#also a certain moon has been poisoning my brain into thinking that he looks a certain way but its all good

[ast-soulcrystal]

i know not a lot of people are happy but ... oml I'm in love. he def looks different (also did some tweaking this time around because his preset looked a little weird just straight loaded in,) but I'm just in awe with the advancements that have been made in the graphic fidelity!!

[apotaeose]

The King’s Serpent

Pairing ↠ daechwita king!Yoongi x mercenary!reader

Genre ↠ angst, light smut, tiny bit of fluff 

Word Count ↠ 1.6K

Summary ↠ The ruthless king intends to use his most valuable weapon to consolidate his place on the throne by putting an end to its biggest threat — his twin brother.

Warnings ↠ implications of sex, and like death sentence lmao

A/N ↠ I just had to write something inspired by Daechwita hehe Min Yoongi really is the boss huh? I’m not sure if this will turn into a series or something like that yet. Hope you enjoy it, though! xo 

The king tosses his unsheathed sword on the mattress, his body following next with a soft thud. Turning on his back and surrounded by darkness with only the dim moonlight filtering through the windows of his large bedroom, he’s deep in thought, going over the events of earlier that day. One of his most trusted spies, Jung Hoseok, finally found the location of his long lost twin brother. He can’t help but to smile in triumph. As always, he managed to have the upper hand in the end. The blonde monarch can almost picture the shocking look on his ministers faces. All their jaws dropping entirely upon discovering the sudden death of that village mutt they plan to use as pawn to overthrow him. 

He’s done so much for this kingdom, fought so many wars and won all of them at such a young age, brought in so many riches, yet all they seemed to care is for his unorthodox — but effective —  way of dealing with those who dare defy him. He’s a king in his might, after all. Doing whatever he pleases shouldn’t concern anyone but himself. Who those stupid councillors think they are?

Suddenly, he’s pulled back to the present by an all too familiar sensation. It’s like a mild itch in the brain. He feels like— no, he knows he’s being watched. And exactly by who. 

“I’ve been expecting you,” he says calmly, rising to a sitting position, “It is not polite to keep your king on the wait.”

His gaze is pinned to your figure as you step away from the dark corner next to his window — now open —  and let the moon reveal yourself to him. Dressed in male black robes, you remove your mask and tilt your head to the side, staring at him in slight amusement. 

“Forgive me, my king,” your voice drips with honey, not sounding apologetic at all. “I’ve been busy… with matters related to you, of course.”

He hums, eyes narrowing in disapproval at your words. Normally, he’d slit the throat of anyone who dared to lie so blatantly to his face like that. However, he’s quite used to your attitude, and for some reason, you’re the only one allowed to speak with him in such a way. Till certain extents, of course. Since, he has other priorities at the moment, he can take the time to discipline you later. 

Right now, he’s a king in need to speak with his kingdom’s most skilled assassin. 

“I have a mission for you.” He’s on his feet now, hands joined together on his back. Halting steps only once he stands very close, you can see that he has his attention fixed on the hilt of the sword strapped to your back. Face unreadable as usual. Every now and then, he does that. You know he’s curious about the nature of your fine blade, since it’s a rare one, but never voices any questions about it. Not that you’re interested in telling him about it either.

“Yes, my king?”

“I need you to kill my brother.” His eyes drift back to yours, and if you weren’t… well, you, certainly you’d flinch from the icy fire swirling in his obsidian irises and how he casually just ordered the death of another person. Not a regular one, though. A member of his family that’s been missing for decades. His twin brother. Who’s caused him absolutely no harm. Actually, they’ve never even met since the day they were separated at birth.

But that was all you knew. Almost everybody knows that the circumstances of their birth were highly complicated. Rebels took over the palace when the queen at the same time brought her sons into the world in her chambers. All they know is that, amidst all that ruckus, the queen died and one of her sons was taken away. The king turned into a bitter man and raised his remaining son with the wrath of a dozen tigers. A few years ago, he perished, and his cruel heir, who stands before you now, took over his place.

No one knew anything about the other. At least, not until now.

“Oh, so you’ve found him?” Despite your question, you’re not really surprised. Everything the king wants, he gets. It was just a matter of time. What bewildered you was his choice not to task you with such an important mission this time. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“You know I don’t trust you,” He states as a matter-of-fact, reaching to place a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The scar that adorns one of his eyes, a vertical line that goes from above his eyebrow to the middle of his cheek, seems to glitter in the moonlight like the piece of golden jewelry dangling from his ears. You’re briefly hypnotized by it before regaining composure, adjusting your back.

“After everything I’ve done for you?” You pout in feigned hurt, and he smirks.

“You mean, after everything you’ve done for my gold,” He stresses the last two words with an arch of his brow, “We both know your loyalty lies with whoever pays you the highest. Which I, for one, do not judge, if it’s what you’re wondering…”

He brushes your lower lip with his thumb, tracing it along your jaw and descending down your hairline in gentle caresses. Leaning into you, he nibbles your earlobe and pulls at it with his teeth in a way he knows that makes you shiver. “But if you ever so much as think of betraying me,” He continues in a whisper, hand halting its movements before abruptly wrapping around your neck, cutting off your air supply, “I won’t hesitate to have your head severed from your body and hung high for everyone to see.”

Stepping back with a satisfied look on his face, you gasp as soon as he releases your neck and rub at it in order to soothe the burn left by his grip. You stare at him with eyebrows knitted in annoyance but he doesn’t seem to care less. The abrupt change of his demeanor disturbs you more than the threat itself. He’s not the type of man to be messed with. That much is clear. A tiger seemingly calm and controlled in the surface still is a dangerous predator in its core. 

But if the king is a tiger, you are a serpent. 

Cunning and cautious, you know just when to strike. Which is why he also knows not to underestimate you — and also what attracts him the most about you. Sure you are physically stunning, but he’s been with plenty of other dazzling women before, including his queen. However, they all eventually bored him to death. Even though, he denies it to himself, he loves being challenged by a woman. There was something about your sassy behavior and love for danger that lured him in. Perhaps even something that reminded him of himself. The desire for power and willingness to do anything to achieve it. 

“That wasn’t necessary, my king,” you do your best to conceal the anger in your tone, but you know there was an edge to it he surely caught. You absolutely hate being threatened — specially by a man — which is something he knows very well and uses to personal advantage. While others usually show fear, you look as if you’re ready to pounce on him. Oddly, rather than irritated, that makes him highly aroused. “You know I’ll never betray you.”

“For your sake, let’s hope you’re right.” He’s close to you once more, being unable not to touch you every time you’re in his presence. The king licks his lips and begins trailing open mouthed kisses on the column of your throat, one hand at the back of your neck while the other encircles your waist. With a tilt of your head back to give him more access, you close your eyes and melt into his touch. His mouth on you feels undeniably good. But more than that, the power you know you hold on him — whether he’s aware or not — is what truly makes you buzz with excitement. 

“How do you want me to do it?” He pauses to look back at you, pupils blown wide with lust. You’re pretty much sure yours mirror his own. Pondering over your question for a bit, he realises you’re talking about the assassination of his brother, and shrugs.

“However you see fit. Just make sure not to draw too much attention. Sneak into his place and poison him, or slit his throat while he sleeps. I don’t care. Just do it as fast as possible. I couldn’t find him before because he grew up in the outskirts of the city, but now he’s back. It’ll be easy for you to find him.” You nod in understanding and he picks up from where he left, this time attacking your mouth in a hungry kiss that you immediately respond to with same intensity. “Enough with that talk. We can discuss the details later. I need you for something else now.”

You laugh at his impatience and he doesn’t appreciate it one bit, biting hard on your lip enough to draw blood as retaliation. A wince is your response but he’s already pulling your sword out of your shoulders and dropping it to the floor so he can lift your body and do the same to you on his bed. With his body finally covering yours, he starts to get rid of both your clothes and his, desperate to relieve himself and hear your moans echo through his royal chambers as he pounds into you throughout the whole night until you leave before the first rays of sunshine illuminate the palace.

[natural-hazard]

Language games and "why do you care?"

epistemic status: wailing and gnashing of teeth The sexual tension between the terms "pragmatic" and "meaningful". We've leaned towards using pragmatic more, I believe because Spendo and Crispith love them some William James. The thing that underlies both of them is this sense of hooking in to what matters to you. I could do without the word "pragmatic"s association with a particular narrow view of what can matter ("his head was in the clouds, he had all these big ideas but no pragmatic inclinations"). I bemoan "meaningful" and "meaning"s rumored (big if true!) association with, well.... "meaningless shit that doesn't connect to real humans, and is something that people play act at". Pragmatic evokes imagery of my "no-nonsense" grandpa who worked at a glass manufacturing plant his whole life and always focused on providing for his family. Meaningful evokes my artsy-fartsy sister who's desperately trying to escape the capitalist machine by trying to become a shaman in Ecuador. Take David Chapman's post (but give it back when you're done, the internet runs out after a while) Meaningful Perception. From our point of view it could just as easily be called "Pragmatic Perception". The structure of how you perceive is shaped by the structure of how you care. When we talk about pragmatic classification systems, though I defs expect lumber-jacks to be more like my grandpa than my sister, we're tapping into the sense in which classification systems are made by people who care about stuff, and are using the classification systems to get more hooks into interacting with what they care about. As it has been, and as it shall be, talking about care can spawn plenty of strife. Because I'm not referencing the things that your self-concept or your Narrative Self (explanation needed, not forthcoming, life's cruel ain't it?) say that you care about. I don't care about what other people think of me... except, of course for all the ways that I do. Having a self-image defined via negative traits (I'm not this, I'm not that) involves paying just as much attention to how others asses you as for positive ones.

"How can you not care?!"

Sometimes it's shouted in a tone of self-righteous indignation. Sometimes it's blurted out in a confused state of reality-shock. Sometimes it comes out as barely more than a whisper, a quiet spell soaked in sadness trying to magik reality into being other than it is. Hypothetical: you and your friends have a little group where y'all get together and talk about movies. Old and new, low brow and high brow, anything that's been on a screen. You gain a reputation in your broader social network as The Movie Folk, ones who are wise in the ways of film, those of nuanced takes and discerning gaze. One day, you find out your friend Ihsmael (it's always an Ihsmael isn't it?), who by the way is one of the more respected and venerated critics in your group, has never watched any of the films you all talk about. He watched a few movies growing up, but decided he doesn't actually enjoy watching films that much and hasn't seen any since he was 8. I can image one who has righteous indignation. WTF Ishmael? The rest of us have been putting in the work for years, and you've just been reading the plot on wikipedia and mashing up takes you found on the obscure and weirdly high quality forum that no one else happened to know? You've cheated! You're a sham! You don't deserve all the adoration you get for your hot takes, I demand you immediately refund everyone who ever gave you social capital! I can imagine one who's brain momentarily glitches as they try to understand how the fuck this is even possible. Why... have you been hanging out in our explicitly movie centric friend crew for multiple years when you don't watch films? The reality-shock alternates between "this makes so little sense I most be missing something" and the existential horror of realizing another human can look at the art you prize most and only care about a minuscule superficial aspect of it (critiquing with friends). Maybe you don't see them as committing status fraud, but you can't help but think that they live in a small sad world, content with only shadows of the real. ---------------------------- Variation in what people care about is fine. Not everyone needs to love A Serious Man as much as me. What's tragic is when I see systematic forces attempting to destroy ways of caring. In one of my favorite blog posts on the internet, Ben Hoffman talks about such an experience when trying to share with a friend a new technique he learned called Goal Factoring (pick some goal you have, see if it's actually you trying to get a few different things which are actually separable as in you could satisfy each of them better by trying to achieve them in different ways)

Naturally, I wanted to share this with others. When I got back home to DC, I tried to teach goal factoring to the Less Wrong meetup there. One participant told me that they'd had a hard time engaging, because their experience with any exercise around explicitly describing goals pattern-matched to things they'd been forced to do in school. For instance, they described an exercise they'd been forced to do at the beginning of the school year. The first step was to list a goal for the year (usually for that particular class), and the next steps were about figuring out how they'd accomplish that goal. They didn't really have specific goals in mind, so they had to make something up. Usually something that they imagined the teacher might approve of. They had effectively been trained to think of reasoning explicitly about goals as something where you have to follow someone else's rules, and has little to do with getting what you actually want. It should be easy to see how this might poison the whole thing. If someone's had enough experiences like that, where something that sort of looks like explicitly reasoning about goals is forced on them in nonsense ways, they might be ruined for goal factoring – and for many other things.

This breaks my heart. The particular connection to the particular technique that is goal factoring isn't important. But the fact that a person's interaction with the school system has effectively poisoned their ability to apply the entirety of their mind the timeless question "what do I see as the good life, and how shall I pursue it?" Many moons ago, in highschool, I suggested to a group that we get gyros, which I pronounced "j-eye-rows". Some nasally voiced twerp "ummmmm AKTUALLY it's pronounced 'year-ohs'". "Great", I thought to myself, "I will now never in my life ever pronounce it the way this fucko just suggested." Many. Such. ✨Cases✨. Schools at their worst (and also at their medium) act as 12 year programs who's end result is smashing one's ability to genuinely care about huge swathes of reality. ----------------------------- Which takes us back to language games (what, you don't remember us ever being at language games? Pal, we've always been at language games). I need to go to work now, so you figure out the connection. It's something like: language games fight each other. Language games have macro-structure (The Situation you are in and it's logic) and micro-structure (how do words actually combine to mean anything?). When people care about vastly different things, it changes the relationship between macro and micro structure of a language game. Two apsie nerds discussing trains is a language game that has a macro-structure, but it's less salient than the specific details they're conveying to each other via highly systematic micro-structure. Two dudes hurling insults at each other in a bar, The Situation screens off other details. The macro screens off the micro. The point of an insult is that it peforms the Insult Move in A Situation. It doesn't matter to much if I call your dad an ass-hat or your mom a cuck. The meaning of the micro is used to understand the move in the macro, and is then unimportant (except via contributing to a certain aesthetic quality and intensity to the macro move). Some macro-structures want to destroy micro-structures that I care a lot about. I aim to do something about this.

[mother-snake]

Me: *looks at completed homework* *looks at Jessie* *looks at homework* Now that I have my freedom your heart is in danger once again. Be warned brave friend.

Also me: JANUS!! GET YOUR BLOND HEAD OUT HERE!!! I NEED YOU AGAIN!

faintly in the distance: noooooooo

~~~~~~~~

All the sides were wearing black.

They just got home from a very sad event that day, no one wanted to say the title out loud because they couldn't accept that he was gone. Rain hit the mindscape windows, similarly, tears were streaming down all of their faces.

After the event, all the sides went to their rooms. All except a certain dark blue side.

Logan was on the couch. Black suit being crumpled by the lax sitting position. In his shaking hands was held a letter. Everyone had at least one letter. Logan had the most with five letters. Each one had a number.

Logan grabbed the letter labeled #1

It was of medium size. White envelope contrasting with the red wax used to seal it. The only thing that marked that it was for him was the blue ink used to mark his name.

Trying not to tear the paper. Logan opened the letter and started to read.

Dear Logan,

I guess if you're reading this I'm gone. To that fact, I'm truly sorry. I wish I could be there. But this is for the best.

I suppose you know what happened to the dark side by now. If you don't well.... Its gone. Wrath, Apathy and Depression were just getting too powerful, it didn't matter how much I hid them away they still got to Thomas... and I can't have them destroying Thomas's life. I need to do my job, even if it kills me. I really did enjoy your company! I hope you know that.

Often times the only thing that could get me out of the bed in the morning was being able to see your face. Or being able to debate with you. Or seeing you talk about space for hours! God Logan, I could go on for hours about how you made my horrid life better. You were my best friend.

These letters are going to be written over a period of time. I don't think I have it in me to say goodbye to the 5 people who made my life tolerable all at once. I'm going to be writing one letter a day. Till tomorrow Logan?

~Deceit Sanders

Logan let out a steady breath. He refused to cry over the first letter. He debated over reading all of the letters at once but.... Janus said tomorrow... He'll read letter #2 the following day.

The next morning was just as somber. Logan sat on his bed and gripped the second letter.

This one was the same size, but the envelope was a light baby blue. The seal black. Logan opened it with just as much care as before.

Hello Logan

Another day, another migraine? I get it... Not the time for jokes. I just finished writing Roman's second letter. I always felt so bad for everything involving Roman.

I manipulated him, I told him lies, I compared him to his brother. Kinda makes me deserve this I have a feeling he might try something. Snake instincts. Watch him for me, please? You five need to be a family, I've witnessed what happens to sides to end up hating eachother. Its not pretty. You don't want that Logan.

I guess that is what makes me have to do this. If we only acted like a family I wouldn't have to do this. I wouldn't have to do a lot of things if the darks weren't pricks.

The stupid thing is that I know you would try to talk me out of this plan. And you're right. God you're always right. Why do you have to be right all the time? I wish I was right all the time. But its ok. I'll be the side who hides the truth.

Blessings and a curses, right?

I'll write to you again tomorrow Logan

~ Janus Deceit Sanders

Logan gulped in another breath. He could read that crossed out section... Janus was right. They have to be there for eachother.

Why don't they go watch Janus' favourite movies? That sounds like a fun way to remember someone. Logan got the others.

-time skip-

It was just passed midnight. Everyone else was asleep on the couch as Coraline played on the TV. Logan stared at the third letter. It was technically the next day.... Logan grabbed the letter.

This letters envelope was a burnt tan colour. Yellow wax acted as the seal.

My dear, Logan

I never wanted to be hugged so much then I do right now. I have to barricade my door to prevent Wrath from getting inside, he's always been a loud side.

I remember when I was nothing but a child -Virgil is ten years older then me. Did you know that? I forget that sometimes- I always had blond hair. I know that you and the other lights also have lighter coloured hair. Well anyway. Wrath hates my hair, says that I don't belong. I can also only do that little silencing trick when I'm on your side of the mind. And I can only automatically heal when on the light side too. Huh. I never released how long that list was. Maybe I'm just defective... That has to be it... Right?

I always looked up to you. You could tell people how it was and not cower when things go wrong. You truly are amazing Logan. You need to show the others that. I know that the others love and care for you. You need to accept that love logan! Please. Don't fall into a similar pit of despair I fell into so long ago. I never escaped that pit. Don't fall in it too.

I know how you like to cope Logan. You seek familiar things that remind you of that person. Thats why I did something for you. Under your bed is my all time favourite book, Good Omens, My favourite snacks and an USB with my playlist on it. I hope you love them as much as I did Logan. I'll write to you tomorrow.

~Janus Sanders

Janus wasn't lying when he found the little care package. Logan wasn't crying. Absolutely not! Patton was cooking with onions. Logan never released how much he loved chocolate covered pretzels and jazz until that moment.

The next day Logan didn't even bother to get dressed. He just grabbed the next letter. A soft pastel yellow with a blue seal. Logan tore it open, eger to read what the yellow side wrote next.

Dear Bluebell,

Kinda weird calling you that. But I guess I won't be alive long enough to see your negative reaction. Bluebells were always my favourite flower. Would it be rude to keep calling you bluebell? Well, I guess it's a little too late for that.

It just came to my attention that by this time tomorrow I'm going to be...Gone. I made the poison that would get rid of them. My venom is one of the only things that can kill a side. Would be a bit ironic dying from my own venom huh? Well, I might as well tell you my plan.

Do you remember that party you and the others snuck into? The masquerade? We're having another party tomorrow. And it was always my job to serve the wine. We can't have the others being suspicious to why I didn't drink my wine. They will be dead in less then ten minutes. My venom is painful. But it'll kill them. I'll kill them 10x over, I'm not looking forward to five minutes in where the venom shuts down your lungs.

Anyway, I'm a side known for plans right? Not always the best plans but it counts. I still remember debating with you as Patton. Maybe... Maybe I could sneak over today? Pathetic last wish, but I would love to have a hug and a movie. I'm going to head over to your side soon.

Bluebell Logan when I'm gone. I need you to do something for me. Don't let them forget me...Please. That is all I want. I don't want my body to be left inside of that empty house. I don't want to die next to the people I hate the most. All I ever wanted was to see you smile. I'll see you later today.

~Bumblebee

Logan was crying. That day... Janus asked for a hug and a movie.

He only gave Janus a hug after the look of heart break was too much for him to bear. Logan didn't wait to grab the next letter.

My Beloved Bluebell

Today is the day, I never thought I would admit this but... I'm scared. Do you think that there is Heaven and Hell for sides? If there is I guess I'm going to hell. Suicide is a sin. Not like anything else I've done deserves heaven.

I don't have very long for this letter. 30 minutes. I have 30 minutes till my heart stops. God I'm terrified. This is the last letter I'm writing Logan. I finished writing Virgil's letters yesterday. All thats left is your letter. And holy fuck I'm scared.

I have to do this, I overheard Wrath making a plan to overthrow the mind. I can't let that happen. I would fail at my only job. It doesn't matter if I'm scared or not, I need to do my job. Thomas would suffer if I didn't.

20 minuites, I have ten minutes till the party. My hand is shaking. Can you tell from my writing? I hope you can still read this. If you can't the letter is pointless.

Logan, I know that this is never something you would reciprocate but...

I love you. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I wanted to take you to the moon for a honeymoon and take you dancing among the stars. I wanted to be the tired husband that has to deal with your legionds of roommates. Logan I love you so god damn much I can't put it into words. I know you could never love me though. Its ok.

Take care of yourself for me please. Don't let your beautiful family fall apart. Don't let the despair of my death cause one of yours. Don't let one of the others blame themselves. This is no ones fault but mine.

I love you

~Janus Sanders

Logan dropped the letter and let out the most agonizing scream that could ever come out of his mouth. He cried. He cried and cried and cried. He cried until no more sound came out and his eyes burned.

He didn't notice when the other four came into the room and held him close.

All Logan did was trace the words on the page.

"I love you too, my bumblebee."

The sides could only feel the hole in their heart grow bigger.

~~~~~

I made myself sad again. I CAN'T EVEN CRY! MY PARENTS ARE IN THE ROOM! Curse my own brain ;-;

Here it is!

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once bitten, twice stupid prt.42

Dinner was loud. It was chaos. And it felt like a weight off of Lance’s shoulder once they were done. No one had stabbed anyone. Nothing was broken. Matt and Rieva ate like civilised people, with Rieva even offering to help with the dishes. Sending the group off to relax in the living room, Shiro picked up the tea towel and Lance knew he was about to get “the talk”.

Filling the sink with water too hot for a normal human to withstand, Shiro at least let him get through the plates before breaking the silence

“So you and Keith?”

Lance cringed. He understood Keith didn’t want to lie, but with things so new, he’d kind of hoped he would... for a little while

“Yep”

“How did that happen?”

“I’m not really sure...”

“He didn’t see to know either”

Lance felt the dig. Shiro almost asking that question

“I guess it really changed when he drove me to Platt. My mother, well, you know she’s old. I was in... I was pretty upset and he drove me there. That’s when I turned into a bat”

“I remember that. He was freaking out”

“I gathered. I don’t remember what happened, but Coran made him see I hadn’t turned him. He looked after me for three days, then took me to see my Mami again. I know he’s your brother, but did you need to raise him to be so damn stubborn?”

Lance attempt at humour fell flat, much like he wanted to do. Kind of drop to the floor then crawl away from the conversation

“He was like that when I met him. I don’t know if he told you...”

“That he hasn’t had the greatest life because kids are cruel and he never felt wanted? There’s a lot Keith says, and a lot in the things he doesn’t say. He’d frustrating, stubborn, and quick to act before his brain catches up. His people limit is pretty much two, and if he doesn’t have his coffee he can’t human... but he’s got a big heart”

“I thought you’d bring him out his shell... I didn’t think this would happen”

Shiro didn’t have much right to complain. He had left Keith there

“Neither did we. We both thought Coran and Allura were daydreaming. Then Curtis started calling us soulmates... I’ve tried avoiding relationships all my life, then he comes in with his mullet and bad mood..”

“I don’t approve. And I’m not impressed that you didn’t take him to Coran when he started complaining about chest issues. Coran would have said something if he’d noticed anything during the checks he did on him... I haven’t been allowed to help him that much...”

“Yet you took him down an abandoned mine”

“In my defence, he climbed down after me. After I told him not to. He took plenty of photos down there”

“You really bought him a camera?”

Why did Shiro sound so shocked? He not only had a lie to sell, but Keith’s identity to protect and the man had been a lost puppy without his brother.

“Keith’s been stuck out here with nothing to do, and nothing of his own. It wasn’t fair he was left behind, so I wanted to do something nice for him. Coran told me I shouldn’t be training or pushing myself, which doesn’t give him a whole lot to do. He’s been doing plenty of normal human things. We went to movies in Platt. Hunk finally asked Shay out. Pidge roped him into one of her planning afternoons for a hunt that was not fun at all. We went drinking and he actually sang karaoke. He also tried to get into a fight, then threw up everywhere when we got home... but he’s been doing better. He’s not as angry when he first got here”

“No. I can see that... He’s my family...”

Lance cut Shiro off. Yeah. He got it

“I know. That’s why I told him that you two needed to talk. That he didn’t have to return my feelings and he should talk to you before we decided to date. I don’t have a good relationship with my siblings, so I’m not always going to get what goes on between you. But I don’t want to see him hurt. I don’t want him to feel obligated or pity because his blood triggered this change in me. I want him to live a good life and die old and happy. We’re not rushing things. We don’t want to rush things. But I’m serious in supporting him the best I can. He’s a grown man. He has his own job, money, and life. I don’t want him to be some pet kept on a short leash. All I want is for him to know he can be himself when he’s here and that I’m not about to judge him for it”

Shiro sighed, placing back down the plate he’d picked up to dry

“I need to know. Will having Matt and Rieva here endanger him?”

“Vampires have an evolved sense of smell. That’s why we don’t mix much. The same goes for werewolves. We have egos. A vampire who’s out of control is a vampire who’s let his ego go. I’m not in any hurry to start anything with Matt or with Rieva. Pidge is like a sister to me. You’re vouching for them, so I’m taking your word that this won’t become something. For his safety and yours, don’t come around when it’s a full moon, not the day before or the day after. If something happens, I can protect one of you, but I don’t know about both of you. Not from two werewolves, especially in a new environment. Curtis... it’s complicated. We didn’t get off on the best foot, but Coran sent him. I suppose because I’m closest thing to cursed and don’t want to harm anyone if I can help it. As for dating, we already know my teeth get in the way. We’ll treat it like anyone with a contagious blood disease does. If things cool off, then we’ll have an answer to what’s between us”

“And what if you lose control?”

“Even when I do, I seem to know Keith. I don’t remember anything from turning into a bat the first time. But it seems I clung to him. I’m sure Coran would say it’s due to our quintessence. I know when I shouldn’t be around him, and when to distance myself. I don’t know how many other ways I can swear I don’t want to hurt him”

“Accidents happen”

“I know. That’s part of the reason I didn’t want to admit how he makes me feel”

“And how’s that?”

“Almost alive... You should go join the others. Keith’s going to come marching in here expecting the worst. He gets a bit protective”

“He does that”

“One day it’s going to get him hurt”

“That’s why I can’t give you my full blessings”

Shiro wouldn’t be much of a brother or hunter if he simply rolled over on his human brother dating a monster

“I get it. I really do. Still, for Keith’s sake, I don’t want to fight with you. He loves you, and he needs you. No matter what he says”

“Keith’s isn’t like most people. When his heart breaks... he gets hurt ten, twenty, times worse than normal”

“I know. Like I said, there’s a lot in what he doesn’t say”

“I would prefer you waited before your relationship turned physical”

“We are. My body is going through changes and he respects that. Just like I respect him and nothing happened that night he was drunk, no matter how handsy he got”

“Drunk Keith is a bit...”

“Drunk Keith is a slut. Those are his words. That’s why I won’t do anything to break the trust he has in me. I don’t want him to live a life of regrets”

“I keep forgetting you’re older than us”

“Don’t remind me. I don’t enjoy looking barely legal”

“Coran can’t help?”

“Even if he could, I’d rather he help Curtis first. He’s struggling with his curse and it’s so cruel that he can’t control the things he says. His life’s been put on because of it. I’m sure he’s happy to have you here because he finally has someone who can reach out their hand to him. More importantly, do you know when Matt intends to reach out to Pidge? I’d like to let Hunk know so he can be there to support her”

“Matt was thinking of waiting a few days”

Great. He didn’t want to keep lying to his friends for that long... Pidge also wanted to go back and explore under the pub...

“Alright. I’ll work things out with him. I’ll finish up here”

*

Lance nearly didn’t head into the living room when he’d finished the dishes. Keith hadn’t come to check on him, he could hear Shiro attempting to draw his boyfriend into conversation with the others. Keith’s poor people skills must have been at their limit. Being the amazing host he was, Lance made up a batch of Hunk’s hot chocolate, making sure that Keith’d have enough milk for his morning coffees as he did. Feeling a little fancy, he got out his Mami’s favourite serving tray. It’d been a gift from all of them as kids. Well loved and well mended. All their names scrawled across the back. The “L” in Lance’s name drawn backwards. The “I” in his older sister Veronica’s name had a heart instead of a tittle. Rachel had a smiley grave. Marco had always had a flare for the dramatic, his name taking up nearly the whole back. Luis name was the neatest of all. Lance wasn’t so much of a dick as to scratch Luis name off... Not when Mami still loved the serving tray.

Loaded up with the twin jugs, cups, and cookies, Lance carried the lot into the living room. Rieva and Matt were cuddled on the rug. Keith had Blue in his lap, with Curtis and Shiro taking up the rest of his sofa. Hearing his voice, he found the group were watching Pidge’s videos. Lance felt more than a little embarrassed. Strangers watching were one thing, a group of people in his house watching him... was something else. Carrying the tray to the coffee table, Lance set it down carefully

“Thanks, Lance. It looks good”

Lance gave Curtis a thin smile, pained at hearing his voice droning on

“Hot chocolate made with lactose free milk and Hunk’s recipe. Help yourselves”

Nervously pouring a glass, Lance backed away, standing by the arm of the couch so he wasn’t in the way. Matt shot him as thanks as he got two glasses organised for him and Rieva. At least Matt didn’t think he was trying to poison him, not like a certain mulleted hunter the first time he gave him coffee

“Lance, wanna sit?”

Lance turned too look at Keith over his shoulder. Blue had been passed to Shiro, not looking happy about giving up Keith’s lap

“I’m good”

Keith might have told Shiro they were dating but they didn’t need to rub it in his face

“If Shiro moves over there’s enough space”

Now that Keith’s lap wasn’t offer, he felt strangely rejected. Warmth started creeping up from his belly... Now was not the time

“Actually, I’m going to head to bed. Yep. Goodnight all, see you in the morning”

Fleeing the room, the cup of hot chocolate made the trip up stairs with him. Slamming his door a touch too hard, Lance rushed to place his cup down on the bedside table. Downstairs Matt was making a comment about something sweet in the air, Shiro joking about it being the smell of the hot chocolate. Rieva agreed with Matt, adding how the smell made her hungry... Her tone saying what kind of “hungry” she meant. Lance seriously doubted they’d do anything to him, but the idea of two horny werewolves scared the fuck out of him. Striding across to his window, he opened it as wide as it went. He didn’t understand why these heat flushes had to keep happening. He’d made up with Shiro, and he’d made up with the others over dinner. Werewolves and meat was kind of a no brainer. Now he was supposed to be relaxing and getting to know them all better.

Stripping himself down, he was too hot for a pyjama shirt and opted for pants only. Given his naturally cold state, and the cool wind through the window, he should morgue slab corpse cold. He’d spent years witching his body would be warm, now he cursed it. The sun had barely been down the better part of an hour, and here he was going off to bed like a loser. Climbing into bed, didn’t help. Keith’s scent cling to his sheets, but the man himself wasn’t there.... and his stupid body want okay with that. The aching throb between his legs drew a whisper from him as wetness dribbled from his arse. Even with the distance, Matt could smell him. Matt colour smell him and the damn stupid mutt was growling over it. If he dared lay a finger on Keith, Lance was going to snap off the insulting digit, force it up Matt’s urethra then snap his dick off and feed it to him like some kind of “fingdicken”, operating on the same principle as a turducken. Maybe he could use bacon as an outer wrapping... kind of borrowing the spirit of “what’s in the box?”.

Slightly horrified by his own thoughts, he curled up up. He didn’t necessarily hate Matt. He just didn’t want Keith to be hurt. Shiro wouldn’t let Keith be hurt. Meaning his twisted thoughts never needed to form. Keith could take care of himself. An involuntary whimper escaped as the first cramp of need hit. Covering his mouth quickly, he listened for a response downstairs. Rieva was busy scolding Matt, the sound seemed to have escaped their attention. With his body like this, he was going to be forced to have a conversation he really didn’t want to have. They whole “hey, I’m not a werewolf but I kind of go into fits of heat” thing was going to make it complicated. Right now he wanted it to piss right off and never come back. He wanted to be downstairs with everyone else, getting know them and not seeming like a dick. Now he was hiding in bed too scared to jerk off in case he was heard. This vampire thing sucked.

[foxcantswim]

Take My Hand 3 | Thoschei

Take My Hand | Thoschei The Doctor convinces the Master to leave Gallifrey with her | 13 x Dhawan!Master https://archiveofourown.org/works/23059720/chapters/55229311

Well... I don't know how often I will update this. But here we go again!

Thank you for reading! I love you all! ( WE NEED MORE SOFT THOSCHEI GUYS )

Chapter 3: The Master gets jealous

-x-

The Master trudged along behind the Doctor. After spending a few weeks with her and the humans, he was already becoming tired of their antics. He had come to the conclusion that they were extremely reckless - always getting into unnecessary danger. He always put minimal effort in and allowed the Doctor to do all the saving. They were her friends after all.

The Doctor had taken them all on their third joint adventure. She wanted to travel with all of them together. Get used to eachother. The Master wasn't too keen on it. But it was either that or stay in the TARDIS for endless hours with nothing to do. He had already painted and re-painted the Judoon almost two hundred times. And he had already thrown every book in library at least twice.

The TARDIS was becoming annoyed and her hatred grew every day towards the Master. He laughed it off.

"Come on, gang!" the Doctor announced as they walked down one of the dusty streets. The planet they had landed on looked pretty Earth-like. The only distinctive feature was the fact that the planet's sky was incredible. There were five moons and many stars scattered the night sky, pink and purple lights swirled around them.

"What's up with the sky, Doc?" Graham questioned.

"This planet is trapped within a vortex," she exclaimed, stopping in her tracks, "Energy from the time vortex move in and out of the stars. This planet's time moves slower than others, so-"

"So the nights last up to three weeks," the Master finished, walking on ahead with his hands in his pockets, "Honestly, Doctor... You should tell them what the planet is like before you take them to it," he muttered. He had been to this planet countless times. It was sort of a getaway planet - a place to go and forget about everything else in the universe.

There were multiple buildings, all having a similar look to skyscrapers. And a couple human-like residents were roaming the streets.

The Doctor sighed, "This planet is also famous for perception filters," she explained before following the Master, "Everyone here is wearing one."

"So... They don't actually look like humans?" Yaz questioned.

"They're all from different worlds, different universes," the Doctor smiled as she waved at a woman who waved back in response, "All gathered here to take a breather. This place is also famous for having Earth features."

"Like selling awful human food. And playing awful human music," the Master said with disgust, "I mean honestly, do you lot cope with all those songs about love and break ups?!"

The Doctor smiled at the Master's complaints. She couldn't exactly disagree with that.

The three humans all looked around, quite surprised at how well the perception filter was working.

"Where are we exactly heading, Doctor?" Ryan asked, staying by the Doctor's side as they all followed the Master who was a few steps ahead of them.

"I just thought we could all take a break and explore. There are a few gift shops and you know how much I love a good gift shop," she smiled.

The Master had other intentions. He wanted to take over this infuriating planet... But he couldn't. Every time he had been here his intentions were cleared. The air on this planet was different to any other planet he had visited, calming his mind - making him forget about the drums momentarily.

He also wanted to visit a certain place...

The Doctor knew the Master had a certain liking towards this planet. She knew where he wanted to go, "Master?" she asked.

He stopped walking to turn and look at her as she approached.

"You sure you want to go there?" secretly she hoped he would say yes. Because she loved that place, too.

"Of course!" he exclaimed with a smirk, "The night is still young- Well! It will be young for the next few weeks! So why not?"

"Where-" Graham started.

"You'll see..." the Master didn't want to listen to them talk any longer, "Not much further."

The Doctor reached into her pocket and pulled out three flat devices - almost as thin as paper. She handed them to her friends, "These will let you purchase whatever you want."

"Seriously, Doctor?" the Master asked in confusion, "Who knows what they'll end up bringing onto the TARDIS?!"

"It'll be fine," she assured, "I take full responsibility if you regenerate in the process," she smirked before offering her hand to him.

He took it and they began to walk side by side towards their destination. The Doctor ignored his worries, continuously having to remind him that they aren't reckless at all.

Ryan had barely taken twenty steps before he kicked over a bucket of fresh fruit... He already had to use his device to pay for the damages.

"Reckless," the Master reminded her with an annoyed expression.

"Only a little," she gave him a shy smile.

-x-

The team passed by a few casinos and bars as they grew near to where the Master was leading them, "Do you always have to park the TARDIS so far away?" he groaned.

"If we park it close, then we won't be able to explore properly," she tried to reason.

Ryan had shoved pointless statues into his backpack that he, Yaz and Graham had purchased along the way. The Master tried to tell them that if they wanted figures of Daleks and such, he could just use his TCE to shrink a real one and give it to them.

The Doctor quickly declined for them.

The air grew cold as they rounded a corner, neon lights were scattered down the street ahead - illuminating the faces of residents and visitors who were heading to the same place the Master wanted to go.

They soon approached a large waterfall, "Just through here," the Master said.

"Th-Through there?" Yaz asked.

"Yes," he replied, "Through here."

"We'll get wet, mate!" Ryan exclaimed, not too happy about going through it.

The Master's patience was thin, "It's a dry waterfall."

"Dry waterfall?" Graham asked, "Looks pretty wet to me, Masty."

A look of confusion and disbelief spread across the Master's face, "D-Did you just call me M-?"

"Dry waterfall," the Doctor nodded, "I promise you, it's not like your average waterfall. Completely dry," she looked over to see some people walking through, "Trust me," she squeezed the Master's hand before stepping aside with him staying close - allowing Ryan, Yaz and Graham to enter.

"Woah..." they heard Ryan say on the other side, "That was proper awesome."

"Doctor?!" the Master exclaimed, "Did you- He- He called me Ma-!"

She silenced him with a kiss to the cheek, "I know," she smirked, "Doc. Masty. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"Not at all!" he assured her, "My poor brains can't deal with this," a sigh escaped him, unsure of how much longer he could cope around these humans.

"I think they're starting to like you," she assured.

He shook his head, "Can't have that. Humans liking me? Not my style," his free hand reached into his pocket, "You think if I used this on someone, they would hate me again?" he smirked as he waved the TCE around.

"No," she warned, grabbing it from him, "You will not use this. Ever."

"Ever?"

"Ever."

He pouted, "My suspicions were correct..."

"About what?" she wondered.

His pout turned into a sinister smile as he quickly grabbed the TCE from her, "You are extremely boring," he pocketed the device before pulling the Doctor through the waterfall.

Ryan, Yaz and Graham were a few metres ahead, patiently waiting.

"Thought you drowned or something," Graham smiled as the pair approached them.

"It's a dry wa-"

"Dry waterfall, yeah I know, mate," Graham quickly replied.

The Master was getting quite annoyed by the amount of times he had been cut off recently. Thankfully, this place had really strong drinks and the Master was looking forward to them.

They were all standing in a cave now, a few lights dotted along the walls in order for people to actually see where they were going.

"Lets go over the rules, shall we?" the Master started, moving to the side of the cave to allow other people to pass by.

"Rules?" Ryan questioned.

The Master ignored him, "First things first. Do not go around kissing random aliens. Some of these people are poisonous to humans..." he paused, "You know what? Kiss who you want. Forget that rule. Official rule number one! Do not buy anything black market. You don't know what you're doing and what you're buying. Which brings us on to rule two. Only buy drinks you know the name of. Anything else is most likely from a different planet. I can barely deal with you lot having one head. I can't even begin to imagine what it would be like if you grew another."

"Ask me if you want to try anything else. I will let you know if it's safe for humans," the Doctor added.

"Rule three. Do not talk to me after I've had a drink. Because I will kill you," he promised.

"He won't," the Doctor rolled her eyes.

"What is this place?" Yaz wondered.

"It's like a club-"

"It is not a club, Doctor!" the Master corrected, "There is music, dance floors, bars. But it is much more than a club. Each room has a specific purpose. So don't go drinking in a 'no drinking' room. Because you will be imprisoned. Don't go in the pool, either. That's rule number four."

Ryan questioned, "What? Is it like poisonous or somethin'?"

"No. I just don't want you to get the TARDIS wet," he groaned, "The Doctor would make me clean it up."

The Doctor nudged the Master's side, "That's enough," she looked at her fam, "Just have fun. But yeah. Don't drink anything you don't know about. Earth drinks are one hundred percent safe. If we get split up, don't worry about it. The devices I gave you can track entities with two hearts. So... Us two."

The five of them began to head to the entrance, flashing neon lights illuminated the space in the distance.

"Oh, there's also a black hole! Try not to fall in it!" the Master smirked as the music grew louder.

"Black hole!?" the three humans exclaimed.

"Perfectly safe," the Doctor assured them.

-x-

The team had indeed gotten split up. The two Time Lords expected this to happen. It had barely been ten minutes before they had gone their own ways.

The room was wide and filled with people. The ceiling was high and in the centre of the dance floor was a huge black hole. It was in a giant stasis field in order to stop it from activating.

The Master often wondered what sort of maniac would build this place around a black hole. He was so tempted to steal the Doctor's sonic and go and deactivate the field. His patience was wearing thin as he sat at on the bar stool, sipping away at some random drink from the planet Raxacoricofallapatorius. It was a light green colour and it bubbled slightly from the high temperature it possessed.

It was disgusting.

He hated it.

But the Doctor enjoyed it, so he decided to give it a chance.

Speaking of the Doctor... She had been gone for quite some time. She said that she saw an old friend of hers and wanted to go and talk with them.

He allowed the burning sensation of the drink to pass through his mouth once more before closing his eyes. The music was quickly drowned at.

'You get lost?'

'Sorry, sorry!' she apologised, 'Got a bit carried away. I'm heading over to you now. Buy me a drink?'

'Always so needy,' his eyes snapped open and then proceeded to order for the Doctor. His fingers tapped on the bar in a familiar four beat tune as he waited for her. Honestly, he would much rather listen to the infuriating drums in his head than the Earth music that surrounded him - echoing off the walls.

He knew something was off as soon as they landed on this planet... He'd assumed that the Doctor had felt it too... But she hadn't. The air was still calm. But not as calm as it usually is. There was an unwanted tension that had surrounded him the entire time. The Doctor already had enough on her shoulders and he didn't to worry her anymore.

Something was here that wasn't supposed to be.

He soon forgot about the threat as one of the beats from the drums in his head was louder, this caught him off guard. The loud bang acted as a warning. He turned on his stool to what had caused his head to ache.

The Master's hand quickly tightened around his glass, unamused at the sight. His blood boiled, his hearts beat fast.

Some lowlife human from an Earth colony from the year - Oh, the Master didn't care about him! He could tell by the way the human leaned in close that he was flirting with the Doctor.

The man had taken the Doctor's hand and kissed the back of it. The Master quickly downed the rest of his drink before turning to slam the glass down onto the bar. He quickly looked back at the man and the Doctor again, his fists clenched as he watched.

Nobody touched his Doctor.

He could sense that the Doctor was uncomfortable, but she was too nice to tell him to go away.

The Master jumped off the bar stool and immediately stormed over to the pair. He quickly grabbed the Doctor's free hand and pulled her to his side. Before the Doctor could protest, his lips found hers in a heated kiss. His arms wrapped around the woman's waist protectively.

He pulled back to look down at a stunned Doctor, his eyes drifted over to the human, "You're lucky I'm not in a killing mood today," he growled, just loud enough for him to hear.

"Master..." the Doctor whispered, recovering from the kiss. Her voice bounced around his head, soothing the drumming.

He hushed her, "Shhh... I won't hurt him. As long as he leaves. Right. Now," he said, the human understood the threat.

The man grumbled to himself before heading off into the nearby crowd.

The two Time Lords stayed close, the Master's arms were still secure around the Doctor. Her arms had found their way around his neck.

'You don't need to be jealous, Koschei...' her thoughts invaded his, the drums now completely blocked out.

Her head rested on his chest as he responded, 'I'm never jealous.'

'Lies.'

The Doctor had only consumed a couple drinks since arriving. She started to sway them to the music. It was one of Earth's many slow songs from the year 2025.

'I don't dance,' the Master informed her, he wouldn't admit that he enjoyed this intimacy with her.

'Again. Lies. Your last two regenerations had a knack for it," she moved her head away so she could look into her eyes.

She felt her hearts skip a beat. The look in his eyes. Sure there was a certain emptiness to them. But she could see it. Clearly. There was a flicker of love behind all that darkness. She hadn't seen that look in his eyes in so long.

'My last two regenerations were idiots.'

'Cute idiots.'

The Master leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips, hoping it would silence her.

'I can still talk in your head, you know?' she mentioned.

'Shut up, Theta.'

The Doctor stayed quiet in his head. The music was still drowned out due to their current connection. She felt like they were the only two people in the room.

The Master let his walls down. He couldn't help it. He tried to stop his darkness from washing over her, but he felt so free at this moment.

The darkness hit her hard, causing their connection to falter slightly. The Master gave her a reassuring squeeze before pulling her closer.

Her head was filled with the sights of Gallifrey burning once more. She pulled away in shock.

'You still think about it?'

Sadness. She didn't expect to see that emotion within his eyes.

'Yes,' he nodded, pulling her into a hug. The soothing double heartbeat settled the Doctor's mind.

He got annoyed at himself quickly. Annoyed that he actually felt guilty for what he did. He couldn't have just killed a couple Time Lords? No. He had to go and destroy the entire damn planet.

She hadn't forgiven him. She knew she would one day. That day was far into the future.

'Koschei... I know a small part of you regrets what you have done. I understand that. Just know that I won't leave you behind. I will help you get better.'

He decided not to respond. He remained silent for the next few minutes, just holding her. Hoping it was enough.

Their connection soon broke completely as a loud explosion invaded their ears. People started to scream and shout, the music died down and then everybody began to run for the exit.

"Aha!" the Master exclaimed, grabbing her hand, "Finally! I was wondering when the danger would make its appearance!" he sounded like an excited child opening his Christmas presents.

"Y-You knew this was going to happen!?" she asked in annoyance as they made their way to the side of the room, clear from the huge crowd.

"Doctor, Doctor, Doctor..." he started, "Is it even an adventure with you if there is no threatening monster?"

She couldn't deny that.

The Doctor convinced the Master that they needed to go and find the gang.

Their fingers remained intertwined as they began to head towards the source of the explosion.

"We do this together, okay?" the Doctor asked.

He nodded down at her, "Together."

-x-

THANKS FOR READING. YOU ARE ALL AMAZING.

Spoilers: Chapter 4 - The Master saves the Doctor's 'fam'

[wingsoffireaus]

Allow me to fulfil your ask addiction. Queen, Animus, Rainforest, Jade Mountain, Pantala, Poison Jungle, Scavenger, Aquatic and Dreamvisitor?

Thank you kindly. :P

Queen: Favorite tribe?

Aw shiz. I actually really like all of them.

I guess since I have been working with Nightwings the most I will have to go with them. Although Silkwings are also my babies.

Animus: Do you have any Wings of Fire OCs?

Well I kind of consider the Darksight kids mine at this point but technically they are mentioned in canon so maybe that doesn't count. (Shameless self-promotion but if anyone hasn't seen it yet you can read more about them on my side blog @the-darksight-kids )

But besides them I do have a couple. I will keep it short but sweet.

Drift: The Icewing boyfriend of Fierceclaws. He's a real cutie but I haven't properly made any posts on him yet. I really love him though.

Hickory: (named after the hickory tiger moth. Honestly a little shaky on that name still but it's growing on me.) She's a Beetlewing from the time of Clearsight in Pantala. She's actually not too pleased with the changes that Clearsight is trying to make around those parts. (She was birthed from the idea of not everybody being excited about worshipping a new dragon who came out of nowhere.) I've actually mentioned her once before when I talked about an OC of mine with extreme opinions that gets a little controversial. Haven't looked at her in a while sadly.

:(

These are older but I still love them.

Dreamseeker: A Nightwing born a couple of hundred years after canon. She's a pretty famous bard who travels all over Pyrrhia. Honestly I just loved the idea of a dragon bard. I actually have some decent concept art of her somewhere....

River: Born a Princess to the Rainwings, River was never happy in her- his scales. Luckily for him he met a certain Nightwing bard and started traveling with her. They fall in love and it's adorable....

Okay if you didn't get what I was saying River is trans. Honestly it didn't start out that way but as I wrote the character he kind of took a life of his own. Man I need to come back to these guys. They're adorable!

For this one there's a whole cast so I'm not going to go into it.

But yeah. Those are my bigger OCs.

Rainforest: Favorite villain?

Darkstalker. Surprise, surprise.

I love my angsty boy sooo much. He's just sooo good!

Jade Mountain: Which character is the most like you?

Probably Blue. At least on a base level. I immediately felt for the whole getting into someone elses head and think about what they must be feeling.

I'd get in trouble for this after losing a game of basketball, for feeling happy for the other team for winning. But I have a sarcastic edge now so I guess I am Blue with a pinch of Glory. LOL

Pantala: Third times the charm. Haha. I would be a Silkwing and my name would be Swallowtail. I'd have the coloring of an old world swallowtail butterfly.

For additional flavor I will tell you my WIP backstory. I would hopefully live in Jewel hive and make Jewelry for a living. (I actually make jewelry in real life so this would be what I would like to do here.)

Poison Jungle: Top 3 OTPs? Top 3 Notps?

I know I've already answered this one so I will do the next three in each. Haha

Otps

4: Morrowmind (read my au you'll get it.)

5: Blicket (Adorable!)

6: Thoughtout (Yas!)

Notps

4: anything with Moon. TBH. Just... I really am not a fan.

5: Most of Glorys other ships tbh. I just... No. No. I just can't get behind them I'm sorry.

6: Morrowseer/Blister 😐

Scavenger: Your favorite Head canons?

Ooof. There's so many. I'll give you three.

Baby Mudwings follow their Bigwings around like ducklings.... Just... Aw!

The Nightwing dragonets finding constellations with their wings. Also aw!

Buff females with slender pretty males. Give it to me!!!

Aquatic: Favorite Friendship?

I feel like the dragonets of destiny would be cheating. So Imma gonna have to go with Peril and Turtle. It's so pure.

Dreamvisitor: Which character would you be best friends with?

Cricket. We could talk about books and random facts together! I'm seriously the girl who has a random fact for any and every occasions. I'd be embarrassed but I'm not!

(I wish school had been more fun. Since I do enjoy learning. But I don't like having to cram worthless junk in my brain for a one time test.)

[dreadedmother]

The Plutonian Drug ~ Clark Ashton Smith

'It is remarkable.' said Dr. Manners, 'how the scope of our pharmacopoeia has been widened by interplanetary exploration. In the past thirty years, hundreds of hitherto unknown substances, employable as drugs or medical agents, have been found in the other worlds of our own system. It will be interesting to see what the Allan Farquar expedition will bring back from the planets of Alpha Centaurt when -- or if — it succeeds in reaching then and returning to earth. I doubt, though, if anything more valuable than selenine will be discovered. Selenine, derived from a fossil lichen found by the first rocket-expedition to the moon in 1975, has, as you know, practically wiped out the old-time curse of cancer. In solution, it forms the base of an infallible serum, equally useful for cure or prevention.'

'I fear I haven't kept up on a lot of the new discoveries,' said Rupert Balcoth the sculptor, Manners' guest, a little apologetically. 'Of course, everyone has heard of selenine. And I've seen frequent mention, recently, of a mineral water from Ganymede whose effects are like those of the mythical Fountain of Youth.'

'You mean clithni, as the stuff is called by the Ganymedians. It is a clear, emerald liquid, rising in lofty geysers from the craters of quiescent volcanoes. Scientists believe that the drinking of clithni is the secret of the almost fabulous longevity of the Ganymedians; and they think that it may prove to be a similar elixir for humanity.'

'Some of the extraplametary drugs haven't been so beneficial to mankind, have they? ' queried Balcoth. 'I seem to have heard of a Martian poison that has greatly facilitated the gentle art of murder. And I am told that mnophka, the Venerian narcotic, is far worse, in its effects on the human system, than is any terrestrial alkaloid.'

'Naturally,' observed the doctor with philosophic calm, 'many of these new chemical agents are capable of due abuse. They share that liability with any number of our native drugs. Man, as ever; has the choice of good and evil... I suppose that the Martian poison you speak of is akpaloli, the juice of a common russet-yellow weed that grows in the oases of Mars. It is colorless, and without taste or odor. It kills almost instantly, leaving no trace, and imitating closely the symptoms of heart-disease. Undoubtedly many people have been made away with by means of a surreptitious drop of akpaloli in their food or medicine. But even akpaloli, if used in infinitesimal doses, is a very powerful stimulant, useful in cases of syncope, and serving, not infrequently to re-animate victims of paralysis in a quite miraculous manner.

'Of course,' he went on, 'there is an infinite lot still to be learned about many of these ultra-terrene substances. Their virtues have often been discovered quite by accident — and in some cases, the virtue is still to be discovered.

'For example, take mnophka, which you mentioned a little while ago. Though allied in a way, to the earthnarcotics, such as opium and hashish, it is of little use for anaesthetic or anodyne purposes. Its chief effects are an extraordinary acceleration of the time-sense, and a heightening and telescoping of all sensations, whether pleasurable or painful. The user seems to be living and moving at a furious whirlwind rate — even though he may in reality be lying quiescent on a couch. He exists in a headlong torrent of sense-impressions, and seems, in a few minutes, to undergo the experiences of years. The physical result is lamentable — a profound exhaustion, and an actual aging of the tissues, such as would ordinarily require the period of real time which the addict has "lived" through merely in his own illusion.

'There are some other drugs, comparatively little known, whose effects, if possible, are even more curious than those of mnophka. I don't suppose you have ever heard of plutonium?'

'No, I haven't,' admitted Balcoth. 'Tell me about it.'

'I can do even better than that — I can show you some of the stuff, though it isn't much to look at — merely a fine white powder.'

Dr. Manners rose from the pneumatic-cushioned chair in which he sat facing his guest, and went to a large cabinet of synthetic ebony, whose shelves were crowded with flasks, bottles, tubes, and cartons of various sizes and forms. Re turning, he handed to Balcoth a squat and tiny vial, twothirds filled with a starchy substance.

'Plutonium,' explained Manners, 'as its name would indicate, comes from forlom, frozen Pluto, which only one terrestrial expedition has so far visited — the expedition led by the Cornell brothers, John and Augustine, which started in 1990 and did not return to earth till 1996, when nearly everyone had given it up as lost. John, as you may have heard, died during the returning voyage, together with half the personnel of the expedition: and the others reached earth with only one reserve oxygen-tank remaining.

This vial contains about a tenth of the existing supply of plutonium. Augustine Cornell, who is an old schoolfriend of mine gave it to me three years ago, just before he embarked with the Allan Farquar crowd. I count myself pretty lucky to own anything so rare.

'The geologists of the party found the stuff when they began prying beneath the solidified gases that cover the surface of that dim, starlit planet, in an effort to learn a little about its composition and history. They couldn't do much under the circumstances, with limited time and equipment; but they made some curious discoveries — of which plutonium was far from being the least.

'Like selenine, the stuff is a bi-product of vegetable fossilization. Doubtless it is many billion years old, and dates back to the time when Pluto possessed enough internal heat to make possible the development of certain rudimentary plant-forms on its blind surface. It must have had an atmosphere then; though no evidence of former animal-life was found by the Cornells.

'Plutonium, in addition to carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, and oxygen, contains minute quantities of several unclassified elements. It was discovered in a crystalloid condition, but turned immediately to the fine powder that you see, as soon as it was exposed to air in the rocketship. It is readily soluble in water, forming a permanent colloid, without the least sign of deposit, no matter how long it remains in suspension.'

'You say it is a drug?' queried Balcoth. 'What does it do to you?'

'I'll come to that in a minute — though the effect is pretty hard to describe. The properties of the stuff were discovered by chance: on the return journey from Pluto, a member of the expedition, half delirious with space-fever, got hold of the unmarked jar containing it and took a small dose, imagining that it was bromide of potassium. It served to complicate his delirium for a while — since it gave him some brand-new ideas about space and time.

'Other people have experimented with it since then. The effects are quite brief (the influence never lasts more than half an hour) and they vary considerably with the individual. There is no bad aftermath, either neural, mental, or physical, as far as anyone has been able to determine. I've taken it myself, once or twice, and can testify to that.

'Just what it does to one, I am not sure. Perhaps it merely produces a derangement or metamorphosis of sensations, like hashish; or perhaps it serves to stimulate some rudimentary organ, some dormant sense of the human brain. At any rate there is, as clearly as I can put it, an altering of the perception of time — of actual duration — into a sort of space-perception. One sees the past, and also the future, in relation to one's own physical self, like a landscape stretching away on either hand. You don't see very far, it is true -merely the events of a few hours in each direction; but it's a very curious experience; and it helps to give you a new slant on the mystery of time and space. It is altogether different from the delusions of mnophka.'

'It sounds very interesting,' admitted Balcoth. 'However, I've never tampered much with narcotics myself; though I did experiment once or twice, in my young, romantic days with cannabis Indica. I had been reading Gautiet and Baudelaire, I suppose. Anyway, the result was rather disappointing.'

'You didn't take it long enough for your system to absorb a residuum of the drug, I imagine,' said Manners. 'Thus the effects were negligible, from a visionary standpoint, But plutonium is altogether different — you get the maximum result from the very first dose. I think it would interest you greatly, Balcoth, since you are a sculptor by profession: you would see some unusual plastic images, not easy to render in terms of Euclidean planes and angles. I'd gladly give you a pinch of it now, if you'd care to experiment.'

'You're pretty generous, aren't you, since the stuff is so rare?'

'I'm not being generous at all. For years, I've planned to write a monograph on ultra-terrestrial narcotics; and you might give me some valuable data. With your type of brain and your highly developed artistic sense, the visions of plutonium should be uncommonly clear and significant. All I ask is, that you describe them to me as fully as you can afterwards.'

'Very well,' agreed Balcoth. 'I'll try anything once.' His curiosity was inveigled, his imagination seduced, by Manner's account of the remarkable drug.

Manners brought out an antique whisky-glass, which he filled nearly to the rim with some golden-red liquid. Uncorking the vial of plutonium, he added to this fluid a small pinch of the fine white powder, which dissolved immediately and without effervescence.

'The liquid is a wine made from a sweet Martian tuber known as ovvra,' he explained. 'It is light and harmless, and will counteract the bitter taste of the plutonium. Drink, it quickly and then lean back in your chair.'

Balcoth hesitated, eyeing the golden-red fluid.

'Are you quite sure the effects will wear off as promptly as you say?' he questioned. 'It's a quarter past nine now, and I'll have to leave about ten to keep an appointment with one of my patrons at the Belvedere Club. It's the billionaire, Claud Wishhaven. who wants me to do a bas-relief in pseudo-jade and neo-jasper for the hall of his country mansion. He wants something really advanced and futuristic. We're to talk it over tonight — decide on the motifs, etc.'

"That gives you forty-five minutes," assured the doctor -- 'and in thirty, at the most your brain and senses will be perfectly normal again. I've never known it to fail. You'll have fifteen minutes to spare, in which to tell me all about your sensations.'

Balcoth emptied the little antique glass at a gulp and leaned back, as Manners had directed, on the deep pneumatic cushions of the chair; He seemed to be falling easily but endlessly into a mist that had gathered in the room with unexplainable rapidity; and through this mist he was dimly aware that Manners had taken the empty glass from his relaxing fingers. He saw the face of Manners far above him, small and blurred, as if in some tremendous perspective of alpine distance; and the doctor's simple action seemed to be occurring in another world.

He continued to fall and float through eternal mist, in which all things were dissolved as in the primordial nebulae of chaos. After a timeless interval, the mist which had been uniformly gray and hueless at first, took on a flowing iridescence, never the same for two successive moments; and the sense of gentle falling turned to a giddy revolution, as if he were caught in an ever-accelerating vortex.

Coincidentally with his movement in this whirlpool of prismatic splendor, he seemed to undergo an indescribable mutation of the senses. The whirling colors, by subtle, ceaseless gradations, became recognizable as solid forms. Emerging, as if by an act of creation, from the infinite chaos, they appeared to take their place in an equally infinite vista. The feeling of movement, through decrescent spirals, was resolved into absolute immobility. Balcoth was no longer conscious of himself as a living organic body: he was an abstract eye, a discorporate center of visual awareness, stationed alone in space, and yet having an intimate relationship with the frozen prospect on which he peered from his ineffable vantage.

Without surprise, he found that he was gazing simultaneously in two directions. On either hand, for a vast distance that was wholly void of normal perspective, a weird and peculiar landscape stretched away, traversed by an unbroken frieze or bas-relief of human figures that ran like a straight undeviating wall.

For awhile, the frieze was incomprehensible to Balcoth, he could make nothing of its glacial, flowing outlines with their background of repeated masses and complicated angles and sections of other human friezes that approached or departed, often in a very abrupt manner, from an unseen world beyond. Then the vision seemed to resolve and clarify itself, and he began to understand.

The bas-relief, he saw, was composed entirely of a repetition of his own figure; plainly distinct as the separate waves of a stream, and possessing a stream-like unity. Immediately before him, and for some distance on either hand. the figure was seated in a chair — the chair itself being subject to the same billowy repetition. The background was composed of the reduplicated figure of Dr. Manners, in another chair; and behind this, the manifold images of a medicine cabinet and a section of wall-paneling.

Following the vista on what, for lack of any better name, might be termed the left hand, Balcoth saw himself in the act of draining the antique glass, with Manners standing before him. Then, still further, he saw himself previous to this, with a background in which Manners was presenting him the glass, was preparing the dose of plutonium, was going to the cabinet for the vial, was rising from his pneumatic chair. Every movement, every attitude of the doctor and himself during their past conversation, was visioned in a sort of reverse order, reaching away, unalterable as a wall of stone sculpture, into the weird, eternal landscape. There was no break in the continuity of his own figure; but Manners seemed to disappear at times, as if into a fourth dimension. These times, he remembered later, were the occasions whem the doctor had not been in his line of vision. The perception was wholly visual; and though Balcoth saw his own lips and those of Manner's parted in movements of speech, he could hear no word or other sound.

Perhaps the most singular feature of the vision was the utter absence of foreshortening. Though Balcoth seemed to behold it all from a fixed, immovable point, the landscape and the intersecting frieze presented themselves to him without diminution, maintaining a frontal fullness and distinctness to a distance that might have been many miles.

Continuing along the left-hand vista, he saw himself entering Manners' apartments, and then encountered his image standing in the elevator that had borne him to the ninth floor of the hundred story hotel in which Manners lived. Then the frieze appeared to have an open street for background, with a confused, ever-changing multitude of other faces and forms, of vehicles and sections of buildings, all jumbled together as in some old-time futuristic painting. Some of these details were full and clear, and others were cryptically broken,and blurred, so as to be scarcely recognizable. Everything, whatever its spatial position and relation, was re-arranged in the flowing frozen stream of this temporal pattern.

Balcoth retraced the three blocks from Manners' hotel to his own studio, seeing all his past movements, whatever their direction in tri-dimensional space, as a straight line in the time-dimemion. At last he was in his studio; and there the frieze of his own figure receded into the eerie prospect of space-transmuted time among other friezes formed of actual sculptures. He beheld himself giving the final touches with his chisel to a symbolic statue at the afternoon's end, with a glare of ruddy sunset falling through an unseen window and flushing the pallid marble. Beyond this there was a reverse fading of the glow, a thickening and blurring of the half-chiselled features of the image, a female form to which he had given the tentative name of Oblivion. At length, among half-seen statuary, the left-hand vista became indistinct, and melted slowly in amorphous mist. He had seen his own life as a continuous glaciated stream, stretching for about five hours into the past.

Reaching away on the right hand, he saw the vista of the future. Here there was a continuation of his seated figure under the influence of the drug, opposite the continued bas relief of Dr. Manners and the repeated cabinet and wall panels. After a considerable interval, he beheld himself in the act of rising from the chair. Standing erect, he seemed to be talking awhile, as in some silent antique film, to the listening doctor. After that, he was shaking hands with Manners, was leaving the apartment, was descending in the lift and following the open brightly-lighted street toward the Belvedere Club where he was to keep his appointment with Claud Wishhaven.

The Club was only three blocks away, on another street; and the shortest route, after the first block, was along a narrow alley between an office building and a warehouse. Balcoth had meant to take this alley; and in his vision, he saw the bas-relief of his future figure passing along the straight pavement with a background of deserted doorways and dim walls that towered from sight against the extinguished stars.

He seemed to be alone: there were no passers — only the silent, glimmering endlessly repeated angles of arc-lit walls and windows that accompanied his repeated figure. He saw himself following the alley, like a stream in some profound canyon; and there midway, the strange vision came to an abrupt inexplicable end, without the gradual blurring into formless mist, that had marked his retrospective view of the past.

The sculpture-like frieze with its architectural ground appeared to terminate, broken off clean and sharp, in a gulf of immeasurable blackness and nullity. The last wave-like duplication of his own person, the vague doorway beyond it, the glimmering alley-pavement, all were seen as if shorn asunder by a falling sword of darkness, leaving a vertical line of cleavage beyond which there was — nothing.

Balcoth had a feeling of utter detachment from himself, an eloignment from the stream of time, from the shores of space, in some abstract dimension. The experience, in its full realization, might have lasted for an instant only — or for eternity. Without wonder, without curiosity or reflection, like a fourth-dimensional Eye, he viewed simultaneously the unequal cross-sections of his own past and future.

After that timeless interval of complete perception, there began a reverse process of change. He, the all-seeing eye, aloof in super-space, was aware of movement, as if he were drawn back by some subtle thread of magnetism into the dungeon of time and space from which he had momentarily departed. He seemed to be following the frieze of his own seated body toward the right, with a dimly felt rhythm or pulsation in his movement that corresponded to the merging duplications of the figure. With curious clearness, he realized that the time-unit, by which these duplications were determined, was the beating of his own heart.

Now with accelerative swiftness, the vision of petrific form and space was re-dissolving into a spiral swirl of multitudinous colors, through which he was drawn upward. Presently he came to himself, seated in the pneumatic chair, with Dr. Manners opposite. The room seemed to waver a little, as if with some lingering touch of the weird transmutation; and webs of spinning iris hung in the corners of his eyes. Apart from this, the effect of the drug had wholly vanished, leaving, however, a singularly clear and vivid memory of the almost ineffable experience.

Dr. Manners began to question him at once, and Balcoth described his visionary sensations as fully and graphically as he could.

'There is one thing I don't understand,' said Manners at the end with a puzzled frown. 'According to your account, you must have seen five or six hours of the past, running in a straight spatial line, as a sort of continuous landscape; but the vista of the future ended sharply after you had followed it for three-quarters of an hour; or less. I've never known the drug to act so unequally: the past and future perspectives have always been about the same in their extent for others who have used plutoninum.'

'Well,' observed Balcoth, 'the reaI marvel is that I could see into the future at all. In a way, I can understand the vision of the past. It was clearly composed of physical memories — of all my recent movements; and the background was formed of all the impressions my optic nerves had received during that time. But how could I behold something that hasn't yet happened?'

'There's the mystery, of course,' assented Manners. 'I can think of only one explanation at all intelligible to our finite minds. This is, that all the events which compose the stream of time have already happened, are happening, and will continue to happen forever. In our ordinary state of consciousness, we perceive with the physical senses merely that moment which we call the present. Under the influence of plutonium, you were able to extend the moment of present cognition in both directions, and to behold simultaneously a portion of that which is normally beyond perception. Thus appeared the vision of yourself as a continuous, immobile body, extending through the time-vista.'

Balcoth, who had been standing, now took his leave. 'I must be going,' he said, 'or I'll be late for my appointment.'

'I won't detain you any longer,' said Manners. He appeared to hesitate, and then added: 'I'm still at a loss to comprehend the abrupt cleavage and termination of your prospect of the future. The alley in which it seemed to end was Falman Alley, I suppose — your shortest route to the Belvedere Club. If I were you, Balcoth, I'd take another route, even if it requires a few minutes extra.'

'That sounds rather sinister,' laughed Balcoth. 'Do you think that something may happen to me in Falman Alley?'

'I hope not — but I can't guarantee that it won't.' Manners' tone was oddly dry and severe. 'You'd better do as I suggest.'

Balcoth felt the touch of a momentary shadow as he left the hotel — a premonition brief and light as the passing of some night-bird on noiseless wings. What could it mean -that gulf of infinite blackness into which the weird frieze of his future had appeared to plunge, like a frozen cataract? Was there a menace of some sort that awaited him in a particular place, at a particular moment?

He had a curious feeling of repetition, of doing something that he had done before, as he followed the street. Reaching the entrance of Falman Alley, he took out his watch. By walking briskly and following the alley, he would reach the Belvedere Club punctually. But if he went on around the next block, he would be a little late. Balcoth knew that his prospective patron, Claud Wishhaven, was almost a martinet in demanding punctuality from himself and from others. So he took the alley.

The place appeared to be entirely deserted, as in his vision. Midway, Balcoth approached the half-seen door — a rear entrance of the huge warehouse — which had formed the termination of the time prospect. The door was his last visual impression, for something descended on his head at that moment, and his consciousness was blotted out by the supervening night he had previsioned He had been sand- bagged, very quietly and efficiently, by a twenty-first century thug. The blow was fatal; and time, as far as Balcoth was concerned, had come to an end.

[necrowriter]

godchild of loki (part two) (fenrir)

The second child of Loki, I met at midsummer.

Not that I realized it at the time. I'd heard a few people mention that it was the solstice, but I hadn't really paid much attention. All I knew was that it was still really damn hot, even in the evening as I walked home from work. The air was still and dry, and the sky was still full of light.

I was about halfway home when I realized there was a dog following me. I didn't see where it came from; it was just there, padding behind me, so big I wondered how I could possibly have not noticed it. It was easily the biggest dog I'd ever seen, mottled black and gray and absolutely massive, but there was also a certain leanness to it that made me think uncomfortably more of a wolf than a dog. It wore a leather collar that looked as though it had been gnawed on, and from the collar trailed a short piece of frayed, torn rope.

I wasn't as nervous as I guess most people would have been to see a dog like that following them. I'd always liked dogs, and dogs had always liked me. I'd never met a dog, no matter how big or how small, that I couldn't get along with. It was one of the blessings of my godfather, I was fairly sure, he who had, after all, been the father of the greatest wolf to ever live.

Nevertheless, this dog made even me uncomfortable, and I wondered if I should do something about it. Call a shelter or something, perhaps; by the looks of it, it had escaped from somewhere, and someone might want it back.

Then something else occurred to me. I hesitated and glanced back at the dog. It was watching me with bright green eyes. I'd never seen eyes like that on a dog before.

“Are you...Fenrir?” I asked. I felt a bit silly saying that, but I figured that if it was a normal dog it wouldn't tell anybody.

It wasn't a normal dog, though.

“I am,” the dog—the wolf—said. It had the deepest, graveliest voice I'd ever heard, and when it spoke slobber dribbled onto the sidewalk. “I am Fenrir, fame-wolf, son of Loki. Many bonds have I broken. The gods betrayed me and bound me with the dwarf-fetter Gleipnir, but when the end of days comes, I shall be free, and with my great jaws I shall devour the sun and the moon and the All-Father himself.”

I swallowed hard. “Pleased to meet you.”

The huge pink tongue lolled out in a grin. “Likewise, godchild.”

We kept walking. The great black wolf padded along beside me, silent despite its bulk.

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” I said after a minute.

“I care not what you ask,” Fenrir said. “What I may answer is another story.”

I nodded. This again. “It's just...if you're bound by the, um, the thing...how can you be here now? Like this?”

���Ahh, little thing,” Fenrir said. “I am a god. I need not be in only one place at once.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling that this didn't entirely explain things. “Um. Is that how Loki can show up at my house even though he's...uh...”

“Bound deep beneath the earth with the entrails of my half-brother?” Fenrir growled. “Aye. In the darkest depths my father writhes against his own fetters and screams to feel the touch of poison on his brow. He is bound. Or he will be bound. Or he has been bound. Gods are...different, little thing. We do not move through time as you do.”

“Oh,” I said again.

“He was imprisoned for what he had done,” Fenrir said. “I was imprisoned for what I will do. But would I still do it if I had not been bound, and driven to revenge? What do you think, little thing?”

I was way out in the weeds by this point, but I couldn't just not answer, so I scraped my brain for a response. “Um, well...I guess that depends. I mean, did you want to eat the sun and the moon and everything before they tied you up?

“Ah, there's the question.” Fenrir licked his chops. “Perhaps. My hunger is great. But so is the hunger of Thor, for blood spilled and a good battle. So is the hunger of Odin, for wisdom and power. There are many kinds of hunger. And someone must eat the old sun at the end of days, so that a new one can be born. Perhaps someone must eat the old gods as well. It all goes around and around, little godchild.”

I considered this.

“Okay,” I said after a minute. “So you're saying it's kind of your job to eat everything?”

Fenrir snorted. “That could be said, yes.”

“So why did...do...whatever...the gods bother tying you up, then? It doesn't change anything!”

“Because they were afraid,” Fenrir said dryly. “And because they saw no other use for me. If my purpose is found at the end of all things, something must be done with me until then. The gods could have let me go free, but they were too afraid of my hunger running wild. Aye, my father may be a trickster, but it was the Aesir who lied to me. They swore it was only a test of my skill, that if I could not break free of this most paltry of binds they would release me, but when it held fast against me they only stood and laughed, and left me alone at the end of the world.”

I remembered that story. It had always scared me as a child, the big bad wolf with his slavering jaws, swearing he would only consent to be bound if one of the gods placed his hand in the wolf's mouth. I would yell at the image of the god Tyr in my storybook, telling him not to do it, knowing that he would lose his hand.

As a child, I'd always been relieved that the wolf was tied up safe and far away. As I got older, though, I'd begun to wonder...

“What would happen if they hadn't tied you up?” I asked.

“That is the question, is it not?” Fenrir said.

There was silence for a moment.

“If this all happens over and over again,” I said, “why don't you ever just...not agree to be tied up?”

Fenrir shook his head. “Because there is always a chance. Always a chance that perhaps this time...they are telling the truth.”

I didn't know what to say to that.

“You interest me, godchild,” Fenrir said. “You are something new, such as there has not been in a long time.”

I shrugged. “I'm not anything special, though. I mean, I don't feel like someone with any great destiny or anything. I'm just...me.”

Fenrir actually laughed. It was strange to watch. “Take it from me, little thing. A great destiny is not necessarily desirable.”

We turned a corner, the last corner on the trip home. I could see my house now, down the street. Fenrir stopped and turned his great shaggy head towards me.

“I came to look at you, godchild, to catch your scent,” he said. “But now I am here, I will tell you this: be wary of wolves, little thing, but be wary also of how you judge them.”

With that he set out at an easy run, or what seemed like an easy run, but within a few seconds he was already moving out of sight. Then he was gone, vanished into the slowly setting sun.

I finished the rest of the walk slowly. I had a lot to think about.

-----------------------------------

Notes:

1.) There seems to be some confusion over whether it’s Fenrir himself that eats the sun and the moon, or whether it’s two other wolves, which are possibly related to him. I pared things down a bit by having it just be him, but I’m no expert, so I couldn’t say which is likely to be more accurate.

2.) As far as I know, the idea of Fenrir (and everything else that happens during Ragnarok) doing a necessary job is just interpretation on my part. There’s definitely something cyclical going on there, but I don’t think it says anywhere that that’s the purpose Fenrir serves or anything. It’s just sort of something he does. But hey, we’re already pretty far outside the strict bounds of norse mythology as it was originally written and intended. 

[anima-contritum]

hamilsquad magic!au headcanons

A/N: this au is my baby so please be gentle with it. if you guys wanna write stuff based on this (which i myself will eventually do) then ask me and credit me and @11wolfpup11 because she had a big part in creating this world with me. this is just a little bit of something big that i have tons of notes on so feel free to ask questions and such (: as always, enjoy! p.s. this is my first hc so idk if im doing it right o well

Alexander:

Weather Wizard

this boy can make the sunniest day instantly cloudy and dark if he’s in a bad mood

when he cries, it rains with flashing lightning and thunder that shakes the ground

overall, donT MAKE HIM UPSET

he will either strike lightning down on your ass or have a storm cloud follow you for a week

one time after he fought with Jefferson, he manipulated the static electricity so his hair was frizzy 

Thomas nearly killed him for it

When he first discovered his powers, he set off a hurricane

he and his brother were fighting pretty bad to the point that’s what set Alex off

poor Alex couldnt control it, it was like a giant burst of energy exploded inside of him

it destroyed the entire town killing hundreds

he could hardly forgive himself after knowing this uncontrollable thing inside himself caused it

everyone hated him once his secret powers were exposed

there were riots and it all got pretty dangerous until he was finally able to be transported to Flilria Magic Academy 

Very bisexual and very flirty

when he first met Angelica, the ice witch nearly froze his face off for flirting with her

(John still laughs his ass off at that fact)

even after that he made the mistake of thinking dirtily about John Andre when the man could literally read every thought

(again, John still laughs)

but despite all that, Alexander still shamelessly flirts with Laurens and usually is very protective of him

Defiant as fuck

on his first day of attending Flilria, he got sent down to Headmaster Washington’s office at least 6 times

part of it was because he nearly talked Professor Seabury out of his own classroom 

another part was because he was veryyy close to kicking James Reynolds into the next fucking dimension for abusing Maria and degrading Hercules and Laf

John:

Potions Wizard

this freckled cutie is a total geek when it comes to potions and spells

he can create any potion knowing the ingredients and chants no matter what, like the information was already in his brain

he can also turn water into poison if he tried hard enough

when he first learned he could this kind of stuff, he accidentally poisoned one of his classmates from the human world and had to run away - again

HeS BEEN/GOING THROUGH SO MUCH PLEASE PROTECT HIM

his biological dad - whom no one ever speaks of (and surprisingly isn’t Henry hehe) - abused him both physically and emotionally

John was blamed for his mothers death when she died from the birth

his dad took his anger and grief out on him, cursing him so every full moon he turns into a hideous beast and so that his kiss was poisonous

when he was old enough, John ran away

for a while he lived on the streets with almost nothing to live on

it wasn’t until he was taken in by the Laurens’s did he know a little bit of compassion 

but in John’s experience, everything good has its end

Henry had slapped him across the face and beat him black and blue for accidentally knocking over a very antique and expensive family heirloom

he ran and never looked back

even after being taken into Flilria Academy, he has a hard time

people bully him because he isn’t that powerful

(in which Alex tells them to fuck off unless they want a foot where the sun don’t shine)

he has a hard time dealing with his ability because it just reminds him of his powerful and dark biological father

just

please protect him 

(more on the curse)

my poOR BOY 

John could never press his lips against someone’s skin, for the person would die 

its intention is to prevent John from ever falling in love (but boy oh boy that didn’t stop him)

to add to it, the curse prevents him from ever speaking of it to anyone

it kinda cuts off his words and leaves him speechless for a moment

the curse itself acts as a live darkness that can take over his body and mind or cause him pain if it senses something it doesn’t like

not even magic can cure the curse...

Alex has tried too many times to count

Loves Alexander despite the damn curse

he can be shy about it but is generally very open about his affections for the other boy

but he always has mini heart attacks whenever his lips get too close to Alex’s skin 

there was one time where they nearly kissed

John avoided Alex for a week after, terrified of killing his love and best friend

he often helps him with tests and stuff when it’s based on potions and all that hoopla

it’s all very cute and fluffy, but can be a big danger 

(verY ANGSTY)

Hercules:

Earth Wizard

this boy can pick up boulders and bend metal wiTH HIS MIND

(i kinda based his powers off of Avatar oops)

he can also do crazy natural disaster stuff like earthquakes 

super damn powerful but literally the sweetest boy ever

in addition, he can spawn cute lil flowers and other earthy things 

(he likes to put the flowers in Laf’s hair)

He caused a devastating earthquake when he first tapped into his abilities

it killed his family and nearly everything around him for miles was in ruins 

nobody was able to pinpoint the cause so Herc was shoved around like every other orphan

that was until he was teleported to the magic school where he first met Lafayette - his roommate

He was selectively mute for a very long time because of the after effects of the earthquake

it left him traumatized

he was speechless for a very long time, occasionally learning ASL words to ask Laf for something

Laf was always there, teaching him new sign language and talking to him even though there was no reply 

Laf was just generally okay with it and both supported and defended Herc through it all

this went on until one day Lafayette was rambling on about not having a Moon Stone for his collection

Herc had perked up and gotten up from where he was sitting. It took a bit to find it, but when he did he gave the Moon Stone he had to Laf with a small smile as two words passed his lips. “Keep it.”

(Laf made it into a necklace and wears it everyday)

That was the first time he had spoken since the earthquake

Please love and respec and protec

for a while, Herc would only ever talk to Laf

it would progress from quiet one worded responses to whispered sentences to full conversations

but even though he talks to Laf doesn’t mean he talks to everyone

he’s still trying to get passed his barriers and talking to others but most times it comes out in stutters and broken whispers

he has really bad anxiety but still tries

most times Laf has to stand up for him because others use his struggles against him

He’s scared of his powers

no lying, he’s one of the most powerful kids in the school

but because of the earthquake and avoiding his powers, he doesn’t know how to control it

it’s very hard for him to do big things at a time because he’s terrified if he pushes the limits he has set, he’ll hurt someone

it all comes down to his bad anxiety but he does try if he’s encouraged

sometimes the encouragement can be someone messing with Laf 

he learned he could bend metal from that one time someone called them a homophobic slur and he lost all sense of control

it still scares him though when he tries new things

Lafayette:

Animal Wizard

this pure boy can talk to animals

even though he can do this though, he sometimes has trouble understanding certain animal dialects

it’s kinda like how people can’t understand a different language if we don’t study it

he can also sometimes compel them if he has to but he hates it

He haS A BADASS PET DRAGON

he found the dragon egg under a giant willow tree

after carefully watching over it and keeping it safe, it hatched and out came a little black and blue scaled dragon he’d name Saule

(Saule translates to Willow in french)

Laf would soon learn that he and Saule established an unbreakable bond after she was born where they can speak telepathically and feel each other’s emotions 

now as she’s basically a teenager in dragon years, Saule’s the sassiest lil shit ever

she always teases him about his giant crush on Hercules 

oH and she breathes electricity rather than fire which is pretty cool

at this point, she’d be about the size of a very large dog

essentially, she’s like Lafayette’s sister and will do anything and everything she can to protect him

Fun fact; he was one of the first students at Flilria

he was very young when he learned of his abilities

his family had gotten into a car accident that got his mother killed and he unconsciously called out to a family of bears that took him from away the incident

when little Laf finally got to Flilria, good ol’ Gwash became like a father to him 

in other words, they’re very close

Very much likes Hercules

that is all

he just likes him

a lot

he will protect him and love him 

it’s very cute and domestic and not angsty and goD I LOVE MULLETTE LET ME LIVE

[alarriefantasy]

demon/vampire or terror rec, please?

Ohh this is good! I’m not gonna lie, I love dark fics. Hopefully, you like the list!! :) 

*Also, this is my one and only warning for these fics. Please make sure to read the tags. Some of them may include triggering elements for you, so double check them before reading. If you’re not sure if you’ll be able to handle reading one them, you can ask me - I’d be happy to help!

Demon Fics

Trade Mistakes by ifancylou, Taayjaay

Words: 3k

Harry summons a crossroads demon without realizing that he’d be giving up his soul in exchange for the deal. He offers the demon something a little different instead.

Take Me To Church by jacinth 

Words: 5k

What would happen if he gave in, if he let Harry have him? His morals rebelled against the thought. Harry was a demon, an inherently evil creature from Hell. How could he be sure he wouldn’t destroy him?

Sealed With A Kiss by ty_madison

Words: 6k

Harry has been having dreams about a boy, every night since he turned sixteen and everytime he has opened his eyes in the past the boy has disappeared.

But now he is awake, the boy is here and he has a deal to make with the innocent Harry.

here in the dark is where new worlds are born by delsicle

Words: 7k

Harry is a demon and Louis is his eternal mate.

Demon On My Tongue. by SS98 

Words: 14k

Harry is a demon and wants what’s inside Louis. (He also wants Louis).

Shadow Holding Me Hostage by scribblewrite 

Words: 26k

Harry’s a demon, basically the king of hell and the source of all evil, and he needs an heir.Louis’s a normal human, unsuspecting of what’s in store for him

Even Angels Have Their Demons by  @afangirlfantasy 

Words: 52k

Or… an Angel/Demon AU where Angel Louis hates Demon Harry, but somewhere along the way that stops being so true.

Angels and Demons by twerkinlarry

Words: 70k

It’s a time where both Angels and Demons walked on earth, doing their work unbeknownst to humans. They look like normal humans, act like normal humans, interact such as, but they have very specific jobs not at all human like. Angels are here to guard, protect, and guide people into the right path. Demons are here to do just the opposite; mislead, give into poor judgment, throw into harm’s way, wreak havoc in general. Angels and Demons are given few guidelines other than their general rules, however there is one rule never to be broken; do not interact with the other. Under no circumstance should an Angel ever interact with a Demon, nor a Demon with an Angel, and that’s all.

The Devil’s Angel by lilacsweaters_ivorylilies

Words: 86k

“You belong to nobody else but me, asphodel."Ezekiel 28:13 - For Lucifer has been in Eden the garden of God; every precious stone was his covering, the sardius, topaz, and the diamond, the beryl, the onyx, and the jasper, the sapphire, the emerald, and the carbuncle, and gold: the workmanship of his tabrets and of his pipes was prepared in him in the day that he was created.

Say Hallelujah, Say Goodnight by  @alivingfire 

Words: 110k

Louis is an angel who is just a little too bad to be good, Harry is a demon who is just a little too good to be bad, and they’re both a little too in love to be impartial when angels and demons go to war.

Run Like the Devil by benzos 

Words: 138k

Supernatural AU. Louis hunts demons; Harry’s the strangest demon he’s ever met, and he keeps fucking meeting him. 

Vampire Fics

I Picked My Poison, And It’s You by @afangirlfantasy 

Words: 5k

Louis never backs down on dares. But maybe this was the one time he should have.  

Eternal Love by @mysticbelievexx 

Words: 8k

Louis had been dreaming of the green-eyed vampire for as long as he could remember; his mate from a lifetime past.The reality doesn’t go quite as expected…

The Devil You Know by Awriterwrites / @a-writerwrites 

Words: 35k

Louis is a vampire. Harry is probably too curious for his own good.

As Cold as a Whisper by panda_bear21 

Words: 48k

A fairy tale au where people in Louis’ village are disappearing and Louis is married off to uphold a centuries long agreement.

Waiting On You by emma1234 / @lads-laddylads 

Words: 76k

“Vampires,” Louis says with disgust, glaring over at the vampire who is noisily slurping from the woman’s neck nearby.

Zayn gives the neat fang marks on Louis’ neck a meaningful look.

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them,” Louis finishes, ignoring Zayn when he rolls his eyes.

Louis takes a long sip of his milkshake, presses his fingers against the marks on his neck, and definitely doesn’t think about the vampire who left them there.

Luscious blood by Deidei 

Words: 116k

Louis Tomlinson, a human, has been living in poor living conditions together with his mother since he was born. Ever since he can remember he has loathed the stronger, faster, more developed kind that rule this world; Vampires. But will his opinion change after he meets his soul mate that is an arrogant, royal vampire named Harry Styles…

Among the Humans by thecheshirepussycat / @the-cheshire-pussy-cat

Words: 129k

A gothic, modern day vampire romance between a young human named Louis Tomlinson, and Harry Styles, ancient vampire and gentleman.

Creatures of the night come with more trouble than they wish to make it seem.

Love Endless by wubwubnparmaham / @wubwubnparmaham 

Words: 171k

The year is groovy 1973, and eighteen-year-old Louis Tomlinson is perhaps the gayest teen to ever grace the gloomy, hateful town of Fortwright. Would be fine if he wasn’t so viciously bullied at both home and school for such a “harmful” sexual preference.

Yeah, yeah, we’ve all heard this story, haven’t we?Believe him, Louis didn’t think he was anything special either.

Until he found the mansion. The notoriously haunted mansion hidden deep within the forests of his tiny blip of a town in Bumfuck Nowhere, Idaho. No one with a brain ever goes near it, but Louis could use a little excitement in his life…and possibly a Band-Aid or two.

After discovering the mansion was less abandoned than he’d thought, he’s now left with the most riveting mystery of a lifetime; every new finding leaving him with more questions. Who is this elusive owner, and why won’t they show themselves? Why is there a set of journals in the same handwriting that span over centuries? Why in the world is there a padlock on the refrigerator…and who the hell is Alexander?

Horror/Suspense Fics

I’ll Be Your Someone by bringhomethegays

Words: 7k

Two gleaming eyes burned holes in Louis face, even in the darkness. Louis gulped dryly when a smile and pale skin began to show in the light only from the full moon outside. Then a low rumbling voice sounded, bring a slow shiver down Louis spine when he heard his name, “Hello Louis.”

nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby by kingsoftheimpossible

Words: 9k

The breath Louis drags in is shaky, tinged with the heat from Harry’s mouth. “If I dreamed you up to get myself off, I’d have made you more attractive.”

Harry pulls back just far enough to look more fully at Louis’ face, lips spreading into a wide cattish smile, all teeth. “You’ve really got to stop embarrassing yourself by trying to lie to me.”

or: Things were a lot easier before Louis’ hallucinations decided to give themselves a body and a name.

Living Among Stockholm by larry_aesthetic

Words: 10k

“No matter how much you want to leave, no matter how much you want to get out of this place, I’m not going to let you. I love you too much.”

“I… I don’t think I want to leave..”

Gone by hazelfae 

Words: 34k

Harry, a criminal psychology student, interviews Louis as part of a project and knows all about him from the extensive media coverage of his capture. Louis takes a certain shine to the younger boy and even though he’s under surveillance 24/7… Harry’s in trouble.

Alaska by BeyondxLawliet

Words: 85k

“Let’s go out to my car, yeah?” he heard Harry say, Louis looking up at him. The ground was moving underneath his feet, or maybe it was just him. He raised his hand to push him away because no, this wasn’t happening, but he felt too weak. The hand was only falling down to his side again. Harry? No, he was too nice.Maybe he was taking him home?

“Are you taking me home?” he whispered with a slur, his eyes fluttering closed as he stumbled into Harry. He could hear his heartbeat. It was beating quickly.

“Yes,” Harry whispered back, taking his coat and put it over Louis’ shoulders through his blurred vision. He had no idea what was even going on. Where they even in the café still? It sounded like he was underwater, colors jumping around before him. “I’m taking you home, love.”

credit to the owner of the manip

updated 7.17.19

[johannesviii]

Grimm Reality

Some highlights of the last EDA I’ve read (Grimm Reality).

I took these screens while reading, along with my reactions. As usual, this is full of spoilers.

Have you ever eaten a cake which was so full of delicious sugary goodness that you wanted to like it, but couldn’t bear the thought of eating more than a tiny slice of it? Well, this book is that kind of cake. Reading it entirely took me four months. At some point, I was certain I was approaching the end of the story, surely, but when I checked the number of pages, I was barely one third into the book. It’s exhausting.

Oh, it’s a good book. But it’s so dense, packed with so many details, full of so many characters who all have their own little subplot, that it ends up looking like a written description of a Hieronymus Bosch painting. It’s great, beautiful and complex, but it’s very hard to tell what exactly is going on, and it goes on for way too long. I want to love it as a whole, but I can only appreciate it in tiny, tiny bites. 8/10

Oh. So. This is actually like a Grimm tale, then.

What could possibly go wrong.

IT WAS A TRAP. SURPRISE.

Is this Oxygen

Okay yes this is definitely Oxygen

Doctor, you already know it won’t be marvellous for long, if any of your adventures can be trusted.

Or maybe it will! I don’t know! Surprise me.

“WE’VE LANDED SOMEWHERE! :D" Oh Eight.

SUDDENLY APPEARING FOREST

Ummmm.

You might want to run.

You idiot

I’m 100% on Anji’s side there

Doctor, no

I kinda like these aliens.

Meanwhile, Team TARDIS met a witch! :D

GUYS STOP LAUGHING AT HIM

okay I would probably laugh too

And now they’re in a market and I’m starting to enjoy this.

I’m laughing like an idiot

Anji, that was rude and uncalled for

“That’s not a good sign"

YEAH YOU THINK

Ahhhh this is too cute, I kinda want to draw Eight fixing the toad’s tiny leg now

The most difficult question of all.

This description makes me want to go back to sleep under my blankets right now

Oh wait, Anji’s been kidnapped because of her bargain, right ?

Also I can’t help but picture a warning sign for magical black coaches.

Fitz in a wolf-hide cloak is also an entertaining picture.

POISONED APPLE SOMNOLENCE SYNDROME OH MY GOD

Doctor you little shit

Wait, is the entire planet some kind of beast? What??

Probably.

He’s so happy to have learned a new way to insult people haha

Fitz you idiot, I love you but why are you like this

I’m starting to notice that everyone and everything here has a tiny backstory, and I’m really not complaining, except it’s giving me a headache.

That sounds like a bad idea.

Oh there’s a spirit trapped in a globe, now.

The globe isn’t bigger on the inside, eh

And now Eight has a gnome friend since he freed him from the globe.

Meanwhile, Fitz is scared to go pee in the woods. Really.

Gilfred you liar, you still have a lot of food.

Why do I get the feeling that this last sentence will turn out to have a useful and cryptic meaning later

And now this Alex guy joins Eight’s party because his friend was eaten by a… stove??

It happens, I guess.

That makes me a lot sadder than it should

EIGHT SAYING STUFF LIKE THIS SHOULDN’T MAKE ME SO SAD

Meanwhile, Anji makes things worse by trying to trick her captors into breaking her magical contract, and failing.

Oh my god.

I love this description.

OH SHIT FITZ AND THE PRINCES SLEPT IN THE HOUSE WHERE THE PEOPLE-EATING STOVE IS

THE ENTIRE HOUSE EATS PEOPLE OH MY GOD

THE WITCH TOLD HIM TO WATCH HIS BACK AND HE’S SAVED BY HIS WOLF-SKIN CLOAK, I LOVE THIS

Nice try.

STOP WRITING DESCRIPTIONS LIKE THIS, I’M OVERDOSING

If the bone in the inn was real, giants do exist here, so don’t worry too much.

Thanks! I can’t wait to see this character die a painful death!

This book in a nutshell

Meanwhile, an ogre has fallen in love with Anji and he’s calling his witch grandmother to help her- a sentence I never expected to write about a Doctor Who book.

Oh my god Anji.

TALKING SPARROWS

They’re trying to help Christina and I’m sorry but - TALKING SPARROWS AHHHH CUTE

Oh, that’s the cover of the book, isn’t it?

Something’s gonna go wrong, I can feel it.

Oh shit here it comes.

You kinda fell into that one a bit too easily, to be honest.

Meanwhile, in the giant’s home: alien geometry.

“No one in their right mind could find this fun”

Thank you Inex, that was almost helpful.

Eight you idiot

EIGHT YOU IDIOT

[Dr. Nyarlathotep fans cheering in the distance]

That made me laugh way too hard.

Try again, Eight.

I shouldn’t be laughing so hard but I can’t help it, this scene is hysterical

And he managed to get out by hurting the giant’s teeth, haha.

Well that sounds reasona-

-GODDAMMIT EIGHT

This is a fun little detail.

“Are giants accidents“

Uh. That was weird. Is the giant talking for several creatures now?

Well that’s reassuring.

Noooooo not the TARDIS keyyyyyy-

Who am I kidding, of course they’re going to find it later.

So the wishing boxes show an infinity of possible outcomes, and you pick one? Is that how it works?

That sounds exactly like all these fairytales where you pick three items to throw at your pursuer.

This is the mental picture my brain instantly provided for the river-sucker.

And that was exactly like one of those fairytales I was talking about, haha. Too bad this setting makes some things more predictable at times.

Meanwhile, Anji is in a contest against Christina to win the hand of that insufferable prince from earlier.

I swear a million things are happening in this story.

Now that’s just being mean to that poor guy.

And it doesn’t make any sense, too. Great job, prince of jerks.

This is cute.

Wishes really are some sort of medium of exchange around here, aren’t they?

I’m glad this minor character had his own little happy ending.

What the actual fuck.

Meanwhile, Fitz is in prison, because of course he is.

Meanwhile, another wish was used to cheat during the contest.

This is a lot more interesting than wishes solving everything, though. Go on, Anji.

Meanwhile, that random character knows way too much about Eight, and if I keep saying ‘meanwhile’ a lot, it’s because all this stuff is a bit hard to follow.

HOLY SHIT WOLFSKIN IS A PERSON.

That's... that's your only problem with this? All right, then.

ANJI OH MY GOD.

Hahaha oh wow, serves him right.

This strongly reminds me of a chapter from Mushishi where someone ate a fruit containing the memory of an old tree. Is this the memory of the planet?

Wait, the planet isn’t an organism mimicking a planet, but an actual living planet??

Also

Ooooooh. So that’s why the giant’s teeth were damaged. The miners did it to the planet.

Also, a planet called Albert is a wonderful thing.

Fitz, please never change.

So the wishes are bargains that the planet makes with its inhabitants? That’s really weird.

Doctor, admit it, you don’t have any plan whatsoever.

To be honest, there’s so many characters I had forgotten about her.

GOOD. VERY GOOD.

For once I think you should all listen to Fitz.

IT’S THE CERULEAN REVOLUTION, EVERYBODY RUN

Holy shit hahaha, that’s another wonderful mental picture.

Well Christina, the first thing you should know is that none of them has the faintest idea how this whole thing works.

I wonder how many stories in Doctor Who have this kind of "the planet/the moon/the star is alive" theme, now. Because there’s already been quite a few.

Oh so the wishing boxes are literally "potential futures” stored in tiny boxes, then. This is starting to make some kind of sense. Some.

WOLFSKIN NOOOOO

WHAT

OKAY SO WOLFSKIN IS NOW OFFICIALLY A PERSON AGAIN

WHAT THE HELL

YEAH YOU THINK

And now the lovesick ogre is back.

What did he wish for? I need to know.

Indeed.

Same, Fitz, same.

A perfect summary of all the plans Eight has ever made.

Ho don’t do it

Okay so he’s gonna pick what the beast is going to be.

Please don’t pick a rabbit. You know how that’ll work.

That was clever.

SHUT UP IT’S MAGIC

No, it’s only a law of storytelling.

And here’s the princess suffering from PASS!

FITZ NO.

Okay, so the wishing boxes are possible futures full of possibilities, spat out on this planet by the white hole nearby, and one of the possible futures quantum thingies became some sort of prince because it was sentient?? This is really weird.

IT’S A TRAP.

I love how Anji saw it as a long discussion while Fitz saw it as ‘fuck off’.

Whatever you do, don’t think of a giant marshmallow man.

I love this.

Okay. So he’s gonna wish for a tiny change in reality, and the quantum sentient whatever thingie will inhabit that change. I think. This is all very abstract.

Ah, I was wondering where the miners were going to fit in that ending.

That sounds like a bad idea.

Hahaha oh wow.

Ohhh, the Vuim captain wished to cure his entire species from a plague!

That’s pretty nice. Could have been a lot worse.

YOU CALL THAT UNCOMPLICATED??

Oh no that’s cute.

And Christina is a cat now, and too many things happened at the same time, so I missed how that happened, so I’m just going to accept it.

That was a good book, but I’m also glad it’s over.

Let’s wish for something simpler next time. I need a break.

[bvstdknvckles]

( jacob elordi, 20, he/him )  welcome to reprieve, ALIX CRAWFORD.  rumor has it they are a WEREWOLF, from TEEN WOLF, but only they could tell you the truth! they reside in the ECHO district. when i close my eyes, i think of them and imagine FINGERS CURLED INTO FISTS, DARK CIRCLES UNDER THE EYES WITH FOGGY EXPRESSIONS, AND A FEAR THAT TWISTS AND POISONS EVERY WORD YOU SPIT.

so basically he and his twin sister come from a really old witch family. they think only witches with old bloodlines should practice magic, pure bloodlines, blah blah blah.  the twins have always bought into that and they’re basically the negative wonder twins. she’s the brains and he’s the brawn and it’s always been a dynamic that works for them.  think amycus and alecto without the weird incesty vibes.

he’s always carried a lot of self-hatred around in him. it’s like his brain’s stuck in the 50s and can’t accept some of his own truths. he knows it’s 2020, that being gay isn’t a big deal, but that doesn’t stop his brain from hammering in that it’s terrible and something he should be ashamed of. the internalized homophobia runs incredibly strong and also manifests as literal homophobia @ other people who are open about their sexuality.  he’s jealous — because he can’t imagine being proud of it — so he hates them with a passion and makes sure they know.  

the summer he turned 19, he was at a bonfire with some friends.  he was drunk, mouthed off at the wrong guy, and one thing led to another and he got bitten by a werewolf.  at first he tried to deny it, even as the full moon approached, but by the time that fateful night rolled around there was no denying it.  as every bone in his body broke, anguished screams drowned out by the angry metal music he was blasting out in an abandoned shack near their house, he knew that this was something he’d have to keep to himself.  their parents could never know.  all his life he’d been raised to believe certain things, certain hierarchies so to speak, and he knew they would look at him differently and view him as less than —  so he kept quiet.  only his sister knew the truth.

he was an angry dude even before he got turned so that’s only been amplified since becoming a werewolf. he’s your stereotypical angry werewolf, i know, who doubles down with a heap of toxic masculinity. he’s played on his college’s soccer team and takes it very seriously and is constantly getting yelled at for tackling like they’re playing touch football and being too aggressive on the field.  it’s also not uncommon to see him pop off for little to no reason.  he’s still a baby wolf, he can’t control everything yet, and his emotions are all over the map as a result of it.  

despite the anger and the aggression, he’s actually very intelligent and introspective.  he loves poetry and shakespeare ( a literature nerd ) but these aren’t things very many people — if any — know about him.

he also lowkey highkey takes calming potions infused with wolfsbane to chill him the fuck out sometimes. they numb him, hurt him, but they keep him from flying off the handle when things are getting really fucked up.  he’s extremely good at potions and excels at it and alchemy probably the best.

he  grew  up  in  beacon  hills  but  he  did  not  know  about  werewolves  until  he  became  one.  he  also  doesn’t  know  who  turned  him  and  currently  doesn’t  belong  to  a  pack.

[chocoholicannanymous]

Ember pt 3 (Teen Wolf)

This is the last part of this fic, that was commisioned by @rubylis​ through @fandomtrumpshate​ 2017. Better late than never, right?

Part 2 here,  Part 1 here and  Flare here

As always, I own nothing except an overactive imagination, way too many plotbunnies and a worn red hoodie.

Ember, part 3

Stiles faces the camera, features deceptively relaxed and calm, but eyes hard. He waits for the light to change, just as he's been told – just like he's rehearsed – and when it does he counts to three before starting to talk.

“My name is Mieczyslaw Stilinski. Two years ago my Mark flared, and I've been hiding from the Council ever since.”

O---o--o---O

It's not a bad life, this new one. Oh, it’s unfamiliar, but it’s not bad. Just...hard. Strange. Like it should be someone else’s.

When Stiles wakes up in an unfamiliar room - or rather, when Stiles wakes up nothing makes sense. He should be dead. He planned on being dead. And yet. His body feels strong, and capable, and absolutely in no way dying. It makes no sense, fits none of his memories, just as the room doesn’t.

And then he sees Derek.

After that it’s easy to start putting the pieces of the puzzle together, and by the time someone comes to give him information (say, two, maybe three minutes after he first wakes up) Stiles has a pretty accurate idea. Not with all the details, no, but enough that not much of what the woman - Marin, she introduces herself as - says comes as a surprise.

Weres don’t do well with losing their Matches. Someone like Derek, who’s already lost so much (and yes, even as emotionally compromised as he’d been it hadn’t taken that long for Stiles to connect “Derek” to Derek Hale of Beacon Hills’s biggest tragedy) would have done even less so. It doesn’t exactly take a genius to figure out that Derek had been just desperate enough to not think, and risk everything, to give his dying Match the bite.

Because when he focuses Stiles can tell he’s been changed - and interesting, he’s almost completely certain he’s a were, not a Kanima. That’s another lie exposed, another strike for the Council then.

One day, he promises. One day…

The rest of the puzzle unravels inside his overactive brain, and Marin’s information just fills in blank spots and provides nuance. Such as the room, and the cabin, they’re in being located in a warded community - Stiles had hoped, but it’s good to have it confirmed - and that he and Derek are welcome to stay as long as they wish.

There’s one thing Marin tells him that’s a complete surprise though. Derek has given up his Alpha power, for Stiles.

He thinks about that one for a long time. The idea of someone giving up that kind of power is...almost unfathomable. Power is addicting, for one, and since Derek inherited his power from his family, sentimentality also plays in. Plus, you know, a hundred more reasons. And it could have come in very handy, too, for Derek to be able to control Stiles in some way.

Except Derek just gave it up. To keep Stiles safe.

That’s humbling.

It’s also another sign that maybe he and Derek truly are well Matched - the two of them, not just their Marks.

Stiles remembers thinking that if he could have Derek and his soul both he’d never give either up. Well. Looks like he’s getting his wish.

It’s not quite that easy, of course. As much as Stiles and Derek both would love to just lose themselves in each other the truth is they can’t. Not even having freed themselves from the council make them completely free. Because second chances never come for free, and the price for Stiles’s is everything else - including his humanity.

Teaching him to live with the change and find control has to come first.

It sucks.

Stiles expects focus to be as hard as always, control to be difficult, and finding an anchor easy as breathing - with Derek next to him, how can it be anything else?

Only it’s not. It’s worse than he could ever have imagined, and it’s a fight for every inch. His first full moon is, well, a disaster. Not even Derek can keep him from trying to run back to Beacon Hills. Regardless of the danger Beacon Hills is where his dad is, and caught up in instinct that’s all Stiles knows - his dad’s been his everything for years, and now he’s not here.

In the end the community’s magic users has to step in. Stiles wakes up the next day with an impressive headache, chained to the floor of a room he’s never seen before. Apparently they knocked him out after he tried to literally claw his way out - through Derek.

The shame over that lingers for months, which makes control even harder to find. Derek helps him through it all without reproach, and by the time Stiles has found enough of a balance for them to be able to focus on each other too that steady support has endeared the man even more to Stiles.

(Finding out that one of Derek’s reasons for giving up his Alpha power was so Stiles wouldn’t ever feel like Derek could control him has already made Stiles very close to falling in love.)

It takes the better part of a year for Stiles to get his werewolfiness in check - to be able to run free during the full moon, and to even think of doing anything but keeping himself under ironclad control. A year before his desire to run back to Beacon Hills and snatch his father away isn’t a danger to all of them. Before he can be trusted to keep his claws where they belong even when his emotions are running high. Before he’s safe to even consider dating. (Stiles is a teenager, okay, and one with a more than healthy libido. He’s learned the hard way why getting his hands on his gorgeous Match isn’t a good idea yet.)

The upside to that is that once it is safe Stiles and Derek have gotten to know each other enough that they can safely say that getting together is about the two of them, not about being Matched.

Not to say being Derek’s Match isn’t amazing. It is. Maybe it’s because Stiles is a were now, and that he and Derek are connected through the bite, through pack. Maybe it’s the magic of the Marks. Either way they can feel each other, and having that is, it’s everything. Stiles loves his dad, okay, he 100 percent does, and he knows it’s mutual. It’s just that the loss of Claudia Stilinski had left them both feeling adrift and unstable, and having Derek there as a constant and solid presence gives Stiles solid ground under his feet for the first time since. And the same, Stiles knows, is true in reverse.

They’ve both lost just about everything. They’re both giving each other exactly that. Everything.

If this is what Matches and Marks are truly about, Stiles thinks, it’s no wonder there are poets whose works deal solely with the subject.

Knowing makes him hate the Council even more for twisting it.

Still, here and now life is good. And then some Council-connected asshole tries to kill Scott.

It goes like this, he’s told once he’s no longer a frothing ball of fangs, fur and rage. Some Council flunky calls the Beacon Hills sheriff’s station, requesting assistance regarding Scott McCall. The thing is, the Beacon Hills sheriff's station? Is John Stilinski’s station. That means he’s the one who answers the call.

As he’s fond of saying, John didn’t get his job through his looks. He’s smart, intuitive, and a good detective. He also apparently has a much better idea of what his late wife was up to than anyone - she included - has ever realized. Add the bitterness of having lost his son because of the Council and the result is a man determined to not have others suffer the same.

He saves at least three lives that day simply by thinking faster than the other party.

As soon as the name Scott McCall is uttered John talks over the flunky, firing off questions too fast for the other man to actually answer them, ending with a oh-so-casual mention that Scott should be safely with his pack for the full moon. That stops the Council flunky dead, just as intended.

It’s Scott’s first full moon after getting the bite - a bite more of less brought on by medical emergency after his latest asthma attack nearly killed him - and well, records can be real slow to update. With Scott being a relative no one, having his status as a were out there before anything else can be said could be the only thing saving him from the very fate Stiles once feared enough to take poison.

John’s not about to let that happen on his watch.

Something about how the flunky reacts makes John nervous enough to set up a watch at the McCall residence that night, leaving him in a position to stop an assassination attempt - there can be no other description, he insists, for an attack using mountain ash, wolf’s-bane grenades and wolf’s-bane bullets. Not to mention the attackers doesn’t seem to care too much about the fact that there are two people living in the house.

And that’s before John realizes someone’d broken into his house while he was at the McCalls, most likely to get him too out of the way.

The cherry on top of that shit-sundae is that Scott is Marked and the Council doesn’t have his Match in custody. Nor do they seem very eager to rectify that, or even share information about who the elusive Match is. Leaving John and Melissa with Scott, a newly changed were, who is almost guaranteed to not be in control is Marked and a missing Match.

It’s a good thing Stiles only finds out afterwards.

A really good thing.

A week after that clusterfuck Marin passes on the information that his dad and the McCalls are safe, hidden in another of the secretive warded communities. She won’t tell Stiles where it is, or let him pass messages back - it’s still too dangerous to let anyone know he’s alive, especially with Scott being so volatile, and likely to set out on a hunt for his Match. She does promise, however, that once it’s safe they’ll find a way to transfer John Stilinski to their community.

It’s good, but it’s nowhere enough. Having just had the fact that no one is truly safe shoved in his face makes Stiles angry, angrier than he’s ever been. It’s not the kind of red hot fury that causes him to pop claws and want to kill people. It’s an icy-white one, cold and calculating, every part of brilliance from his human genius stoked by the wolf’s desire to protect his pack. The Council might have gotten away with killing his mom, but not this. Going after the only people Stiles had left in him to love (preDerek, obviously) just because Scott taking the bite to save his own damned life stops them from twisting his Mark to suit their own purposes is passing the point of no return.

Stiles might not have been willing to fight for himself, but he sure as hell will for the people he loves.

At first he wanted to find those faceless people trying to steal one of Stiles’s two friends and hurt them. Wanted to rip, and claw, and bite, and tear. their. throats. out. With his teeth. Now that he’s calmed down some he knows that’s not enough. Stiles wants to destroy them like they wanted to destroy Scott.

So he starts plotting. Living where he does Stiles isn’t without resources. First of all, the warded communities contain a lot of people who are just like him, in that they are in danger from the Council, and want to see it torn down. That’s good - he’ll need people like that.

Also, he’s got access to a lot of information he’s never known before, information the Council would prefer if no one knew, but it’s not enough. He needs more. Lots and lots more.

It’s time, Stiles decides, to play his hidden ace.

That ace consists of two sets of numbers that his mom made him memorize not long before she died. The first is a phone number, and the second an ID code of some sort that he leaves on the answering machine along with a number he can be reached on.

Then all he can do is wait.

That wait is why he didn’t make the call when his Mark flared, why he chose poison instead. Getting an answer will take up to 48 hours, time he hadn’t had back then. And no matter how much his mom believed that whoever answers could help, Stiles has limited trust in what they can do.

48 hours would have seen him locked up in a sub-training facility (provided he’d survived that long) and yeah. Locating someone in a sub-training facility, breaking in and freeing them is beyond a tall order, it’s pretty much impossible.

He’s got time now though.

The man that meets him looks like a librarian, meek and mild mannered - if you look at the surface. Stiles doesn’t do that. First of all because his dad taught him that appearances can be deceiving, second because going to school with Lydia Martin brought that lesson home big time, and third because he doesn’t have to.

Being a were has its drawbacks, true, but the heightened senses mean Stiles rarely has to guess about somethings. Like the fact that this man is lethal. It’s a thousand little things that a regular person wouldn’t notice, and that maybe one by one mean nothing, but put together it’s obvious.

He moves in a way that only a true predator does. He’s not a were (even if he could mask it from Stiles’s senses there’s no fooling the talisman Stiles brought) but he’s just as dangerous as if he were. Dangerous enough that Stiles isn’t 100% sure he could take the man in a fight, and that’s...chilling. Even more so as he’s also not sure he’ll be allowed to walk away without one if he fails to answer the man’s questions to satisfaction.

The interrogation - because that’s what it turns out to be - starts out with Stiles having to explain how he’d gotten the phone number and code he’d used. It continues to why, and how he can’t really be who he claims to be. It takes a lot more than Stiles had hoped to satisfy the still unnamed man, but at the same time that’s somewhat calming. Someone that careful about speaking to the right person for the right reasons should be safe to trust - at least a little.

In the end the man nods, and tells Stiles to call him Christian. It’s fake, obviously, but it’s better than “the man”, especially for someone with a parent in law enforcement.

“Did your mom ever tell you why she had that number?”

“She said it was for someone who owed her a favor, and who could help me if I had no other way out. ‘A hidden  ace in the sleeve’ she said.”

Christian nods, clearly agreeing.

“And why did you wait until now?” All things considered hangs in the air.

“Wasn’t until now I felt I could. Considered it, back when… But mom told me you’d need time to respond, and yeah, I didn’t have that. Had another option that didn’t need time though. I wasn’t exactly wanting to gamble on you being able to get me out of their claws, should I land in them.

“But now? Now I’ve got time, and a use for that favor that doesn’t depend on you being crazy enough to take on the Council to repay it.”

Christian looks at him strangely, and seems to be thinking hard. Stiles can tell that whatever’s running through the other man’s head is important, so he clamps down on his impatience and waits. He’s gotten better at that, thankfully.

When Christian finally makes up his mind Stiles has run through his contingency exit plans five times, in a different order every time, and he’s close to going for one of them.

“You know why I owe your mom a favor? No? It’s not a pretty story. A few years back my old military commander called in a favor. A huge one, meaning I had to disappear from the face of the earth for a bit.”

Christian smiles, a twisted mockery of humor that tells Stiles there’s a story there that he wants to hear but won’t.

“I’d been gone for five days, had another three left when my Mark flared. I made enough of a stink that they opened communications for me. When I got through one of my partners informed me he’d experienced the flare too, at the same time. And so had our third. Their Marks lined up, and from what we could tell, mine did as well.

“I know, a triple Match? Unheard of, but. It felt right. Felt like everything I never thought I deserved, but would give everything to have.

“Except our third, she was missing.”

Stiles thinks about going through that, about having Derek missing, and can barely breathe from how horrible even the thought makes him feel. Across from him Christian is nodding grimly.

“She’d just gone out for a quick errand, some important call, and got pulled into a wan. Everything pointed to her having been picked up for sub training, only it made no sense. Neither of us are the submissive type, but her the least. Out of the three of us, if I’d had to make the call, I’d have said Ha-Harry.

“But what really made the alarms go off was the fact that neither me nor H-Harry had been informed of a Match. That breaks all the rules, and it was worrying enough that I was pulled out and allowed to go back. We thought maybe it was because I was where I was. Except I got home, and there was still no contact, and when my old CO went snooping through records he couldn’t find anything about her.”

It sounds, Stiles thinks, like what would have happened to Scott had he not been bitten, and had someone other than John Stilinski answered the call. Both the disappearance, and the missing records - they’ve got access to topclass hackers, and no one’s managed to find even the slightest shred of information on his Match. All they have is Scott’s insistence that they’re out there, somewhere, and a sense of direction.

“Your mom was the one to help us. She got us the location of three sub-training facilities, and ranked them in order of most likely, and with that we were able to make a plan.”

Apparently, Stiles muses as the tale unveils, it isn’t impossible to break into a sub-training facility. Also, he’s clearly underestimated Christian. The man is insane enough to launch an attack on a Council facility, and brilliant enough to pull it off. Good to know. He also gets every single suspicion regarding what happens in sub-training confirmed, not that he needed it.

“Once we located her… She was unconscious, strapped to a bed, and showed obvious defensive wounds. It made no sense. She’s not a fighter, even if she can defend herself if needed. The way she works, she’d have either waited for us to come for her or for them to relax and then break out. For her to have fought…”

Not good.

“Yeah. Except whatever you’re thinking, it was probably worse. I checked her over, to see if she could be moved without extra caution, and let me tell you, I’ve seen women treated better in war zones - hell, I’ve seen war criminals treated better. In the end we counted six broken bones, a dislocated shoulder, a fractured wrist and several burn marks. I’m not even going to touch on what else they did. Suffice to say we sure as fuck didn’t need to run a rapekit.

“She wasn’t alone there - they had four others in various conditions. Two had been given the same treatment as our girl, only it must have been for a longer time. One was physically unharmed, but completely broken. The last one… She was braindead. They kept her on life support though, apparently as a warm body for when they wanted a fuck but weren’t up for the fight with the others.”

That...that’s Stiles’s worst nightmare right there, confirmed. He fights back the urge to throw up, and renews his promise to never let them take him alive.

“I can help you get away. You’ll never have to worry about the Council again, I promise you, but you’ll have to give up everything.”

Stiles starts to interrupt, but Christian raises his hand and continues.

“I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is. You can bring a bag, and if your dad’s willing, him too. Just, you can’t ever return, and you can’t keep in touch with anyone here.”

“Yeah, no. I’m not saying I wouldn’t give up a lot to be safe, but that’s not what I’m looking for here. I already did that, okay, I allowed my dad to think I was dead and left him behind to avoid the council. And I think I’ve done fine, staying under their radar. So thanks, but no thanks.

“But just for the record? If I’d agreed, there’s no way I would have gone without Derek. My Match,” he clarifies as Christian raises a questioning eyebrow.

For the first time Stiles sees the man react, apparently shocked by the fact that Stiles is with his Match, and that they’re close enough that staying together isn’t optional.

“So what is it you want then?”

“Information. Mom said you had ways to get it, on just about anything. Well, that’s what I need. As much as you can get me. The Council’s taken too much from me already, and from so many others, and I’m done letting them. It’s time they’re taken down. But I need information to do that.”

Once again Stiles gets to watch as shock travels across Christian’s face, followed by a longer silence.

“And you think you can do that?”

“I’m not seeing anyone else stepping up. Are you?” The double entendre hangs in the air between them, vibrating like the challenge it is.

“So, can you do it? Can you get me what I need?”

Christian hesitates, and Stiles is preparing to push when he hears a low murmur coming from somewhere close to the other man. Judging from the way Christian cocks his head slightly and from the way his face tightens - just minutely, only visible to someone like Stiles - he’s listening to something. Someone? A communications device of some kind, probably.

This...could turn nasty. He starts running through exit strategies again, but before he can make a decision Christian swears in a low, almost inaudible voice.

“Dammit, Ha-...”

Then he takes a deep breath and says, reluctance clinging to his voice, “you’ll get your information”.

As it turns out, back when they’d broken into the Council facility to get their girl the invisible “Harry” (and if that’s his actual name, then Stiles’s is Mike, which… yeah) had not only gone through the computers to steal as much information as possible, but also left a data mining program behind. Which is good for Stiles, but (understandably) makes Christian furious.

There are a quite few more muttered curses, as well as a very pointed remark about people who have no concept of safety, and who don’t understand that Christian can’t protect them if they keep fucking secrets. Stiles sensibly chooses to not even touch that with a ten foot pole. He’d react the same way if it was Derek being reckless - and he knows Derek will be even worse once he finds out just what it is Stiles is up to now.

Stiles won’t apologize for it though, not even though he knows he’s put not only himself but everyone in danger. Just as he won’t be anything but happy that “Harry” did something equally dangerous. It’s selfish, sure, but if getting this information gets him even one step closer to taking down the Council it’s worth it.

It’s another hour before Stiles can leave, the portable hard drive that supposedly holds the keys to the kingdom hidden on his body. Christian’s twitchy, and it’s obvious why. He wants to help, but at the same time he wants nothing to do with any of it.

“Look, I..:”

“No. You feel like you should offer to help out, right? Well, I’m not going to lie, I could use the help. But I’m not going to take it. You have your Matches to take care of, to protect. Your girl? She needs you to stay the hell away from the Council, and I’m running full speed ahead in their direction.

“Sure, you or your… ‘Harry’ find out anything, and send it my way, I’d be very grateful. But this is my fight, my choice. I’m not risking anyone else.”

That, of course, isn’t exactly 100 percent true. He’ll try not to, but something tells Stiles that in the end he’ll have no option but to risk others. He just won’t do it unless it’s completely unavoidable, and honestly? He’ll probably try and only risk people who deserve it. People whose deaths wouldn’t be that big of a loss.

But not these three. Not after what they’ve already suffered.

Christian looks him over, nods and reaches out to take Stiles’s hand. His voice is dead serious once he speaks.

“Alright. Once you launch whatever attach you’re planning though? You let me know. You hear me? And if you don’t let me know you’re okay after, I’ll come for you. They get you, I’ll get you out. Your Match too. No matter what, I’ll get you out and somewhere they can’t touch you.

“And not because of what I owe your mom. Because what you’re doing? It’s something I should have done - that I would do if it didn’t mean risking the others. And for that, man, I owe you.”

Once he’s back home, and has had his eardrums practically shattered from a dozen lectures, as well as almost getting frostburns from the cold shoulder Derek shows him, Stiles starts going through the material he’s been given. (Well, once he’s had one of the resident computer witches - or “techno pagans”, apparently - check that the drive’s safe.) It’s a lot. It’s a fricking mountain of information, is what it is, and Stiles is going to find what he needs in it even if it means not sleeping for a year.

He’s a were, he’ll survive.

Probably.

Three days in Derek tranqs him, forcing him to sleep through the night, and when he starts up again it’s with Derek next to him. That works much better. Well, “better” as in that together they cover more ground and sometimes Derek picks up on things Stiles misses due to different knowledge bases. “Not better” as in now Derek is involved. Stiles would prefer if he wasn’t, but considering Derek feels the same way about him there’s really not much he can do about it without looking like a big, fat hypocrite.

In the end they find what they need to know - and of course, Stiles thinks, it’s magic - and he makes a plan. It’s a good plan, in terms of achieving their goals, but he’s fairly sure no one else will agree.

“Are you insane?” Marin isn’t screaming, unlike everyone else in the room, but that doesn’t make her any calmer or less angry.

“No. Look, this is the only way to go. Worst case scenario-”

“We all die.”

“No. Okay, yes, but that’s the worst case scenario for every single day even doing nothing, as long as the Council exists. So we’re ignoring that. The worst case scenario is we break the magic that allows the Council to track the flare, and find Matches, but everything else stays the same. Best case? We ruin them. We free everyone, for the rest of time. I’m good with possibly dying being the worst case scenario if we can win that.”

Stiles isn’t suicidal, regardless of others might think. He wants to live a long life, with Derek next to him, and the year and a half they’ve had together is nowhere enough. (He’s not sure any amount of time will really be enough.) Just… The way they’re living, hiding and in fear, it’s not good. For now they’re safe, sure, but only if they shrink their lives, if they cut themselves off from everything outside the wards. And it really is for now. Sooner or later the Council will find them. The world has changed so much that not even the strongest wards will keep them completely hidden much longer. Once the Council starts truly searching - and they will - nowhere and no one will be safe any longer.

He wants a life where he can run free under the full moon with Derek by his side. He wants a life where Scott can find his Match and be happy. He wants a world where that is possible, and he’s willing to risk his life for it.

It’s as easy as that.

He gets a solid team of five. Derek - who won’t stay away, no matter how many times Stiles begs him. Jana the techno pagan. Another witch, a white haired old man who calls himself Raven. A bounty hunter slash bodyguard by the name of Braeden.

And then he gets Jennifer.

Under any other circumstance Stiles would rather cut his arm off than work with her. For one, she’s batshit crazy. He’s not making fun, or light, of the mental health issues she’s clearly got, no. When he calls her that he’s referring to the fact that she’s killed seven people (that he knows of) in some power-raising ritual.

She’s living in the community only because she can’t be allowed to walk free - either she’d continue to kill people, or the Council would capture her and use her - and the team sent to stop her wouldn’t dirty their hands or their ethics by killing her.

Stiles would have done the deed himself if not for the cold facts: if Jennifer could be made into a weapon by the Council she can also be one against them. That had been a possibility he hadn’t been willing to throw away. After all, there was always the option of killing her later should she turn out useless - unkilling someone however…

There are three things Stiles knows to be undeniably true about Jennifer: She hates the Council just as much as he does. She hates her Match who betrayed her to them even more. She cannot be trusted.

And now he’s going to have to do exactly that.

O---o--o---O

Stiles gives himself a mental shake, forces himself out of the memories, and refocuses on the camera. He's only got so long, and it’s important he do this right. His job is drawing attention. From the regular people watching his broadcast, the ones about to have the Council’s crimes thrown in their faces in full technicolor glory thanks to “Harry” and his data mining. But also from the Council, and their goons. He’s bait, plain and simple, to make them focus on him and hopefully miss as Jennifer and Raven smash two hundred years of oppressive magic to impotent little pieces.

“I've been hiding from the Council, because I know their secrets. I know what they are. I know what they do - what they would do to me given even half a chance. I know what they’ve done to others, and that the ones they killed are the lucky ones.”

He talks about Scott, and the girl that’s his missing Match. He talks about the Hales, about the people his mom tried to help, about people that only exist as notes and pictures in stolen files.

When he’s done, eyes aching and voice hoarse, he gives the camera as hard a look as he can.

“I'm done. No more hiding. No more living in fear. No more allowing them to break and twist and murder people.

“It's time for them to fear me.”

~The End ~

[joohoney-bun-blog]

O P P O R T U N I T Y

Pairing: Kihyun x Reader  || Genre: Fluffy Fluff, Magic School!Au

Word Count: 1.8k

Request: by @cosmicmari - a kihyun fluff/angst where the two of you are majoring in the same thing(so you have a lot of the same classes as him), but they really don’t like each other (they’ve know each other after going to the same schools growing up too) until they get paired up for a project and discover each other’s true personalities.

A /N : So, first of all, sorry for this being short as hell and it’s totally trash but I got too excited to get my first thing up and posted! Also, sorry if the au isn’t quite what you wanted, but I just couldn’t get this out of my head. ;-;

“You know this isn’t going to work, right?” Kihyun chimes from where he’s perched at the end of the table you worked on. You curse the way his voice sounds like rich velvet as it intermingles with the sweet smell of the flowers around you, and you remind yourself again that his opinion won’t matter after you ace your final to be done with college altogether. In the back of your mind, you can still hear him nagging at you, reminding you of who has the higher grade in your Potions of Arcane Magic class - which, mind you, he only had a two point advantage.- and, how your ingredients wouldn’t work well anyway. Lavender was fickle and burned easily, Peony petals had to sit in sunlight for several hours, and moon water had to hit an exact temperature to be of any use at all. You’re quick to roll your eyes at his remark because, what does he know about love potions? You were the one that had spent weeks going through old potion books in your library, piecing together pages that were frayed along the edges and had cracked spines that dared to crumble to pieces there in your hands. Sure, he had accompanied you most of the time, but at what cost? He was almost always a distraction anyways.

It comes as a surprise when he finally falls silent, running out of petty insults to string together, and you welcome the focus it allows you to have on your work. He still watches you with a certain interest as you go about your mission, pouring each ingredient in together at the precise measurements you had gone over several times in your head. The silence that falls between you is almost comfortable as you do the work while he intently watches, and you have to sigh to yourself because he’d be so damn pleasant if he were like this all the time- “Why is it that you don’t trust me?” Kihyun’s words are just enough to shock you out of your half-delightful stupor, your response of ‘what’ laced with nothing short of a poisonous venom as you turned to look at the pink haired boy. Of course, he still sat with a smirk dancing over his lips, his question still hanging thick in the air while he shrugged at you as though he’d done nothing wrong. It was a damn shame that he had grown up so fucking cute when he was also such a fucking asshole. (Or maybe his looks played into that side of him, which only made you want to hate him more.) “I don’t know.” You were quick to bite back. “Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you’ve given me hell the entire 10 years I’ve known you?” Kihyun can’t help but laugh at your words, and you swear that only makes him all the more infuriating. “I would almost find that endearing, had I majored in Black Magic.” He shrugs again, sliding off of the table to come watch the potion which had slowly started to bubble. “How have I given you hell, exactly?” You turn out the flame underneath the pot as you shoot him a narrowed glance, taking the pot off of the burner in order to pour its contents into three separate bottles. “You’ve somehow managed to put a hex on me just about every year since we were twelve. It’s hard to find someone charming when that follows you straight through to college.” “Me?” Kihyun scoffs as though you couldn’t have said anything more bitter. “I applied here before you did, so who followed who, exactly?” Heaving a sigh, you force yourself to ignore him while you bottle up what was in each glass, tossing your mixing pot into the nearby sink to be rinsed out. There was no way in hell you would let your lab partner bother you so much to get you down on your success. Even if his pink hair fell gracefully against his forehead and complimented warm, coffee-colored irises; even if that cocky smirk radiated with a soft warmth regardless of the way with which you hated it. The two of you had competed against each other for years, and now, you would fall victim to Yoo Kihyun no longer. “Anyways, this isn’t going to work. You should’ve let me help you.” You look up once more to see that his cocky expression was followed with that of a smug grin, one that spread across his lips, along his features and dared you to prove him otherwise. The anger that flared in the pit of your stomach is quick to warm your skin, a deep embarrassment daring to lace its way through your thoughts, because what if he was right? What if all the work, all the sleepless nights and turned down plans with your friends has all been in vain?? You were glad that the two of you decided to meet here after hours, for if anyone else had to see the way your shoulders slumped at his words, you may have willed to dismiss your work altogether. “Drink it then,” you dared him, sliding one of the bottles closer to where he leaned against the counter. He’s quick to decline, pushing it back towards you with a simple shake of his head followed by, “I’m not falling for this nonsense of trying to get me to fall in love-” “Prove me wrong and I’ll let you take over the entire project.” You interject, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “Give you credit and everything, I’ll tell them mine failed.” The silence that follows is deafening, and you hate the fact that you’re almost positive you’re not the only one that feels the electricity crackle between the two of you. It was something that had happened for years, for every second you argued, for every moment of competition, there was always this instance that followed; one full of electricity that would climb your spine and warm your skin in ways that made you unsure of whether you wanted to be closer to him or further. Even now you found yourself prying your gaze away from the delicate curve of his lips, the thought of them pressed against your own making the static seem to build in the pit of your stomach. Your thoughts are shattered by the sudden way Kihyun grabs one of the bottles beside you, his fingers coming to unscrew the lid as he grins triumphantly, “Only because I know about your crush on me.” Time seemed to go by too quick as he raised the vial to his lips too soon for you to stop him, for you to call your own bluff and give in altogether. It didn’t surprise you that your confidence drained almost as quick as the liquid did, leaving you a nervous wreck before the one boy who always stood on the threshold of your pride. Too many words, too many actions filled your thoughts as he drank the last drop, leaving you with no reaction but to stand there dumbfounded. There were too many things wrong with the scene before you, starting with the fact that love potions weren’t a joke to begin with and ending on the fact that you were no longer confident in your combination at all. With just one swig, Kihyun had managed to not only drain the potion but what was left of your resolve. For the seconds that seemed to go by so fast, you could have sworn everything around you slowed as Kihyun finally lowered the bottle from his lips in order to meet your gaze. As usual, you were all too aware of the electricity that snapped between you, and it was only a matter of seconds before you were blushing under his scrutiny. For once, he smiled at you with a soft warmth that envied the summer sun, and the bitter competition that usually laid dense in your gut was put to ease with a gentle warmth. The joke, of course, was not lost on you; how stupid it was that while you were completely unsure of the effect it had on him, there you stood rosy-cheeked, bashful, and unable to speak. You would have argued about something, anything, to distract yourself from the thought of the pink haired boy being enamored with you. You would have mentioned anything your brain could have mustered to keep from thinking of him always smiling at you with this warmth, with the harsh lightning that normally seared between you two eventually evening out into a gentle pull. What was more terrifying than thinking of holding his hand while you strolled through the streets or around the grocery store, being enamored with nothing more than the presence of the other? Of course, your answer came all too quick as his fingertips came to rest upon your chin, making you look up at him and pulling your lips ever so softly against his, and it’s utterly ridiculous how quickly you find yourself melting against him. It’s stupid how sweet his mouth tastes against yours, like nothing short of spun sugar along your lips, and it’s stupid how easy it is to slip your hands around his neck while he wraps his own around your waist. You liquify all too easily against his touch, with your lips closed and galaxies stirring somewhere inside of your chest. It’s too easy, feeling so comfortable pressed against him, with his warmth working its way amongst your tangled anxiety and untying whatever knots resided there. “You know that didn’t actually work, right?” Kihyun again breaks your thoughts, his smirk still ghosting over your lips. He does nothing to move his arms from around your waist, and you suddenly feel too hot to be pressed against him. A whole new kind of embarrassment floods your system while you start to stammer over your words, though coming out with nothing tangible. Reeling, you take a breath to say something, anything to get you out of his grasp, out of the room, but as always, he’s quick to shut you up. Only this time, it’s with the tender press of his lips to yours.

“I told you that you had a crush on me,” the boy smiles against your lips and you know you’ve lost before he even continues, “Unless you have an excuse for kissing me back?”

Unable to pull your arms from around him, you leave your eyes closed while you tilt your head up ever so slightly. “Drinking a potion you knew wouldn’t work… To kiss me. Tell me again who needs an excuse?”

For the first time since you’d met, you knew that you had beaten Kihyun at his own game; with his upturned lips pressed against yours, it causes you to smile in a defeat of your own as he replies, “I prefer the term ‘opportunity’ “

[writerspink]

K-12 Words

K

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1.1

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1.2

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2.2

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3.2

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afraid absorb british seat fear stretched furniture sight oxygen coward rope clever yellow albeit confess passage france fan cattle spot explore rather active death effect mine create wash printed process origin rose swift woe planets doze gasp chief perform triumph value substances tone score predict property movement harsh tube settled defend reverse ancient blood sharp border fierce plunge consider terms vision intend total schedule attract average intelligent corn dead southern glide supply convince send continent brief mural symbol crew chance suffix habit insects entered nursery especially spread drift major fig diagram guess wit sugar predator science necessary moisture park ordeal nectar fortunate flutter gun forward globe misery molecules arctic won’t actually addition washington cling rare lie steel pastime soldiers chill accordingly capital prevent solution greek sensitive electric agreed thin provide indicate northern volunteer sell tied triangle action opposite shoulder imitate steer wander except match cross speak solve appear metal son either ice sleep village factors result jumped snow ride care floor hill pushed baby buy century outside everything tall already instead phrase soil bed copy free hope spring case laughed nation quite type themselves temperature bright lead everyone method section lake iron within dictionary bargain loyal resource struggle vary capture exclaim gloomy insist restless shallow shatter talent atmosphere brilliant endure glance precious unite certain clasp depart journey observe superb treasure wisdom

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capture remark western outcome risk current bold compare resident ambition arrest furthermore desire confuse accurate disclose considerable contribute calculate baggage literacy noble era benefit orchard shabby content precious manufacture dusk afford assist demonstrate instant concentrate sturdy severe blend vacant weary carefree host limb pointless prepare inspire shallow chamber vast ease attentive source frantic lack recent distress basic permit threat analyze distract meadow mistrust jagged prefer sole envy hail reduce arena tour annual apparent recognize captivity burrow proceed develop humble resist peculiar response communicate circular variety frequent reveal essential disaster plead mature appropriate attractive request congratulate address destructive fragile modest attempt tradition ancestor focus flexible conclude venture impact generosity routine tragic crafty furious blossom concern ascend awkward master queasy release portion plentiful alert heroic extraordinary frontier descend invisible coax entrance capable peer terror mock outstanding valiant typical competition hardship entertain eager limp survive tidy antonym duplicate abolish approach approve glory magnificent meek prompt revive watchful wreckage audible consume glide origin prevent punctuate representative scorn stout woe arch authentic clarify declare grant grave opponent valid yearn admirable automatic devotion distant dreary exhaust kindle predict separation stunt

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evade debate dedicate budge available miniature petrify pasture banquet pedestrian solitary decline reassure nonchalant exhibit realistic exert abuse dictate minor monarch concept character strategy soar beverage tropical withdraw challenge kin navigate purchase reliable mischief solo combine vivid aroma spurt illuminate narrator retain excavate avalanche preserve suspend accomplish exasperate obsolete occasion myth reign sparse gorge intense revert antagonist talon aggressive alternate retire cautiously blizzard require endanger luxurious senseless portable sever compensate companion visual immense slither guardian compassion escalate detect protagonist oasis altitude assume seldom courteous absurd edible identical pardon approximate taunt achievement homonym hearty convert wilderness industrious sluggish thrifty deprive independent bland confident anxious astound numerous resemble route access jubilation saunter hazy impressive document moral crave gigantic bungle prefix summit overthrow perish visible translate comply intercept feeble exult compose negative suffocate frigid synonym appeal dominate deplete abundant economy desperate diligent commend boycott jovial onset burden fixture objective siege barrier conceive formal inquire penalize picturesque predator privilege slumber advantage ambition defiant fearsome imply merit negotiate purify revoke wretched absorb amateur channel elegant grace inspect lame tiresome tranquil boast eloquent glisten ideal infectious invest locate ripple sufficient uproar

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apprehensive dialogue prejudice marvel eligible accommodate arrogant distinct knack deposit liberate cumulative consequence strive salvage chronological unique vow concise influence lure poverty priority legislation significant conserve verdict leisure erupt beacon stationary generate provoke efficient campaign paraphrase swarm adhere eerie mere mimic deteriorate literal preliminary solar soothe expanse ignite verge recount apparel terrain ample quest composure majority collide prominent duration pursue innovation omniscient resolute unruly optimist restrain agony convenient constant prosper elaborate genre retrieve exploit continuous dissolve dwell persecute abandon meager elude rural retaliate primitive remote blunder propel vital designate cultivate loathe consent drastic fuse maximum negotiate barren transform conspicuous possess allegiance beneficial former factor deluge vibrant intimidate idiom dense awe rigorous manipulate transport discretion hostile clarity arid parody boisterous capacity massive prosecute declare stifle remorse refuge predicament treacherous inevitable ingenious plummet adapt monotonous accumulate reinforce extract reluctant vacate hazardous inept diminish domestic linger context excel cancel distribute document fragile myth reject scuffle solitary temporary veteran assault convert dispute impressive justify misleading numerous productive shrewd strategy villain bluff cautious consist despise haven miniature monarch obstacle postpone straggle vivid aggressive associate deceive emigrate flexible glamour hazy luxurious mishap overwhelm span blemish blunt capable conclude detect fatigue festive hospitality nomad supreme

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exclude civic compact painstaking supplement habitat leeway minute hoax contaminate likeness migration commentary extinct tangible originate urban unanimous subordinate collaborate obstacle esteem encounter futile cordial trait improvises superior exaggerate anticipate cope evolve eclipse dissent anguish subsequent sanctuary formulates makeshift controversy diversity terminate precise equivalent pamper prior potential obnoxious radiant predatory presume permanent pending simultaneously tamper supervise perceived vicious patronize trickle stodgy rant oration preview species poised perturb vista wince yearn persist shirk status tragedy trivial snare vindictive wrath recede peevish rupture unscathed random toxic void orthodox subtle resume sequel upright wary overwhelm perjury uncertainty prowess utmost throb pluck pique vengeance pelt urgent substantial robust sullen retort ponder whim saga sham reprimand vocation assimilate dub defect accord embark desist dialect chastise banter inaugurate ovation barter muse blasé stamina atrocity deter principal liberal epoch preposterous advocate audacious dispatch incense deplore institute deceptive component subside spontaneous bonanza ultimate wrangle clarify hindrance irascible plausible profound infinite accomplish apparent capacity civilian conceal duplicate keen provoke spurt undoing vast withdraw barrier calculate compose considerable deputy industrious jolt loot rejoice reliable senseless shrivel alternate demolish energetic enforce feat hearty mature observant primary resign strive verdict brisk cherish considerate displace downfall estimate humiliate identical improper poll soothe vicinity abolish appeal brittle condemn descend dictator expand famine portable prey thrifty visual

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stance vie instill exceptional avail strident formidable rebuke enhance benign perspective tedious aloof encroach memoir mien desolate inventive prodigy staple stint fallacy grope vilify recur assail tirade antics recourse clad jurisdiction caption pseudonym reception humane ornate sage ungainly overt sedative amiss convey connoisseur rational enigma fortify servile fastidious contagious elite disgruntled eccentric pioneer abet luminous era sleek serene proficient rue articulate awry pungent wage deploy anarchy culminate inventory commemorate muster adept durable foreboding lucrative modify authority transition confiscate pivotal analogy avid flair ferret decree voracious imperative grapple deface augment shackle legendary trepidation discern glut cache endeavor attribute phenomenon balmy bizarre gullible loll rankle decipher sublime rubble renounce porous turbulent heritage hover pithy allot minimize agile renown fend revenue versa gaunt haven dire doctrine intricate conservative exotic facilitate bountiful cite panorama swelter foster indifferent millennium gingerly conscientious intervene mercenary citadel obviously rely supportive sympathy weakling atmosphere decay gradual impact noticeable recede stability variation approximately astronomical calculation criterion diameter evaluate orbit sphere agricultural decline disorder identify probable thrive expected widespread bulletin contribution diversity enlist intercept operation recruit survival abruptly ally collide confident conflict protective taunt adaptation dormant forage frigid hibernate insulate export glisten influence landscape native plantation restore urge blare connection errand exchange

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feasible teem pang vice tycoon succumb capacious onslaught excerpt eventful forfeit crusade tract haggard susceptible exemplify ardent crucial excruciating embargo disdain apprehend surpass sporadic flustered languish conventional disposition theme plunder ignore project complaint title dramatic delivery litter experimental clinic arrogance preparation remind atomic occasional conscious deny maturity closure stressed translator animate observation physical further gently registration suppress combination amazing constructive allied poetry passion ecstasy mystery cheerful contribution spirit failed gummy commerce prove disagreement raid consume embarrass preference migrant devour encouragement quote mythology destined destination illuminating struggle accent ungrateful giggle approval confidence expose scientist operation superstitious emergency manners absolutely swallow readily mutual bound crisp orient stress sort stare comfort verbal heel challenging advertisement envious sex scar astonish basis accuracy enviable alliance specific chef embarrassed counter tolerable sympathetic gradually vanish informative amaze royal furry insist jealousy simplify quiver collaborate dedicated flexible function mimic obstacle technique archaeologist fragment historian intact preserve reconstruct remnant commence deed exaggeration heroic impress pose saunter wring astound concealed inquisitive interpret perplexed precise reconsider suspicious anticipation defy entitled neutral outspoken reserved sought equal absorb affect circulate conserve cycle necessity seep barren expression meaningful plume focused genius perspective prospect stunned superb transition assume guarantee nominate

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install reticent corroborate regretfully strength murder concise cunning intention holy satire query confused progression disillusion background mundane abrupt multiple enormously introduce emulate harmful pragmatic pity rebut liberate enthusiastic elucidate camaraderie disparage nature creep profitability impression racist sobriety occupy autonomy currently amiable reiterate reproduce cripple modest offer atom provincial augment ungratefully expansion yield rashly allude immigration silence epitome exacerbate somber avid dispute vindicate collaborate manufacturer embellish superficial propaganda incompetent objective diminish statistics endure ambivalent perpetuate illuminate phenomenon exasperate originality restrict anxiety anthropology circumstances aesthetic manufacturing conventional dubious vulnerable reality precedent entity success term critical repair underscore stepmother republican hesitantly classic wary contents prediction immediate invoke notorious implicit excluding input skeptical foster element punish frank humanity profound dessert orthodox substance disappear encourage neighborhood elder superfluous naive ascertain complacent resilient deafening military tend prudent glare acceptance skillfully induce monster beam gullible conciliate vessel petty cantankerous disclose archaeology anecdote disdain electronics substantiate subjective tourism advisable joyful incredible provocative psychological ruins discipline condone indifferent misfortune judgmental industrialize tasty assume astute mission mar protective definitely escape oppress shocked virtual zealous endorse qualification hostile eccentric abstract disparate geographical scrutinize generalization tolerate activity claim dogmatic influential obsolete extol implausible subsequent resource chronic benevolent improve confidential ambiguous seriously dearth perplex hatred throughout dine contemporary evoke essentially economic flagrant obscure alleviate eloquent dreaadful clumsy sympathy victim condemn vigor condescend spontaneous quell reprehensible substantially sleeve equivocal ironic decry errand articulate progressive eradicate refreshments elicit aspiration recently exemplary bribery theoretical disingenuous partisan revere particle nostalgia self-aggrandizement debunk tyranny rhetoric hierarchy warning whimsical venerate commend assert miserable awful vibe constrain undermine explicit differentiate compliment scrupulous contempt erroneous ideal refute imply cynical rash presume insight revival vary delay renounce indignant offensive temperate circumstantial export peep logo advertise suppress distort chunk convoluted denounce overwhelming fertility rigorous acquire arrogant university antagonize profitable indulgent strategic breathing idiosyncrasy profession frugal discern accommodation adversary incredulous disturbance digress social belie roam smug continual pertinent voluntarily elite subtle blame sincerity lick horror censure involvement candid infer futile impetuous exploit bewilder sustain diligent sincere protect sealed musical empathy callous parenthetical insure acorn sarcasm seize sacrificially allege emphatic irrelevant progress diplomatic stunned improvise deride reconcile meticulous deject scientifically incontrovertible pressure justify gloomy depict supplant endurance analogous diary bolster slip contemplate pesticide glow religious advocate negligent creator lament fundamental embrace throne inherent inferior valuable thrive trivial pretense reserved capricious refresh refusal flight boost explanation coherent prevalent tenacious official royalty assassin rub poach delete

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warrant circumscribed somewhat explosive optimistic mandate previously detract opinion intuitive feasible intimate persistent humble simplicity tempt deliberate painful unethical fundamentals discrepancy remorse pessimistic possibility conclusion acknowledge impregnate soberly creation paralyze suitability oblige tranquil medal arbitrate pacify illusory susceptible vibrate vengeance infection democratic stressful grave speculative sample identification stifle obligation revenge organization namely mediocre practical scream weaken consensus affectionate deficient treacherous console isolation ingenious memory melodrama despair awestruck composition regret recommendation celebrity decision devoid opaque ornamentation longevity participate dread restore interrogate aid accordingly mislead embarrassment optimism domestic apt funds virtue geography fundamentally thoroughly press despite horrible chilling rental esteemed disappointment innovative contemplation assign popularize haunt deafen serene percent estrangement suffer extravagant throng estimate comment priesthood mass dreadfully promote periphery animated saying relate clarity triple derivative succeed distortion register suicide improvement discreet inquisition probable curative incident praise convenience baffle covet dreadful genuinely weary undisturbed disgruntled humility renown nonchalant monopoly comedy vague decisive inconsequential announcement fabricated nevertheless vigilant scarce neglectful hushed attainment tedious explode snatch pslm agency sentimental tension adhere meanwhile sacred avert conformity likewise challenger accessible responsibility peril contact event roast fallible catastrophic competitor violate resolute deceive exaggeration discredit intolerable approve paste dimly novelist demeanor norm politician satisfaction obvious vehicle reservation defer involve restoration crush audible assistant backpack attain inanimate commemorate confrontation emigration parasite disperse quantitative laughter policy vulgar occasionally repay effective eulogy starvation empty therapeutic overall immortal encompass inappropriate opportune engagement illustrate turmoil observatory classification expression reminiscence comedian invention depress remedy protagonist gesture texture diplomatic election prolong conducive emotional invigorate curiosity expressive %

K-12 Words was originally published on PinkWrite