grabbed him by the neck, and hauled him out. As she expected, he went willingly; it was why she hadn’t used anesthetic on him as she usually did with such creatures. She’d thought that his enthusiasm might wane as the experiments began, and yet, it did not. He clearly enjoyed them, writing around and making kinky innuendo throughout. She finally muzzled him, and he just clearly enjoyed that. She began considering anesthetizing him just so she wouldn’t have to put up with this shit, but she went through a LOT of sedatives, it was unwise to waste it on him if she didn’t have to. She’d hate to find herself facing down a PROPER werewolf without enough sedatives on hand when she needed it. This proved to be a fatal mistake. When she turned him over to insert the thermometer meant to check the temperature changes involved in shapeshifting, that was when things went to hell. Oh, he didn’t resist it, quite the opposite, he was clearly HAPPY about it. Too happy. Though still in human form, his tail sprouted, and he began wagging it. Hard. Very hard. So much so, he knocked over a VERY precious combination of chemicals.... “No!” was all that Dr. June Covington had time to get out before the place EXPLODED. The next thing that Shinobi remembered, he was waking up in one of the caves that the pack used in their meeting place in the wolves, surrounded by the concerned faces of packmates. “He’s coming to!” said one of the healers. “He’s awake!” “He’s going to be alright!”

And then...they started cheering. Shinobi was very confused. More than usual, that is. In a daze, his packmates walked him to the clearing that was overlooked by the rocks on which the leaders perched. He was expecting a scolding, or worse, exile. Instead, what Emma said was, “Shinobi Shaw, you have proven yourself three times over and then some. You discovered, infiltrated, and destroyed one of our deadliest enemies. Dr. June Covington has kidnapped and vivisected thousands of our kind in her foul experiments, but you put an end to it---and for that, you have the gratitude of this pack, and all lycanthropes, all magical creatures, forever.” Shinobi stood there, stunned.

And he realized the best thing about this. It was a good excuse for a PARTY!

[space-------kid]

can’t keep my hands (off you).

Anime/Manga: One Punch Man Pairing: Garou/fem!Reader Additional pairing/characters: platonic Metal Bat/fem!Reader, Zenko, mentions of other heroes such as Saitama, Watchdog Man, etc. Genre: Romance, comedy Warning: Absolute silliness. Language – Garou and reader both ate rainbows for breakfast. Dumbassery. Teeth-rotting fluff, maybe? Reader is hella strong like Saitama. Half-assed spice because you’re good at cockblocking Garou despite being low-key thirsty for him. And LOTS of dumbassery from the reader, most probably. Additional tag: Dream-based fic, canon-divergent, Garou is horny af A/N: This is supposed to be a lengthy one-shot, but I’m a dumbass who can’t keep my word so the supposedly one-shot isn’t a one shot anymore.  Now I have to worry how I should properly divide all those parts (I mean, they’re already divided, but–) 😅 Happy New Year! *snicker*

You and Garou continue being friends. And he still couldn’t get enough of your thighs, damn it.

Summary:

Your life had its general ups and downs, pros and cons, the good and the bad.

You were admittedly a coward and afraid of being targeted by people for it. Following the advice of your (best) friend you trained hard, like, FUCKING hard, and now you’re blessedly, utterly strong you can take down enemies with just one hit. A good thing, really. Can’t let any bad guy harass you or something.

But-

You were probably cursed with the biggest, baddest of luck. Not only were monsters chasing you, suddenly there was this fucking hot bastard weirdo who kept on calling himself the Hero Hunter. “I’m not a hero, goddamn it!”

i. and ii. | iii. and iv. | v. | vi. | [more to be added]

“i can’t keep my

hands

off…!”

- can’t keep my hands off you/simple plan

vii.

You were acting skittish around him, and not because of his constant teasing.

Garou was secretly thankful that you weren’t stupid like other people despite being such a dumbass sometimes. He liked that you were being straightforward with him, and it was something that he could appreciate at the moment.

He also loved liked the fact that despite coming to terms that he was indeed the wanted Hero Hunter, you never actually banned him from going in and out of your home as he pleased.

“I mean, I really am a dumbass, right?” you were telling him as he watched you cooked dinner for the both of you. Garou had uncharacteristically held off his hero hunting to discuss things with you, and he could see how relieved you were about it.

“You already told me yourself who you are the first time we met and here I am, still surprised that I’m actually letting the Hero Hunter inside my home!” you continued. Your expression turned contrite when you turned to look at him. “B-But that didn’t mean that you’re not allowed here anymore! I’m just too shocked by my sheer dumbassery to actually- a-and you’re just beating heroes up and not killing them, I heard, so… fuck my logic, right? But as long as you’re not outright murdering anyone, I don’t have the right to tell you to stop doing whatever you want with your life, right? I know you don’t need someone telling you that and-“

He shouldn’t even be here in your house right now. He should’ve left the moment you broached the topic about his identity. But just as Garou thought that you would ask him not to return anymore or else you’d call for help (not that you needed it, anyway), here you were: telling him that he was still free to come and go to your home as he pleased.

What kind of a coward would let a wanted criminal to enter their home as they pleased? A dumbass, you said it yourself.

“If you’re scared of telling me to leave, don’t be,” Garou told you insouciantly. “All you gotta do is ask, jeez.”

You shot him a dumbfounded look at quickly shook your head. “Why would I do that?” you asked him, flabbergasted. “I told you already that you’re still allowed here, did I?”

He frowned at you, steadily feeling annoyed by the wary light in your eyes and how it contradicted with your shaky yet genuine words. Could you decide which of the two you would remove off of you already?

“Then decide if you should be scared or sincere already, for fuck’s sake!” he barked at you, making you squeak and nearly drop the ladle you were holding. Garou caught the thing when you threw it at him in retaliation, glaring half-heartedly and pouting at him.

“I AM sincere, you dork! And maybe I’m just feeling scared because I don’t want my best friend to throw me in jail himself or beat you up because he might think that-“

You stopped talking, looking as if you said something that you shouldn’t have and turned your back to him. Garou narrowed his eyes at your behaviour, curiosity gleaming in his golden eyes.

Why did you just suddenly sport that ‘shit I fucked up’ expression?

The self-proclaimed Hero Hunter crossed the distance between the two of you in a few quick strides and corralled you against the kitchen counter, arms caging you between his body and the countertop in front of you. Garou could see your body tense at the proximity, couldn’t stop himself from admiring your exposed skin thanks to your hair tied up in a messy bun and the tank top you were wearing. He was so close, he could practically nuzzle his nose against your neck should he dip his head down to your level-

Nope, not now, though. He had a curiosity to sate at the moment.

“And why would your best friend beat me up, huh? Lock you up in jail?” he questioned, raising a brow at you when you peeked up at him over your shoulder. Garou fought the urge to grin at your flushed face but he wasn’t opposed to the idea of flustering you further.

Wait a damn moment. How did he get from teasing you in hopes of awakening the thing that took over your body to defend yourself TO teasing you just to see how you looked like while blushing?

Oh, right. You and your fucking thighs, Garou answered himself. But back to more current pressing matters….

You looked away again and stuttered a reply.

“B-Because he m-m-might want t-to! C-Can’t anyone do t-that?” was your shitty excuse.

Man, you could really be a dumbass.

Garou leaned his body towards you, his broad chest touching your back. You let out a surprised squeak at the contact, trying but failing not to take notice of the hard planes of his muscles against the fabric of your clothes.

“[Name],” he whispered in your ear. The gasp he elicited from you sounded so good, and Garou could feel his self-control slipping just a tiny bit. He bit back a groan when you pressed your back against his chest in an attempt to push him off of you.

“C-Come on, haven’t you heard o-of citizen’s a-a-arrest or s-something?” you yelled at him indignantly, your voice turning up a pitch higher in your panic. “Bat is just-“

“Bat?” Garou asked you, perplexed. Did he just mishear you, or…? “I thought you said your best friend’s name was Badd?”

You hurriedly turned around to face him and planted your hands on his chest, pushing him away weakly. Garou, however, didn’t budge and kept his questioning gaze on you.

“That’s what I said! Badd!” you lied frantically, eyes shut tight as you continued your feeble attempts. Damn, where was your strength when you needed it?

Too bad for you, Garou was secretly the sharpest tool in the shed. He was quick to pick up on the erratic pitch of your voice and sudden ungainly body language. “He’s a hero, ain’t he? Your best friend?”

“He’s not!”

You could lie all you want, but you’re not fooling him anymore.

Garou should be angry. He really should. After all, being lied to was one of the things he hated the most. But the reason for your deceit was not to harm anyone – he could clearly see that you were hell-bent into uttering a falsehood just so you could protect your (hero) best friend as well as Garou himself. Not that he needed your protection, but-

He almost smiled at the concern you were inadvertently showing him. More so when he heard what you had to say next.

“He’s not!” you lied still. “And what if he is? I-I can’t let my friends beat each other up, you dummy!”

Ah. Garou should have expected that you two were way past being acquaintances with how much he had been frequenting your home and interacting with you. The thought of being friends with you struck a chord in him that had long since fallen asleep ever since he was bullied as a kid.

You might be a dumbass sometimes, but you were still quite welcoming despite all the previous scares and continuous teasing he put you up with. And aside from making it his goal to fluster you (as his stupid teenage hormones commanded him), Garou found the companionship rather… nice. Not that spending time with that kid at the park and reading the Hero Guide Booklet together wasn’t something he wouldn’t call a form of camaraderie. Maybe spending time with someone his age without having a care in the world was something he sort of sought and found in you.

Garou had no qualms being a lone wolf, but he won’t deny that human interaction  – well, aside from beating heroes up, that is – was a nice change of pace in the life he now led as the Hero Hunter.

You were a coward, but you were never judgmental. And that was one of the things he quite liked about you, if truth be told, other than your perfect thighs-

And there went his mind again. He had seen women sexier and much prettier than you, so why were you the only one who piqued this kind of interest on him, the kind that he usually didn’t even bother entertaining?

And you calling him friend right now wasn’t exactly helping-

“Are you gonna beat my best friend up, then? If I tell you he’s a hero?”

Garou blinked at your distressed question and leaned down at you, grabbing your wrists and placing your arms around his shoulders while he grinned at you playfully.

“I don’t even know which of those damned heroes is your friend,” he told you jauntily. “Ah! Maybe the reason why you didn’t tell me is because he’s weak? Scared I’ll beat him to a pulp, [Name]?”

He was just making fun of you, you told yourself. But Garou implying that your best friend wouldn’t hold his own against the silver-haired male pushed you into your protective mode. People could badmouth you all they wanted, but to hell with it if they demean your number one supporter and his little sister!

“How dare you?! Badd is way stronger than me! He can beat you up real easily!” you angrily defended your best friend. Not realizing that Garou was riling you up into telling you who Badd really was, you unwittingly took the bait and could only stop yourself the last second.

“He’ll beat you up and it’ll be a piece of cake for him ‘cause he’s Metal Ba-“

Hurriedly, you stopped yourself and pulled your arms off of him to cover your mouth with your hands. Eyes the size of the moon, you winced when Garou gave you a look as if he’d hit the jackpot.

“Ding, ding! And so she finally tells me who her best friend is,” he tells you in a sing-song manner, grin splitting from ear to ear now. “And what a surprise, he turns out to be S-Class, rank 15!”

The look you gave him was full of annoyance at being one-upped and ire directed at your own folly. You covered your face to muffle the frustrated whine bubbling from your throat and mindlessly shoved your head on his chest.

Caught off guard at your sudden movement, Garou raised his hands but not quite knowing what to do with them. He settled for patting your head with one hand, his ears turning pink when you unconsciously purred(?) like a cat at the action.

“You’re gonna hunt him now, aren’t you?” you asked him, your voice muffled. “You’re gonna hunt Badd, and there’s nothing I could do to stop you from doing so.”

Garou huffed, hand still petting your hair gently. “Yep. Nothin’ you can do about it.”

This was it. Guess he had to cut your friendship short since he didn’t really want to make you choose between some guy you just met recently and the one you call your best friend.

He was the Hero Hunter, and you were a civilian with a pro-hero for a best friend.

What an uncanny arrangement.

You shuffled slightly and craned your neck to look up at him, your eyes wide and imploring. “Can I make a request, though? Like, don’t try to kill Badd, maybe? Since there’s no stopping you from being the Hero Hunter and I can’t exactly dictate you to drop the act…”

Garou gaped at you, face filled with incredulity. Did you just give him the permission to fight your best friend as long as he didn’t commit murder? And did you just imply that you accepted him for who he was?

And it’s as if Garou was actively trying to kill those he beat up

He watched as your eyes filled with awe and admired the way your cheeks turned red when he smiled at you – and a genuine one at that. Garou squished your cheeks with his hands and lowered his face to yours, his smile turning roguish when you blushed harder at the proximity.

“And what if Metal Bat kills me, huh? Don’t you think that’s a bit unfair?” he questioned. “Can’t make a request like that if it’s gonna put me at a disadvantage, y’know. But… I might be willing if-”

One of his hands crept down and poked your thighs with a finger.

“-I get a handful of these?”

Garou dodged, laughing, when you swung a hand up at him for a slap.

“Pervert! Leave my thighs alone, thirsty bastard!”

---

to be continued

[scribeofmorpheus]

Mark of the Wolf Epilogue

Catch Up Here!

Pairing: Derek Hale x Reader (Lastname: Markolf)

Words: 3k

Warnings: Language, sexual references and... hallucinations, or are they?

A/N: The end of a journey, but the start of a new one! To all those that stuck around till the end -I’m sorry for taking so long- and y’all are the best! Check the link at the end to read the blurb for the sequel.

Leave a like or reblog if you enjoyed this chapter! It helps ☺

~

You laid in Derek’s bed watching the first glimmers of daybreak scatter over his velvet sheets. His mouth was parted slightly as he took long, drawn out breaths in his sleep. You hugged your knees to your breast, taking in the peaceful silence.

With the last of the hunters lost to the winds, you were unsure of what going back to normal meant.

Were you just supposed to go back to your newly-moved-in apartment and unpack the last few boxes you left on the floor? Then what? Spend the rest of your days spaying cats and clipping outgrown nails? Somehow the prospect of returning to how things used to be felt a little underwhelming.

What about Derek? He was still a wanted man in four states. Still a criminal in the eyes of the law. Was it safe for him to stay? Would he stay?

As you pondered your future, Derek stirred from sleep, a groan emanating from his chest.

“Morning,” you whispered over your knees.

He smiled at you, “Morning.”

He sat up to lean against his headboard, chiselled chest in full view.

You blushed, remembering the kiss in the woods and how sexy his glistening muscles made him look.

He splayed his arms wide for you to crawl under, the red rash slowly forming on his forearm identical to Peter’s. Scratch marks present from when he was asleep, digging his nails into his irritated flesh.

You tucked yourself under his strong frame, trailing fingers over the snaking flesh. You shuddered. It didn’t feel right.

Derek kissed the top of your head, chasing your worries to the back of your mind.

“Where do we go from here?” you asked, keeping your eyes trained on the growing rash.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, stroking the bony trail of your neck. “But I know I don’t want to go back.”

You smiled, “Neither do I.”

Something writhed under his skin and you started from the contact it had with the pads of your fingers.

“What are we going to do about this?” you poked his arm.

He dismissed it nonchalantly, “As long as it doesn’t kill me, I don’t care.”

You hummed in thought.

Derek seemed more carefree, less burdened. You felt deprived of this side of him, wishing you had known he possessed such calmness underneath his brooding façade earlier.

“You’re still a wanted man you know,” you reminded him.

“And you’re a vet with a clinic in disrepair,” he retorted.

“So…” you looked up to meet his green eyes. “What do we do about that?”

Derek kissed your lips, twining his fingers with yours, “I’ve actually been having this reoccurring dream.”

“Oh yeah?” you arched a brow.

“Mmm-hmm. It’s about us actually.”

“Us?” you felt comfortable saying the words, it scared you how normal it felt on your tongue.

Derek noticed how casually you said it too, it made his smile grow, “Yeah, us. We’re always alone, just the two of us, with nothing but a map, a camping tent and two backpacks.”

“That sounds… a lot like my childhood actually.”

“That’s not the best part. Every morning we wake up somewhere new. And on the last day, we pitch our tent in front of this magnificent waterfall, surrounded by nothing but free open spaces and curious coyotes.”

“You had me till coyotes.”

A laugh rumbled from his chest, “They tend to steer clear of wolves. A hierarchy thing.”

“Ahh,” you said, drawing circles around his abdomen.

“How about it?” He asked, eyes peering into yours. He looked vulnerable.

“What? Leave Beacon Hills, disappear for a while to go on a hiking trip with a guy I just slept with?” you teased.

He rolled his eyes, “Hey, I’m more than a piece of meat you know.”

“I know. Not many people would go to such lengths to help a total stranger.”

“You’re not a stranger to me. I’m beginning to doubt if you ever were.”

“God! It seems like years ago that I pulled that bullet from right here–” you poked the spot that once looked mangled and bloody from a bullet wound.

Derek jerked, finding your touch ticklish.

“Well?” he asked again.

What he was asking of you was to be someone you weren’t. Someone spontaneous and adventurous and not someone who was calculating and a meticulous planner. He was asking you to take a chance on whatever warm feeling was spreading through your body right as the golden glow of the sunrise bathed your naked bodies.

The rational part of your brain was telling you ‘No!’. Warning you not to be swept up in the moment like a hopeless romantic.

Be with him, but don’t put everything on hold for him, the rational voice said.

Oh, for once in your life don’t listen to her, follow your heart, be bold… give yourself a shot at being happy again. Lord knows you’ve earned it, the dying remnants of your fun-loving college girl years argued against the other voice.

You held his gaze for a long pause, trying to weigh the options. In the end, it was his unexpected kiss that decided things for you.

“What the hell!” you cast caution to the wind. “Yeah, let's go see some mountains together or some shit.”

“Yeah?” Derek was grinning now.

“Yeah!”

And with that, he rolled you onto your back and kissed you passionately.

On the bedside table, vibrating incessantly was Derek’s phone. Caller ID stating it was Stiles trying to get ahold of him for the sixth time in a row. Derek ignored the call and chucked his phone into his clothes hamper before he lowered himself between your thighs.

 ~Two Months Later

“Where to next?” you pulled out the map and placed it next to the lantern propped up on a foldable table.

Derek looked at the map then back at you, a cheeky smile on his face.

You knew that look. That was the look that told you he wanted to be doing something else besides plotting out points on the heavily marked map.

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and bit his lip, “Why bother with ‘next’ when we can just enjoy the beautiful view right here.”

You glanced over your shoulder to look at the rolling hill ranges that spanned for miles and miles.

“It is a beautiful view,” you agreed.

He placed a kiss to your shoulder, “That’s not the view I was talking about.”

Heat flushed to your cheeks, “Ever the charmer.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m only charming for you,” he kissed the crook of your neck, mouth sucking on the sensitive flesh until you were certain it would leave love bites.

You moaned, but then forced yourself to not be swept up in his incendiary touches, “Ah-ah, Derek. Map. Next destination. Focus.”

You chastised him with a playful smack and he huffed, “Easy for you to say. Focusing is the last thing I’m capable of doing right now. It doesn’t help that you smell like the wild –cedar and freshwater. It’s intoxicating.” He breathed in the scent around your hair.

God, he was making it hard for you to focus as well.

You cleared your throat, “Well you’re just going to have to reign yourself in, Romeo.”

“You’re so persistent,” he whined dramatically. “Okay, you really want a destination.”

“Yes, please.”

“How about here—“ he circled Beacon Hills with his finger.

“Beacon Hills?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Deaton’s finished with the repairs. I’m a free man again. Maybe we should think about taking this thing we got going back to a more permanent setting.”

Your eyes widened, “Are you suggesting…?”

“I’m saying I want us to move in together,” he said it so boldly you almost wondered if he knew asking someone to move in with him wasn’t the same as asking them to share a closet space.

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” he revealed. “When I’m not thinking of all the things I want to do to you.” He playfully nipped your earlobe before stretching back into his relaxed pose.

Your voice was torn between panicked and husky, “Living together is a huge commitment Derek, it’s not—“

“I’m committed to you, almost devoutly so. It scares me sometimes,” he laughed awkwardly. “Besides, aren’t we practically sharing a living space right now?”

Your mouth hung open. He’s got you there.

He sighed longingly, “Waking up next to you, sharing meals with you, fighting over which way’s East or West or South or… you get the idea. I want more of that. In a house or apartment, or loft even, just as long as it has walls, a sturdy bed and you.”

You giggled, happiness spreading through you.

His face turned serious just then, his hand taking yours, “I want those things with you more than I’ve ever wanted them with someone else. I—“

Suddenly his phone rang and Derek sighed, annoyance taking over his features as he looked at the caller ID.

“It’s Stiles,” he told you. “I gotta take this. It’s probably about him closing my case. If it’s not… I’ll kill him.”

Derek shot you an apologetic look and then crawled out from under your shared tent. You went back to reading the names of all the places you’d yet to visit

Yellowstone, North Beach Campground, Crystal Cove, Derek wants us to move in together… Derek wants us to move in together! This is all happening too fast… Am I being paranoid? I mean… we are technically living together since we share a tent, but then again—

 Derek walked a few paces until he reached the crystal waters of the lake, with a lazy grunt he plopped down on top of the stony shore, pressing accept on his phone’s screen.

“Stiles, this had better have been important,” he grumbled, his frown baring down on his face for what felt like the first time in aeons.

“Wow, missed you too buddy, long time –how’s the weather over there? The mountains mountainy enough for ya?” Stiles retorted.

“I mean it, Stiles,” Derek warned.

“I was just calling to let you know you’re case has now been dead-filed. You’re a free man again.”

“I thought I was a free man weeks ago?”

“Yeah, but now its legally-filed-paperwork official with a stamp and a seal and everything. A public apology will be made by my department in a few days.”

“Okay then. Good to know. Now if you don’t mind I have something to get back to so…” Derek waited for Stiles to hang up but he didn’t. From the weird pause on his end of the line, Derek knew Stiles was fumbling to say something. “What is it, Stiles?”

“Have you told her yet?”

There was a pregnant pause, Derek looked at the odd, reddened symbol that moved under his skin on his forearm and then over to your happy, stress-free face under the tent.

“I’m going to. I just haven’t found the right time.”

“You can’t keep this a secret forever. Someone’s going to wonder why Peter had a mental breakdown and left for Kathmandu. What if that happens to you?”

“Peter is a drama queen. He’s fine.”

“But you aren’t. You know what that mark means.”

“I know.”

“And I won’t keep this from the others forever.”

“I know.”

“You’re one of them now.”

“I know!”

“Just… don’t carry this on your own. Secrets have never brought anything good to the pack. And yeah I get it, you know.” Stiles hung up.

Derek took a deep breath, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you hadn’t heard his little outburst. He was relieved when he saw you fully immersed in the map laid out before you, a toothy grin lighting up your face.

“You should listen to your friend,” a raspy, unwelcome voice spoke. Derek was still getting used to the new voice in his head. “Secrets are dangerous.”

Derek turned to the source of the voice, seeing Alyster’s thin face and skinny form standing next to him. Dead and incorporeal. A supernatural hallucination reserved solely for him.

Derek snorted, “That’ll go easy over dinner. Oh, babe, you know that guy who was trying to murder you, murdered your boyfriend and almost killed everyone you've ever loved? Yeah, turns out he was right. Killing him didn’t mean he’d stay dead. Now he’s a voice in my head that I can talk to from time to time,” Derek sneered sarcastically before continuing on his rant: "I pretty much took his place. Don't worry though, I'm not alone in this. Peter's gone insane and secluded himself behind the doors of some spiritualist convent in Kathmandu. Would you like some bread?"

Alyster’s skin-crawling laugh trickled out making Derek’s neck prickle in discomfort.

“It does sound ridiculous when you put it that way,” a smirk stretched at Alyster’s mouth tightly. “But it could be worse. You could have Astrid inside your head instead.”

Derek ran a hand over his face and groaned, “Just… go burrow back into my subconscious and do… whatever it is dead men do when they’re trapped in someone else’s mind.”

“Wither,” Alyster said darkly. “We wither.”

A gust of wind blew in from the East, an odd sensation to it. Derek’s wolf instincts went rampant, he didn’t know what was making him so agitated. It was like a shrill, ultrasonic sonic sound had bored a hole into his head and lit his nose on fire. Derek tried to exhale the scent away in strong bursts, his hands placed to his ears to block out that painful noise. Nothing seemed to be working.

The rash on his arm turned solid, finally ending its repetitive cycle of writhing and wriggling. The itch had refrained. Then, after Derek was sure that he could practically hear the buzz of light’s frequency, everything shut off and his senses returned to normal. A stream of blood ran down from his nose and ears.

“What the fuck was that?”

Alyster’s face turned grave, “That was the First Coming.”

 ~Kathmandu 

The meditative instructor at the retreat sat in front of Peter with his legs crossed in the lotus position, a large statue of a praying Buddha was erected barely a stone’s throw away.

“Breathe in,” the teacher instructed the class. “And out.”

Peter repeated the actions, trying to silence the incessant ramblings of Astrid’s consciousness now bunking with his own.

“Du bör sluta slösa bort din tid,” Astrid said in Swedish.

I keep telling you, I don’t know what you’re saying! Peter shouted back in his head. And shut up, I’m trying to focus on my breathing! 

”And breathe in,” the teacher parroted. ”And now breathe out all your worries and stresses, feel them ebb away.”¨

”Oh, does my speaking Swedish annoy you?” Astrid remarked with bitterness. ”How insensitive of me. I’m sorry. I’m so terribly sorry. Would you like me to fetch you a towel for all that sweat? Maybe a glass of water with a slice of lemon? Oh! No, wait... I can’t do those things because you stabbed me in the heart with a stake!” Astrid patronised him, her voice so loud inside his head.

You deserved it!

Peter ground his teeth together in the hopes she’d be drowned out by the sound of molars filing down on one another.

”And now we’ll take in one deep breath and hold it,” the teacher said.

Peter held his breath.

Astrid’s pitch went flat, “All this breathing and more breathing seems to be working. I feel very relaxed here. Namaste.”

Peter saw her hallucinatory projection bow mockingly at the instructor's feet. Peter held back a laugh.

”Silence please,” the teacher chastised when he heard Peter’s breathy laugh.

Yeah, you heard him, silence wench! Peter mocked at Astrid.

Astrid rolled her eyes, “I was being silent. You’re the one who can’t internalise his laughs.”

Whose fault is that? It’s not like my brain isn’t crowded enough already.

”I warned you my kind doesn’t die, you chose to shove that stake into my heart anyway. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours,” she bit back.

”Keep holding,” the teacher said.

Maybe if you weren’t a homicidal bitch!

”Hold,” the teacher repeated.

 “Maybe if you weren’t a homicidal bastard!”

”And, release,” the teacher said serenely.

”Shut up!” Peter barked, startling the class. He scrunched his face and plastered on a charming smile, “Terribly sorry, I wasn’t talking to you.”

Astrid snickered with pride, “Yeah, tell them you were talking to a dead woman that lives in your head, go on, tell them!”

Peter stood from the cushion and bowed to the rest of the class, “I think I’ll be retiring to my quarters. Namaste.”

The entire class looked at him with wide eyes, all their voices quaking from shock and surprise, “N- Namaste.”

Peter rolled his eyes and walked away, We really need to set some ground rules.

“Don’t see why, I’m having a great time,” Astrid shrugged. “I’d rather be in your head, roaming around like some phantom than spend my eternity with the love of my life.”

Suddenly, a high pitched, nearly immobilising sound pierced through Peter’s skull like a hot poker. His eardrums vibrated so frantically he was certain they’d burst. An odd taste filled his mouth and he felt like he’d just swallowed a whole tub of wasabi.

“Gahhh!” he clenched down as he lost his footing and fell through a paper wall. “What is that?”

His claws started growing out of their own accord, eyeballs aching from internalised pressure. Then suddenly it stopped.

Peter picked himself up off the floor and looked down at all the blood that had soaked into his shirt from his nose alone. It was like a murder scene. One of his eyes went bloodshot.

Astrid’s eyes narrowed, her voice chillier than ice, “She has awoken.”

“Who?” Peter asked the ghostly woman, ignoring all the scared faces in the crowd clamouring around him.

“The First Coming.”

Out through the window, Peter could see a flock of birds swarming in a frenzied spiral, their cawing noises irritating his wolfish hearing.

“Well… fuck!” Peter spat the blood out of his mouth and stormed out of the retreat. “It was nice knowing you Buddha.” He threw a piece sigh up to the giant statue, his rash taking on the coherent form of an unmoving symbol.

 ~Below the Mother Three

Worms wiggled out of the earth, screaming inaudibly as they left the solace of the rotting tree. Black mould had webbed across the ancient tree’s trunk like a mossy blanket, bringing with it a foul stench of decay.

Below the surface horizon, root tendrils began to shrivel and rot, turning into puddles of fermenting tree sap. Deep down, at the centre of the trees dying rhizomes, was buried a sarcophagus. A symbol harkening the end of days was chiselled into the stone lid.

Under the airless, lightless, soundless seal of the ancient casket was a mummified body wrapped in black cloth. The inside of the sarcophagus shook, tremors from the earth forcing cracks onto the stone.

Softly, painfully, a single breath was taken and the earth would never be the same.

 This story continues in: Covet of the Wolf

 tags: @melissavercos @divisingstories @theflash-trash @mynamesalreadytaken @island-end @chipster-21 @helloscorpious  @marvelismyfantasy @anonymousfanfics-blog @homra-the-red-clan @derangedangel @phonegalhelp @bowtiesandwhiskers @soldierwinterthe @alina-barnes @sumlariss @luckythepizzadog4444 @tlytxia @drunklili @iamabeautifulperson18 @zenawa @squadkyoya @cassandraevans @moli1497 @wanderlust-travler @143amberrose @humbledarkness @rockyrocket15 @4llmywr1tings @smolbeanfive @500daysofbecky @smolbeanfive

Permatags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet @savethehoneeybees 

[fairyscribbles]

No More Running. (D.O, Romantic Confession)

By the way my loves, no need to worry about me! I decided to clean my folder and I found a lot of stories that I haven’t posted on tumblr yet, and I am pretty proud of them! So these are things that were written a while ago, but you get to see now! <3

-

You pushed your feet to go faster, feeling the strain in your muscles as you sped down the dark alleyway. You muted out the gruff yells that were behind you and your mind was only set on one thing- escaping the situation you’ve gotten yourself into.

You haven’t done anything wrong. You were innocent, and yet it was you who ended up being chased again.

You knew very well who was following you. And you knew they were toying with you. If they would’ve wanted, the vampires would have already ripped your jugular out.

They weren’t doing this for hunger. Oh no, the reason was far more personal than an innocent feeding.

This was an act of revenge, an eye for an eye. But they had the wrong person. You weren’t supposed to be executed for this reason.

You sharply turned left, almost losing your footing as you slammed into the side of the building. You could faintly register the burning on your arm as it scratched against the building, willing yourself to go faster.

This was all just a big mistake. They weren’t supposed to go after you. You weren’t the one closest to Do Kyungsoo, the werewolf they wanted to hurt the most.

Kyungsoo made sure you knew that well.

-

“Look…” he started, pausing after muttering your name. His eyes were set on the ground.

“This isn’t because of you…”

“Oh, of course not. It’s never me, it’s always you.” You cut him off, your hands balled into fists at your sides. He tried to open his mouth to protest, but you didn’t let him.

“At first, it was about you being different. When I showed you I had absolutely no problem with you being a werewolf, you changed the story to the “enormous” age gap problem.” You stated, crooking your fingers in the air in imaginative quote marks. Kyungsoo’s full lips pursed in a thin line, his brows furrowed.

“Even when I said that three years aren’t that bad, you’ve apparently come up with another one.” Crossing your arms on your chest, you glared at him.

“Let’s hear it, then.” He started out with your name again, and no matter how much you loved hearing it rolling off his lips, you willed yourself not to be affected by it.

“I cannot…I’m too dangerous for you.”

“Oh, that is rich.” You scoffed and Kyungsoo showed his distaste of interrupting him by growling deep in his chest. Sometimes, you forget that Kyungsoo is really a dangerous being, but no one could blame you- he is always so gentle and nice, it isn’t hard to let your mind slip with that little fact that he is able to transform into a great beast.

You pursed your lips, holding in all the other snarky comments until he is finished.

“I’m too dangerous. After all these years, I’ve made too many enemies. They could hurt you to get to me. And the biggest enemy is right in this room.” You lifted your eyebrow in question and Kyungsoo pointed at his chest.

“It’s me. I could hurt you so easily…” he muttered almost to himself, as he lifted his hand and his thumb brushed gently over your cheek. It took all you had not to lean into his touch, as you stared into his eyes, which seemed to be torn by uncertainty.

“Just with a flick of my wrist, I could break you bones…”

“You don’t have to flick anything but your tongue, to let those words out and break my heart.” You added, your voice lowering to his whisper. Pain flashed through his eyes and to your dismay, his hand retreated from your skin. He was already taking steps back, away from you.

“I’m sorry, I can’t…I can’t risk it. I’m so sorry.”

You would’ve cried, but you didn’t have the energy anymore. Sadly, you were so used to Kyungsoo walking out on you; it didn’t hurt as much as the last time.

You loved him, and you were sure he loved you back. The fact that after every single time he left, he returned to you made you realize that he was unable to be without you.

Do Kyungsoo’s machinations of his mind were an enigma, you decided, as you stared at the closed door, a thought crept in your head that it might’ve been a metaphor about Kyungsoo.

The closed door might be a metaphor on your relationship with Kyungsoo.

You were left all alone.

-

And alone, you had to face the two bloodthirsty vampires at your heels. You felt that your muscles started to scream in pain, but you couldn’t allow yourself to slow down. Slowing down mean certain death.

“Think fast, wolf bait!” a crystal clear voice called out behind you and not a second later, a sharp rock came in contact with your scalp. With a yelp, you stumbled but kept your balance. Your head throbbed, and that pain seemed to break down the numbness your brain created when they started chasing you.

You were being chased by vampires. And your only hope, the only one that could save you, turned his back on you.

That didn’t stop you from calling for help.

“Help…” the only word whimpered through your lips and the vile creatures behind you cackled.

“No one will come, sweetie. Stop running and we’ll make it quick.”

I don’t want to make it quick. I want to live, you wanted to tell the vampires, but you knew it would be useless.

“Please, help!” your voice grew louder as you took another turn. You noticed your grave mistake too late, that you ran into a dark alley, that was most probably cut off by some obstacle. Your fears came true, as a metal fence started rising above you and soon enough, you collided into it, hoping it would topple over.

Not happening. The fence stood there long before you and it probably will continue standing proud long after you’re gone.

You searched for a weapon of any kind- you were positive that you wouldn’t find any silver in the abandoned alleyway, so you settled for a broken vodka bottle. You clenched it by the throat, facing the predators with shaky legs.

“Leave me alone.” You tried to make your voice firm, but it cracked to a plea in the middle of the sentence, making the vampires laugh.

“We can’t do that, honey. There’s no escape. I’m sorry.” The monster replied and as if his speech triggered your reflex, your legs set off running again.

You didn’t get far though, as an arm shot up to meet you, sending you flying back to the fence. With a cry, you tried to catch your breath, your eyes glazing over with tears.

“Kyungsoo…” his name escaped your lips and your attacker grinned.

“Yes, thank him for killing you.”

“Kyungsoo, help me…” you were far too gone with fear, trying to back up even further into the fence when the vampire started approaching you.

“No! Stay back! Please!”

“So loud…” the other one growled, slapping you across the cheek. The sole impact had you losing your balance as you fell on the ground, knocking your head on some rubbish. Sobbing, you tried to crawl away from your death, into the corner of the building and the fence.

“Please, no!” you cried again, when you felt an iron grip on your ankle yank you away from your haven.

“Shut up already!”

“Say your prayers, flower.”  The first one finally said, lifting his arm to strike you again, but this time, you were sure it would be the last.

“Kyungsoo!” you shrieked, your eyes closing and awaiting the impact.

A growl cut through the air and soon enough, ripping and yells reached your ears, before you covered them, cutting them off.

You wanted out. This was just  a horrible nightmare, you wanted out, to wake up. Or if it had to be real life, you just wanted to die, to finally have it over with and to die in peace. Oh god, that was the only thing you wanted, just to get out…

Your ranting was interrupted by a familiar voice calling your name. At first, you thought it was just your mind playing tricks, but when big hands covered yours, gently prying them off your ears, you heard that concerned voice again.

You opened your eyes and as you stared into Kyungsoo’s worried ones, you couldn’t fight the tears anymore and you broke down, crying.

“Did they hurt you? Hey, ___, talk to me, please.” His hand cupped your chin, tilting you up to meet his gaze again, while his other one gently swiped at the swollen cheek and busted lip that the vampires rewarded you with. His eyes laced with fury, and a growl rumbled off his chest.

“They didn’t bite you, right?” he asked carefully and relief washed over him when you shook your head.

“Did they hurt you anywhere else?”

“You came.” You interrupted his interrogation by throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tight. You refused to let go of him, your grip around his neck was almost bordering with pain, but either way, one of arms wrapped around your back, bringing you impossibly close, while the other one cradled your head.

“I’m so sorry I came so late. I’m so sorry.” He whispered into your ear, while you proceeded to cry into his neck.

“I was so scared…” you were only able to hiccup through your sobs.

“I know, and I’m so sorry, but it’s all okay now, I’m here…” Kyungsoo started rocking you gently, trying to calm you down.

“But for how long? How long until you’ll leave again?” you’ve managed to form a longer sentence now, your grip automatically tightening when you spoke of him leaving.

“Forever. I’ll never leave you again.” His hand ran through your hair, and when he brought out bloody fingers because of your injury, he gently pushed you away so he could look into your eyes.

“I never wanted you to experience something like this. I thought that if I left you, they would lose interest in you, and yet the only thing I did was make you completely vulnerable.” As he spoke, your eyes cast downwards to look at his shirt. He brought your attention back to his face when he kissed your brow gently and you looked up in surprise.

“I promise to take care of you from now until you’ll want me. I’ll never let anything happen to you again. If someone as much as touches you, I’ll make sure they’ll regret it.” The determination in his eyes told you he was speaking the truth. A moment later, uncertainty crept through the irises.

“That is, if you still want me.” Normally, you would’ve scoffed, but now, you wound your arms around his neck again and nodded into his shoulder.

You could feel as Kyungsoo wrapped one arm under your knees and lifted you into his embrace, as if you weighed nothing.

“Never leave me again, please.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

[afanoftheglassscientists]

The Glass Scientist Read-Through - Chapter 1, Pages 1-9

The webcomic’s on break at the moment, so lets just take this moment to go back to the beginning.  I’m going to look though the entirety of Chapter 1, starting this Sunday and finishing it next Sunday.  This week I’m only doing pages 1-9 because I have no restraint and I talk too much because it sets one type of mood but then there’s a sharp cut in the atmosphere with the last panel of page 9.  Chapter 1 is probably going to be the easiest chapter to cut apart because its mostly set-up with just one problem that needs to be tackled.  With that in mind lets enjoy the Spirit of London at Night setting up the mood here.  

As of writing this post Chapter 7 in the comic was just finished, so if you haven’t read up til now there’s going to be light spoilers throughout.  I suggest keeping a tab open with the comic itself as we go through page by page.  Now come read with me!

Chapter 1 (The Wolf on High Street) Cover - It’s the Babey!!!  

First cover is a simple one for the eyes.  It features Jasper’s werewolf form front and center.  A part of his body is missing, leaving only his his bones, fur, clothes and two furry hands politely folded in front of him.  Behind him is a wave of lit torches.  Without his face Jasper appears unaffected by the flames behind him, which spoilers is not true.  But my read on it is that the people holding the torches don’t care what he’s feeling, or what is beyond his bone structure.  They just see the shape of a werewolf and they’re not cool with it.

What’s important to note here is that as of Chapter 7 we still don’t know why Jasper is wearing a dress on the cover.  He hasn’t worn anything similar to it since then, and while there’s conceptual backstory on why that might be on Sabrina’s blog, that backstory is no longer in line with what may be the actual explanation.  So for now I think its just good to put a pin on this cover for when we learn more about Jasper’s life before our story began.

Pages 1-2 - “The Spirit of London at Night” by TSoLaN (The Spirit of London at Night)

...Alright I’ll admit it: I love Hyde’s monologues.  His way with words shows how he truly sees himself as both immortal and unparalleled - he is powerful and never wrong.  He really thinks he’s hot stuff, and he’s completely shameless about it.  Which, you know, is the opposite of how Jekyll feels most of the time. 

I also love how Hyde can’t just say, “Hey I like spooky stuff and this is my hangout.”  No it has to be poetic.  His thoughts must be worthy of Shakespearean prose (whatever that means.)  For someone who can’t stand still for five seconds and claims to have few cares he sure seems to spend a lot of time working on his monologues.

I’ve read through these two pages so many time I’ve lost count, and Hyde’s love for the dramatic and the spooky, along with the imagery, is forever ingrained in my mind.  I could close my eyes and see the fog rolling past the will-o-wisp lamps and I can hear Hyde not even trying to contain his excitement when he says things like, “It is a magical place, a spooky place, my favorite place in the whole wide world!”

Pages 3-5 - Hey Spirit of London [at Night] Shut Up We Needs to Save Babey!!!

Page 3 - So Jasper bursts into the scene teeth out and already terrified.  I don’t know how conscious Jasper is after taking the botched poison, but I know when a dog’s snarling it means that they want you to back off.  I feel like Jasper was already terrified the moment he transformed, and so he bursts through the wall feeling everyone and everything is out to kill him.  Which I mean...he’s right.  Its those fight or flight instincts kicking in.  He chooses flight, but if someone tried grabbing Jasper earlier it might have gone bloody.  I feel like in Jasper’s case being a werewolf before taking the potion was akin to having a six-hour panic attack, but that might be me asserting too much.

I think of this page as changing the scene from “setting up a spooky tale by the campfire” to “chasing away a misunderstood creature by a murderous human mob.”  Every time I get to this page I can’t help but think of the mob song from “Beauty and the Beast.”  Where’s the fanart where Werewolf Jasper is attempting to feed birds but then too many birds land on his hands and soon enough they are perched all across his head and shoulders people!?

Hyde calls Jasper a “beautiful brute,” which I have to laugh at because Jasper is neither beautiful nor a brute.  I mean, he is a cutie pie, but he’s no Morcant, which I feel would disappoint Hyde.  Werewolf is broken, too small!!!

Page 4 - As Jasper runs away we catch a glimpse of the spoopy man himself, taking his sweet time enjoying the scenery.  There’s excitement in Hyde’s eyes as he stares at the mob, like he wants to jump in it.  There’s a lot of high energy going around that mob and Hyde’s a high energy man.  I feel like Hyde wanted to started brawling with the mob.  He could take ‘em!

Meanwhile Jekyll’s like, “Oh no baby is in trouble!!!”  Even before he knew Jasper as a person he calls him a “poor thing.”  This goes in line with how he dealt with Morcant in “Bleeding Heart,” even though an injured Morcant is both way bigger and also far more intimidating than Werewolf Jasper.

Page 5 - Hyde cuts a nice silhouette as he readies a jump from one rooftop to the next, which makes page 5 a bit of a favorite of mine.  Interesting thing to note is Hyde has a cape that quiet similar to Jekyll’s a mysterious stranger who will appear later in the chapter.

Jekyll has to push Hyde to get moving, mainly because I think Hyde enjoys annoying Jekyll.  He probably thinks no matter how late he is on moving Jekyll will find a away to save Jasper, so who cares right?  I’m sure that way of thinking will not come back to bite Hyde in the tush later.  

Pages 6-9 - Jasper the Generic Mad Scientist Versus Jasper the Burgeoning Character

Page 6 - I like the transition of Jasper going from fearful sounds as a wolf to fearful sounds as a person as the potion starts leaking out of him.

Page 7 - I’m absolutely sure Jasper thought he’d meet is end when he sees he’s cornered by the mob.  If not for the police he would have met his end, which is a weird thing to feel.  Not that it makes him feel any better that the police are going to lock him up in place of being killed by the mob.  We get to see Half-formed Jasper, which sadly we don’t get to see after the first chapter.

Page 8 - We meet Sergeant Brokenshire.  He’s pretty calm when talking to Jasper.  I suppose the nicest thing you can say about him at the moment is he’s not trying to kill Jasper.  I do find it weird that he somehow knew Jasper was a mad scientists werewolf instead of just...a werewolf.  Was Jasper being investigated before this happened?  I feel like I’m forgetting something...

Right now we don’t know Jasper yet.  We don’t even know his name at this point.  So it feels like he’s saying a lot of <insert mad sciency line here> stuff.  Like, “my formula” and “repeat my results” and stuff.  Which goes with having to set up the world of The Glass Scientists as having a lot of mad scientists who get in trouble with both mobs and police.

Page 9 - I think this is where I feel like there’s the biggest clash between Jasper the character and Jasper the generic-mad-scientist-that-needs-rescuing.  We don’t really get into Jasper the Character until Chapter 2, but knowing what I know now about Jasper I can’t imagine Jasper referring to his creatures as “my experiments.”  He doesn’t number his creature, he names them!  He has an attachment to them.  So I just find that a bit weird.

Brokenshire has Jasper restrained only after Jasper pukes glowing goop, which shows that Brokenshire isn’t scared that Jasper will fight back as much as he is of him trying to escape.  He’s very much in control of the situation.  But with the clip-clopping of hooves his grip on the situation is going to loosen.  

Speaking of the clip-clopping I think the last panel marks an abrupt end to the “misunderstood beast is being attacked” setting and swiftly goes into “an elegant and out-of-this-world gentleman has come!” vibe.  This is where the mob song stops mid-sentence.

That’s it for today.  Next weeks I’ll finish off Chapter 1 with pages 10-23, and then the Sunday after I’m going to do a Sunday Prediction for what I feel might be featured in the upcoming chapter.  Just hang in there!  Two more weeks and we’ll be back to weekly updates.

Until then, let me know what you thought of when reading this first part of chapter 1.