#Not every kid with a werewolf parent is necessarily a werewolf themselves

[chronicsheepdrawing]

Those afflicted with lycanthropy can train themselves to be more cognizant in their wolf form; although doing so is easier for individuals that are born lycanthropes as opposed to ones who are bitten.

[rotworld]

Lance's Pack: The Beast That Wants

an anon asked:

I haven't seen any asks about this, so I must do it: if Reader was to foolishly give Basil belly rubs, how quickly would they find themselves ass up and head down?

basil hasn't gotten the spotlight yet so this is a good opportunity to give him a look. it will actually take a while to get to this point. he's very, very nervous around the pack human and reluctant to touch them at first, but don't let that fool you into thinking he's safe. i'd say he's actually the most dangerous due to his repression and being so out of touch with his wolf side. if he ever loses control, fucking the pack human won't necessarily be his first impulse.

->basil/reader. explicit mentions but mostly suggestive. contains mentions of non-con, hard vore, captivity, human/werewolf power imbalance, feral behavior, mentions of knotting.

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The alpha is omnipresent. A guiding hand on his shoulder; a voice in his head. 

“They’re ours, Basil,” he’d said in that effortlessly authoritative drawl, standing on the porch of the main cabin with his arms crossed over his chest. Basil can’t remember what he was even doing there, what else they’d talked about. He just remembers the alpha, the wistful look in his amber-flecked eyes, the steady certainty of his voice as he told Basil, “They’re ours. That’s how it works. Don’t feel guilty for wanting, unless you want too much.” 

The mountain was thawing, the ice on the ground turning to soft slush. In a sun-warmed clearing, Max knelt beside you and you looked so small beside him, so weak in comparison. He taught you all the different animal tracks that crisscrossed through the commune and Basil eavesdropped, heard every little breath you took. Your lips were pursed in a thoughtful frown, brows furrowed with focus. Max’s hand rested on your shoulder, firm but gentle, and he leaned in so close that Basil knew he must be engulfed in your sweet human scent.

Basil had watched with saliva pooling on his tongue and throbbing heat between his legs. He had wanted. But what was too much? He was afraid to ask. Afraid of being a disappointment and hearing he’d already crossed the line. In the city, “want” is a beast, an impulse that must be collared and controlled where humans are concerned. Fragile—that was the word his parents always used. Basil conceptualized humans as flimsy things, little different than the colored glass sculpture of intertwined tulips that his mother kept on the mantel. Beautiful. Breakable. Forever out of reach. 

He had to be gentle when he played with the human kids in the neighborhood, had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep his wolf teeth in and never, ever use his claws. “Want” was selfishness and untamed impulse, and he was better than that. He had to be if he was going to fit in.

Then one day, the alpha came back with you, pinned you down, and fucked you right there in the clearing where the whole pack could see and hear it. Fragile, Basil thought in a dizzy, distant way, watching your soft flesh unravel under Lance’s claws, how you cried and screamed and thrashed and finally, with a helpless wail, gave up.

Fragile. That’s what humans were. And yet you took everything the alpha had to give and did not break. That meant something. Basil was sure of it. He saw how your face shone with tears and your back arched and you raked your nails through the mud as the alpha grunted and slammed into you with his teeth in your neck. It went against everything, absolutely everything that Basil had ever been taught, and he wrestled with the sticky sickness of guilt settling in his chest while that traitorous animal want laced through his veins.

His life is curving jigsaw pieces with edges that don’t match. He can’t reconcile it, can’t make it all fit together. Humans—declawed and self-domesticated with their bright prey eyes and frightened heartbeats, weak and helpless animals that are one careless nip away from grievous injury. And yet how can that be when wild packs keep them, treat them no differently from their wolves? You’re as hardy as any stubborn evergreen growing along the edge of the commune, bending but never breaking beneath winter’s weight.

He was lied to. That’s the only thing that makes sense. But who lied? His family? The wolves he met in school? This new pack who welcomed him when no one else would? It’s unthinkable that his alpha would deceive him like this. Lance grew up on the boundary, half-wild and wise. He knows things. He’s taught Basil how to live when he’d nearly forgotten, showed him how to see the forest with new eyes and catch the faintest scents on the morning wind. 

So the guilt festers and the indecision winds tighter, and all Basil knows for sure is that he wants. It’s hard. He mostly avoids you. Doesn’t want to touch you because you’re glass and wildflowers and a house of cards, and delicate is not the way of the wolf. And worse—what if you’re not any of those things? What if you don’t break and the want never wanes? Will he be able to stop himself when that first gush of blood fills his mouth? Will he know “too much” when he feels it? He slinks out of the room when you show up, keeps to the walls and edges, watches from a distance. He curls up in his wolfskin and pretends to be fast asleep, watching you draw closer, your guard dropping, your pensive expression softening into something that fills his body with heat. 

Sometimes you pet him, like a dog. Your palm smooths over his head in absent, automatic motions or travels the ridge of his shoulders, his spine, patting the length of his body. You think those soft sounds are a dream he’s having, but he’s fully lucid. He’s thinking about you. He’s wanting.

It would be so easy. So, so easy. He could twist around and have you under him before you even think to draw breath. It’s true that he’s smaller than almost all of the others, weaker, slower, not as steady on his feet, but you are human, all softness and dulled instinct. You’ll never stand a chance against him. He could plant his claw on your back and clamp his jaw around your shoulder, bite through fabric, flesh and sinew. That’s the heart of the problem. The others, they talk about knotting and bites and scent-marking, and Basil wants all of that with his whole heart, but that’s not all. That’s not enough. 

He gets off on nothing but the thought, the conjured image of you bent in submission. Chasing you through the woods. Hunting you like prey. Stalking and subduing, your blunt human nails scraping uselessly against his sides, bloodied and beaten under him. He wants to hear the wet crunch of your body between his teeth, wants to taste the tangy meat beneath your skin. He wants you to fight and lose and give yourself to him, wants to rut against you, wants his cum painting your skin. 

He doesn’t want to kill you but he’s so afraid that he will. There’s no end to the fantasy, no point at which he tells himself that he’s had enough. His teeth catch and drag and shred you to pieces forever. He strokes himself hard and fast in the shower every morning where it’s at least a little easier to mask the scent and smell from the others, because they can’t know. He can’t tell anyone, not even the alpha. His want is another wolf, a beast that’s lived its whole life in a cramped kennel, sharpening its teeth on iron bars. It’s never known temperance, only abstinence. If he lets it out, he’s afraid it will devour you whole.

“Basil?” 

He stiffens slightly and you see it, he knows you do. You freeze up in the doorway, head peeking in, one foot still in the hall. Godfuckingdammit, he thinks. He was so lost in thought he didn’t hear you coming.

“Sorry,” you say, softer than you need to. “Didn’t mean to wake you. You’re Basil, right? I’m still—sometimes I can’t tell…” You trail off, embarrassed. He thinks it’s kind of funny you struggle to tell them apart in wolfskin. He’d never tease you about it. His sense of smell is weaker than the others and he still messes up sometimes. His first week at the commune, he mixed up Max and the alpha, and hid in his room drowning in humiliation for almost two days before the beta coaxed him out asking for help tidying the common space. 

You’re nervous. You stink of it, even to his weak nose, the acrid, salty smell of sweat and panic rolling off you in waves. He stretches with a soft sigh, paces a little circle to get comfortable again, and settles in against the couch cushions.

“Do you mind if I just…?” 

No, Basil wants to say. No, he doesn’t mind. He loves that you trust him. That you sit first on the furthest edge of the couch but come closer, drawn by his warmth and the thick softness of his fur. You know he’s awake this time and that makes you timid, makes you hesitate, your movements even more cautious, watching his face carefully. But Basil sits absolutely still and his patience is rewarded by your hand stroking the back of his neck and your thigh pressed against the curve of his body. 

The want is there. It gnashes its teeth, strains against the bars of its cage. Basil lets out a huff and tamps it down as he’s always done before. It isn’t easy. You have no idea how hard he fights, how much discipline it takes to hold back the way he does. But he does because it’s important. You come here, to him, and he knows it’s because he hasn’t done what the others have. That means something. Basil doesn’t know what yet. Someone lied to him, maybe once, maybe lots of times. He doesn’t know what the truth is. He doesn’t know the depths of his own want; doesn’t know if there is a bottom.

“They’re ours,” the alpha said. Those words echo forever in the chasm of his want, all the way down. With their head in the mud and their hips in hard, clawed hands, begging for mercy that would never come—that is how it’s supposed to be. 

Basil shifts again, resting his head in your lap. And you, human, sweet and soft and so weak compared to him, so easy to overpower, to conquer, to destroy—you scratch behind his ears and he lets out a shuddering, guilty sigh.

[emhowling]

e m m a   l o u i s e   v a n i t y

basics:

name: emma louise vanity. pronunciation: eh·muh loo·ease va·nuh·tee. meaning: emma- whole & universal. louise- famous warrior. birthday: august 13th. age: twenty-two. pronouns: she & her & they. sexuality: bisexual. siblings: heather, trey, & sage vanity. the pack. parents: darrell & darlene vanity. rosalyn & fenrir greyback. other family: the greyback pack. languages: english. romani. grunts. current residence: trailer in the greyback caravan. hometown: warwickshire.

wizard fun:

hogwarts house: slytherin. year of graduation: 1977. occupation: tattoo artist & piercer at markus scarr’s. pet: beta fish named nicole. blood status: muggleborn. species: werewolf. patronus: leopardess. leopards are graceful hunters. they symbolize elegance in spite of adversity and looming danger. they are great representations of warriors and hunters. it also symbolizes stealth and strength. both traits are good to have if you’re hunting or seeking something. sensuality and passion are usually attributed to them. additionally, they are considered symbols of privacy and secrets.  boggart: emma is very, very claustrophobic. she is always terrified of being locked into a small confined space or being chain up. amortentia:   blackberries. emma doesn’t necessarily love blackberries, but she does love anything that is blackberry flavored. blackberry pies, blackberry cobblers, blackberry jams, jellies, lollipops, and even blackberry wine is her favorite thing to have. they used to grow at the treeline of the playground behind the trailer where she was born. wildflowers. no matter where or what time if emma sees wildflowers growing, she’ll stop to enjoy them. they’ve always been a secret love of hers and frankly, she finds them far more beautiful than any curated flowers. they’re never the same thing twice, but they make everywhere smell infinitely better. whiskey. it isn’t even her drink of choice. if asked, emma would much rather be let loose with tequila. there is just something about the smell of high brow whiskey that reminds her of something happy. wand type: 9 1/3″, black walnut wood wand with a dragon heartstring core, stubborn and bouncy. less common than the standard walnut wand, that of black walnut seeks a master of good instincts and powerful insight. black walnut is a very handsome wood, but not the easiest to master. it has one pronounced quirk, which is that it is abnormally attuned to inner conflict, and loses power dramatically if its possessor practices any form of self-deception. if the witch or wizard is unable or unwilling to be honest with themselves or others, the wand often fails to perform adequately and must be matched with a new owner if it is to regain its former prowess. paired with a sincere, self-aware owner, however, it becomes one of the most loyal and impressive wands of all, with a particular flair in all kinds of charmwork. as a rule, dragon heartstrings produce wands with the most power, and which are capable of the most flamboyant spells. dragon wands tend to learn more quickly than other types. while they can change allegiance if won from their original master, they always bond strongly with the current owner. the dragon wand tends to be easiest to turn to the dark arts, though it will not incline that way of its own accord. It is also the most prone of the three cores to accidents, being somewhat temperamental. affiliation: de affiliated, loyalty only to the greybacks.

appearance:

height: 5′. hair color: brown. eye color: brown. typical hair style: tied up into a bun on top of her hand with a scarf wrapped around it or braided in intricate patterns. fashion style: emma wears a little bit of this and a little bit of that. a lot of her clothes are acquired by just being near her and wearable. she goes through a lot of clothes given how tough she is on the fabric. there is a lot of layering, but there’s nothing emma hates more than being too hot so she had the tendency to shed them until she’d comfortable. [ fashion ] distinguishing features: emma has a lot of scars over her body, some full moon related and other not. she has a few small tattoos. her weight fluctuates somewhat wildly based on the lunar cycle, and sometimes she does look markedly pallid. notably when she smiles, she has deep set dimples.

personality:

positive traits: innovative. nimble. artistic. negative traits: combative. disorganized. tactless. theme song: hungry like the wolf by duran duran.

headcanons:

emma has been drawing for as long as she can remember. if there’s a pencil or pen or quill in sight, emma will pick it up and set to drawing something. her favorite medium is definitely charcoal since it’s the easiest to come by and use quickly.

fuck shoes. if given a choice, emma would literally go barefoot all of the time. she kicks off her shoes at any given opportunity, and especially likes to go running when she is barefooted.

emma is a small girl and perhaps an even smaller wolf. it’s easy to spot her on a full moon as she is particularly small and irritatingly fast on her feet. she’s been lovingly referred to as the runt of the litter more often than not.

biography:

Darrell and Darlene Vanity never intended to be absent parents. Truly they didn’t, but they were young, and they were poor. Four children weren’t cheap. It took a lot of extra shifts, saving, and scraping by to just afford the power and water in their little trailer at the very edge of the park where the fence didn’t quite meet ends. More often than not, they were all four left to fend for themselves. More often than not, there just wasn’t enough room in the confined little trailer. The parents slept in the large bed crammed in the small side room with the eldest two kids, but the youngest two had a kitchen table that converted down so a mattress could slide on top. Needless to say, Emma Vanity always felt a bit trapped in such mundane circumstances.

There was a big hole in the fence around the back that the kids could crawl through while no one was looking. Emma couldn’t remember the first time she snuck through that old rusted metal to the playground on the other side. If asked, she would tell you that it was the first day she learned how to toddle out the front door of the trailer. She would spend hours on the swings, the seesaw, the merry go round, and the slides. Most of the fixtures barely worked, but it was a good escape for the Vanity kids. It was where Emma made her first drawing. It was where she broke her arm for the first time. It was where she first met the Greybacks. 

Only eight years old at the time, and already far too keen to escape her surroundings. Emma skipped school more often than not, it felt like the trailer in too many ways. Small-minded and confined by the walls of a big prison where the adults yelled at you for needing to piss or drawing on your tests or running at full speed down the hall. It just wasn’t a place for someone like her, and she didn’t need to be any older to see it. There was more to her than the other snotty little kids around her. Even if no one else could see it from the trailer trash. She had been busy that day trying to repair the rusted chain of the old swing set with the little bit of that unexplained extra she possessed, which later Emma learned was the beginning of her magic slipping through, when she got caught.

From the treeline, a woman stepped forward. She was perhaps the most beautiful person that Emma had ever seen. The first thing she did was tell Emma that she was special. Well they could definitely agree on that. The woman offered her more. More than a trailer and more than a rusted playground and distant school. More than parents who forgot her and siblings who didn’t notice her. Emma took her hand and never looked back. Frankly, she never even knew if her parents put up missing posters or not. It was probably a relief to have one less mouth to feed. 

Fenrir wasted no time biting her. That first transition was the hardest thing that she had ever had to go through. The pain of shedding her skin will be seared into the very core of her memory for the rest of her life. Yet, there was never any hesitation because she was a child or even any thought that she could not keep up with the rest of the pack. It was just expected that she would, and Emma lived for that independence. The Greybacks held to every promise made to her. They were far more parents to her than the Vanity’s had ever been. They raised her.

It was harder than she wanted to admit to leave them for Hogwarts, but ‘kids go to school’. So Emma went. It was confining at first. There was too much she wasn’t allowed to do again. It wasn’t easy to keep things under wraps, Emma had never been a very good secret keeper. Her first year, she certainly spent more time in detention than she ever did in class. She would spend hours drawing the intricate architecture of the castle and her classmates in various states of distress or joy. That is when she discovered Quidditch. She was hooked. The only reason she started to do her coursework was so that her marks would be good enough to play. A proper chaser in all regards. She even managed captain in her later years. It was likely the only reason she didn’t drop out in her fifth year like her parents had. That and a handful of good friends she wasn’t quite ready to lose. Besides, apparently the accommodations for werewolves had really improved in recent years. It wasn’t unbearable to tolerate the time. 

After graduation, Emma returned to her pack. Fenrir had made a deal with the devil, and that was just fine by her. It wasn’t as if she was particularly keen on a war, but it was always fun to have something to do. It kept her close enough to her school friends too. She trusted him with her life. That included what said life entailed. If he thought it was the right call, Emma would believe him. However, there’s been a building tension about just how right that call might be. In her spare time, she picked up a relatively flexible job at the local tattoo parlor as an artist and piercer, but there is a part of her that is screaming- what’s next?

[luxaurorarpg]

DORCAS MEADOWES, aka THE WILDCARD is 23-25 years old and a MUGGLEBORN alumni GRYFFINDOR. Her allegiance is THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX, and she is currently OPEN. Potential faceclaims include Assa Sylla, Yara Shahidi, Zendaya Coleman. *Dorcas must be Black*

AESTHETIC 

cherry red lips, patron filled shot glasses, missed calls at 2am, black lace, loud music, hurricanes, colored hair, crisp cat eyes, ripped bralettes, the touch of velvet, hickey covered necks, tiled bathroom walls, messy hair, neon lights, sleepy eyes, oversized jackets, ripped skinny jeans, boxer braids, smudged red lipstick, wildfire, kickboxing, sparklers, a rainbow prism, smiling with all your teeth

MOMENTS

The day she was born she was left on the doorstep of her father’s house with nothing but a note and a blanket wrapped around her. Given to a father that hadn’t known he had a child and nowhere near had his life together to be raising one, she was doomed from the start. At the very least he tried. However, four years old and Dorcas started showing signs of magic. With a muggle father that was usually less than sober, he cannot help but believe he has become delusional. Dorcas was dropped off at the police station with a note pinned to her jacket. Four years old and Dorcas never saw her father again. 

By the time she was eleven she had been in eight different homes and she didn’t have a care in the world. She has been labeled as a troubled child, a difficult kid, a future drop out, and Dorcas couldn’t be bothered to prove them wrong. Everyone has already given up on her before she could even try. Dorcas knew in her bones that she was different, but sometimes wondered if she was truly just making it up for attention the way her foster parents claimed she was. However, her eleventh birthday came and with it an old wizard and an explanation. Dorcas got a new family - a wizarding one this time, and she couldn’t help but put her guard up, assuming this one would fall through all the same. 

Sixteen year old Dorcas was a wild child with a good heart buried under layers of trauma. Emmeline Vance became her best friend, and the only person that knew how to get through her walls. Sixteen and she was still with the Weasley family, despite all the grief she caused trying to push them away. At this point, she started to believe that maybe, just maybe, people aren’t always out to screw her. Sixteen she learned the truth about the girl that could be as wild as herself, and Dorcas felt protectiveness over someone else for the first time in her life. Olivia, whose heart beat to the same rhythm as her own, was a werewolf and Dorcas wondered how the hell she'd kept it a secret for so long. 

Twenty four and some things never change. Dorcas is still as imprudent and guarded as ever. Despite the people that have stayed, she knows that the only person she can ever truly rely on is herself. Always a survivor, she will do whatever it takes during this war to ensure her own interests. Before now no one has ever fought for her, and she’s never felt any reason to fight a battle that isn’t hers or the few people she gives a damn about in the world. At twenty four she lives as though she’s going to die tomorrow, and holds a job that gives her the funds to do so. The Weasley family still treats her like they’re her own, and after she became an adult, she was forced to accept that maybe, just maybe, they gave a damn about her. Twenty four and Dorcas knows she should be planning the rest of her life, but she never really expected to get this far. 

TRAITS

Insouciant 

Magniloquent

Course

Fickle

Imprudent

Acerbic

CONNECTIONS

ARTHUR WEASLEY - The brother she never expected to have, Dorcas never planned on having any family of her own. When the Weasley’s first took her in, she did everything she could to keep them as far away from her as possible. By the time they got her, Dorcas was sure they would only cause her more pain in the end. However, as an adult, they’re under no obligation to keep her. They don’t have to invite her round to holidays, family dinners, or call her every week to see how she’s doing, and yet, they do. Arthur fought hard to be her brother, and Dorcas has finally resigned herself to the fact that she is in fact his sister, for better or worse. 

EMMELINE VANCE - Most people saw the facade that Emmeline wore, but Doe was always particularly good at picking out a mask. Having worn one for all of her life, she knew when she saw one, and had no qualms calling it out. When it came to the older woman, they formed both an unlikely and yet completely unbreakable friendship. Doe wouldn’t call herself a loyal person, and yet, she was undeniably loyal to Emmeline. 

OLIVIA BONES - Olivia was the spark that changed Dorcas’ entire perception of the world. She was courage in a bottle and kindness in a teacup. When she was around her, Dorcas felt both safe and like she wanted to be the best version of herself. Finding out that she was a werewolf had been a shock, and it had been the first time that Doe had cared for a cause bigger than herself. Watching Olivia fight her life and win only to lose it all, she couldn’t help but want to help her. While Dorcas hadn’t necessarily claimed a side in this war, she would stand by Olivia and fight for her, because her best friend deserved better than this. 

FABIAN PREWETT - While their friendship had survived Hogwarts and beyond, their relationship had varied over the years. While they had started as rivals of sorts, they had become friends not long after. At times they had been more than that, but neither one was particularly good at handling emotional intimacy, which ruined them every time. However, despite their ability to handle a romantic relationship, their friendship stayed intact over the years, and because of that, they sometimes found themselves falling back into old comforts. The chemistry has always been there between them, it’s everything else that’s complicated.

[goraturtle]

1 - 43 please!

WHEWWWWW, i told myself i’d do these questions for two of my main current ocs i play in weekly motw sessions, Astrid and Frankie, if i got any, so let’s goooooo

under a readmore bc this is long and i’m not evil

What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

Astrid - if she’s with someone? Astrid could probably sit in companionable silence for hours, and she’s very much a “falling asleep on people as a love language” kind of person, so if she trusts u and has time to kill she Will fall asleep on you. If she’s by herself waiting for something to happen or already twitchy to begin with? she could probably stand like 3 minutes before getting agitated and pacing around or finding something to do

Frankie - if she’s ever in a spot where she can’t think of anything to do, she will Find something to do and then get so absorbed in it she won’t move an inch over the course of literal hours. either that or if she’s with people she’ll be content to just laze around and hang out

How easy is it for your character to laugh?

Astrid - not very easy at all, she’s more likely to roll her eyes at you if you try to say something funny or elbow you sharply in the ribs if she doesn’t approve of your joke lol

Frankie - extremely easy, frankie is generally pretty easygoing + especially loves to make other people laugh

How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)

Astrid - this kid is kind of a mess so she’s very much one of those “go over everything in your head that could possibly go wrong in the future” kind of people, which, as you can imagine, doesn’t rlly help with sleep

Frankie - for plot reasons [tw terminal illness ///] (ie. Frankie is actually extremely ill and her backstory is that she came to town seeking a magical cure to save her own life) Frankie is usually so bone weary she doesn’t need a routine. From a young age she’s been good at falling asleep wherever/whenever she wants, but these days the second she hits a slightly cushioned piece of furniture, she’s out like a light (and also a very heavy sleeper)

How easy is it to earn their trust?

Astrid - surprisingly easy if you’re a decent person. she might still be slow to open up but that doesn’t mean that trust isn’t there. for all her prickliness, Astrid likes to believe in the good in people (to her frustration)

Frankie - Not that easy actually! Frankie likes to believe in the good in people too, but she tends to be highly suspicious of strangers

How easy is it to earn their mistrust?

Astrid - depends on the person, very VERY difficult if you’re someone she’s already trusted bc she has a hard time wrapping her head/heart around betrayal (even if she projects otherwise) but if you’re just some rando it’s easy to land yourself on her shitlist

Frankie - Also not easy, she doesn’t mistrust unless you give her a reason to. She’s just pretty neutral on people and tries to cover her bases until she’s got cause to believe otherwise

Do they consider laws flexible, or immovable?

Astrid - my baby was a thief for most of her life before getting scooped up and conscripted into being a superhero, so in general she does not give a shit about the law

Frankie - you know, for a law school dropout you’d think Frankie would care more about laws, but she doesn’t. not even a little bit.

What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

Astrid - I think seeing happy families for her is a unique trigger, reminds her of when her mom was still around and when her twin siblings were babies. She was separated from the twins for years, and has reconnected with one of them, so I think even spending time w/ her little sis has been triggering major nostalgia as well. She wants to tell her baby sister more about how things were (Caroline was too little to retain most memories from back then) but doesn’t want to push too hard, and doesn’t know how to open up about memories she’s kept close for years. The feeling is painful, but little by little she’s learning to cope w/ it and appreciate it.

Frankie - Happy families is probably a trigger for Frankie as well, since she left home after highschool after getting into a dumb argument w/ her dad. She was always going to go home after getting her law degree, but got her diagnosis + discovered the existence of magic and that changed everything. That nostalgia is extremely painful for her, and she tries to block it out as much as possible, since she knows that the next time she sees her parents it’ll either be after she figures out a cure for herself or once she gives up completely and goes home to accept her fate

What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child

Astrid - she was a bit of a gregarious wildchild so it was a lot of exasperated “get DOWN from there” “Astrid stop RUNNING” “Don’t forget to hold my hand when we cross the street!!!”s from her mom lol. poor woman.

Frankie - Frankie was a very shy little kid, so it was a lot of gentle coaxings from her parents for her to speak up

Do they swear? Do they remember their first swear word?

Astrid - fuck yeah she does, hers was probably “fuck you”

Frankie - absolutely. she probably swore the first time after hearing her dad cuss or something, so it’d be something like “son of a bitch” or something (her dad probably lost his mind laughing after he heard her say it, and her mom would NOT have been happy w him lol)

What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them?

Astrid - She hasn’t told her baby sister that she was a thief before her current gig, and that makes her feel bad honestly

Frankie - the lie by omission about her general health and why she came to town in the first place. it haunts her literally every single day.

How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?

Astrid - she does not ask questions, probably acts like she understands/is above the conversation but you could definitely catch her side-eyeing people or eavesdropping to try and understand

Frankie - outright is like ‘haha what’

How do they deal with an itch found in a place they can’t quite reach?

Astrid - will scratch herself on every single inanimate object she can reach, scowling the entire time

Frankie - complain very loudly to incite sympathy and help

What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color?

Astrid - she generally wears a lot of black/dark blue. She looks good in dark blue, but she also looks great in brighter jewel tones (she won’t wear them though bc she thinks it’s ‘Too Much’)

Frankie - she wears a TON of color all the time, think tacky buttondowns every single day, but she thinks she looks best in that soft peachy kind of orange (and she’s absolutely right)

What animal do they fear most?

Astrid - *takes a long draw off an old wooden pipe* Mankind

Frankie - she was kind of woodsy as a kid, living in montana, so i don’t think she’s really afraid of any animals. maybe a healthy respect for bears? now that she’s a werewolf i don’t think she’s scared of any animals at all

How do they speak? Is what they say usually thought of on the spot, or do they rehearse it in their mind first?

Astrid - definitely an on-the-spot thinker

Frankie - she’s very careful about what she says, generally, but she can blurt stuff out if she’s feeling emotional/not in control

What makes their stomach turn?

Astrid - cruelty in general. She’s lived a hard life and isnt afraid to punch hard, but she doesn’t understand delighting in someone’s suffering

Frankie - thoughts of impending inescapable death

Are they easily embarrassed?

Astrid - depends, most things won’t rattle her but I think genuine affection when she isn’t expecting it will get her a little flustered

Frankie - no she’s a rock. the only thing that could make her blush would be like a genuine romantic confession + someone being interested in her in that way

What embarrasses them?

whoops, see above

What is their favorite number?

Astrid - does not care

Frankie - 420

If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so?

Astrid - she’d probably roll her eyes and be like “Don’t be stupid, do I really have to explain something so obvious to you?”

Frankie - “Well first of all if I wanna kiss them on the lips it’s romantic”

Why do they get up in the morning?

Astrid - more habit than anything most days, but she gets up for her little sister, for her teammates, and in the hopes that they’ll be able to find the other twin, her brother, very soon

Frankie - very much does not want to die or let down the people who have supported her since coming to down.

How does jealousy manifest itself in them (they become possessive, they become aloof, etc)?

Astrid - she’d get possessive but ONLY in private, afterwards. Astrid would react off the cuff and get pretty pissy, but get even angrier at herself for lashing out + leave/avoid the person for a while to try and control herself

Frankie - I don’t think she’s used to being possessive so it would take her completely by surprise. She’d get very hurt, and wouldn’t necessarily be aloof, but she’d try to remove herself from the situation so she’s ‘not in the way’. She’d probably get pissed at herself for even feeling hurt, when it’s not like she’s in any position to be laying the foundation for a future anywhere

How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)?

Astrid - thief, so. she will definitely just take that shit provided there’s nothing else to make her hesitate (ie. it’s not a special trinket/memento and provided the person she’s stealing from isn’t struggling to make ends meet)

Frankie - I can’t see her getting envious over a possession or anything honestly

Is sex something that they’re comfortable speaking about? To whom?

Astrid - yeah, why not honestly. I think she’d be fine talking generally about it w/ anyone. She does NOT want to hear any details about her two madly in love middle aged coworkers fucking, though, please no

Frankie - definitely. not a lot of romantic experience, but Frankie is old hat at hookups/one night stands and doesn’t shy away from talking about it if asked. I think she’s more embarrassed about never having been in a real relationship than she is about her sexual history

What are their thoughts on marriage?

Astrid - her mom never got married (she has a different father from the twins, and in both cases the dad fucked off and left after her mom realized she was pregnant) and she is terrified of letting people down, so at the moment she isn’t rlly excited about that kind of thing. Her ex, Charlie, also betrayed her and hurt her pretty badly, and even though they were teenagers Astrid still thought of her as being The One, so she’s doubtful about ever finding or wanting to find a replacement. She’s still young and traumatized though, and I can easily see her mind changing

Frankie - literally domestic life would be bliss for her, but she doesn’t even let herself think about a serious relationship, let alone marriage, bc she does not anticipate living long

What is their preferred mode of transportation?

Astrid - she had this shitty old 2003 chevy silverado she drove for years that she’s still got a soft spot for, even if she’ll swear up and down to any witness that she hates the damn thing

Frankie - she’s got a little prius-c bc i wanted to shove her into a clown car, but she grew up on her parents’ horse farm in montana and tbh. nothing can beat horseback for her.

What causes them to feel dread?

Astrid - these days? being alone/feeling exposed. She’s gotten used to her backup. Also thinking about her lost twin brother has been a major source of dread/pain for her lately

Frankie - when she wakes up in the morning and the body aches and chills are worse than the day before

Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth?

Astrid - no and if she caught someone lying to her just to save her feelings she’d be SO mad, prepare to get ur ass beaten by this maladjusted 5′1 twenty five year old

Frankie - definitely not. which is hypocritical as hell for her, all things considered

Do they usually live up to their own ideals?

Astrid - she sets very high standards for herself that she can’t possibly meet, so no. she’s still trying to feel like she belongs as a superhero

Frankie - usually, but obviously her lying about her health is a major blind spot where she becomes extremely hypocritical

Who do they most regret meeting?

Astrid - i’d say on the surface she says she regretted meeting her ex, Charlie, but that’s not true, not even a little bit. She’s still heartsick over everything that happened between them

Frankie - there was an incident with a werewolf hunter (who Frankie had helped to save the life of) going after Lou and Selene. Lou got shot (Frankie healed him) and the two of them had to kill her, which was obviously traumatizing for them. Frankie still wishes that they’d never even seen the hunter in the first place and regrets saving her life

Who are they the most glad to have met?

Astrid - when she was conscripted into the superhero biz and given her powers, she was put onto a team with two other supers named Arsenal and Bullet (the other player characters, real names are Heather and Cyrus), who are middle aged pros very used to the field. Astrid’s only 25 so they naturally kind of leaned into the parent relationship, and Astrid loves them so much. It was rocky at first because Astrid was adjusting and wasn’t even sure she wanted to be there, but they have been so patient and kind at this point i think Astrid would literally do anything for them

Frankie - the other player characters, again (two twins named Selene and Lou who are members of the local werewolf pack. Frankie got bit in the first session to see if a werewolf’s healing abilities could cure her. It didn’t work), but especially Selene. They’ve been bonding a lot lately and as much as Frankie wants to keep everyone at bay in case she fails and has to leave town in the middle of the night, everyone she’s met in town has made a big impact on her.

Do they have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke?

Astrid - her only ‘joke’ is that she rolls her eyes constantly. in the early games when she was still too emotionally constipated to really chat with Arsenal/Heather and Bullet/Cyrus i made her roll her eyes like every 3 seconds. She doesn’t think she’s a very funny person and spent a lot of time growing up trying to focus on keeping herself fed/safe so she feels awkward trying to crack jokes + has a (correct) feeling that most of her ‘stories’ from her teenage years would horrify Heather and Cyrus

Frankie - she’s been very cagey about details about her personal life in-game, but I am very excited for her to tell the story about when a horse kicked her and broke 3 ribs when she was like 8

Could they be considered lazy?

Astrid - definitely not. this girl would not know how to relax if you paid her

Frankie - if she’s stoned? yes. (she self medicates)

How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt?

Astrid - hard, but she also doesn’t seek validation from other people. A pep talk from her two favorite work parents would probably go a long way (which is probably a small reason why she doesn’t ask for that from them, since she’s a little self-punishing)

Frankie - easy enough throughout the day when she’s busy, but feelings like that tend to come for you when things get quiet

How do they treat the things their friends come to them excited about? Are they supportive?

Astrid - not used to people coming to her bc they’re excited, usually ppl come to her w/ Problems, but she’d be very supportive, if a bit awkward

Frankie - VERy supportive, 10/10, will get extremely invested for your sake

Do they actively seek romance, or do they wait for it to fall into their lap?

Astrid - she sought it out with her ex Charlie, initially, when they were teenagers, and has been kind of closed off ever since, aside from the occasional one night stand here and there. Even those, she waits for it, though. Having your ex kick you out and try to hurt you does a number on the ol’ self esteem. She’s not really interested in romance currently

Frankie - doesn’t seek it out at all except in a purely sexual context when she’s bored (w/ others strictly looking for the same) bc she doesn’t feel like she’s got enough time left to give to someone right now. Also, genuinely, she’s got some self esteem issues as well and can’t fathom someone wanting her for more than just one night

Do they have a system for remembering names, long lists of numbers, things that need to go in a certain order (like anagrams, putting things to melodies, etc)?

Astrid - nope, not at all. If she did she would have gotten a lot better grades in middle school/early high school (she dropped out like freshman year)

Frankie - she just writes everything down in a notebook

What memory do they revisit the most often?

Astrid - the night that Charlie told her to get lost and then tried to kill her. She hasn’t come to terms with it yet.

Frankie - the last time she saw her parents. When her dad lost his temper and said “If you’re gonna walk out that door then don’t come back” and she, in all of her 18 year old stubbornness, followed directions to the letter. She had a good relationship w/ her dad, they’re both just stubborn and stupid. she wishes she could have repaired things sooner

How easy is it for them to ignore flaws in other people?

Astrid - extremely easy, she doesn’t exactly see herself as having a leg to stand on.

Frankie - easy, everyone fucks up, she’s more interested in communication and willingness to make things better than she is in perfection

How sensitive are they to their own flaws?

Astrid - EXTREMELY sensitive

Frankie - fairly sensitive, she’s very self aware of her shortcomings but stays quiet about them since most of them are really only apparent to her

How do they feel about children?

Astrid - loves kids, terminal big sis syndrome. will never want her own bc she’s terrified of fucking up and thinks she would make a bad mom

Frankie - likes kids, once again doesn’t rlly think about them as being a possibility for her. When she’s cured and ready to start considering a future (the gm isn’t gonna kill her i trust her too much we’re just in this for the angst) i think she’ll really want children, she’d consider it a privilege to raise a child. Also she’d be the perfect dad joke lesbian

How badly do they want to reach their end goal?

Astrid - she went from a lonely thief to a superhero being slowly reunited w/ her family, plus she’s made a new kind of family in the process. All she wants is to find her baby brother right now, and she’ll do anything to make sure he’s safe and sound.

Frankie - so bad it hurts. what started out as her being purely scared of dying has also quickly turned into her wanting to live and stay more with these people she’s met.

If someone asked them to explain their sexuality, how would they do so?

Astrid - “Girls.”

Frankie - “Haha, why, you interested? *winks*” (but also lesbian as well)

[enkelimagnus]

claia for the ship meme^^

General:

Rate the Ship -  Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? - 

Their entire life. 

How quickly did/will they fall in love? -

they had a strong romantic connection very quickly, but it took Maia especially a long time to get herself in a place whee she could let go of everything and just fall deep and hard. 

How was their first kiss? -

Awkward and messy, over a table on their first date, half-standing to reach each other’s lips

Wedding:

Who proposed? - 

Clary did. 

Who is the best man/men? -

Simon was Clary’s best man and Bat was Maia’s. 

Who is the braid’s maid(s)? -

//

Who did the most planning? -

Maia. She got out brand new planners the day after the proposal. 

Who stressed the most? -

Clary, definitely. She’s a mess on the dancefloor. And also she just wanted every detail to be perfect. 

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? -

Jordan Kyle. 

Sex:

Who is on top? -

They switch, but Clary’s the one with the strap-on

Who is the one to instigate things? -

Usually Clary.

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? -

I think it depends what they are doing and how much they want

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? -

Not necessarily every single time, but they listen to each other so that they are both satisfied

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? -

None

How many children will they adopt? -

One or two

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? -

Clary

Who is the stricter parent? -

Maia

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? -

Both. 

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? -

Clary. Maia is useless in the mornings. 

Who is the more loved parent? -

Neither????

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings?

Both. Being a wlw couple, they are very aware that their attendance is noted. Also, they lowkey love the PTA meetings. They take notes and gossip about the other parents

Who cried the most at graduation? -

Maia

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? -

Clary

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? -

Maia

Who is the most picky in their food choice? -

Maia (being a werewolf and all)

Who does the grocery shopping? -

Maia. 

How often do they bake desserts? -

Once a week. 

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? -

A healthy balanced diet. But Maia loves steak. 

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? -

Clary

Who is more likely to suggest going out? -

Maia

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? -

Clary

Chores:

Who cleans the room? -

Both

Who is really against chores? -

Neither

Who cleans up after the pets? -

Both

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? -

Neither

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? -

Maia

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? -

Clary

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? -

Maia

Who takes the dog out for a walk? -

Clary

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? -

Regularly!

What are their goals for the relationship? -

Happiness and partnership

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? -

Maia

Who plays the most pranks? -

Clary

[feelingsdusk-writes]

On idiocy and stupidity

(For the Harry Potter AU square)

John doesn’t like the magical world at all. If he was completely honest, he would go as far as to admitting he hates it. Alas, that doesn’t happen unless he’s reached the bottom of a bottle of whisky, and he’s trying to keep away from that path nowadays, so he’ll just say that he would have been a man happy in his ignorance.

Again, no matter how he wishes that was true, that’s not the case.

The first time Stiles had a burst of accidental magic, it left John nearly in shock. He actually had a moment where his brain refused to catch up with what he was seeing and his whole body trembled, leaving him unable to even take a step further, so no, it wasn’t a figure of speech.

One of the frequent visitors to the park Claudia liked had a very big mixed breed as a pet. That beast was as humongous as it was mean, so there were a lot of complaints issued to the police department about it, and the owner, as mean and temperamental as his pet, was facing losing the dog because he refused to leash it at the very least.

He had talked about it with Claudia, but she refused to back down. She liked the park, it was the only one near their house and Stiles loved the play park, and she wasn’t going to let that awful man take that from them. John knew how to choose his battles, so he didn’t insist more on a lost one.

He should have.

It was Sunday, sunny, warm and his day off for a change, so they prepared a little basket with sandwiches and the like and went to the park to spend the morning and lunch hour there. After a couple of hours they managed to reign in Stiles for enough to have lunch. All was nice and well until John went to get coffee nearby and a blood curling toddler scream pierced the air just as he was coming back.

It attacked Stiles.

There wasn’t anything left from the beast besides the blood splatter on the ground of the play park and the owner was hysterical by the time he rushed in. Stiles was wailing, covered in blood, and Claudia was trying to calm him unsuccessfully.

Then, obliviators came and went, and John found out that his three year old baby boy was a wizard. A very, very powerful one, the ones that came to explain everything gushed, issuing a lot of recommendations about how to proceed.

It may be selfish or bad on his part, but John was more hung up on the fact that his wife had been lying to him since the very beginning, because she was a witch too.

(He’s also always being secretly grateful that they never acknowledged the fact that she would have never told him if Stiles hadn’t presented, even though he knows it is a cowardly thing.)

The instances where Stiles had accidental magic continued to grow in number as the time passed, but it got almost to an unbearable point when Claudia got sick from some magical sickness John has never been able to understand the facts of.

The last time Stiles’ magic acted out of control was when he blasted his own mother out of a window when she tried to strangle him, out of her mind and seeing things that weren’t there.

No, John doesn’t like the magical world.

If he was drunk, he’d admit he hates it.

Ignorance would have been, certainly, a bliss.

And this way of thinking has cost him a son.

He knows he should have done something, said something before Stiles left to that school, but he couldn’t. And now his betrayed expression will haunt him forever.

He’s such an idiot.

—

The Salem School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is, very inconspicuously (not), located in Salem, Oregon. Stiles has always thought it was a way to flip the bird at the ones responsible for the witch trials… and mooning at them too, just for good measure.

(Even if, historically speaking, it’s a fact that no real witch was burnt in those.)

Founded by Salazar Slytherin after he left England, Salem is as similar to Hogwarts as day is to night, and that’s being generous.

For starters, it’s students start their education way earlier, some being as young as seven years old. As soon as their core is proven to have stabilized (age which varies from one kid to another, none of that nonsense of waiting until the standard age of eleven) they can be accepted at Salem. And even before that, they are portkey ports for parents to leave their kids at the daycare building at the edge of the property, if they wish that their kids start to get in touch with the theory and various simple exercises and they can’t handle that themselves.

Another different thing about Salem is that the formative journey is much lengthier, some wizards and witches staying up to twenty years as students. Since the structure is that of a free school, but without the age classifications, there’s a lot of magical and procedural failsafes to ensure that older students don’t abuse the younger ones. Add in that Salem’s castle is as sentient as Hogwarts, with surrounding wards to match, and it’s one of the most secure places for it’s students.

Because the magic at the States is more raw and wilder in comparison to its European counterpart, unlike at Hogwarts, Salem’s students aren’t divided according to their personality traits, but according to their levels of raw magic. It’s not meant to be an elitist system, but to ensure the students safety.

Literally, when untrained, a student from the first tier could fry another from the third just by being around them daily.

Also unlike Hogwarts, starting as a part of a particular tier doesn’t mean necessarily that the student will remain in it. Cores grow with age, after all, and that may cause a necessity of changing the placement of the student.

Age doesn’t especially matter either on the placement in the classes that conform each tier, but knowledge. The more you study and the more magics you master, the higher the class you are on. There’re no exams, besides the grade ones, and even those are optional because one only takes them if they want to qualify to advance a class or a tier forward (it’s a double edged sword, though, because you can be demoted too) to have access to their libraries and laboratories, and the mentors and professors.

To sum it up, the organization at Salem is power and merit based, which can be fucked up sometimes, in Stiles’ opinion, because it places a lot of pressure on the students (or their parents) who put a lot of importance on the class and tier they’re part of. But it generally works, because as a free school, it’s your choice to remain or what to study or on which magic center your attention on, so…

It can get really expensive, though, the more one advances. Not the basic tuition, that’s not it. Third tier students rarely struggle for money, because the tuition covers for the basic supplies and meals, and the libraries have enough copies of each books that you never have to wait for a text. But the more you dabble in side experimentation or if you want to have your own copies of certain books…

Stiles is not a third tier student.

Or a second tier, for that matter.

Stiles vaporized an animal large enough to double his size when he was three years old and blasted his own mother out a window with enough force to propel her into the next building when he was eight, it’s obvious he’s not a first tier, either.

He’s been part of the special tier, which has less than twenty students, ever since he set a foot in the school, nearly ten years ago, and he made first class at the third semester of his second year at Salem.

(For him, the entire education system is perfect. Except for the daily reminders to eat (and there’s a handy spell for that) and periodical medical check-ups every student has (which forces to take care of yourself, or you’ll be sanctioned), he can study what he wants, when he wants and how he wants. He’s good at what he does so, unlike his first year when he struggled with the pocket money he had, he now sells potions, rituals and rune work all over the country (getting his laptop to work in his dorm what a bitch) and he can afford almost anything he wants without having to contemplate contacting his father… which he has never resorted to, anyway).

As a rule, he doesn’t go home unless he’s forced to and he spends all his time either studying or experimenting with anything and everything that catches his attention. He doesn’t care about making friends but he does have some people he’s in good terms with. He doesn’t want more, attempts to force the issue with him will be met with a sneaky and swift retaliation, as many can attest.

He may be an idiot like professor Callaway always tells him, but he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t need anyone, he thinks as he signs on the sheets to stay at Salem for Winter break.

—

Peter doesn’t like the third tier dorms and common rooms at all. It’s not a matter having to come all the way here when his own dorms are at the other end of the castle, but another thing entirely… though he has to admit that grates him quite a bit too. Out of all the tiers, the third one has the highest number of younger children in it, and that makes it’s dorm noisy and grating, and more frequently than not, messy. He eyes with distaste the clutter of unorganized books and paraphernalia that decorate the far end corner.

The thing is that if he doesn’t check on Talia’s brats more or less daily, she gets insufferable, and he prefers to brave the jungle before listening to another of her rants and empty threats about making him end his student career prematurely, so…

Don’t get him wrong, it’s not that he doesn’t like the rugrats (he did grow so close in age to them to consider them his siblings more or less, after all), but maintaining his status as a first class of the first tier (status that is a great source of pride for him because it’s extremely rare for a werewolf to reach higher than second tier) requires a lot of dedication on his part.

Dedication and a lot of studying.

Two kids run across the common room squealing and laughing and topple over a pile of books, startling another kid into messing whatever he’s working on, which explodes into his face. Other students rush in to check if he’s alright and march him to the infirmary just in case. A first class girl is left behind to somehow deal with the fire salamander the kid accidentally freed.

Studying he can’t do here, no matter how funny what just happened was.

He shivers and eyes the containing band around his wrist with distaste. Another reason to hate coming by the third tier dwellings. Students visiting another tiers have to wear one of those always to avoid getting hurt or hurting others. It’s a containing or shielding band depending on if you are visiting a tier below or above your own, but either way, the sensation is of being dumped in ice cold water. Needless to say, Peter hates it.

He sighs and turns his attention back to his own work.

Maybe he’s being an idiot for opposing Talia about ending his studies now. Just thinking about Cora with them all alone and without her only ally makes his stomach turn.

—

Another summer comes and goes without no sign of Stiles. He doesn’t know why he’s so surprised. How can he be so stupid? Of course he didn’t, exactly just like all the past summers and no measly letters are going to change that. The only information he’s had about him for the past ten years is what professor Callaway tells him sporadically. Melissa reaches over to take his hand and he squeezes it.

He just has to persevere, he tells himself. He messed up real bad and Rome wasn’t built in a day.

He wanted ignorance, and now that he has it, it feels like a curse.

—

So far, ever since he came to Salem, only three people have tried to mess up with Stiles, and that was only in his first year. They learned better than to cross Stiles and try to impose something he didn’t want on him.

Until this year.

Until ickle itsy bitsy Cora Hale entered Salem, got sorted into the special tier and, wide eyed after one of his experiments blew up spectacularly, she pointed at him before telling professor Callaway, who was with her, I can choose anyone right? I want him to be my mentor.

And that was a week ago.

He’s been evading her for a week straight and she stubbornly won’t give up.

“This is stupid,“ he grunts, out of breath.

“If it’s stupid, then give up,” she throws, just as out of breath at him.

“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.“ He looks at her thoughtful and she holds her breath. “Okay, if you manage to get out of this, I’ll give in.”

And then he promptly curses her.

—

Out of the three of Talia’s children, little Cora is the one Peter adores the most. She’s a sarcastic, smart and evil little shit and Peter loves that. He also loves that she gave the entire family the imaginary finger when, after being born a simple human, not a werewolf, not a witch, and being though almost as a useless disappointment for six years of her life (of course, nothing to her face which, stupid, because she is smart enough to notice it all), she presented not even two months ago when she blew an omega into smithereens.

And then she’s proceeded to be accepted at Salem and gotten transferred into the special tier on her very first year.

Peter, who has been the only one to treat her like the smart and wonderful kid she really is (not with pity, like Derek and Laura, not with disappointment like the rest of the family) cannot even feel a smidgen of jealousy that she’s surpassed him but instead is enjoying a vindictive kind of successful feeling.

Now, normally, Peter would hunt down anyone who dared to curse Cora and rip his throat out, but it seems to be harmless and Peter’s own mentor did something similar back in the day.

And he hasn’t been able to stop snickering ever since he recognized her.

“And what are you going to do?” he asks her.

“I don’t even know which one is the curse,“ she chirps from where she’s perched on his finger. “Flying is kind of cool, though.”

“Back on topic, aren’t you supposed to be trying to break this on your own?“

“He never said that I couldn’t ask for help,” she pipes and Peter snorts delighted. “Well, are you going to stop laughing like an idiot and help me out?”

“If you ask so nicely…“

—

John gets remarried to Melissa on a nice spring morning. Stiles is nowhere in sight. Scott, very angry, lets his feelings on the matter out while his girlfriend tries to calm him.

John, very calmly and with his heart breaking, because talking about it makes it even more real, explains who’s at fault. He can’t look at his new son in the eye.

When he gets back from the honeymoon, he finds a letter dated from the day he remarried, day in which he didn’t check the mail.

It’s short, succinct, way too formal and mostly cold, but John cries like an idiot.

—

“You’re ruining my reputation,” he grumbles at Cora as he braids a new protection charm he’s been working on into her hair. The cauldron with another of his projects bubbles in front of them.

“If it makes you feel better, I still think you’re as much of an asshole as the first day,“ Brandon deadpans as he not so subtly approaches said cauldron with his hands hidden behind him.

“Time to reaffirm that reputation,” Stiles mutters, patting Cora’s hair, and she presses her lips to contain a giddy cackle, seeing hell and damnation coming.

She’s not an idiot, though, so she covertly gets herself near the door, just in case.

—

Peter’s again at the third tier common rooms when a big explosion rocks the entire castle, making the ground tremble and the bottles in the shelves rattle. Derek curses when the sudden noise startles him into jerking his hand to the left, successfully messing completely the runic wards he was working on. He panics as it starts to sizzle, dark brown smoke coming from the paper in a matter of seconds.

Peter rolls his eyes at him and, without taking his eyes from the text he’s been studying for the better part of the afternoon, he nicks his finger and swiftly reaches to neutralize it before the wound closes.

“Showoff,” the fifteen year old grumbles before sighing at the ruined project. He growls frustrated, showing a bit of fang. “Damn it.”

“I bet it was your crush, uncle Peter,“ Laura grumbles, closing her notebook noisily.

As much as it pains him to admit it, he's coming to dislike Laura more and more as she grows. Seeing as she is more like her mother with each passing day, it’s not really that surprising that his brotherly love is souring as the time passes, though.

He arches a brow at her before going back to his text. When she sees he’s not going to raise to the bait, she continues.

“Who else could it be? I still don’t get why mom can’t make Cora have another mentor, he’s going to end up seriously hurting her.“

(She also doesn’t seem to get, just like her mother, than the more they dislike Cora’s mentor, the more she likes him. And the same happens with Peter, to be honest.)

When Cora rushes into the third tier common room, Peter ignores Laura’s validated exclaim, because, really, an explosion of that magnitude? Of course it was Stiles. He looks expectantly at Cora, waiting for some juicy story from her about her mentor and she doesn’t dissapoint.

“Stiles invoked a demon,“ she cackles gleefully after she jumps into his lap and it tells something that Peter isn’t surprised that those are the first words that come out of her mouth. “Brandon tried to trick him and Stiles messed” here she makes quotation marks with her hands, “a ritual and it charred Brandon’s ass… and his eyebrows.”

“Did he now?“ he inquires silkily, taking a short moment to envy the containment black bracelet Stiles made for her. According to Cora, she doesn’t feel cold at all and she can activate and deactivate it at will. He’s been trying to manipulate Stiles into making him one like that for months, but his subtle approach has bore no fruits yet.

“Yeah,“ she smirks evilly, obviously remembering the entire thing at this very moment and savoring it.

Peter’s lips twitch.

He rubs his cheek over her hair discreetly and she molds into his chest without a complaint about the scenting. If it was another person than him, even her own mother, she would have snarked her way out in disgust.

“You know what’s even better?“ she crows, turning to look at him in the face. She doesn’t wait for him to answer. “Brandon got demoted a class until the next grade exams and lost all library and laboratory privileges for a semester. And the professors are going to reward Stiles for his timely intervention.”

He smirks with Cora. Now, that’s a loss. Peter has already tried to sneak into the special tier’s library three times and failed each and every one of them. And that was the third class’ library. He’s not ashamed to admit that he would drool at the prospect of accessing the first class’ one. Losing all privileges…

“He also got the demon to accept to being his familiar,“ she finally adds and Peter raises his eyebrows impressed.

“What?!” Laura exclaims. “He can’t… That’s really dangerous! No one is that stupid!”

“Now, that would hurt if I actually cared about your opinion,“ a new voice drawls from the doorway.

Laura growls at Stiles and the nogitsune growls back at her from atop his hair (an ancient and overpowered being’s miniaturized form shouldn’t be that deceptively cute), making her back off, wide eyed and fast as lightning. Peter hides a delighted snicker in Cora’s hair but she’s not as considerate. Stiles grins at her, not even bothering to cover it either. Derek, who as a rule doesn’t like trouble and just likes to be calm and relaxed, rolls his eyes at their antics and pulls a paper out to restart his project.

“Well, Ikari, Cora, my disciple, well met and all those things,“ Stiles says with a whimsical wave of hands. “Don’t eat her… or the one behind her either, for that matter. That’s Peter and he provides enough entertainment to not let him suffer that fate.” Peter waves at the kitsune sassily, trying to not let out an embarrassing pleased smile. Judging by Cora’s snort, he’s not entirely successful. “That other one is all right…”

“Thanks,“ Derek deadpans, not taking his eyes from the blood ward he’s trying to etch into the parchment again. “The name’s Derek.”

“… she, you can eat, I don’t care. Might upset your stomach, though. The name’s bitch.”

“Hey! It’s Laura, you fucker!“

“Tche, no one cares about the name of their food unless they want seconds, and I doubt there’s someone else like you. Anyways,“ Stiles claps his hands, “since they’re still clearing the common room, I thought you’d like to go to the dungeons, Cora.”

“The last time you said that…“

“We agreed to never talk about that ever again,” he interrupts her hastily, and Peter raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “But, no, it’s a completely different thing I just thought you’d enjoy, but it’s obvious that you don’t want to, so…”

“Wait,“ Cora squeaks, and Peter catches Stiles covering a smile. “I’m game.”

“Well that sounds sufficiently intriguing. Mind if I tag along?“ Peter drawls from his seat.

Stiles looks at him over Cora’s head, gaze considering, as he adjusts some protection charm necklaces on her (and they worry about her safety, hah!). It’s telling that she doesn’t mind the contact and actually seems to enjoy it and preen at the attention.

“Sure,” he says finally and then throws to him a bracelet like Cora’s, but exactly on his size.

Score, Peter thinks, taking in all the implications of that. Cora, the brat, rolls her eyes at him when Stiles is not looking. Even the nogitsune smirks at him.

Aaannnddd now a fox mocks him too.

Wonderful.

He needs to get his act together.

Pronto.

But how to court Stiles? Everything he knows he would enjoy, he already has and in more quantity (and quality) than what Peter would be ever able to provide even if he tried. Other things he could get him with no problem, like clothes and other amenities, he doesn’t care for. What to do then?

Peter is a fan of the big gesture, but maybe that’s not the path to take in this case? Maybe it’s the small things are what he needs to watch out for…

He can already tell this is going to be a lengthy campaign. He sighs and follows after Cora and Stiles.

Spy, it is.

After a month of watching him (subtly, very subtly, not like a weirdo, no matter what Cora says about that) like a hawk, he feels confident enough to start.

Stiles, of course, foils all his plans when, after two or three measly small (but thoughtful) presents, he comes by the first tier common room to kidnap him, all exasperated.

“Seriously, Peter,“ he complains and grumbles after he slips a protective charm pendant around his neck. “Now you want to court me? If this wasn’t cute in it’s own way, I’d give up on you. How can you not have noticed I’ve been courting you for months?”

“What,“ Peter rakes his head dumbfounded and Stiles rolls his eyes, taking his hand to pull him out of the dorms. He lets him.

The texts Stiles lends him (they have to be from his own collection not the school’s, because that’s forbidden), the charms, the bracelet… Cora and Ikari’s exasperation makes a lot more sense now. Peter wants to facepalm really bad.

“I’m an idiot,“ he sighs chagrined.

“Yes, you are, but just sometimes and you have an amazing physique to compensate,“ Stiles makes a show of sticking his nose in the air, acting long-suffering, “so I’ll let it slide this time.”

Peter may be, quite possibly, in love, he realizes.

—

John starts getting at least a letter a month. Again, they’re stiff and too formal, but he’s not an idiot and he’s not going to look a gifted horse in the mouth, so he cherishes every and each one of them.

—

“Do you have a limit?” Cora asks wide eyed.

“Of course,“ Stiles purrs as she scratches behind his ear. “It’s not as easy at it seems. It’s taken me almost ten years to get at this point. I had to learn the anatomy of the ones I wanted to shift into perfectly before even attempting it. And even so, if professor Callaway hadn’t been there those first few times I would have died. Seriously, the first time I nearly had a heart failure because I didn’t have the heart of a cat clearly in my mind before shifting”

“Oh,“ she utters quietly.

“Cora?”

“It’s nothing, just a stupid thought.“

“If you’re sure…”

—

“Cora has been really quiet lately,“ Stiles tells him one day in December, sprawled on Peter’s bed with a thick tome in front of him. “I had to take her out of the laboratory because she nearly caused an explosion. The bad kind.”

He doesn’t look at him, but he can tell he’s worried. Peter sighs and lets himself fall into the bed, which makes Stiles bounce. He swats at him half-heartedly and Peter crushes him under himself playfully. He then rests his face between his shoulder blades and inhales deeply.

“I didn’t know there was a good kind?“

“No one but the special tier knows… you guys must live such a sad lives,“ he deadpans and Peter snorts.

“It’s the Wolf Moon,” he confesses after a beat of silence. Stiles makes an inquiring sound. “Basically, in January, the whole family has a reunion to run under the full moon, to strengthen the bonds and a lot of mystical whassit. Since she’s the only human in the family right now… Their attitude has gotten better ever after she presented, but this is something…”

“Fuckers,“ Stiles mutters darkly.

“Exactly. Ever since she got accepted, I’ve defied Talia by staying here, with her, but I still need to run. I can control myself and not leave her behind or hurt her, but she still feels bad about it, about making me hold back.”

“So it’s a matter of shifting?“

“I’d say more like a matter of willingness,” he huffs. “If they wanted, they could control themselves enough for her to run with us and for everyone to enjoy themselves. It’s what other packs with human members do (even the Hales when there used to be more human members). But they don’t want to, they want to be free or some stupid shit like that. Nonsense, because out of the whole family, only Talia and I manage a full shift, and if I can do it…”

After a moment of silence, Stiles speaks again. “So that’s why…“

And that’s that. Peter doesn’t hear anything else about the matter until Cora starts insisting about going home for the holidays this time, baffling Peter. Stiles is strangely accommodating about the whole issue, telling him has a lot of work to do, because a coven has hired him to draw some wards around their home and the rituals necessary for that have to be done the last day of the year and the first. And that’s not counting the two weeks of beforehand preparation he’s going to have to do in a week and a half.

Peter finally shrugs and decides to roll with it. Whatever it is that they have planned he’ll know soon enough. Hopefully.

The whole vacation, they spend more time outside their home than inside. Peter is losing hope of ever finding out what they have planned, but he’s not very heartbroken, because just the way Cora is getting back at the family (because it’s most certainly her, not Peter like everyone suspects… not that he’s going to confirm or deny anything) is the most entertaining thing he’s ever witnessed .

Then, Wolf Moon comes.

And Cora comes to the garden, protective charm necklace around her neck and with a defiant expression on her face.

And, in front of everyone, she performs a full shift and tackles the already wolf Peter.

If he could, he would cackle.

When Wolf Moon ends and they shift back, she proceeds to pull a cloak over him and look around at the stark naked people disdainfully.

“And, look at that, I don’t flash at anyone,“ she humphs as she leaves the clearing, a cackling Peter in tow.

He’s going to marry Stiles.

—

The letters keep coming. They’re not warm but they’re not cold, either.

The first time Stiles addresses him as dad again, John doesn’t even feel like an idiot for crying his eyes out.

—

“I want to try shifting into a cat next.”

“While I appreciate the irony, do you want to end as dog chew?“

“Don’t be an idiot, I never said what kind of cat.”

Stiles cackles.

—

Two years later, Peter decides it’s enough and that, since he’s never going to make special tier, he’s exhausted what he can (and wants to) learn from Salem. He knows Stiles is the same, but he’s just waiting for Cora to decide on a mentee.

He’s going to ask him to marry him. And since his initial courting got thwarted, he’s going to make it amazing and unique and memorable and all around awesome.

He spends an entire month mulling over it, about the how and the when. He gets a ring he knows Stiles will love. He researches wedding rituals. He cajoles and manipulates and blackmails some students and professors into helping. Basically, he does everything he can before feeling confident enough to finally go for it.

The day comes, everything is perfect, Stiles says yes.

Later, at Stiles’ common room cuddling each other, a sudden though assaults him… and a couple or three memories. And he recalls Ikari and Cora’s exasperated looks as of late, again.

“Stiles?”

“Mmhm?“

“Have you been courting me again?”

“Ah.“

“Dude,” comes from the end of the room, “he spent three months carving and assembling a protean charm. And he blew the laboratories three times before that.”

“And he went to the dragons to get those scales. He came back without eyebrows and had to grow them back with Capilagro.“

“Lets not forget about…”

“Okay, okay, I get it,“ Peter finally recovers enough to cut in. Stiles is shaking with the effort to contain his laughter.

“You were so cute planning all that and trying to hide it from me that I couldn’t destroy your efforts like that,” he admits with red all over his cheeks. Peter groans.

“I’m an idiot,“ he sighs chagrined.

“Yes, you are, but just sometimes and you have an amazing physique to compensate,“ Stiles snickers at him, “so I’ll let it slide this time.”

What Peter is, is so stupidly in love, he realizes.

He raises from the couch, pulling his wayward fiance with him and hoisting him up over his shoulder, and starts climbing the stairs to Stiles’s room enveloped by the sound of his laughter.

[dear-wormwoods]

What are your thoughts on Richie’s Hogwarts house? Your Gryffindor Eddie post was so well done, so I’m curious.

Oh my gosh, thank you, first of all!

Richie is a little harder to peg down than Eddie is. I think there’s an argument that can be made for any house, just because he’s so dynamic? He’s incredibly smart, he’s incredibly loyal, he can be very brave when he’s pushed to be, and he’s extremely ambitious and clever. So if someone explained their reasoning well enough, I could buy any house for Richie.

Personally, I would put him in Slytherin. Richie out of any of the Losers is by far the most ambitious. He has a plan in place for his life, and he just inherently knows he’ll do whatever it takes to get there. He wants to be famous, he wants to be one of the greats. He wants to be noticed, and remembered. And he SUCCEEDS, at least in the sense that he becomes a well known radio persona and gets to have creative freedom and a successful life. And he does it all by himself, without overly involved parents or a significant other or even really any friends after the Losers all separate. Richie just has the tools to make something of himself already inside him. He believes in himself when no one else does and he MAKES IT HAPPEN. That’s raw ambition.

Richie is also inherently charismatic. He has an energy that draws people in, but not in the same “leaderly” kind of way Bill does. Richie’s energy is… well. Eddie can explain: 

Ben, Eddie saw, was looking at Richie with a mixture of awe and wariness. Eddie could understand that. He had known Richie Tozier for four years, and he still didn’t really understand what Richie was about.

And…

Richie had about a dozen different Voices. His ambition, he had told Eddie one rainy afternoon when they were in the little raftered room over the Kaspbrak garage reading Little Lulu comic books, was to become the world’s greatest ventriloquist. He was going to be even greater than Edgar Bergen, he said, and he would be on The Ed Sullivan Show every week.

And…

Most of his friends were too kind—or too bemused with Richie’s sometimes enchanting, often exhausting charm—to mention these little failings to him.

There’s also the fact that Richie literally gives no shits about what anyone else thinks about his comedy routines. He knows what he’s about. He knows what he wants. He knows he needs to practice his Voices and invent new characters and test the waters and push boundaries in order to figure out what his “thing” is and become good at it. Even as a kid, he’s SUPER goal-oriented and for a kid who is constantly getting put down by almost everyone he knows, he’s (at least on the surface) unbothered by it because he’s got focus and willpower. He wants to prove people wrong. So that’s AMBITION and  DETERMINATION, the main Slytherin qualities. 

Richie also embodies the Slytherin qualities of cleverness and cunning. Richie talks his way into a lot of bad situations, but he also talks his way OUT of a lot of bad situations. Richie’s biggest strengths are his charisma and his sense of humor. He uses humor to charm people, to get what he wants, to swindle people, to hustle, and to cut through tension. He uses humor to get people to open up and brighten their moods. He also uses his humor as a mask for his insecurities, to convince people he’s a lot more confident than he is, so that they’ll believe in him even when he has no idea what he’s doing. 

Richie’s tendency toward fitting the Slytherin mold also shows itself in the qualities he projects onto Bill, or admires in Bill, that Bill might not even necessarily HAVE, it’s just what Richie values. Eddie does the same thing. In Bill, Eddie sees leadership, guidance, and bravery. The reality is that Eddie is all of those things. Eddie is a leader and a guide and is inherently brave. Eddie doesn’t BELIEVE those things about himself, at least not at first, but he values those qualities and projects them onto Bill. RICHIE, on the other hand…

There was a good deal more to it than that, but since Richie did not know either the word charisma or the full meaning of the word magnetism, he only felt that Bill’s strength ran deep and might manifest itself in many ways, some of them probably unexpected.

Richie projects the qualities of charisma and magnetism onto Bill. Is Bill charismatic and magnetic? Maybe. Probably. Do I think he possesses those qualities as much or more than Richie? No. Absolutely not. Richie values those things - he aspires to be those things. Like Eddie, he doesn’t realize that he already HAS those qualities and uses them on a regular basis to progress as a character. This is really telling to me. Eddie values very Gryffindor qualities in Bill, and Richie in turn values very Slytherin qualities in Bill. They both project things they already are because they are both kids who don’t really believe in themselves at first. (The difference between Eddie and Richie after the summer of ‘58 is that Richie has the tools at his disposal to continue to realize his potential and achieve his goals, whereas Eddie returns to an abusive environment where his tools are taken away from him)

Richie also possesses the Slytherin qualities of resourcefulness and self-preservation. Sometimes people see self-preservation as cowardice, but it’s not… Richie is less likely to throw himself into the front lines and get himself beaten up than Bill or Eddie are. Eddie, especially, doesn’t think twice about getting himself hurt or killed if it means helping in some way. He’s brave to the point of foolishness. Richie, on the other hand, has a more calculating bravery. He uses the resources at his disposal to achieve goals and escape situations, and he’s also a very quick thinker and can figure out weak spots and escape points more easily because he doesn’t just throw himself into the action. For example:

Moving slowly, dreamily, Richie reached under his coat and into his back pocket. He brought out the envelope with the picture of the sneezing man on it. He tore it open as the bleeding, roaring creature pulled itself out of the window, forcing its way, claws digging deep furrows in the earth. Richie tore the packet open and squeezed it. “Git back in yer place, boyo!” he ordered in the Voice of the Irish Cop. A white cloud puffed into the Werewolf’s face. Its roars suddenly stopped. It stared at Richie with almost comic surprise and made a choked wheezing sound.

This scene is important because it showcases Bill’s focus on physically overpowering the werewolf, which gets him caught and almost killed. Richie holds back, and when the moment calls for it, he thinks QUICKLY and uses a very RICHIE method of escape. He uses his charm and humor, and he also uses the resources at his disposal - his comedy gag shit. Because of this, Richie is inadvertently the one that figures out that not showing fear actually does some damage to IT. 

But yeah, anywayyy… that’s why I think Richie is a Slytherin. Again, like I said, he’s so dynamic that an argument could be made for any house. But for me, his values and his day-to-day ways of going through life just scream Slytherin!

I hope this wasn’t way more in depth than you wanted, anon. I got carried away. 

[scaredofrobots]

The Long Bottoms Wedding  (or chat with Evans #1)

For an anon that asked @petalstofish to ask me for a Sirius/Lily origin story but I didn't know which universe so did both and made @elanev91 make sure I used commas and shit and this is the Chrima Universe on ffn

Sirius Black fucking hated weddings.

Ever since he was a kid and was dragged to what felt like millions of pureblood weddings, he was well fucking shot of the whole damn idea of marriage.

When Frank Longbottom invited the Marauders to his wedding, James was adamant they all attend.

Lots of “Gryffindor Pride” and “First of our friends to get married”.

Gryffindor Pride seemed to notfuckingmatteratall when your parents surprise you with a three week quidditch camp. Remus was off visiting some fucking werewolf monks to try and learn how to meditate and reach “his inner wolf” or some hippie bullshit and Pete was doing whatever Pete usually did in the summer.

So attending the Longbottom wedding as the Marauder delegate had fallen to Sirius Black. Sirius sat in the back row of the church. He knew this was the best way to get to the reception first so he could sneak some firewhiskey, mingle for thirty minutes and then get the fuck out of there.

The ceremony was short and beautiful and Sirius was making his planned quick exit when a pair of hands latched onto his arm and pulled him into a corner. It was Lily Evans. She looked lovely in her olive bridesmaid robes and Sirius was glad for the first time that James could not come to the wedding.

“Sirius Black, thank fucking God,” she was saying as she pulled him into the corner, “I am so glad you are here”

“Lily Evans, I never thought I would live to see the day you were glad to see me. Finally realized what you are missing,” he drawled.

“Shut the fuck up and listen to me Sirius Black,” Lily poked him aggressively in the chest. “John Dawlish is a groomsman and he is trying very obviously to get in my pants. I told him I had a boyfriend because I thought Remus was coming and figured he would play along but HE’S NOT HERE so I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

There was a beat of silence.

Lily muttered “Please.”

Then Sirius burst into laughter, “This is going to be the most fun I’ve ever had at a wedding Evans. Let us go find some Firewhiskey and chat about the finer details.”

As a Marauder, Sirius took every scheme and role seriously.

“You have not gotten to third base, Sirius,” Lily had argued when they had decided they’ve been dating a month.

“Come on Evans, look at us. We simply couldn’t resist each other for much longer,” Sirius winked

“You’re a terrible human being,” she laughed but relented and let him have third base.

By the time they finalized their details, the reception was already in full swing.

They swung by the drink cart and Sirius was impressed with how quickly Lily got the bartender to hand over a bottle of firewhiskey by saying it was for the bride and groom. He followed her and they weaved their way to the table reserved for the wedding party and their guests.

As they approached Lily whispered, “Here we go.”

When they first arrived at the table, Lily had made a great show of introducing Sirius to John and mentioned the word “boyfriend” no less than 13 times throughout the painfully awkward dinner conversation. After the speeches, cake and one brilliant dance, Lily turned to him and stated, “Let’s get out of here.”

Sirius was happy to comply- or, really, forced to comply. Drunk Lily Evans was surprisingly fast and surprisingly strong. She somehow managed to drag him through the reception hall and out the door before he realized that they had in fact “gotten out of there.”

As she gleefully pulled him down the street singing, “Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle All the Way,” Sirius realized he was fucked. He had to make sure this drunk mad girl didn’t come to any harm or his best mate would absolutely murder him.

Lily stopped short and pointed to a far off neon sign, “LET’S GO BOWLING!”

“What the bloody fuck is bowling?” Sirius asked, thankful for a moment to catch his breath.

“IT IS SO MUCH FUN! And watch your language Black- I am a fucking lady,” Lily grinned.

Sirius shrugged, “I’ve got nothing better to do- so let’s try it.”

Lily clapped her hands and grabbed him again, steering them in the direction of the neon sign singing, “Dashing off to bowl, with my mate Sirius, we’ll make a lot of strikes and kick some muggle ass HOHOHO!”

When they arrived, Lily explained, “This is a bowling alley. You get to wear special shoes and you have to roll one ball down to knock over 10 pins.”

“Sounds easy- how is that even fun?” Sirius asked.

Lily grinned mischievously and said, “You’ll see. But first we need to transfigure our clothes- we can’t bowl in wedding attire- you’re the best at it so whip something up Sirius!”

“Lily- we’re underage and-” Sirius started but then realized what a prat he sounded like when Lily raised her eyebrows at him, “right-” he continued, “well here goes nothing!”

Miraculously, Sirius had managed to transfigure their clothes into something that would pass for muggle. Lily gleefully hugged him and then continued to drag him into the bowling alley.

Sirius didn’t know what to expect when they entered the bowling alley, but it wasn’t a dark room playing loud music with bright lights and a haze of smoke.

He hadn’t necessarily pictured an actual alley, but didn't realize it would be so large or crowded.

“Alright- so first things first-” Lily ordered him “We pay for our rounds of bowling, then we pick up our shoes, then we pick out the balls we want to use-”

At this Sirius started giggling, “BALLS!”

Lily rolled her eyes and continued, “Then we play.”

“How do we play?” Sirius asked

“You roll the ball down the lane and try to knock all the pins over” Lily explained

“Seem super easy,” Sirius sassily remarked, “Quidditch is better”

“Of course quidditch is better, but we’re drunk and I am not getting on a broom with you,” Lily said, exasperated. “Now let's go.”

They ran into problems when they got to the shoes. As they were waiting, Sirius hissed, “THIS IS DISGUSTING EVANS! OTHER PEOPLE WEAR THESE?”

“They clean them,” Lily gestured to the surly looking woman who was spraying the shoes with sketchy looking spray bottle.

“I am not wearing those,” Sirius argued.

“I’ll do a fucking cleaning charm, quit your bitching Sirius,” Lily whispered back.

After their shoes were thoroughly scourgified, their balls selected, and their seats taken, Lily announced, “NOW WE SELECT OUR NICKNAMES FOR SCORING.”

“I have a nickname. Padfoot,” Sirius said blankly.

“That’s your nickname for you and your stupid friends. I’m going to call you Sparky,” she announced.

“Sparky?” Sirius asked.

“Yes, Sparky- it could be worse. Your nickname could be Broccoli Rob- speaking of- I think he’s at the bar tonight. I’m going to go get us some beers while you come up with my nickname-” Lily announced and started off.

“I DID!” Sirius yelled across the bowling alley “It’s Weed! Because you’re not a flower you’re an obnoxious Weed.”

Lily simply held her fingers up at him.

After much pleading, Lily got Broccoli Rob to give her some beers even though she wasn’t quite of age-

“Come on Broccoli Rob- we’re mates. I’ve been your mate since before you hid all the Broccoli in your basement from the lunch ladies and we had all the good stuff for weeks,” she had said and batted her eyes.

Victorious- Lily made her way back to where they were bowling and was surprised to find Sirius wearing nothing but his pants and the bowling shoes.

“What. The. Fuck.” Lily stated.

“You told me I had to wear the shoes but didn’t say anything about a shirt or trousers,” Sirius winked.

“I leave for two seconds and you-” Lily started but was interrupted-

“You worry too much, love” Sirius told her and took his beer and downed it in one, “Now lets play.”

Knowing things would only get worse from there, Lily downed her beer in a similar fashion.

Surprisingly, they were able to play several rounds with no complaints about Sirius’ state of undress. It wasn’t until their 4th beer and final round where Lily and Sirius were tied.

In true Gryffindor fashion, they decided that the winner would be determined by who could slide the farthest down the lane without falling.

They took off their shoes and ran……just as Sirius reached the pins yelling “VICTORY”- the lights suddenly turned on and alarms started blaring.

The Gryffindors turned to find two muggle police officers. Sirius began to rack his brain on how the fuck they were going to get out of this mess when Lily began to sob.

“I AM SO SORRY OFFICERS…..I just got my heartbroken and my mate Sirius here was trying to cheer me up. We were taking our shoes off to return them when we accidentally started to slide down the lane…” she wailed- magnificently- beautifully and somehow 100% believably.

As she continued to cry, Sirius even started to feel bad for her. Somehow Lily had gotten a handkerchief from one of the officers and was currently telling him “No, no we don’t need a ride home. We’ll just walk. Thank you so much.”

Sirius quickly put his clothes back on after he was scolded by the police with, “Just because it’s pretty doesn’t mean we all want to see it.”

They were politely asked to leave and never come back and reminded that they weren’t of drinking age, “Even though I know your dah lets you have a pint with dinner Ms. Evans, you can’t take advantage of Rob like that again.”

With several apologies and promises of cookies later- Lily and Sirius were escorted out of the bowling alley with not so much as a citation.

After their final goodbye to the policemen, Sirius remarked, “Damn Evans- I didn’t know you could talk your way out of trouble so well.”

“How the fuck do you think I got prefect then,” was the reply- and then, “Apparate me home?”

One deafening crack later, they found themselves looking up the drive of The Evans’ home….where two aurors were waiting for them.

“Fuck,” was the chorused reaction- but then- Lily remarked, “I got this”

Again Sirius was subjected to watching Lily Evans cry her way out of legal repercussions. Only this time she spun a tale of romance about them enjoying the wedding and how they were so in love they forgot themselves and that they weren’t at school. The whole thing ended with a very dramatic kiss in which Sirius was happy to comply with (only to tell the tale later at the inevitable Evans/Potter wedding).

Once the second set of authorities left without any citations and were actually fucking thanking Lily Evans for her time.

When she waved them away she gave Sirius a devious wink.

“Men never know what to do with tears,” she shrugged.

“If I wasn't going to break 25 sections of the Marauder code I would ask you to marry me Evans,” Sirius responded- totally stunned

Lily laughed, “Of course you nerds have a fucking code- also- I don’t think Remus is much into sharing.”

“I am a lot of man to handle though- he might welcome the relief,” Sirius said thoughtfully

“We should probably start off by trying to be mates,” Lily smirked.

“Is that a proposal Ms. Evans?” Sirius asked.

With a huff Lily got on one knee and said, “As you wish, Mr. Black, I have struggled in vain and can bear it no longer. These past years have been a torment. I have fought against judgement, my shit friends expectations, your dumbass pranks, your obnoxious mates and numerous headaches from Remus whining about how much he fancied you. I will put them aside and ask you to end my agony. I find you tolerable. Most ardently. Please do me the honor of becoming my mate?”

Sirius looked at her skeptically, “Pride and Prejudice- you’re such a fucking girl.”

“I’m a fucking lady,” Lily retorted

With a laugh Sirius said, “Alright. I’ll be your mate. Fuck if I know how I’m going to explain this to James.”

“Just tell Potter we had a chat at the Longbottoms Wedding,” Lily gestured, “and then we can use that as an excuse to sneak off and get hammered.”

“Dammit Evans. Don’t make me love you even more,” Sirius groaned.

“The name is Weed, Sparky” Lily stated as she poked him in the chest and then drew him into a hug. “Thank you. I’ve had a shit summer and tonight has been the highlight.”

When she pulled away, Sirius saw actual tears in her eyes, “All part of the job description, love,” he smirked.

“Right- well- see you in a week or so,” Lily extended her hand for a very formal shake

“See you,” Sirius responded.

The last week of summer passed by as the last week of summer always does- in a blur.

Sirius was glad that James and Remus returned from their respective trips two days after the wedding and that he was able to spend the end of the summer with his best mate and boyfriend.

Pete joined them on August 28th and they crammed a ridiculous amount of mischief into the last four days of summer.

He hadn’t given his new mate Lily Evans a lot of thought except for the few moments of panic he experienced when James (and then 4 days later Peter) asked, “Oh- how was the Longbottom wedding?”

Following the rules of getting out of trouble he stuck to “less is more” and only answered, “Fine- a bit boring”

And the subject was dropped and Sirius felt safe from explaining anything until September 1 when the door to the Marauders’ compartment was open and Lily Evans sashayed in and stated, “Hello boys” and promptly plopped down next to Sirius and put her head on his shoulder and moaned, “Remind me to never stay with McKinnon the night before we leave for Hogwarts next year. Bird woke me up at 5am to make sure we had everything fucking packed. I never wake up that early. I just go into a shouting match with her for calling me dramatic-“

“She didn’t!” Sirius exclaimed

“She did- So I told that bitch- I don’t know who the fuck you think-“

“LANGUAGE EVANS” Sirius interrupted

“Fine- I told that bitch I don’t know WHOM the fuck you think you are but if I’m too dramatic for you I’ll just get new mates. So here I am” she finished triumphantly and swung her feet into Sirius’ lap after her proclamation.

Crossing his heart Sirius told her solemnly, “I will never call you dramatic Evans. I solemnly swear”

“I know you won’t because I could kick your ass,” she responded and bopped him on the nose

James Potter stared completely shocked for a full five minutes as he watched his best mate and the girl he was in love with banter as if they had grown up across the street from each other.

As always he turned to Remus for answers but Remus (the fucking traitor) only shrugged his shoulders and returned to his book.

James was racking his brain trying to figure out where this development had come from when his thoughts were interrupted by Lily asking, “Alright, Potter?”

James stared at her- speechless.

She looked at him curiously and asked very slowly- like someone speaking to a small child, “Was your summer alright then James? Sirius told me you went to quidditch camp?”

The longest 5 seconds (or was it a year?) of his entire life passed by as he struggled to remember how to speak. Remus’ sharp elbow in his side reminded him and he began to tell Lily all about the camp. He was surprised at her knowledge of quidditch and he interest in the camp. James thought the girl would probably always surprise him.

After they relaxed into each other's company, the next  two hours passed by blissfully.  Lily looked at her watch and moaned, “Well Remus- off we go to die of boredom in the prefects meeting”

“Ugh,” Remus responded, “I hope Nigel Fucking Babbington drowned this summer.”

“Nigel is perfectly nice,” Lily responded, “At least he isn’t as excited about the meetings as Yvonne the Hufflepuff. Come on then!” And she grabbed Remus by the arm and opened the door of the compartment.

Before the door closed Lily yelled back, “Don’t get into trouble Sparky!”

Sirius laughed and told her, “I never get in trouble unless you’re around!”

The door slammed shut and Sirius reached for Remus’ discarded book.

There were a few moments of silence before James could simply no longer hold in the question that had been burning him alive since Lily Evans entered the compartment and sat down next to his best mate.

“What. The. Fuck. Was. That?” He asked, slightly yelling-but also whispering

Peter dropped the scarf he was attempting to knit he was so startled.

Turning the page of the book with a bored air, Sirus remarked, “What was what?”

“You- EVANS- You- and Evans? You and Evans sitting and talking and laughing? And the Sparky? And the Weed? What the Fuck?” James asked again bewildered.

“James- we’ve talked about how to form a proper sentence and that wasn't one,” Sirius stated much like you would to a small child and was barely repressing his maniacal grin.

Frustrated James ran his hands through his hair and asked again, “Why the ever living fuck did Lily Evans walk into our compartment and sit next to you like you were mates?!?”

Sirius rolled his eyes, “Because we are mates, James, pay attention?”

“WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN?” James exploded

“At the Longbottom’s wedding- I thought I told you,” Sirius explained, “We had a lovely chat and decided we should be mates. We have so much in common you know. Great hair, wicked sense of humor, a love of fine whiskey, and of course we’re both bloody gorgeous. But chin up mate- this only means you can get closer to Lily. I’ve got a feeling she’s going to be around a long time.”

[chiliscale]

Roadhouse Nights

For @wincestwritingchallenge

Prompt: The High Priestress ( feminine influences, insightfulness, intuition, reason should take second place to instinct)

My partner: @sweet-sammy-kisses

Pairings: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

Other Tags: Ellen Harvelle, Jo Harvelle. Ash, Roadhouse, Outside POV

Rating: General Audiences

Word count: 2704

Summary: Ellen has been watching them for months now. She´s seen the pining, the hidden touches, the secret looks… and she´s about done with it. If those damned Winchester´s are too stubborn to pull their heads out of their asses themselves, then she´s just the right woman to do it for them.

Link: AO3

There´s a shout and a crash, the sound of splintering wood, loud laughter echoing through the bar, heads turning to see what all the ruckus is about. Crude jokes fly through the air, followed by good-natured mocking, and Ellen lifts her head from the counter to check if any intervention on her part is needed.

Her staff is already on the move though, Perry and Dunham deftly pulling Elkins off the floor and escorting him outside, Tina abandoning her tray of empty glasses in favor of grabbing a mop and a trashcan to clean up the mess of spilled beer and broken chair pieces. It´s over in the span of a few minutes, and most people are already turning their attention back to their own conversations. Business as usual, then.

Ellen sighs and pours cheap whiskey into glasses, collects some of the empty beer bottles littering the bar and adds the broken chair to Elkins´ tap - there´s no way that bastard´s not going to pay for the damage he´s caused.

It´s just another normal Saturday night: hunters crowding her bar, the smell of male sweat and alcohol thick in the air, everyone trying to one-up their drinking partners with stories of glory, blood, and monster guts.

At the table to her left, a smaller group of hunters starts singing their own horrid rendition of some semi-famous country song Ellen can´t remember the name of, and it really shouldn´t surprise her that it´s Ash´s voice that stands out the loudest. Genius he may be, but that kid can´t carry a tune for the life of him…

Jo joins her behind the bar and starts piling fresh beer bottles onto her tray, grimacing in pain when Ash hits another high note. Resigning, Ellen rolls her eyes and empties the vodka bottle into the half-filled beer glass in front of her – once Ash´s reached this particular state of drunkenness, there´s only one way to shut him up: get him pass-out drunk and let him sleep it off; and judging by his antics, it is definitely time to speed things up a little... She hands the vodka spiked beer to Tina and then turns her attention back to her regular patrons, pouring drinks and collecting money with well-practiced movements.

Another bout of laughter floats over, warm and genuine this time, and Jo pauses and looks up, gaze fixed at something over at the pool tables.

Well, Ellen amends, or rather at a someone, if the wistful look in her daughter´s eyes is anything to go by…

It´s not like Ellen can blame her: Dean Winchester is every girl´s wet dream, every parent´s worst nightmare. From those broad shoulders to that cocky smile, green eyes sparkling in the dim bar light, leather jacket straining over his biceps – that boy´s sex on legs, dangerous and mysterious, confident and charming enough to flirt his way into most women´s beds. He´s a damn good hunter too, way more intelligent than he´s letting on, and Ellen´s known him and Sam long enough to realize that they´re both hiding a heart of gold underneath that rough big-bad-hunter exterior.

But Dean´s also too much like his father, too focused on his mission to care for much else, too entangled with the hunting life, with his brother, to offer her daughter more than heartbreak and sorrow. The Winchester´s path is a bloody one, and as much as she´s learned to love those boys, she´s not about to lose another member of her family to hunting. Not without fighting it with everything she has.

Determined to break the moment, Ellen slams down the tequila bottle, and Jo jumps and shakes out of her daydreams with a high-pitched sound of surprise. Her daughter gives her a sheepish smile, well aware that she´s been caught, and hurriedly scurries away to exchange empty beer bottles with full ones.

Ellen shakes her head in exasperation and then stacks dirty glasses into the dishwasher, grabbing a towel to dry off the newly washed ones.

Her gaze drifts a bit as she works, lingers on the poker game that´s taking place a few feet away, and slides further up to where Gareth and McMartins are trying to convince Addams to join in on their werewolf hunt five towns over.

It´s not so much by accident than a rule of physics that her eyes finally get stuck on Sam Winchester´s broad back. The kid´s easily towering over everyone else in the bar (excluding Ash, who´s currently dancing on a damn table) and even his hunched shoulders and bend neck do nothing to make him less visible.

Ellen frowns – that posture can´t be good for the boy, and she´s tried talking it out of him a few times already. At this point, the whole things is probably instinctual rather than a conscious choice though, a bad habit that is hard to get rid of. She´s seen the kid fully upright once or twice only, and it has always been in response to a threat – Sam´s going to have some serious back problems once he´s older.

If he lives to see thirty, that is…

She ruthlessly shoves that thought away and grabs a new glass to dry, silently watches as Dean lines up another shot, shamelessly showing off for the little fan club that has gathered around the table in the hopes of catching his attention. He succeeds in sinking a few balls, but messes up the next shot, grudgingly stepping aside to let Sam take over. The older Winchester watches from the sightlines as Sam works his own magic at the pool table, gaze firmly fixed on his brother even as he jokes with the three girls surrounding him.

Some new patrons draw Ellen´s attention away, and when she looks over next, Dean has slung an arm around his brother´s shoulders, triumphant grin broadcasting his victory. It´s strangely endearing to see how well they fit together, bodies leaning into each other without a conscious thought, their sides pressed together comfortably, as if that´s right where they belong, not an inch of space between them.

For a second, Sam looks almost small in Dean´s arms, almost fragile despite his bigger frame, but the little-brother moment is gone before Ellen can fully pinpoint it, and then Sam shoves Dean off with a smile and excuses himself, apparently done with his brother´s flirting and determined to leave him to his hook-ups.

Dean watches him go, shoulders slumping slightly before he catches himself and turns his million-watt smile back onto his would-be conquests.

Ellen loses sight of Sam as another wave of costumers demands her attention and for a while, she´s too busy handling the bar to pay any mind to the Winchesters.  It´s nearly fifteen minutes later when she finds another quiet moment.

By then, Dean´s back to playing some newbie hunter who´s obviously not yet had the pleasure of being defeated by a Winchester, and this time it´s Sam watching from the distance, large frame nearly disappearing into the shadows of his chosen bar corner.  

Dean´s not even paying his opponent full attention, too busy flirting with his fan club to focus entirely on the game. Ellen does not miss the looks he´s throwing Sam, though, doesn´t miss how Dean´s constantly angling his body to allow him to keep his brother in his line of sight, doesn´t miss the silent communication that passes between those two.

She also doesn´t miss the hurt on Sam´s face when one of the girls curls a hand around Dean´s biceps, she sees the sad little smile when Dean leans closer in response, sees how Sam´s grip on his beer bottle tightens, how his shoulders tense and how he curls into himself even more as he withdraws deeper into the shadows.

The look in Sam´s eyes is one she´s seen a million times before on other people´s faces – there´s so much longing, so much love, so much hopelessness… It´s not a look you´re supposed to direct towards a sibling.

It had been hard to detect at first, the brother´s unusual closeness covering most of their weird relationship dynamics, Dean´s constant flirting doing the rest to distract from anything out of the ordinary. But Ellen´s always been good at reading people and it hasn’t taken her long to pick up on the looks, the touches. Sam´s quiet longing, Dean´s louder self- depreciation. She doesn’t need Ash´s level of genius to read the signals right…

Ellen knows this should probably disgust her, and disgust had been her knee-jerk reaction at first, common sense and the rules of society telling her how wrong this is. But a hunter´s life is complicated and she´s learned a long time ago that unusual doesn’t necessarily mean bad. She´s been in love herself, has loved without reason or rhyme, knows how impossible it is to fight this – who is she to condemn someone else´s feelings?

The boys are adults. Old enough, mature enough.

Still, she can´t help but feel grateful that John isn´t around to witness this… can´t help but wonder if he knew…

Dean laughs, draws the brunette closer to whisper in her ear, and Sam cringes and drains his beer, gathers his plaid shirts and jacket, determined to flee the scene.

Oh hell, no.

Ellen huffs and throws her towel down – she´s watched this fiasco long enough, has tried to direct those boys with subtle hints and quiet encouragement, but has obviously misjudged the legendary Winchester stubbornness. God save her from men and their emotional stupidity - time for some female intervention.

“Jo, you´re in charge.”

She grabs two beers and is on her way before her daughter finds the voice to protest. Sam looks up in surprise when she slides one of her beers over and grabs his arm to keep him in place, silently ordering him to stay put. He obeys reluctantly, sits back down and smiles (well, grimaces) at her.

“Hey, Ellen.”

“You´re leaving already? Tired of watching Dean flirt his way through the whole bar?”

Sam shrugs solemnly, fingers finding the label of his beer bottle and starting to peel it off.

“We´ve had a busy few weeks. Not much time for fun or distraction… I can tell him to lay off, if you want me to, though, he´ll understand.”

Ellen only snorts.

“I can handle your brother if I need to, Winchester. No need for you to intervene on my behalf.”

They just sit for a while, quietly enjoying their drinks, Ellen watching Sam watching Dean, silently cataloguing the emotions that play over his face. The longing´s even more obvious from up close, and she wonders how she could´ve spend so many weeks in the dark, how anyone can spend more than ten minutes with those two in one room without realizing the truth.

Then again, those boys are head over heels for each other, and none of them has even the slightest idea that their feelings are returned, either.

“You should tell him, you know.”

Sam blinks at her, confusion clouding his face, but she only quirks an eyebrow meaningfully, and shifts her eyes to where Dean´s ass is high up in the air as he bends over the pool table to get a better shot.

It´s painful to watch the horror descend over Sam´s face, to see the panic in his eyes before he manages to rein himself in. His shoulders tense and he opens his mouth, closes it again, has to try several times before he manages to force out some words.

Ellen´s never wanted to hug someone this badly.

“I – Ellen. Tell him what? I don´t… What do you…”

She settles for the direct approach, lets her hand rest on Sam´s right forearm and squeezes gently.

“You love him. And not only in the way a brother should… There´s more. Took me a while to see it, but it´s unmistakable now.”

Sam´s still struggling for words, denial clear on his face, but they both know that he´s been caught.

“Please, Ellen.” There´s something shaky in his voice, something broken and defeated, something she never wants to her in his voice ever again. “You can´t tell him. You can´t. Dean wouldn’t – he doesn’t...”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Sam.”

She cradles his huge hand in hers, gently tries to loosen the death grip his fingers have on his beer bottle.

“I´ve seen the way you look at him, all the love, all the adoration in your eyes… Dean looks at you the same way – like you´re the single most important thing in all of creation, like he´d give up everything for you in a heartbeat.”

Sam´s shaking his head wordlessly, still unable to meet her eyes.

“It´s okay, Sam. We´re okay.”

Ellen knows that Dean has noticed that something´s wrong by now, can feel his eyes boring into her back, knows that he´s fidgeting, trying to decide if he´s supposed to come over and save Sam from her clutches or if that would only earn him a tongue-lashing too.

“What you and Dean share… It´s special. Precious. Most people don´t ever make the kind of connection that you two have, and with the life us hunters lead… I can´t believe that I´m actually saying this, but stop thinking with your head, Sam. Stop trying to find reasons why this is wrong. Listen to your instincts. You´ve been struggling with this for years, haven´t you? Maybe your heart isn´t as wrong as you believe it to be.”

Sam´s face is still stoic and disbelieving, but there´s also tentative hope, small and fragile, but there… Maybe that´s all those boys ever needed – acceptance, someone giving them permission.

“Talk to him, Winchester.”

Ellen drains her beer and gets up again, buries her understanding-counselor persona deep under her usual gruff attitude, and searches Sam´s eye one last time.

“And Sam? Knock some sense into that brother of yours. That boy is even more caught up in his head than you are, he´s going to need some convincing… Don´t let him bullshit you, he wants this just as much as you do.”

With that she turns and heads back to the bar, grinning when she watches from the corner of her eyes as Dean beelines to his brother´s side immediately, shooting an angry glance in her direction when he sees the state Sam´s in.

She´s not sure if her little stunt has done any good or just made everything worse - those boys are too damn bullheaded! But well, if push comes to shove, there´s always the good old get-everyone-drunk-and-shove-them-into-a-supply-closet approach; a move she has perfected over the years – hunter´s are a stubborn folk, and as brilliant as some of them are when it comes to hunting, feelings are a whole different matter.

Ellen ignores Jo and her curious glances and goes back to serving beer again, wipes down the counter and collects the keys from some of her drunk-off-their-asses’ regulars.

In the far corner, Dean is quietly whispering with Sam, foreheads nearly touching as he tries to get his brother to talk. Ellen catches Sam´s eyes and winks, smirks as he blushes, and then turns towards her daughter, who is still looking between the three of them quizzically, and shoos her back to work.

Some idiot at the poker table has been caught cheating and it takes her some time to settle the ensuing dispute, her loaded shotgun making another one of it´s infamous appearances and reminding everyone of the Roadhouse´s no-fistfights-in-the-bar policy.

Ash has finally reached his limits, and he only gives another loud snore when Ellen none-too-gently pokes his side, flopping onto his stomach without waking, blissfully unaware of the warding symbols people have drawn all over his face.

Jo is once again back at the pool tables, pouring tequila shots and distributing beers among the hunters gathered there, her eyes roaming the crowd and narrowing in confusion when she doesn’t find what she´s looking for.

A quick check-up reveals that Sam´s table in the far corner is empty now, no sign of plaid anywhere to be found, and Ellen mentally high-fives herself and turns to the next patron with a smug smile on her face.

Those Winchester boys really do owe her a big one after this.

[thatparkinsongirl]

WORLDS.

Friends. No one ever told you life was gonna be this way. The apartment complex has seen better days but it’s a roof over your head and that’s more than enough to be grateful about. There’s a pitch-perfect coffee shop on the corner and the people on your hall are actually fantastic.

Disaster. It’s the end of the world. Everything in ruins. You’re running, running, just trying to survive these last days. You sleep fitfully, even then still alert, one hand tangled with theirs and the other gripped around a gun/wand. Or alternately, you’re the crackpot science team that first discovered something was wrong. You’ve all been locked up behind miles of reinforced steel in the CDC? NSA? Area 51? trying to solve this disaster. You were pulled away from your families, not able to save them, not able to take anything. Coffee, coffee, MRE meals. Microscopes, slides, formulas scribbled across white boards trying not to give in to the impending doom.

Inversion. This is not the world you know. Here, Headmaster Riddle pats a young boy on the shoulder and gives some much needed advice. Here, Grindewald and Dumbledore strike fear in the hearts of all the muggleborns. Here, everything and everyone is just a little off center. Your choices define you. (Borrowed from here)

Darkest. Dark magic thrums through your veins, slick and oily. You crave it, live for it. The forbidden section has been your second home ever since the first time you snuck in second year. You are something to be feared. The magic you play with is going to change the world. It’s not about hurting people (sometimes an unfortunate side effect) or taking over the world necessarily (though that is a goal), it’s about this sickly curiosity in magic. How far can you can go? How many lines can you cross? LOOsely off this in which the golden trio go somewhat dark, https://archiveofourown.org/works/6334630/chapters/14514247. Particularly there’s a whole thing in which they bond themselves to each other in a fit of codependency which just yessssss.

Rich as fuck. Money, money, money. Money is the anthem of success. Fast life, shiny diamonds, the best clothes. Speeding too, too fast down the highway, hand out the window. Cops won’t pull you over; they know better. Your lives are a never-ending party. Super Rich kids by Frank Ocean.

Roadtrip bitches. It’s the summer before university. The last hurrah before you all go your separate ways. Long, too deep conversations around a fire while you all smoke. Roadtrip mix blaring through the speakers. Seeing every weird roadside attraction you can. Talking about growing up, childhood, fears, change. About how you could go a year without speaking to someone but they’re still, always gonna be your best friend.

Political. Is it the west wing or house of cards?? Are they corrupt as fuck, bribing and killing and manipulating their way or they earnest and honest as possible, hearts brimming with desire to make the world something worth living in.

PUnk. idk. Hip hop. DJs. Raves. Tattoo artists. Lighters. Smoke rising up into the sky. Motorcycles and a shit ton of leather. Graffiti in the alleyway behind the bar you own.

Therapy. Post-war, and it’s rough. The physical scars are easy enough to ignore. It’s several months before you break down and join the therapy group at St. Mungos. You all swear you’re only there for the free coffee and doughnuts. Phobias, triggers, panic attacks. Recovery. Late night phone calls cause you had the nightmare again.

Olympics. Fencing? Swimming? Hockey? Gymnastics? Ice skating? Or, I mean, alternately, they could be in the Quidditch world cup. Competitors who like mock each other but also hardcore root for each other. It’s a small community and you all have known each other your entire life. It’s been a fight but here you are on the olympic team, favorites for the gold. 

Doctors. Late night hours. 12 hr shifts. Narcissism. The ultimate god complex. Shitty coffee. Stress. Lost a patient today, saved a patient tomorrow. Fighting over who gets to be second on the awesome heart surgery. A quickie in the on call room because damn your ass looks fine in those scrubs. Quizzing each other over a quick lunch. Complaining about your attending at the bar on your first night off in ages.

Unspeakables. They died, struck down during the war and none of you could bear to survive without them. The plan is put together in the early hours of the morning, feverish. It’s stupid, selfish; all this to save one life. You all join the Unspeakables because the rumor is they’ve been working on creating new time turners. None of you care who suffers for this as long as you can get them back.

How to Get Away With Murder/I Know What You Did Last Summer. You’re tied together by an awful, terrible secret. None of you can risk turning on each other. You’ve made sure of that. Toxic people. Guilt. There’s a body in the morgue with your names on it. It was an accident truly but the covering it up that was deliberate. Maybe some unknown person knows and is blackmailing you all or maybe, maybe they’re just trying to get away with it.

Spaceeeee. Inspired by the Wolf 359 and the Strange Case of Starship Iris. Science. Space. Discovery. Futuristic. Bonding because you’re trapped together in a tiny space ship. Conspiracy. Suicide missions. Technology betraying you. The fate of the entire human race resting on your shoulders. 

Parks&Rec/Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Any job-lawyers, firefighters, coffee-shop. It doesn’t matter because they’ve become a tight-knit family. Work hijinks, skinny love probably, I broke your email after I sent you 20 cat memes in a row. office parties. a hint of danger and risk (ok i admit it i like the firefighter one best). My very first day I was driving around trying to find the staff parking and a car honked, whizzed past me, yelling something crude out the window. It turned out to be my new boss.

Dark Post War. With Voldemort dead, Death Eaters being rounded up left, and peace returned to Wizarding London for the first time in more than a decade, it’s easy to believe that all is well. (The problem is that there is no length that people won’t go to protect their peace once they get it back.) Conscription into the Aurors for eligible wizards is enacted to ensure a strong standing against any lingering Voldemort supporters. A man in a black robe is murdered in the street one night because a young, nervous Auror thought he was a Death Eater. Incredibly harsh sentences handed down for any war crime. When Hogwarts finally reopens its doors over a year after the Battle of Hogwarts, it’s to the complete eradication of the Slytherin house (there are rumors about what happens to the children that the Sorting Hat would’ve sorted into Slytherin) and the addition of core classes. It is not a school but a training ground. Certain shops in both Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade are shut down for “sedition” and “miscreant behavior”, most notably Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Known war hero, Hermione Granger, is tossed in a Ministry cell for two months for sedition, after she attempts to prevent the arrest of a werewolf. Released war prisoners, people like the Zabini family who did not bear the Dark Mark but who were afflicted with Dark families, and “potential dark wixen” are branded by the Ministry as a warning to the public. All the while, the Ministry reports capturing dangerous Death Eaters, spotting war criminals in Hogsmeade, about danger lurking everywhere. The official statement is that they are trying to right mistakes made after the defeat of Grindewald, if they’d taken a stronger offense then Voldemort never would have happened. What it boils down to though is fear and vengeance and the shifting tide of power. 

Darkest Minds. So I’m finally reading this series since the movie’s coming out soon. I’m only 6 chapters in thus far but yes! this plot! would! definitely! want!

Dark Academia. The Secret History!!! Probably, definitely a secret society!! Mystery! The most pretentious assholes you will ever meet. Arguments over classic literature. Speaking latin to each other so no one else knows what they’re saying. Tweed jackets. Fall in New England. Tea. No i don’t own a tv I believe they’re corrupting the youths’ minds. Insomnia. A 40 page treatise on the Odyssey. 

Alternate Fifth Year. In a world where the young slytherin fifth years spend the summer of between fourth and fifth year, watching their parents with disgust and trepidation. They are ambitious, devoted to self-preservation and they are smart enough to see that following the Dark Lord is a road to ruin. Lucius Malfoy comes back from Death Eater meetings, shaken, Mr. Nott Senior with a long cut down his face. No, the slytherins have no interest in a life like that. It’s too bad then that they’re not even being taught Defense in school. It’s luck that they hear about the group of students that have started practical magic in secret. Canon divergent fifth year where the slytherins join Dumbledore’s Army. Can start after fifth year too but like that’s where it diverges. 

Back Home*. When they say you can’t ever go home again, they mean it, because home isn’t a static location, it’s a word full of extra connotation. It’s tied to a specific time and emotion and feeling. A group of friends return to their small hometown for the first time in eight years for the funeral of a mutual friend. Some of them have vaguely kept in touch but for the most part despite how close they were growing up they’ve all drifted apart. A story about loss, growing up, nostalgia, fear, and friendship. You won’t ever the same kind of friends you had when you were young. 

Shadow Children (Margaret Peterson Haddix). Futuristic, dystopian. Every family is allowed ONLY 2 children yet secret 3rd children do exist, living in the shadows and scraps. Some are lucky enough to get a fake identity and freedom. So I read this series when I was like 11 or something and they’ve kind of haunted me ever since. I’d probably wind up disappointed if I ever tried to reread them but whatever.  Anyway, I’ve been thinking about the first book lately, in regards to all the school kids protesting gun violence and the people in power just looking away as more children die, and just viscerely reminds of the horror I had reading the end of the first book in which (SPOILER) one of the main characters goes to a protest on the front lawn of the white house esque government building, convinced that if enough them protest, if they demand justice, they can get it. Each and every person at the protest is gunned down. For   young me who had largely only read books where everything wound up happy as long as you were brave and honest and full of spirit, this was an enormous shock. Idk how this would work but yes!

CONNECTIONS. 

Bodyguard. Mighty, mighty need for this. You’re the ambassador or president or queen or minister’s kid and your parents hire a bodyguard. You resent their protection. Ruining your semblance of a normal life. Judging you. You can’t help slipping their protection. Heart to hearts. Shared truths. Grudging respect and whatever. Ugh and the sexual tension, more alive than a power line. The attack comes out of left field and it’s a mess. (This. So down to play this out as whatever characters in any world)

Death. Straight up angst here. Final battle death scene. One second they’re right there and the next there’s a flash. You hold your hands over the gaping wound, screaming for a healer but you both know it’s over. Tears mixing with blood. Maybe they become a Hogwarts ghost. (Any character, any sort of relationship-married, dating, siblings, best friends, we shouldve dated but now your dying my arms)

Toxic. Do I feel guilty about having a thing for fictional toxic relationships? Yes, yes I do. But does that change anything? no. “Oh, we broke ages ago.” But everyone rolls their eyes when you say it. Because neither of you can stop and everyone knows. A couple of drinks in and you can’t keep your hands off each other. There’s still jealousy and toxicness and protectiveness and posssesiveness. There’s a dent in the wall from the time you threw a lamp at them. And god, if you could just make it work but love just isn’t enough sometimes. I’d tattoo your name on my arm but i wouldn’t marry you(Any characters)

Married in Vegas. You two hate each other’s guts. You’re constantly trying to one up each other in front of the boss. And you both always have a different way of approaching a problem. You steal candy bars out of their desk and they keep getting you locked out of your computer somehow. But your both the best so of course your selected for the Vegas conference work is holding. What happens next?? well?? a lot of alcohol, you know that. Neither of you quite remember but those rings on your fingers might mean something.

Romeo and juliet. Mob vs. cops or Death eaters vs. Order.  Forbidden romance. Secret meetings. My uncle killed your father. You have a body count that would make them blush. Maybe you’ll turn states evidence for them. Maybe they’re just using you. (any)

Softsoftsoftsoft. Bakery and coffee shop across from each other. Skinny love. A lot of Troye Sivan and Hayley Kiyoko playing. Longing stares, blushing, awkwardness. All your friends say they are definitely into you but??? Or alternately, you co-own the bakery coffee shop and you’ve been dating since third year and your friends all want to kill you. Because ughhh noone should still be that in love. Some serious codependency and domesticity here. Like if anyone’s seen How I Met Your Mother-Lily and Marshall. (any)

Misunderstandings. Classic trope. Of course, you thought they were dating. They live together, steal food from each others plates, share sweaters, tease each other relentlessly, constantly physically affectionate. Really what were you supposed to think. Cue the miscommunication and needless pining and hilarity. (any)

Bonnie and Clyde. Gringotts robbers? Who knows but you’re criminals and you’re good at it. Three steps ahead of the aurors. Careless laughter, drunk on adrenaline. Drive it like you stole it by the Glitch Mob!! and End Credits by Eden!! (any)

Siblings. I’m sorry that all the others are relationship plots because I really do high key love a good best friends/siblings plot. Real siblings or we grew up together and i would murder someone for you siblings. They know each other better than the backs of their hands. Secrets are for other people. Soft plot-just them taking care of each other after a tragedy. Tough love-you fucked off to Paris because you couldn’t deal with your life and they dragged your ass back because when you were kids they promised not to let you make any irreversible mistakes. protective-just. they keep doing dangerous shit and risking their life and you have to knock some sense into their thick skull. Ridiculous-they are everyone’s worst nightmare, stuck together like glue, always causing trouble. Spitting gum down at people from the astronomy tower. Finding ways to beat the anti-cheating quills. Actually helping your sibling get rid of a body. (any)

Best friends/Squad. You all meet at the bar religiously after work. Got each other’s back still, always, forever. Growing up doesn’t mean you have to lose them. (all; I watched the whole first season of golden girls last night so I’ve got a lotta squad feelings. )

Parent and child. Honestly just this song. Heirloom by Sleeping at last!!!! You’re both trying your best but there’s always going to be this tension, these mistakes on both sides. Regrets, nostalgia, angst, softness, forgiveness. (any, but this song always gives me Draco-Scorpius and Harry-Albus vibes)

Eighth Year Partners. PostWar. After a review of Hogwarts’ records, it’s decided that the school year of 97-98 will have to be repeated for all students. In an effort to bring the students of all houses together to promote healing and unity, a random buddy system is set up. A Ravenclaw sixth year paired with a Gryffindor fifth year. A Hufflepuff and Slytherin second year paired. So on and so forth. Though Headmaster McGonagall believed it was a good opportunity, she was loathe to force any student into something they didn’t want, certainly not after the past few years. Thus her only fast rule for the partnerships was sitting together for two meals a week. Some took full advantage of the system, studying together, attending each other’s quidditch games. Others sat in stony silence during the required time only.

@ginevraxweasleyy @marcusflvnt @occlumensism

[zephyrvos]

Tara/Willow/Oz polyvee

Ahh good, my poly kids

General:

Rate the Ship -  Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs - sorta? my buffyverse otp is probably Buffy/Willow/Oz, but this is a good second

How long will they last? - I think I’ve spoken before about how I think Oz would help ground Willow when she’s getting lost in her magic, or be a more reasonable head to turn to, and bring her back down. So, barring a stray bullet, I think they could be in it for the long haul

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - For Oz, love at first sight. And Willow fell for him without realizing it, but it was fast because she was young. For Tara and Willow, there was a spark at first touch, when the magic flowed between them. But it was “Family” when they really fell in love, I think.

How was their first kiss? - Willow and Oz’s first kiss was sudden and long overdue and passionate but sweet and tender, and it left them both breathless. Willow and Tara’s was nervous, and hesitant. Willow didn’t know what she was doing, and Tara didn’t want to assume. But it quickly turned much more passionate.

Wedding:

Who proposed? - I think it was something they’d talked about between the three of them, but then when it came to actually making a gesture to cement the intentions, Willow picked out a simple ring, possibly from Oz’s family, and a ring with some sort of witchy/magical significance, and proposed to the both of them with a dorky, rambling speech that ends in both of them laughing (through tears) and kissing her to cut her off

Who is the best man/men? - I imagine a poly ceremony where Willow waits at the ‘alter’ and Oz and Tara each walk down opposite aisles. Xander is Willow’s best man, Oz calls in Angel since Xander is taken (maybe Riley? the bandmate? but we don’t hear about him much)

Who is the braid’s maid(s)? - Buffy is Willow’s maid of honor (the three main scoobies, standing at the front), meanwhile Tara’s is Dawn

Who did the most planning? - Tara and Willow did about an equal amount, but Buffy actually did the most planning. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get a wedding, and Willow is more than happy to let Buffy deal with picking out decorations and color schemes and things. Oz doesn’t have much of an opinion outside of his tux and the food

Who stressed the most? - Willow, she can’t help it, she gets anxious. and this is big! she just wants it all to be perfect with these two people she’s in love with

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big. - Again, I don’t think it’s a traditional wedding. No church, no preacher, but their own combinations of Jewish traditions and Wicca traditions and modern twists to incorporate the polyvee element, and it’s a small ceremony with the Scoobies, and maybe Oz’s family and a couple other friends

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - Tara’s family

Sex:

Who is on top? - I think Willow tends to top Oz, but Tara tops her?

Who is the one to instigate things? - It depends. Magic tends to put Willow and Tara in the mood, so either of them will start it after they’ve been working on a spell or something. Meanwhile Willow is always down to jump Oz’s bones post a full-moon, or during once he can control it. They no longer have to pay attention to the full moon, but her hormones somehow sense it and get extra horny. Plus, it tends to make Oz’s hormones wonky too

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head - they all strike me as being really down to try things

How long do they normally last? - I’d say they’ve all got pretty good stamina. Oz tends to wear out faster when it’s a full moon, because, consciously or not, he’s fighting his wolf. Otherwise, there have been plenty of times Buffy has thrown a shoe at the wall to tell them to quiet down because she got back from slaying and needs some sleep, and Willow is going at it in her room with somebody

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - I think they’re much more about pleasing their partner, worshipping their body, and making sure both parties are feeling good, that they don’t turn it into a competition. The end goal isn’t orgasm necessarily, just having a good sex

How rough are they in bed? -Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it. - Willow tends to be rougher with Oz, but sometimes it’s the opposite, and she and Tara are rough, and she and Oz are soft

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory. - Willow is always on somebody’s lap. Sometimes she manages to be on both of their laps at once. Post-sex cuddling is a necessity - she’ll pout if they try to leave, and neither of them can resist a Willow pout. Oz is losing his cool, unaffected reputation because he has a ginger cuddled into him half the time he’s out in public. 

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - I don’t think they would? Tara/Willow can’t, and it’s never explained, but if Oz would pass on the werewolf-ness, a baby couldn’t control it, and I think that’s not something they’d want to confine their kid to - being in a cage a couple nights a month.

How many children will they adopt? - I can, however, see them adopting two or three kids, when they’re older and have trained the new slayers and life has, relatively, calmed down a bit. I think one is with Oz, and two with Tara, but parenting gets a bit mixed up with all of the polyness, and one of Tara’s is a tomboy, who bonds with Oz more than expected, so they basically all three split parenting on that one

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - Tara

Who is the stricter parent? - Willow or Tara, depending on the situation. Willow goes from too chill, to freaking out about a minor thing. Meanwhile Tara tries to be cool and understanding, but is very strict about rules about magic

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - Tara. Oz is probably the one who gave the kid the idea (or uncle Xander)

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - Willow

Who is the more loved parent? - I think each kid has a different favorite. Tara’s tomboy loves Oz the most, even though he wasn’t meant to be an official parent to that one. Oz’s is into magic and bonds the most with Willow. Tara’s other kid takes after his mother’s kind heart (but also loves training to fight with aunt Buffy)

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? Tara

Who cried the most at graduation? - Willow. Tara didn’t want to embarass the kid, but Willow was an emotional mess. (It was a much less deadly/nearly-world-ending graduation than hers)

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - Tara. Half the time, Willow and/or Oz are in there with them (Oz taught the kids punk, Willow taught them to protest)

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - I feel like they’re all good cooks? Tara’s better at breakfast, they split dinner duties

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - Willow!!

Who does the grocery shopping? - Tara - Willow will get a bunch of dessert, Oz will get salty junk food

How often do they bake desserts? - There’s usually some sort of dessert in the house, because they try not to eat it all at once. And with Buffy and Dawn living there too (assuming at least Willow lives in the Summer household), it doesn’t go bad. So about once a week or so. Sort of a Sunday dinner with dessert that then lasts the week

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - Tara prefers salad - she’s not vegetarian, just likes salad. The other two are big meat eaters

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - Oz is most likely to plan a surprise romantic night for Willow (he gives Tara a heads up - he doesn’t want her to feel like it’s a competition or he’s trying to ‘out-do’ her)

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - Willow - Tara and Oz are more likely to prefer staying in

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - Willow, but that’s because she’ll get distracted and then get super focused on the other thing she’s doing

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - Oz and Tara are better at keeping it clean or cleaning it regularly. Willow will let it become an absolute mess, and not care at all, until she gets stressed and randomly cleans everything in an hour

Who is really against chores? - Willow

Who cleans up after the pets? - Tara

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - Oz

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - Usually Tara, though occasionally Willow, depending on the guests

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Oz, always Oz

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - Willow

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - Willow takes Oz on walks :P No, I’m not sure they’d ever get a dog? Willow and Tara are cat people. Oz makes jokes about not getting along with the cat, but will play with it when no one’s looking

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - Buffy decorate the Summers house for Christmas and Halloween and Easter, but Willow decorates for Hanukkah and the like

What are their goals for the relationship? - To be grounding forces for each other? To constantly challenge each other to be honest and be their best selves, and hopefully always grow within the relationship, but to be honest if they ever grow out of it, rather than fall into old habits (cheating or magic)

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - Oz!

Who plays the most pranks? - Oz plays the most, but Tara’s are the best, because nobody ever sees hers coming