#and use recollection to fill in the gaps

[3-aem]

WATCHING JJK0 IN DUB BC I WANNA ALSO DRAW AT THE SAME TIME WHY DOES GOJO SOUND LIKE THAT HUH

[novulen]

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ : What happens when you almost get caught in the act by your son? Whatever it is, Satoru is unfazed & too pussywhipped to care.

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛꜱ/ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ : 18+ (mdni), riding position, mentions of overstimulating, (princess/ baby) used to adress reader, cock-blocking, fem!reader.

“He’s finally asleep.” Satorou huffs out, tiredly, trudging to his respective side of the bed and immediately tossing himself onto the mattress beside you. You can’t help but softly giggle when he does such dramatic things, acting as if your son had tormented him—though your sweet boy would never do such things.

“C’mere.” he murmurs mindlessly to you, reaching out a long arm before you can even process what he’s said and pulling your form flush to his chest.

His sultry tone already tells you what he wants.

“‘Toru…are you sure he’s sleeping?” you mumble under your breath, scooting closer to your lover and placing a hand worryingly to his cheek. Recollections of the last time Satorou’s antics had almost occurred to your toddler catching you both in the act flood your mind, and you want to do everything in your power to keep that from happening again. But, Satoru, on the other hand, doesn’t seem worried about the circumstances.

“I’m sure, baby,” he promises, almost too quickly. Although you’ve always been one to take him for his word, as unethical as that may sound, and you hesitantly nod in response.

Satoru raises an eyebrow for a second, noticing the uncertainty laced within your eyes.

“We don’t have to, y’know.”

“No—I want to.”

You mask your worry with a honeyed smile, and lean into his lips. It’s almost instinct with the way his body moves to close the gap between your lips, his soft ones colliding messily to yours not a second later.

Satoru moans into the kiss, having found pleasure without even entering you yet. His big hands slide down your torso, lifting you effortlessly on top of him in the process, and find purchase on your hips.

“Mhm, ‘d you lock the door?” you whisper into the kiss, opening your eyes only to find a totally blissed-out Satoru. But, he merely hums, continuing to move his lips unfazed and too deep in the kiss to stop.

The dim light your bedroom lamp provides casts onto your lovers face, giving him a warm, loving glow that —though has quite the opposite effect of warm, and loving—causes your cunt to throb.

“Need to be inside you, princess,” he groans, only pulling away to fill his lungs with the breath you’ve stolen from him, pupils blown wide. And when he’s done, without another word, he’s kissing you again.

Soon enough, with the way he’s grinding his already half-hard cock against your clothed pussy, and the manner in which he’s smothering his lips against yours, you forget what you’d earlier asked.

He, in fact, did not lock the door.

“So fucking needy for you,” he murmurs underneath his breath, softly clamping his teeth down on your lower lip as he pulls back. Satoru takes in the sight before him; you, lips rosy, swollen, and agape, on top of him with nothing but some skimpy sleep shorts and a crop top—it’s almost too good of a sight to behold, he thinks.

“Need you too,”

Your hands are quick to find the hem of his grey sweats, tugging his boxers down alongside his pants just enough for his cock to spring up.

The leaky, pink tip releases a droplet of pre-cum, and your eyes watch attentively as it slides down his sturdy, tan base.

With just one touch, Satoru’s already thrusting up into your hands. “S-shit, don’t do this t’me. Just put it in.” he breaths, azure, blue eyes boring into yours with a stare like never before. It’s compelling in a way, and you find yourself sliding your shorts and panties aside as you position yourself over his shaft.

Rough hands smoothing over your ass, he pushes you down onto the head.

You moan deliciously, your palms flat against his chest once he's fully in. And as much as you'd love to tell him how good this all feels, how he's so deep and snug inside you, all that comes out is a choked cry of his name.

"Shh, y'don't have to say anything, I know it feels good," he hums, wearing a smug grin on his face—knowing he's the one that's got you a babbling mess—cocky as ever. "Just keep riding—fuck, just like that."

You're soon bouncing on his cock, a stream of fat tears rolling down your cheeks, and throat too sore to do anything but whimper.

"Satoru, baby.." you whine, throwing your head back in utter bliss.

"Yeah, princess?"

"You're so deep..."

And Satoru's never felt compelled to outdo himself more than he does now, the thoughts of overstimulating you swarming his head more than he'd like to admit. He groans at your words, and only wants to push himself deeper—deeper until you're crying out his name.

Satoru, Satoru, Satoru...

...But, you're whispering.

"Satoru!" you whisper-shout, finally snapping the frenzied man out of his trance. Both your heads whip to the door, and a panicked-silence falls over the bedroom.

Your heart races as you hear the pitter-patter of small feet stop right in front of the bedroom. “Mama?” your toddler calls out, thankfully knocking on the door before he lets himself in. You’re more than glad he didn’t take after his father when it came to manners.

“I’ll be right there, sweetie!…don’t come in, ok?” And you’re making quick work of tying your silk robe around yourself, though, not much to your surprise, Satoru simply covers himself and watches things unfold.

“Ok..” you cringe at the confusion laced within his cute voice, making your way to the door. “I need to go the bathroom, hurry, mama.”

Your eyebrows bunch together. “You used to go to the bathroom all by yourself, honey, what happened?”

“Papa told me the boogeymen would come get me if i went alone.”

You shoot a deadly clear at Satoru, who happens to be coincidentally ‘sleeping’ at the moment.

But the moment you arrive back, having tucked your son into bed properly this time, he’s awake.

“Baby, I can explain.”

Could he really, though?

Your eyes roll in annoyance, and you get into bed with your robe on, giving him the hint that what had taken place before would not continue.

You face away from him, reveling in the way he’s straight after you, a hand already on your hip.

“So…can we?” he trails off as his hand snakes down, and you feel as if you can see the pout on his face when you push him away.

“No more pussy for you, boogeyman.”

[imbecominggayer]

How To Put Your Imagination On The Page

Thank you to @melda0m3 for asking for this on my post :3 you are an absolute dear(gender-neutral)

The topic I will be covering is "how in the world do you translate the perfect picture you have in your mind of a place or the epic one of a fight scene with words??" -melda0m3

Of course, because of the nature of this question and the nature of writing in general, this is more of a generalization since there are an infinite amount of scenes that could possibly exist!

FIRST QUESTION: Why Is This Actually So Hard?

The reason why translating your imaginary scene to the paper is hard is due to the fact that your brain naturally fills in the "gaps" of your scenery.

It's the reason why you implicitly understand everything that is happening in a dream and what settings look like despite not being able to recollect the actual physical details.

So when you take this abstract vision of scenery and try to apply it to the page, now you have to consciously examine your scenery from an observor's gaze. Since you are critically studying the imaginary scene, now your brain is forced to put actual detail into the image.

Combined with the a struggle for an apt metaphor and you will inevitably struggle to contextualize visual fog into actual physical detail.

So let's get working on fixing this issue.

Detail Is Influenced By Emotion

Let's be honest with ourselves, no one walks into a room and starts obsessively counting the number of windows, all the occupants of the room, and mentions literally every single detail in their "private" monologue.

No one, during a fight, keeps perfect track of all the punches that are happening.

Which means you shouldn't either.

Look at your imaginary place, epic fight scene, and any other fantastical viewing and say to yourself "this is a foundation. inspiration. it's not the final image or even a good image"

Utilize cinematography and learn how to encorperate that into diction and sentence structuring.

In general with some exceptions, shorter and choppier sentences invite feelings of anxiety, desperation, and a higher emotional state while longer and passive sentences invite feelings of calmness, curiousity, and a more static sense of "contentment".

Use more visual language that excites a reaction out of you. Fighting/disgusting scenes are the perfect time to use all of your "disgusting" words such as flesh, moist, sloughs, engourge, and other words

I literally looked up "disgusting words list" in order to get that list.

Detail And Emotion Influenced By Perspective

Of course, what decides what detail makes the "final cut", if you will, is your camera. Your perspective character.

For example, if your character is the type to be paranoid then the "camera" will be constantly fixing itself at everything. Violently snapping their eyes to everything as hysterical thoughts ooze out of the minute cracks between every single moment. Very intense, I would say.

This would contrast against a character who is completely zeroed in on something, someone?, with such an unrelenting gaze that their camera is permanently marked on their target.

The paranoid character would bring in a hod-podge of various incomplete details while the stubborn character couldn't even tell you if it was day or night.

Of course, the emotions that a character has associated with this scene will also bring to mind different details.

For example, in a fight, the perspective character might be someone who is swarming with desperation. In this case their thoughts are going to be centered less on the specific timing of things or what exactly is happening but instead on their emotions and possible consequences.

However, the perspective character might be someone who isn't scared at all of losing or winning. They're fighting with a more observant gaze. The kind expected of someone in a chess match. In this case their thoughts are probably directed on the timing their opponents with consistently precise questioning and observations. What is their opponent thinking? They're slowing down which means they're losing stamina. They're staring at my leg. A bold mistake.

Again, the desperate character isn't focusing at all on their opponent and couldn't tell you at all about what is objectively happening. Their mind is racing across thoughts of doubt, pride, existential fear. They're wondering what's going to happen if they lose. If they win? What about their loved ones?

The observant character is entirely focused on the setting and opponent from an "objective" perspective and so their personal feelings paint the world in a rather sterile perspective.

Motivation: What Is This Scene Trying To Do?

The scenes I have illustrated of a paranoid character sporadically crawling their eyes across the place, a stubborn character hunting for something, a desperate character fighting the battle of their life, and a professional observor passively observing the fighting they're currently engaging in all serve various different necessities.

Paranoid character's perspective allows the audience to understand what the paranoid character is feeling, emotionally invests the audience, provides possible backstory for the setting if it's emotionally relevant to the character, and raises the tension for a surely delightful climax and subsequent release of that tension.

Stubborn character's perspective allows the audience to understand what the stubborn character is feeling and forces the audience to either cheer for the bloodshed or look upon with despair at the fallen character. It also kickstarts conflict.

Desperate character's scene is more affilated with conflict itself and the result of tension. It invites the audience to participate in this unrelenting fear as the desperate character's own internal narration about the stakes serve the character's motivation and the reader's emotional involvement. It's heavily effective!

Observant character's scene could serve to establish a status quo for this character of a stoic professional which could be broken later on. This is also a well-written example of "show, don't tell" as the audience can easily guess that the observant character is a professional fighter.

I'm sorry @melda0m3 if I have failed to properly cover this topic. It's incredibly hard to help someone on a case-by-case basis so all I can do is provide some general guidelines and hope this assists you in your writing journey :)

Feel free to ask for any more specific advice posts if this attempt didn't scare you off!

[prouvaireafterdark]

Hi! As someone just coming into reading the books but who's been with the show since day 1, I'm curious about why people take Lestat's narrative in TVL with 100% sincerity when the premise of the show seems to be interrogating the dissonance that everybody's versions create. Obviously there's some big things that are definitely going to be true, but I'd personally be disappointed if we got a straight adaptation of unfiltered Lestat perspective on events, haha!

I think you're conflating sincerity with some idea of omniscient, objective accuracy, which, as you note, is a useless thing to search for in a show where memory is continually shown to be an unreliable monster.

Lestat's version of events in TVL is sincere, though. He's speaking from the heart and he's trying to give the story of his life, mostly by sharing his truth about what his life before meeting Louis was like, and in part by filling in the gaps Louis leaves us with about what happened at Rue Royale. His recollection may turn out to be as faulty and biased as Louis' or Armand's has been shown to be in the show, but that doesn't make it any less sincere.

And I'm not implying that Louis is lying or anything. I'm talking about him not mentioning or glossing over the happy memories that meant a lot to Lestat and made up, for him, a big part of what it was to share a home with Louis and Claudia for so long. Giving Lestat the space to talk about his love for Louis and Claudia doesn't erase the abuse he inflicted on them in those moments of instability and rage. I don't get why people are so resistant to seeing that. It's not like it makes everything better. If anything, it makes it worse that he loved them so much.

What's important to note, too, is that at no point does Lestat in his retelling excuse himself for anything he did to Louis and Claudia and I doubt very much we would see him do that in future seasons of the show. Lestat even says it himself that he deserved what Claudia did to him. The way things worked out between the three of them is his greatest, deepest regret and it will haunt him for the rest of his immortal life.

Also, not for nothing, what we've gotten this season and last season are the unfiltered perspectives of Louis, Claudia, and Armand. That's not to say they're lying or intentionally obfuscating (okay, well, Armand totally is), but that is what we got---a narrative that was really challenged only by Daniel and not by anyone who was actually there who remembers it differently. I don't see why we shouldn't also get Lestat's unfiltered version, especially considered he is the main protagonist of the Vampire Chronicles series going forward.

For me and many others, it's not about excusing anything. It's all about contextualizing his decisions. Like, Lestat didn't just wake up one day and decide it would be fun to destroy his family. I want him to tell me in his own words (which, as a reminder, he has yet to do at any point in this series so far) what drove him to do the horrible things he did and how he really feels about it. When we do hopefully get that, I expect the fandom to interrogate his accounts as vigorously as they did Louis' and Armand's and Claudia's.

And to answer your question regarding the books specifically, we have Anne herself to blame for that. She wrote IWTV when she was battling some of the most intense grief and despair a person can feel. She had just lost her child. Writing the book was an outlet for that and you can feel it as you read Louis' perspective. When she decided to continue the series, though, she changed her mind about a lot of things---mainly who Lestat was as a character and how she had come to hate the "weakness" in Louis (which was really because she came to hate the "weakness" she saw in herself as she came out on the other side of her grief and identified with him less and Lestat more). There is a very real dissonance between who Lestat is in IWTV and who he is in TVL and beyond. The way she accounted for that in her own writing was that Louis was misconstruing certain events by leaving things out or straight up making things up like their reunion in NOLA at the end of IWTV, which Lestat claims never happened. The reason people take Lestat's words at face value sometimes isn't usually because they hate Louis or think he lied about Lestat's abuse. It's because Anne, as the writer of the story, wanted the reader to doubt Louis' version in favor of Lestat's because she had changed her mind about the direction of the story and the characters she created.

It's also worth noting that, in the actual text of the show, that version of events taken from the book, the content of the original interview, is described by Louis himself as an admitted performance. I think it's a perfectly legitimate reading to consider IWTV (the book) in the context of Louis trying to get Lestat's attention with something he knew would upset him, like Armand suggests was Louis' fantasy, because he wanted or needed to see him again.

This got long and rambley so I'll just leave you with the wise, wise words of Samothy Reid when asked to give one truth and one lie in the show: Everybody lies. Everybody lies.

I don't think that will change if we finally get Lestat's POV so imo people should just relax and enjoy the ride.

[stellarxdeath]

I've seen a handful of posts lately saying that the writers of IWTV have butchered Claudia's character and/or wrote her poorly, things of that ilk; lamenting how dirty she was done by the skill of the writers. Now that I'm all caught up and s2 is finished* [ sob ] I... Have some choice thoughts on this perspective.

Number one being that Claudia was explicitly doomed by the narrative the moment she'd been introduced to it. Her death is referenced but not outright stated initially, moreso implied, but the writing makes no mistake in telling us that Claudia, the Child Vampiress, will die. She's not potentially out there somewhere, she's not in hiding, she is dead, and she will never be able to tell us the whole of her truth beyond her diaries.

The second issue that the "IWTV Writers bad" crowd seems to forget is that, Even with the diaries, this is ultimately Louis' story, and the gaps in perspective are inevitably filled by him and eventually Armand, but never Claudia. She was disregarded because time and time again, Louis disregarded her for Lestat, and then for Armand; She was betrayed by the coven she professed her love for with a horrible, terrible, calculated eagerness because of Louis coming in and fucking with the coven dynamic; Regardless if that dynamic was healthy or not.

What Claudia and Louis had was precious, but it was also deeply, deeply flawed. He can effectively be blamed for her death, drawn all the way back to the riots incited by his choice to kill Fenwick; Was Louis justified in doing so? Yeah, abso-fucking-lutely, but this doesn't change the fact that his choices directly damned her to die.

Third is the claim that Claudia went from lethal and independent to desperate and weak? When? No?? Again I'm loosely paraphrasing some posts I've seen and attempting to take them in good faith; Claudia, from season one, was very interested in finding other Vampires, she was hellbent on it, and unfortunately it lead her to Bruce aka "The Motherfucker."

Her attempt to take Louis with her to Europe in s1 was in service of that goal. Claudia wanted to escape Lestat, she wanted to save Louis, and she wanted to find her people. She even tried to make her own Vampires despite being a fledgling! She has always wanted community, and I'd go as far as to say she was so strong because she could only rely on herself for so goddamn long, Louis being trapped under Lestat's thumb even after Lestat came crawling back in the later half of s1.

I understand that Claudia is a fan fave and people very rightly wished for her to live - the thing I have a gripe with is that some are taking this love for her and making it more important than the story itself. Interview With The Vampire is a tale of regret, trauma and abuse, a story of how memories are monsters and to be a Vampire is to be damned to the Odyssey of recollection, and if you don't survive, your memory will always inevitably be twisted over time. A life in eternity is a life full of pain.

The fact that people are so upset over the unfairness of her life is the intended effect; You are supposed to be upset that she is doomed, the writers of IWTV did a fucking fantastic job of making you feel that way - however, blaming the writers and crying "Bad writing" over the intended reaction feels just a tad silly to me.

As another post put it: Louis loved Claudia so much, but it was never enough. Everyone in Claudia's life except for Madeline betrayed her, her vampyric rebirth was the bandaid to a shitty vampyric marriage, she was denied her own life and Armand the Ancient fucking Coven Leader did nothing to save her; so much so that she was a goddamn Sacrifice so that Louis may live instead. Disregarded. Doomed. Damned. The injustice is meant to piss you off, I beg of those who think the Writers fucked up to simply sit with that feeling. Sit with the injustice. In the end, it's all any of us can do.

it was not finished oops* more opinions on the way

[hooked-on-elvis]

WHY ELVIS LIKED YOUNG PEOPLE AROUND HIM

I feel this can be a sensitive topic but I'm not trying to make it as such. I think there's a great misunderstanding (not to call it meanness) when people outside the Elvis fandom think about Elvis' closest acquaintances over the years, specifically spotlighting the girls he chose to have around / have relationships with, either in the 50s and 60s or in the 70s as he grew older. There's more to learn than what I'll present here, obviously, but I think this book excerpt, recollections of a life-long friend of the King's, may help the situation look a little more clear.

The Graceland gatherings might be described as “parties,” but they never had the feeling of events. It was just a natural get-together of the people Elvis considered friends, and I think in a lot of ways those days at Graceland were his way to catch up and enjoy the kind of good times and friendships that he hadn’t had in high school, and that were extremely difficult to come by now that the world saw him as a star. In that regard, I don’t think my youth ever counted against me in getting through those Graceland gates. I was fifteen, and Billy Smith and Patsy Presley were right around that age, too, and I think Elvis liked having some young, innocent energy around him. Away from Graceland, he’d been catapulted into a grown-up world of burdens and responsibilities that he hadn’t ever imagined when he first sang “That’s All Right” in Sam Phillips’s storefront studio, and I think that the chance to spend time with people like us who didn’t want anything from him but his friendship was the real luxury that Graceland offered.

Excerpt "Me and a Guy Named Elvis: My Lifelong Friendship with Elvis Presley" by Jerry Schilling (2006)

Of course, Jerry is talking about the 50s Elvis in this part of his book but there's things in life that don't really change as the years pass by. Once you read more and more about Elvis, you can see his feelings about younger people and their way of seeing him in a more innocent and casual manner, without second secret intentions and personal agendas, only looking to have a good time and lots of fun - like him - was something captivating to EP, who in his personal life would always wish to keep the mood as light and easy as possible. Of course not all of his friends were younger than him and not all of his women had a huge age gap between them and him. Still this is something worth talking about when we think on how this information piece can fill some blanks when we try to understand Elvis' way of thinking, seeing and feeling the world around him.

[atiny-piratequeen]

𝓝𝓮𝓰𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼

𓆩⟡𓆪Summary:

When two rival kingdoms send their men to you to ask for your hand in marriage to bridge the gap between kingdoms, you have a quite...unique way of getting everyone to cum together.

Errr, come together.

Nah, it was right the first time.

𓆩⟡𓆪Pairing: Lee Juyeon (The Boyz) x Fem! Reader x Jeong Yunho (Ateez)

𓆩⟡𓆪Genres/Aus: Non-Idolverse, Royal AU, Hybrids (Snow Leopard, Netherlands Dwarf Rabbit, and African Wild Dog, Respectively), Smut, Poly Endgame

𓆩⟡𓆪Tws: Swearing, Insults

𓆩⟡𓆪Sws: Consensual Chase Kink, Pred/Prey Undertones, Size Difference (Reader is smaller than the boys. And if you aren't irl, guess what? You are now. Live your smol dreams babes), Teasing, Blowjobs, Handjobs, Breast Play, Unprotected Sex, Fingering, Cum Swallowing, Marking, Riding, Anal (mxm), hints of Scent Kinks, Stomach Bulge, Slicking, mentions of ruts/heats

𓆩⟡𓆪Rating: Explicit/Mature (18+)

𓆩⟡𓆪WC: 3.7k

𓆩⟡𓆪A/n: Im a damn day late but here is my Secret Santa '23 entry for @cultofdionysusnet for, ironically, my darling Jasper (@starlitmark)

I was already like WOAH when I got you as my receiver but I think its pretty dope you also were my secret Santa *wheeze* I hope you like it, even if it's late.

𓆩⟡𓆪AO3| Taglist Form (Please make sure your urls are updated and able to actually be tagged) | Commission Sheet𓆩⟡𓆪

𓆩⟡𓆪Network Ping- @kwritersworld | @kdiarynet | @k-vanity | @cultofdionysusnet𓆩⟡𓆪

𓆩⟡𓆪©atiny-piratequeen. do not repost, translate, or use my works𓆩⟡𓆪

“You and I will not be seeing eye to eye on this. I arrived first, I asked for her hand first, and I will not bow down to some… dog .”

An audible growl filled the room, a reverb as the man across the way’s lip finally curled up. 

“I’ve listened to you hiss and spit nonsense at me for half an hour, if you’d like to do more than that, I’d be more than happy to entertain that, but if all you intend on doing is make cheap shot swipes at me, it's obvious who it is she should choose to take her hand.”

You sit with your ankles crossed, your hands in your lap, watching the two men bicker at one another. 

The first man is Juyeon, sent from the land of Lucid Dream. It was a place born of ice and snow, it seemed fitting that their Crown Prince was a snow leopard, his speckled tail twitching in agitation as he glared down his much bigger rival.

This being Yunho, an African wild dog sent from the kingdom of Eternal Sunshine, who stood taller than Juyeon, stared him down with an unimpressed stare, his ears, also spotted, flicking to and fro as he made steadfast eye contact with the two of them. 

“Milady, I don’t think this one is going well. I don’t know how the meetings got mixed up like this-probably Donghyuck again-but I can escort them out immediately if you would like to. Before things get too…rowdy?” your consultant whispers beside you, eyes flicking back and forth between the two apex hybrids. 

You hum, your nose twitching slightly. 

They both smelled quite nice. How very coy of their respective Kingdoms to send hopefuls to you that were bordering on their respective ruts. 

A smile crosses your face, you stand, and in an instant, both men pause in their arguing, eyes fixed on you. 

“Lucid Dream and Eternal Sunshine, long have you two been at odds with one another, no? If my recollection of history goes, your two kingdoms have been in a bitter, decades-long spat with one another, right?” You step down from your post, your hand soft and delicate within your consult’s hand as he assists you. 

“Milady-”

“I will be fine, Xiaojun. Tell Mark and Donghyuck to go prepare for me. It won’t take long, I made my decision.” 

Xiaojun looked at your small form, pursing his lips in concern. Leaving you, a rabbit, in a room with a wild dog and a snow leopard seemed to be the LAST thing he wanted to do, but a simple quirk of your brow settled any unsaid complaints he had and he merely sighed and nodded, making his way out of the room.

The sound of your heels against the grand marble floors echoes as you make your way to the two of them, without a doubt picking up on the competing pheromones rolling off of them both in waves. 

They straighten their backs, looking at you with a noticeably gentler look. 

“It will take them some time to prepare my room, I imagine.” 

Neither men said anything, though you can see their tails stand still, their ears perked. 

The corner of your lips tilt slightly, how cute. 

“The two of you can prove yourselves to me in a different way. If my kingdom is to be the bridge, we will do things my way.” you speak slowly, removing your heels and setting them aside. The two men stare, blinking slowly and curiously while you make your way to the door, a smile tugging at your lips as you feel their gaze on your smaller form. 

“Let’s see who’s faster.” 

You toss the door open, darting down the hall in a flash, and laughing to yourself as you count the seconds it takes before there is an eruption of noise and movement behind you. 

You’re grateful for Xiaojun knowing where you were going with your untold portion of your orders to him, as the halls are relatively empty. Any servants mulling about were on alert and the moment they see you rushing down the hall, jovial and full of energy, they press themselves to the wall, keeping themselves there as two blurs rush by moments later. 

“Stupid dog, move! She’s mine!” Juyeon rushed by, his eyes narrowed as he followed the scent down the hall. Yunho growled, his legs long and swift, making sure Juyeon did not overtake him in speed. 

He wouldn’t lose. Failure was not an option. If the Princess wanted her soon-to-be betrothed to win in a challenge of speed-and if it came down to it, strength-he wouldn’t back down. 

Especially not to a trash-talking feline from their rival kingdom. 

Yunho narrowed his eyes, the scent made a sharp turn, but it was faint. 

Instead, the scent had subtle stronger traces to the right. He turned, rushing down that way while Juyeon continued down the main hall. 

The feline’s tail twitched when he saw him break off, but he ignored it, keeping his eyes focused on the hall he was running down. 

You were…beautiful. He’d been sent with a mission in mind and he intended to follow through, to have your hand, but the moment he laid eyes on you, he knew he’d be the one to sweep you off your feet. 

He’ll be damned if they lost to a clumsy dog from that place . 

Juyeon swore when he found the hall was a dead end. A window was open, a silken curtain blowing in the wind. Out of it, was an avian, clearly some form of messenger, carrying a torn piece of the dress you had worn before him. 

He’d been duped. 

“FUCK!”

Yunho had better luck, finding you rushing through the halls while wearing a robe you’d taken from a passing servant. He let out a bark of excitement, the thrum of the chase overriding his senses as he barreled down the hall. 

The decorative pins and chains on his outfit jingled and chimed as he got closer to you and you smile to yourself, slipping into a room and tucking yourself into a laundry chute, sticking your tongue out at the large dog as he stuck his head through the opening, eyes wide with excitement as you slide from view. 

“Gonna have to try harder than that~” You tease, skipping as you step out from the other side. 

Behavior unbecoming of a queen? Possibly. But if you were to tie your life to someone, why shouldn’t you have fun? If they couldn’t do this much, how can they expect to bring your kingdoms closer?

You dust yourself off, your ears twitching ever so slightly before you look around the laundry room. It was deathly quiet inside and you feel yourself freeze. 

Someone is inside. Watching. 

You don’t move anything but your head, locking eyes with something reflective and gold in the dark room. 

The moment you do, it lunges at you, and it took a moment longer than you expected to force your brain to catch up to speed. In those moments, you feel your clothes being grabbed, and you stumble, nearly colliding with a wall when a strong arm wraps around your waist, lifting you with ease. 

“Well, that was a pretty neat little trick you did there, my beloved. But it seems I’ve caught you. What do I win?” Juyeon inquired, and you can smell his scent thick in your nose, his heartbeat pounding against his chest and your back. 

You smile and turn to him, your own heartbeat thundering loud as you place a kiss to his nose. 

“Another round.” You smile and slip from his grip, shrinking your arms as close to your body as you can and sliding the robe you had taken from a servant off, rushing out of the room as Juyeon swore behind you. 

The hall isn’t far from your room. You figure everything is ready and if the boys couldn’t catch you by the time the door closed, your little game was over and you’d win. 

Did you want to? Probably not, but it was still fun. 

A crash sounds from behind you, and you hear two sets of footsteps approaching, the hall flooded with pheromones. 

“Move, dog!”

“Like hell, cat. Back off!”

You glance over your shoulder and find both of the men right on your heels. 

“Lady Y/N!” They call to you at the same time, and it takes a moment for you to get your bearings, your nose twitching ever so slightly. You sniff, the smell of their combined scents flooding your senses. 

Aren’t they too close?

You squeak in surprise as both of them stumble over each other, tripping and falling onto you in a heap. The air leaves your lungs and a startled yelp fell from your lips, in an instant, both of them are picking you up, panic clearly set into their features. 

You feel a familiar heat settle in your core, and you realize the repetitious sound in your ears is your own heartbeat. You smile at the two men, and no doubt by now they can smell your arousal. 

“Are you okay?” Juyeon inquired, his fiery disposition from before gone as he gently cupped your face, his hand warm to the touch. Yunho checked you over visually, eyes rolling over your body, looking for bruises or worse, blood.

Instead, he’s met with your flushed gaze, your chest rising and falling quickly. 

“Looks like you both got me.”

The two men exchange a look with one another before looking back at you. 

“Technically, I caught you first.” Juyeon interjected. Yunho narrowed his gaze at him before sighing. 

“I’ll leave, I just want to make sure you both didn’t get hurt when I fell on you.” 

You take his hand and Juyeon’s, a spark in your eyes as both of them look at you curiously. 

“Lady Y/N?”

“If you boys don’t mind, let’s try one more thing. I’m sure that will settle this once and for all.”

They exchange a look with one another and nod slowly, curiosity making both of their respective tails sway to and fro. 

-x-

“My, you two are quite pent up mm?” You let out a faux pout, a cock in each hand as you stroke slowly. There’s a wicked glint in your eye as you look up at the two, delighted by the way they both seemed adamant on holding back and not ‘crumbling’ before the other. 

Poor things, they still think this an either-or situation. 

Your ears twitch ever so slightly, picking up every sharp gasp and low groan from the two of them as you stroke faster, twisting one hand while you gently squeezed with the other. 

“M-Milady-” Juyeon grit out, biting his lip so hard you could see small indents from his fangs. Yunho wasn’t much better, letting out unintelligible pants and growls, seemingly trying to keep himself from actually speaking so he didn’t make a fool of himself. 

“It’s fine, Juyeon. You already won. Both of you have.”

Both of them sober slightly, looking at one another with a competitive spark before jolting when you bring your lips down, breath fanning over the head of their cocks as you run your tongue over them. 

“Let’s get along well, okay~?”

The two buckle, scent thickening with arousal when they finally pick up on your own heat as you shift below them. 

They’d stirred something inside of you, it’s only right for them to take responsibility for it. 

“A-as if I’d get along well w-with someone like him.” Yunho grit out, his cock throbbing in your mouth as you tease his head with your tongue. Juyeon hissed at him, turning his head sharply.

“F-feeling’s mutual. I doubt a stupid ass dog could pleasure her, anyway .” He grit out. Yunho’s eyes blazed with the challenge and you roll your eyes below them, giving both of their cocks a squeeze. They buck and jolt, their attention landing back on you. 

“Play nice.” You warn, pressing their cocks together, dragging your tongue over their slits, keening at the mixed taste. “It’d be a shame if I didn’t get to taste more because you two can’t behave.” You sigh softly, letting your tongue roll over Yunho’s cock, then Juyeon’s, and back again. 

The two go quiet. Or, rather, as quiet as they could get as the occasional moan and keen roll from their lips, their rivalry temporarily placated by your actions. 

They were handsome, of course. No Kingdom in their right mind would send you someone less than average, but they looked better like this, faces flushed, panting, fingers flexing as they tried to keep their hands off of you. 

“That’s better.” You sit up, caressing their balls and smiling, your scent thick and sweet. Both of them unconsciously lean towards you, and you open yourself to them, perking so your breasts are spilling from the top of your dress.

An invitation, that’s what it is. 

They took it for what it was, cupping and groping one breast each as you raise your head higher. 

“I d-didn’t expect this nn…today,” Yunho growled, his cock throbbing in your small hand as he ran his lips over the sweet glands on the left side of your neck. 

Juyeon grunted in agreement, his tongue flicking out, dragging over your throat. The barbs at the center were soft, and you find yourself clenching on nothing as they kiss their way lower, greedy lips finding your nipples. 

You gasp and close your eyes, rolling their balls in your hand, trembling in their grip as you feel them running their hands down your body as they alternate between kisses to your chest and small, marking nibbles and bites. 

Juyeon’s hand found its way to your folds first, chuckling airdly as he rubbed slowly. You yip and clench on nothing, your hands stopping momentarily. 

“Ah, don’t you want us to bond, Bun? Don’t stop just because he’s touching you.” Yunho growled, sucking a spot into your breast you were sure wouldn’t fade easily after tonight. You narrow your eyes at him in challenge, but they flutter the moment Juyeon pinches and rolls your clit, his breath fanning over your ear. 

“You’re already so wet. Did it feel nice giving us the run-around. Leaving such a sweet scent for us to follow, it’s only right we pay you back in kind.” He growled, lifting his fingers and spreading them apart, showing you-and Yunho-the slick covering them. 

Your lips tremble as you look up at them, your head swirling in need as you watch Juyeon offer his messy fingers to Yunho. 

He stared, eyes narrowing in need for a moment before he sucked them into his mouth, fangs grazing Juyeon’s fingers before he pulled back, a deep growl pulling from his chest as he turned to you. 

“C’mere. Let’s get you comfortable.”

His definition of ‘comfortable’ was splaying you out with your legs spread in their laps, both of them kissing and biting at your necks as you squirming as you let them both stretch you, your slick making a mess of your ass, their hands, and their thighs below. 

“I-I’m ready!” You cry, arching high and clenching on their fingers, mouth falling open as one of them curls their finger up to brush against your gspot. Your cries are met with deep chuckles and a kiss from each of them as they slow only long enough for you to catch your breath. 

“Are you sure?” Yunho teases, his lips against your ear before he bites.

Your eyes widen and you find yourself squirting as you jolt, a yip leaving your lips. Both men let out amused keens, holding you so you wouldn’t fall as the sudden shockwave rolls through you. 

“So pretty~” Juyeon purred, pulling his fingers free, smiling like the cat that ate the canary as he ran his tongue over his fingers, licking them clean as you pant, trying to catch your breath. 

There’s a wet smacking sound above your head and you find yourself squished between the men. One glance across from yourself to the mirror they’d propped you up in front of and you found out why. 

Yunho had his hand fisted in Juyeon’s hair, pulling him in for a demanding kiss, chasing your taste on his tongue. The sight made you keen, and you cup their necks, running your fingers over their glands, smiling as they both shuddered. 

“It looks like you two are getting along just fine now, mm?” You purr. 

They part, panting as they stare each other down. 

“Yeah,” Juyeon mewled, his tail twitching and jerking in interest behind him. 

“I think we’ll get along just fine.” Yunho licked his lip and moved to grab you by the hips, picking you clean up. 

“Come, I think we’ve held back for too long. I’m aching.” 

You find it exciting how easily the two of them can move you at will. Strong, yet gentle hands positioned so you were straddling Yunho, staring down hungrily at his cock as Juyeon held his cock up. 

Your plan was simply to tease, but as you watch the two eye you hungrily, then eye each other with the same gaze, you realize maybe this was going to work a lot better than your playful mind had anticipated. 

Taking Yunho was a task in itself. Even with your slick, you were grateful Juyeon paused to coat the bigger hybrid’s cock in lube provided by your consultants (you’d thank Xiaojun, Mark, and Donghyuck later). 

“T-Tight-” Yunho growled, his canines pronounced the more he lost his composure, his hands gripping your hips tight. You cling to his hands, body shaking as Juyeon cooed sweet nothings to you, reaching to rub your clit and the base of your tail. 

“A-Ahn- fuck-” You swear, eyes closing as Juyeon’s feline purrs override your mind. 

“That’s it. Such a good wife you’re going to be for us. Open your eyes, Princess. You’re bulging.” He growled, cupping your jaw. You gasp and look down, eyes widening as you see the tell-tale bulge in your stomach. 

Had…had he grown bigger while he was inside of you?

The very thought made you gush on his cock, your hands falling to Yunho’s chest as you bounce on your own accord, eager to feel him deeper inside. 

“S-Shit- Y/N-” He swears, hands tightening on your hips as you ride him, your hips and ass slapping against his thighs. Juyeon watches, mesmerized as you swallow Yunho’s cock, your slick leaving a lewd, shiny trail on his cock that dribbled down to his balls. 

“C-Come…come here.” Your voice startled the snow leopard back into focus and he glanced up, pupils dilating as you open your mouth, tongue out for him. 

“G-Gimme.” You demand, and he doesn’t need to be told twice, standing up and cupping the back of your head. He doesn’t even have the time to open his mouth and be a gentleman, to urge you to go slow before you dive down, eagerly bobbing your head until you feel him touch the back of your throat. 

They both smelled so good, thick and hot and it made you crave more, especially hearing both of them moan and gasp your name. Yunho thrust his hips up, bouncing you in his laps and he would have probably knocked you off balance, had it not have been for the iron-clad grip your thighs had on his frame and his hands had on your hips. 

Juyeon kept himself anchored by cupping your head, and rubbing the base of your ears. He found your throat tightening at the motion and smiled wickedly. 

“Is that n-nice? Having your cute little ears rubbed while we claim your pussy and your throat?” He panted, hissing through his teeth as he watched you turn your teary, pleasure-struck gaze up to him, drooling as his cock pressed deep into your throat. 

“I c-can’t keep holding it back.” Yunho gritted, eyes flickering back and forth between your mouth and your pussy, both stuffed in such a lewd manner. 

You clench around him, a subtle sign you didn’t want him to, and thankfully both of them took the sign for what it was, fucking you and your throat with a mismatched tempo that eventually synched up. 

Every fiber of your body felt like it was alight with pleasure, and stars exploded behind your lids as you finally felt them flood your mouth and pussy. You feel delighted as you feel the mess between your legs, only sealed inside by Yunho’s cock (which still throbbed, almost as if he wanted to unload more into your tightness). Juyeon pulled you out of your musing when he pulled out of your mouth, panting like a beast as he looked down upon your kiss-swollen and saliva-covered lips. 

“That’s our good girl. Are you alright?” Yunho murmured, petting your head. You lick your lips, taking a moment to gather your barings before pressing into his hand, smiling. 

“You two don’t think we’re done, do you?” You inquire after catching your breath. They exchange a look of surprise with one another before quickly recovering and grinning. 

-x-

Minutes turned to hours, and positions changed. From you eagerly arching your back, nuzzling Yunho’s cock and teasing it with kisses as Juyeon takes you from behind to you biting marks into his ass while Yunho thrusts into him, keeping his cheeks spread with a devious giggle as his fiery voice melted into airy, near shy whimpers. Or the way Yunho trembled and groaned as you bite marks into his thighs while he greedily curled his tongue deep inside of Juyeon, reaching around to stroke him and milk another orgasm from the spent feline. 

By the time the three of you are actually satiated, you lay in a pile of noodle-like limbs, dazed and happy as you gather your bearings. 

“I think,” Juyeon panted, running a hand through his sweaty locks. 

“-this is the start to a wonderful union.” Yunho finished, nosing both you and Juyeon’s hair, clearly close to dozing. You blink.

“...oh, right, the kingdom thing.” You yawn despite both of them laughing. You motion for them to follow you to your private bath, cum dribbling down your legs. 

“C’mon, my sweets. We need all the rest we can get if we are to continue our… negotiations tomorrow, yes?” You wink at them over your shoulder, smiling as they appear at your side in a flash, heading deeper into the bathroom before closing the door with a click. 

“Right, negotiations. I’m sure that’s what we can call it.” 

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

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[joshsindigostreak]

Running Through the Garden

Prologue

“Periwinkle: Early and sincere friendships, tender recollections.” - Language of Flowers

Werewolf!Danny Wagner x Werewolf!OC

Danny Wagner knew, no matter what path he walked in life it would always lead back to what he was born to do: lead his Pack for not only his generation, but his future children’s generation as well. He didn’t talk about it, but it was in the back of his mind at all times. A ticking clock to his destiny. He thought going to college with his best friend Sam would take his mind off of it, but all it took was a Full Moon, round golden eyes, and a flash of auburn fur to remind him that he can’t keep running from it forever. But would she be willing to run with him?

Authors Note: Hello! This is the prologue to Danny’s story, and the final piece to the ISHIYE universe puzzle. I hope y’all enjoy going on Danny’s journey with me! ❤️

*Set in the ISHIYE universe but can be read independently. It’ll run the closest to O, Pioneers but it’ll be different enough to where you can still read it by itself if you prefer. There will be cross references from the other fics but I promise it won’t be confusing.

Word Count: 3,057

Warnings: Descriptions of bodily transformations, slight body horror if you squint, language, descriptions of blood and anima death.

His best friend's hand was resting over the center console, ready to take everything that rested in Danny’s pockets and keep them safe for the night. He gently placed his wallet, cellphone, and half of a granola bar in Sam’s hand. 

Sam gave pause at the granola, but packed it all silently in the small bag he always kept everything in. Out of pure muscle memory, he reached into the bag and fished out a small velvet drawstring pouch. He pulled it open and offered it to Danny, letting him put any and all jewelry he had on at the moment inside; another possession that Sam would guard all night. 

“It’s getting darker earlier, I don’t want you cutting it close again,” Danny said softly from the passenger seat. 

Sam gave his best friend a look, and the side of his mouth slid up into a smile, “Daniel, I probably know the sunset times better than you do. I’ve got plenty of time to get back to the house.” 

“I know but traffic can be a bitch sometimes and I don’t want to worry about whether you’re indoors when it’s all…happening.” 

Every month, the same nerves creeped up on the young Wolf, and he wondered if they were just a permanent feature to his biology. The build up to sundown was arguably the worst part for him now, even if the physical part never got any easier. It was the same kind of anxiety one would get in middle school; not knowing if they were going to be chosen to read aloud next. Even with the windows up, he could hear every leaf rustle in the early fall wind. Out of the corner of his eye, he looked at the familiar trailhead that he always took. Well, to him it was a trailhead. To anyone beside him and Sam, it was just a narrow gap between a few trees on the side of the road. One probably wouldn’t even notice it if they weren’t looking for it. But the two friends always recognized the young Maple lazily leaning across the gap to its larger, and older sibling. 

Sam dramatically extended his arm to expose his watch on his wrist, “it's 6:57 PM, and sunset is scheduled for 7;46 PM, on the dot.” 

Danny always admired Sam’s confidence. He had the type of confidence that often blurred with arrogance, depending on who you asked.  When it came to Danny’s schedule, he took it more seriously than his own independent studies, which was saying something. He had spreadsheet after spreadsheet about weather patterns and sunrise/sunset times. Danny didn’t even have to look to know that there was an already worn out farmers almanac in the glovebox. Every year Sam would read the new one cover to cover, highlighting everything he found useful, his messy scrawl filling the margins with observations and reminders, all while tabbed with color coded sticky notes for quick reference. 

They rarely verbalized the sentence, ‘I love you,�� but this was one of the many ways Sam showed it. One could always know if Sam cared about them if he revealed he read up on anything you were interested in, or in Danny’s case, his species. The one convenient thing about Sam coming from a family of bloodline hunters was that he had plenty of literature at his disposal on whatever non-human species that caught his eye. The drawback was that most of the books in his house were written by other hunters, and thus were a little biased against other creatures. Sam had to unlearn a lot in the past few years, but he did so without question; because it was for Danny. 

“That's still cutting it close,” Danny warned. 

Sam smiled, wanting to lighten the mood for his friend, and held up three fingers like a boy scout, “I promise I will get back to the Manor as quickly as I can and get all the doors bolted shut from the inside and the curtains drawn, just in case. I’ll even break a few traffic laws, just for you.” 

Danny stared at him, trying not to smile, but Sam was infectious, and the corners of his mouth tilted up anyway. Before he could reply, his skin was starting to itch. He still had plenty of time to get into the woods, but those first few physical symptoms were like a ticking clock, and the anxiety crept back in. If he was starting to feel the pull of the Moon, the other Wolves in the area were too, and he wanted Sam home and in the Kiszka Fortress until sunrise. 

He glanced out the window again, before turning back to Sam, “I need to get going.” 

Sam’s expression sobered a little and he nodded, “I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Bright and early as usual,” the Wolf replied as he opened the car door and started to get out, 

Just as he was about to shut the door, Sam called out, “don’t eat too much deer tonight. It always fucks up your stomach the next day and you regret it.” 

It was a futile request, as Danny didn’t have much control once the Wolf took over, but he appreciated the sentiment anyway, “I’ll keep that in mind, Sam.” With that he shut the door, and backed up a few feet so Sam could drive off. 

The young scholar gave his best friend one of his classic closed mouth smiles, the slightest bit of worry crept into his large Sanpaku eyes, but he kept his promise and pulled his car away from the side of the road and sped off. 

Once Sam’s car was out of sight, Danny sighed and turned towards the woods. He began the slow walk into the trees. With each step, his skin got itchier and itcher, letting him know his body was preparing for its monthly ritual. The daylight was disappearing with each passing minute, and while there was still time, he started walking faster to get to his usual clearing.

After ducking under some low branches, and taking a few turns, said clearing came into view. It wasn’t massive, or much of anything, but it was a big enough space where he could strip down and get ready for what he was born to do. 

As he stripped, the nocturnal animals started to stir, ready for their own nights to begin. The birds were quieting down, but the insects were singing their songs as it was their stage now. A few stray fireflies started to twinkle around the edge of the clearing, as if they were waiting for him too. 

He folded his clothes as neatly as he could and walked them over to a small rock pile by a Red Oak. It was set up in such a way that he could safely hide his clothes until the next morning, and not worry about animals getting into them. Wolves are always taught to not shift while wearing anything. His mother always reminded him of how much of a waste of clothing it was, and that she wasn’t going to be buying him new jeans every month because he got lazy. 

Once everything was secured and hid away, he walked back to the center of the clearing. His gums were starting to feel weird, and his teeth felt wobbly. Not too much longer now. He looked up through the trees, seeing a tiny bit of fading orange sky. The hue turned into a grayish purple as he stared. The sun was bidding his farewell, holding the door open for the moon. 

The young Wolf took a few deep breaths through his nose, and tilted his head from side to side to crack his neck a couple times. He flexed his hands at his sides, knowing that he only had a few more minutes of being Danny, the humanoid lycanthrope, before surrendering to the Wolf within. They called themselves Wolves because they indeed fully transformed into the canines, It wasn’t like the movies where they would look like some weird hybrid. No once the night took over they looked just like any other wolf in the forest. Blending in with the wildlife was one of the main reasons their species remained safe from endangerment, but also kept humans ignorant to their existence. To humans Werewolves were urban legends and folklore, and they were determined to keep it that way. 

Finally, the sky was dark and the only light was provided from the precious Moon. She wasn’t directly above him just yet, but her presence was just as strong. Danny closed his eyes for a second, silently thanking her for all the blessings She bestows on his kind. Wolves weren’t religious in the way humans were, but there was a supernatural connection to nature and the Moon that was very real, and an intrinsic part of their lives. Some packs paid their respects more than others, and he happened to be born into one that never went a Full Moon without giving Her proper acknowledgement. 

He couldn’t see it obviously, but he knew as he opened his eyes that streaks of gold were invading his hazel irises. Instinctively he knelt down to the soft earth, crunching a few leaves beneath his knees. His body felt like it was vibrating now, and with a final sigh he surrendered to himself. It was time. 

The first snap of bone always knocked the breath out of him. 

It was his left wrist. 

It always started with the wrists.

His skeleton began to warp and ripple under his skin, and he fell forward to rest on his crooked arms. The pain was familiar like an old toxic friend. He begrudgingly welcomed it as he tried his best to relax. Stiffening up made it hurt even worse. 

The last thing Danny saw before the Wolf took over was his hands shrinking down and sprouting black fur. 

After a few tense moments, the sound of a Wolf’s howl joined in with the insects. 

It was time to Run.  

~!~

Two crows were cawing in the tree above him, and their calls roused him from sleep.  Every muscle in his body felt like jello, and he had at least a dozen different aches in his body. The grass beneath him was soft and dewy, and the chilly air provided a little comfort to his sore muscles. He kept his eyes closed for a little while longer, wanting a few extra minutes before he had to get up and make his way back to the side of the road. 

But after a few moments, Danny rolled over on his back, flexing his wrists and stretching his arms. His eyes fluttered open, and the sky was just shades of pink and purple, letting him know that it was a little after daybreak, and that he had time to get back to his clothes. He slowly sat up and looked around, recognizing the field he was in. This was a common place for him to wake up, and he always figured the Wolf liked laying down on the soft grass before ending the night. After one last look around to make sure he was alone, Danny stood up and turned back to the woods.

The walk back to the clearing didn’t take long, and when Danny arrived at his little safe spot he was already fantasizing about the shower he was going to take as soon as he got home. He quickly fetched his clothes and shook everything out to make sure no dirt or bugs were still clinging to the various fabrics. The feeling of normalcy crept up as he finished tying his shoes. With one last look at the clearing he turned towards the trail he knew like the back of his hand and started to make his way towards the edge of the woods near the road. 

By the time he stepped out of the trees the sun had fully risen, and the soft morning light gently touched on his freckled face. The first thing the Wolf spotted was his best friend's car, parked in the same exact spot it had been parked the previous night. Sam was sitting in the driver’s seat, his long hair pulled up into a messy bun, sipping what Danny knew to be medium roasted coffee from a thermos and a book propped up against the steering wheel. 

As he nearly jogged over to the car, Sam spotted him out of the corner of his eye and turned, giving him a warm smile as he yanked the door open and plopped into the seat a little harder than intended. There was a comfortable silence in that car, as neither one of them were morning people and didn’t need to fill the seconds with mindless chatter. No, the two friends could sit next to each other without speaking a word and be happy. 

Sam reached down to the cup holder and pulled up another thermos, another batch of coffee he made just for Danny. After having the same routine for over a decade, he knew exactly what Danny wanted the mornings after a Full Moon. He liked a lot of sugar in his coffee to get most of the taste of the wild out of his mouth, with a splash of cream for texture. As he handed it over to his best friend, his large sleepy eyes focused on Danny’s face. 

Danny took the thermos quickly, immediately unscrewing the lid and taking a large gulp, not caring if it was too hot or not. He felt Sam’s eyes on him as he turned to his left. One thing about Sam’s eyes is that they never stopped analyzing anything. Even if he never shared what he was thinking about,  you knew he was lost in thought, picking apart whatever was on his mind. 

“...what?” Danny questioned. 

“You have…umm..some…,” he brought a finger up to his mouth and pointed to the side, indicating Danny had something on his face. 

Danny pulled down the sun visor and looked in the mirror, only to find he had a large stain of blood from the side of his mouth, down his jaw and onto his neck.

“Oh god,” he sighed in annoyance. 

Before the Wolf could do anything about it, Sam was already reaching into the center console for the small pack of wet wipes he stored in there, just for situations like this. Danny gladly took it from him and instantly went to scrub the blood off his face. 

“I hope it was only one deer last night and not your usual three,” Sam chided while taking another sip of his coffee. 

Danny rolled his eyes slightly as he yanked a second wipe to clean up his neck, “yeah whatever.” 

“I’m just saying don’t come complaining to me when you’re stuck in the bathroom all afternoon…”

 

Whatever else Sam was rambling about, Danny didn’t hear it. Instead the memories of the night before started flashing through his mind’s eye. 

The Wolf was sprinting through the trees, sniffing out the scent of a male deer that ran away from him.  Dodging rocks and jumping over logs to not lose the scent trail. 

The Wolf eventually caught his prey and sank his teeth into the deer’s neck. Danny didn’t particularly like remembering what it felt like to eat raw animals but it was just part of who he was. 

He remembered trotting through the trees afterwards, stopping to sniff the night air and lick his chops. As the Wolf tried to find another scent to chase, he caught a slight sweet smell on the breeze. A familiar and addicting sweet smell. The Wolf instantly turned in the direction it came from, and took off into the fog. The scent wasn’t following any pattern, and the source of it was clearly darting around randomly in the woods. 

Finally, the scent became strong enough that it almost overwhelmed the Wolf, and he ducked beneath a branch to come out to a small pond. The Full Moon shone overhead, Her reflection clear and bright on the water's surface. He looked around, sniffing even harder when his large golden eyes landed on...her. 

A large Red Wolf was about thirty feet to his right, standing at the pond's edge, staring at him with her own equally large green eyes. His paw lifted up to take a step, but before it could land in the grass the She-Wolf took off and rounded the pond, stopping for a moment on the other side, directly across the water from the young Wolf. She looked so familiar to him, her rusty red fur was beautiful in the light, rippling in the wind, and sharply contrasting to the dark woods behind her. 

They stared at each other for who knows how long, her gaze nearly defiant, before a distant howl from another wolf sounded, and before the Wolf could react, the She-Wolf darted into the trees, her fluffy tail the last he saw before she was swallowed by darkness. 

The wolf followed her path around the pond, and stopped where she had stood. He tried to follow the scent again, but the way it snaked around the trees and went in nonsensical patterns made it clear she didn’t want him to know where she went. 

Danny got the last bit of blood off his neck as he slowly sat back in his seat. Sam was still trying to fill him in on some journal he had finally gotten his hands on. As much as he loved listening to his best friend telling him anything and everything about his interests, Danny was too caught up in his thoughts to care at the moment. 

Red fur on a Wolf was rare, and he had only seen it in person on a handful of Wolves in his life. Those green eyes as well, that looked right through him, unintimidated by the presence of a future Alpha. The last time he had seen such a combination was in his last year of college. When he was still seeing-

Ivy Phillips

The first girl he ever gave his heart to, and the same girl who broke it.

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[telekineticseance]

FAMILY FRIEND (PT. 3)

pairing: trey parker x f! reader

summary: another day with trey

genre: smut

word count: 2913

cw: age gap relationship (25f, 48m), reader is referred to by she/her pronouns, sad divorced trey, p in v, fingering, i guess it's called mutual masturbation although i still hate that word

author's note: WOOO THE FINAL PART IS HERE WOOOOO (now time to stop neglecting my other series)

part one can be found here! and part two can be found here!

When the next morning rolled around, you kept your distance from Trey, not sure how to react to what you had seen the night before. Just the way he spoke your name, picturing your mouth on him. The thought was enough to make your legs start shaking again.

As you took your shower earlier that morning you noticed your lotion was missing when you got out so it was your lotion that Trey had used and that made you even more curious about what was ticking in his brain.

You chewed on your fingernails as you stared off into space, pretending to watch whatever movie Trey chose to put on as he continued to cook in the kitchen. He volunteered to make lunch a little bit ago and you just gave him a small nod in response, not daring to look at him.

“What are you thinking about?” Trey’s voice behind you caused you to jump, making him give you a little chuckle in the process as he rounded the couch to stand in front of you, “Sorry princess, didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shook your head in response, looking up at him, your heart racing at the sight and you didn’t even know why. “No sorry..I was just uh thinking about school.” You lied to him, moving your legs from the cushions to in front of you. Your feet almost touching Trey’s as the two of you continued to exchange eye contact.

“Well if you’re hungry I just finished cooking.” He spoke, motioning to the kitchen. You nodded before getting up from the couch, not speaking another word to him before walking in. “Is that…” Your eyes stared at the pan on the counter as Trey followed in behind you, “Kraft Mac and Cheese that you just poured into a casserole dish?”

Your gaze removed itself from the pan, turning back to Trey who was just staring at the pan, his hand rubbing his chin while his other hand rested on his hip, “If I say yes…what would your reaction be?” He asked, a small grin rising on his face as he looked down at you. You rolled your eyes at him, letting out a small laugh before walking over to the cabinets to grab the bowls only to realize your dad put them on the higher shelf before he left.

You gave a little jump as you continued to reach up for the bowls before you felt a large hand on your back causing you to tense slightly, “Here.” Trey’s arm reached up above your head as he pressed his body against your back while he grabbed two bowls from the top shelf. He set them on the counter in front of you and leaned down to your ear, “Easy.” He spoke softly, sending chills down your spine.

He pulled away, taking one of the bowls and starting to scoop some of the Mac and Cheese into the bowl. You took a few seconds to recollect your thoughts before turning your attention back to Trey, taking the bowl from the counter and following his actions in filling your own bowl. He sat at the table, in which you followed behind and sat across from him.

“So what were you really thinking about?” Trey asked, taking a bite from his mac and cheese. You raised an eyebrow at him, “I told you..school.” You took your own bite from your bowl, scowling slightly from the lack of cheese, “Did you put more cheese in this?”

Trey looked at his bowl before looking back at you, “What do you mean more cheese? I followed the instructions on the box.” You let out a small sigh, picking around at your food in front of you, “You’re supposed to sprinkle cheese like CHEESE into the pan and mix it. Makes it cheesier.” You explained, causing him to lean back in his chair letting out a soft, “Oh…”

You let out a small laugh, before taking another bite from the bowl, looking up at him, “Actually I was thinking about buying new lotion…I lost my bottle this morning and was trying to think of where I could’ve left it,” You spoke, continuing to lightly poke the Mac and Cheese with your fork before taking another bite.

Trey’s hands gave a small flex when you mentioned the lotion but his face gave no reaction, “Interesting..any ideas about where it could be?” You shrugged, “Not at the moment.” You glanced up before looking back down at the bowl, taking another bite.

If you were being honest you wanted him to tell you the truth, tell you he took the lotion. Tell him that he used it while thinking of you. You wanted to tell him about all the times you thought of him while touching yourself. Wanted to tell him about your dreams about him. Hoping that if you told him, he’d take you right there.

“You okay?” Trey asked, causing you to realize you were zoning out again. You shook your head slightly, “I’m sorry..” He gave you a small shrug, going back to eating his food.

You finished your bowl and slowly got up from the table, “I think I’m gonna go do some studying.” You told Trey, taking your bowl to the sink before walking to your room and shutting the door behind. You let out a sigh, pressing your back against the door, and running your hand through your hair.

—

Hours passed and you continued to sit in your room, trying to study but with your brain running in circles it felt impossible. You felt your stomach do flips as you just continued to replay the scene over and over again. You closed your book, setting it on the floor next to your bed before leaning back against the pillows.

The way his lips parted and let out small whines as he touched himself. You bit your bottom lip at the thought, your breathing increasing ever so slightly. You slipped your hand under the waistband of your jeans, under the lacey fabric of your underwear, before starting to rub at your aching clit. It was as if seeing him made it easier for you. Easier to picture his face as he furrowed his eyebrows. Watching the way he gasped when he reached his peak.

You thrusted your finger in at the thought, letting out a gentle moan. “Trey..” You hummed out, continuing to thrust your finger, slow and gentle.

“Hey Y/N..I found your lotio-” Trey’s voice paused as you pulled your hand away from you quickly, shooting up on your bed and turning your eyes to him. “Shit. Fuck. Shit. I’m sorry. Fuck. Shit.” Trey spoke, slamming the door behind him and you heard his footsteps run down the hall before the sound of the guest door shutting.

“Shit..” You whispered, rising up from your bed quickly and following him down to the guest room, knocking on the door. You didn’t hear anything from the other side so you slowly opened the door, showing Trey sitting on the bed, staring at the wall in front of him. “Hey..”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve knocked.” He spoke, continuing to stare at the wall. You ran a hand through your hair, leaning against the door frame. “It’s not your fault. I should’ve locked the door.” You said softly, looking down at your feet. He looked up at you, “I found your lotion.”

“Oh..thanks.” You slowly walked in the room, shutting the door behind you, “I saw you..last night.” The reveal made his eyes widen and he shifted his position on the bed slightly, “W-What do you mean?” He asked, stumbling over his words.

“I mean I saw you Trey. I’m sorry I just thought that maybe it would make things less awkward. I realize now that it didn’t.”

“How much did you see?” He asked, fiddling with the sheet on the bed underneath him as he broke eye contact between the two of you. “A lot..including the last part..”

“Oh..” He spoke, continuing to look down at his hand, that same hand that he was picturing was you the night before. “Oh.” He realized what you meant, looking up at you. “It’s not what you think I promise,” He told you, rising from his spot on the bed, “It was just like a slip of the tongue and by the time I realized what I did it was already too late and-”

Your heart started to pound in your chest as he continued rambling, “Really?” You asked, shocked at how he explained what happened as if it were a small accident. But even if it was, why were you in his head for it to be an accident?

He sighed, “No. God damn it.” He sighed, tugging lightly at the patch of hair that rested on the top of his head. You felt your feet pulling you closer to him, as you fiddled with the bottom hem of your shirt, “Then tell me the truth..you got close to where you could glance up and see his eyes from where they were looking down at his feet, ashamed to hold eye contact with you.

“Tell me Trey..” You whispered, lightly biting your bottom lip. He let out a soft groan, “Fuck.” He reached his hand up to the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your hair as he kissed you deeply, not even giving you time to think before his tongue entered your mouth, letting it roam throughout.

The two of you stumbled around the room as you felt your back pressed against the wall, Trey’s hands not knowing where to go as he ran them all over your body, gripping whatever skin he could get his hands on. His hands rested on your ass and he lifted you up, letting you wrap your legs around his waist.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he pulled you from the wall, giving you a light toss as he put you down on the bed and hovered over you. “Now tell me…did I really hear my name while you were touching yourself?” Trey asked, running his fingers down your body. You looked up at him, biting your bottom lip, and giving him a small nod.

“How many times have you done that?” He asked, tugging at your jeans, pulling them off and throwing them to the floor next to you two. You felt your heart starting to raise again as you looked at him, “Often..”

He let out a soft chuckle in response, running his hand back up your leg, sending shivers down your spine. “I wanna watch you. I wanna see you.” He whispered, looking into your eyes. You gave him a nod as he pulled off your panties, throwing them on top of your pants before he moved to stand at the end of the bed.

You watched his eyes as you ran your fingers along your thighs, spreading your legs. You started running your fingers along your slit, before slipping them through your folds. He bit his bottom lip as he watched closely. Moans left your mouth as you continued pumping your fingers, curling them when you inserted them completely.

You watched as Trey unbuttoned his pants, and his cock flung out from the confinement of his boxers. The two of you fixated your eyes on one another as he ran his hands along his length, using the oozing precum as lube. The sounds of the moans and groans coming from your lips echoed in the room as you two continued watching each other.

“Fuck..” Trey breathed out before dropping his hand, pulling off his shirt as he walked back over to you. He grabbed onto the wrist to your hand that you were using before pulling your fingers out. He leaned down, pressing his lips to your fingers, sucking at the liquid that soaked them.

When he pulled away he kissed you gently, running his hand under your shirt and massaging your breasts. You let out a gasp from his touch, thrusting your hips up as he touched you. “Trey..”

“Hm? Come on, use your words.” He spoke, whispering into your ear before going down to nibble on your earlobe. You continued letting out small whines as he flicked at your nipple with his fingers, kissing behind your ear. “If you don’t use your words I won’t know what you want.”

“I want you.” You mumbled, barely opening your eyes to look at him. “Want me?” This fucker. “TreyIneedyoutofuckme.” You spilled out all at once, taking in a breath as he left a soft bite on your neck. “And?” You felt him run the tip of his length along your folds as you rutted your hips trying to get some kind of movement in.

“Please,,” You begged him, causing him to let out a soft chuckle in response, “Your wish is my command.” With that, he pulled off your shirt, throwing it in some place in the room before he positioned himself above you, putting hands on either side of your head.

You placed your hands on his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin as he thrust in slowly. You flinched as his cock stretched you open, letting out a soft whimper. “Are you okay?” He asked, pausing for a moment to let you adjust. You gave him a soft nod, feeling him start to thrust slowly. It only took you a moment to become adjusted before you felt the pleasure course through your body, sendings chills throughout.

You buried your face into his neck, moving your hands to the back of it as you did so. You listened to Trey as he let out a few groans, moaning your name gently in the process, “You feel so good.” He groaned against your neck, letting out a few breathy gasps.

You ran your hands from his neck to his back, digging your nails into his back, sure to leave scratches that will show later. You felt him hit your g spot as he’d pause himself for a minute when he would before continuing to thrust again.

“I-I’m close..” You breathed out against his neck. “I wanna feel you come on my cock.”

You bit your bottom lip, feeling the familiar chills run through your body before your stomach tightened. You flexed your walls around his length, causing him to let out a groan, “Oh fuck.”

You reached your peak, feeling the liquid spill out as he continued thrusting. You felt him pull out, looking up at him in confusion before he spoke up, “Flip over.” You did as he said, flipping over onto your stomach before he slipped his hand between you and the mattress, lifting your ass in the air as you propped yourself on your elbows.

He ran his hand along your rear before thrusting in again, causing you to moan. He reached his hands up, gripping onto your hips. The pressure in his thrusts increased as you closed your eyes tightly, already starting to feel yourself reach your peak for a second time.

“Gonna come.” Trey breathed out, his thrusts getting more sloppy and his breathing getting ragged. You clenched the sheets in your hands as you felt the same. “Turn. Look at me. I wanna see your face.”

You turned your head and looked at him as he made eye contact with you, taking his bottom lip in between his teeth. You clenched your walls around length once more, letting out a series of whimpers as moans as you released again. “Fuck..” Trey groaned before he pulled out, rubbing his hand along him a few times before turning you over. You watched as he continued pumping his hand, letting out a small gasp as the liquid spewed from the tip, dripping onto your stomach and the sheets underneath you.

When he finished Trey looked down between your face and your stomach, “Shit..sorry. Let me uh..go grab a towel.” He spoke when he finally caught his breath, grabbing his boxers from the ground as he got up and walked out the room.

He came back a few minutes later with a towel in hand as he wiped the cum from your stomach, before tossing it on the ground and looking at you. When you finally came back to your senses and processed what just happened, you felt him caress his cheek with your hand as you placed your hand over his.

“Let’s get you cleaned up?” He suggested. You gave him a small nod before he lifted you from the bed and carried you to the bathroom. While he was gone, which was an obscene amount of time for someone to find a towel, you figured he had drawn a bath as the tub had now been full of water.

He placed you in it gently, “Mind if I join?” He asked once you got more settled. You shook your head and moved in the bubbly water before he pulled off his boxers and climbed in behind you. He pulled you into his chest, taking the soapy loofah and running it over your body.

“Hey Trey?”

“Hm?” He hummed softly, as he continued washing you. “What happens now?”

He paused for a moment before resuming, “I don’t know beautiful. But we’ll figure it out.”

And that’s what the two of you planned to do. Figure it out.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Quick Establishment of Friendship

Anonymous asked: I have two characters who meet shortly before or after the beginning of the story and develop a sibling-like bond--like they've known each other for years--but I have a short time to develop their relationship. How do I nurture their sibling relationship in such a short time?

(Ask edited for length)

Start with my post Guide: Developing a Close Platonic Friendship. This walks you through everything that should happen, more or less, to get this friendship off the ground. Ultimately, you'll be looking at ways to get through these steps quickly but believably. Due to the short amount of time you have to develop the relationship, you may want to have them meet before the story starts so some of that development can have occurred off page. Either way, you can use the recollection of memories (via exposition or dialogue) to fill in gaps later on. You can also reference things that happened pre-story, like the MC might tell another character that she and the sibling-like friend bonded over 7 consecutive nights of staying up late binge-watching Good Omens the first week of school. That has a lot of weigh to it, because it gives the reader something to imagine (staying up late, watching TV) and we all know the kind of bond friends can form over a TV show. It's just a sentence but it pulls a lot of weight.

I hope that helps!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Worldbuilding

Thanks so much for the interest in this series on my previous post, I’m excited to share it with you :)

One of the strengths of the Grishaverse worldbuilding is that the different countries and cultures take clear inspiration from the real world, so the reader is able to infer a lot of the small details without having to be spoon-fed the information. For example, we don't need a long, info-dump explanation as to why surnames in Shu Han are constructed from the prefixes "yul" or "kir" based on sex and the first name of the parent (eg Kuwei Yul-Bo, son of Bo Yul-Bayurr) because we understand that the country is partially inspired by Mongolia. And even if we don't make this immediate connection, looking at characters like Tolya Yul-Batar and Tamar Kir-Batar we understand how to infer the source of the name because of it's basis from many different naming conventions in our world, such as the -son, -dottier, or -bur suffixes in Iceland. Something I think I see authors do a lot is struggle with the balance in this kind of situation, but personally I find that Leigh Bardugo does it really well. We don't need to be told the extensive information about this, even if she knows it or has some idea about it for herself, because it isn't relevant to the story. If we were told about it in great detail during the Grisha Trilogy or the SOC duology, it would feel a lot like info dumping. But by telling us what it's necessary to know about the Shu royal family in KOS/ROW and letting us fill in the gaps, we feel that we have enough information to both understand and keep the story moving forwards. All we're actually told, to my recollection, is that the Shu queens maintain the given name of the first queen of Shu Han rather than their mother's name to unify the family and to maintain the status symbol of the royals. The information we've been given from this that's immediately relevant to the story is an explanation as to why the character doesn't take her mother's name, so we're not confused or distracted by that as we read on, but we also know that Shu Ha, or at least its aristocracy, is a matriarchy, that the Shu people still feel a great respect for their first queen, implying further that there is a great respect for heritage in the country, and that the Shu monarchy feel the need to remind people of that first queen for what is probably a fear of unsettlement in their power and therefore a need to remind people that this is their 'birth right'.

In my book, there are futuristic technologies made possible by the blending of science and magic, such as a scanner that can identify several genetic markers and is connected to a national database in order to identify anyone, that is used very similarly to a passport system, as well as by the justice system. But it's not necessary to explain the set up of the database, or that the earliest generation of the scanner was developed in the 16th Century, because that doesn't move the story forwards. Instead, I focus on the impact that the technology's usage has on one of the main characters, who has to have routine police and governmental contact because she witnessed the destruction of her home and the murder of her family at age 10. The case is so famous that at the equivalent of passport control to know that her information is about to appear on that database and the person is going to know what happened to her is deeply stressful for her, but there are no alternatives because this system is considered far safer than any paper-based system that could be cheated or faked. My aim is to actually say that the scanner recognises the person and brings up their information so that I can use it to move the story forward through the emotional response of the character, whilst letting the reader infer anything else about the system. I also don't have to tell you that the technology has been around for centuries, but if I have a stranger to the technology describe it and casually mention that 'Generation 18' or something similar is written on the side, you know that it's been around for an extended period of time.

I hope this made sense and was somewhat helpful, I thought I wouldn't go into too much detail and instead split this into multiple posts. Thanks for reading, and if there's anything in particular about worldbuilding you'd like me to talk about let me know and I can give it a try :)

[the-al-chemist]

Any Happy Little Thought

A/N: Truthfully, Ben Copper was never my favourite of the HPHM cast. But, I can’t help but feel sorry for him — I think he has it worse than most of those kids. So, when I received @eternalchaoschocolaterain’s request below, I had to go for the most uplifting of the choices. Poor boy deserves a little happiness.

Warnings: angst, references to violence and death of a young person, memory loss, understandably poor mental health.

The day was drizzly and overcast, but the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom was bright, illuminated with a silvery-white glow, so radiant that it had to be magical.

Nearly two weeks had passed since the first meeting of the Circle of Khanna, and so far, the society had been more successful than anyone would have guessed, in spite of their differences and almost constant bickering. Bill Weasley had proved to be as effective a DADA teacher as any of the six others they’d had in as many years - in fact, he was a better teacher than most - and with his help, they had managed to fill many of the gaps they had in their patchy, disjointed curriculum.

Today, however, Bill had decided to teach them something different, something that they might not even have covered for their NEWTs: the Patronus Charm.

Ben Copper had always been good at Charms. At one point, before he had started to make friends, his Charms lessons had been the only thing he had liked about school. Even after five and a half years of education, it was still the only subject that really came easily to him.

So why, then, could he not cast this charm at all?

He knew that the Patronus Charm was exceptionally complex, famously so. It was the most difficult defensive charm known to wizardkind, with many adults unable to fully master it. Ben wasn’t expecting to be good at it immediately, but he had not expected to be quite so bad at it in comparison to his peers.

Of course, Bill had already been able to cast the spell — he wouldn’t have been teaching it to them if he couldn’t — and it had transpired that Tonks was already capable of conjuring a corporeal Patronus, one in the shape of a large rabbit or hare. At first, the others had struggled, but now many of them were also managing to produce Patronuses that were not just discs or clouds of light, but had the forms of silver-white animals: a dolphin for Penny, a peacock for Andre, a dove for Chiara. Even Barnaby, who had never gotten good grades in most of his subjects, and little Bea Haywood, who was only in her second year, were improving with every attempt they made.

Ben, however, had been trying just as hard, and yet he had barely produced even the tiniest wisp of silver from his wand. As the others continued to practise, he was growing increasingly frustrated with himself. What was he doing wrong?

“I think you might be using the wrong memory,” said Bill, who had clearly noticed that Ben was having difficulty. “It can’t just be any old thing, it has to be something really powerful, the happiest memory you have.”

The happiest memory Ben had. What was the happiest memory he had?

His mind drew a blank. It often did when he tried to remember, had done ever since his second year at Hogwarts, when he had been found trapped in the cursed ice with no recollection of how he had become so. All his memories of that day had been lost, and the more that time went on, the more he had noticed other gaps in his memory from his life before then. Perhaps his happiest memory had vanished with the rest. As for the memories he had from after that…

The cupboard in the dungeons, dank and dark, and filled with the Devil’s Snare that had wound its way around his legs. The piercing screams of his classmates each time they had encountered a Boggart, and the anxiety that tightened like a coil in his chest each time he had opened a cupboard, or turned a corner, convinced that he would be the next person to face their greatest fear. The strange feeling of déjà-vu he had gotten the first time he ever saw Patricia Rakepick, that he couldn’t explain then and still couldn’t explain now. The looks of betrayal on Artemis and Rowan’s faces when he woke up to find out that he had been threatening them without his knowledge and against his will. The great rumble of the ceiling in the Buried Vault and the scent of burnt flesh that pierced his nose once the dragon entered the room from one of the portraits. Rakepick’s wand pointed at him, the green light emanating from that wand towards his chest, Rowan appearing from the shadows and jumping in front of him, her body hitting the ground, limp and lifeless.

Ben’s hand had been raised ready to cast his spell, but now it was shaking so badly that his wand fell to the floor. His head spun as he bent down to pick it up, and it took everything he had in him just to stay standing once he had straightened himself up again.

“Sorry,” he muttered, conscious that Bill was watching him. “I, er… Yeah, I’ll have another think about what memory to use. Thank you.”

It was a lie. There was no memory Ben could use, not anymore. He waited for Bill to turn his attention to Alanza before lowering his wand and sitting down at one of the tables that had been pushed to the side of the room. He wanted to have a moment to himself, to shrink away from the thoughts that threatened to drown him: the memory of Rowan’s death, the guilt that she had sacrificed herself to save him, the idea that she shouldn’t have bothered, that he wasn’t worth saving. He was a coward. He was a Mudblood. He was useless at everything except for Charms, and apparently he wasn’t even good at that anymore.

“You alright, mate?” A voice interrupted Ben’s thoughts, and he was joined by Charlie Weasley. Charlie leant back against the table rather than sitting in one of the chairs, his eyes scanning the room. “This spell’s really hard. I can’t get the hang of it at all.”

Ben couldn’t tell if he was being genuine or just trying to make him feel better. He made a quiet humming noise instead of speaking.

”I think Jae might’ve cracked it, though. Look.”

Charlie nodded his head and raised his eyebrows, and Ben followed the direction of his eyes. Their friend Jae had his wand held aloft, his Patronus swirling in the air in front of him to take a more substantial — if small — form. It had tiny silver legs, a twitching nose, a long tail.

“It’s a rat.” Charlie half-smiled, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Bill is not going to be happy about that…”

But Jae’s rat-Patronus disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared, the light it had cast on Jae’s face replaced with a surprised and proud-looking smirk. Seeing them looking, Jae walked towards Ben and Charlie with a swagger in his stride that irritated Ben, but made Charlie laugh.

“Not bad, mate,” said Charlie. “You really had it that time.”

“Dunno what all the fuss is about. Piece of cake, that.”

“Got any tips for us?”

Jae seemed to consider Charlie’s question before nodding. “Yeah. Ignore what your brother says. The thing about memories is a load of crap. I tried it, and it didn’t work. Had to improvise, do my own thing, y’know?”

Ben frowned. Charms were cast with precision, everyone knew that. You couldn’t just improvise a Charm.

“And what was ‘your own thing’?” he asked, more sharply than intended.

“Well, instead of thinking about good stuff that’s already happened, I just thought about even better stuff that could happen. It works, look.” Jae cleared his throat. For a moment, he seemed to glance over his shoulder in the direction of the Hufflepuff girls, but his focus returned so quickly to his wand that it may have only been a twitch. “Expecto Patronum!”

A small burst of white light issued from Jae’s wand, and a moment later, his rat-Patronus had returned.

“Possibility, lads. That’s the secret to happiness. Why look back, when you can keep on moving onwards and upwards?”

“I guess anything’s worth a try,” Charlie said with a shrug. “Expecto Patronum!”

Another raised wand, another Patronus. Though Charlie’s was incorporeal, he had at least managed a half-decent shield, which was more than Ben had achieved. Charlie’s Patronus grew brighter as Bill did a double-take at Jae’s rat and flinched away from it.

Then, both Jae and Charlie’s eyes were on Ben. He sighed before pulling out his own wand.

Something good that might happen. Again, Ben struggled to think of something. When so much that was bad had already happened, who was to say that the future wouldn’t hold something even worse in store? He always had found the idea of the future unnerving. The future was uncertain and out of his control and an endless source of worry. Possibility had never made him happy, only anxious.

Ben shook his head. “I can’t do it,” he whispered. “I can’t think of anything that’s good right now.”

Jae and Charlie shared glances as Ben lowered his wand and his gaze.

“Wow,” said Jae. “Bit rude, don’t you think? I mean, we are literally with you right now.”

“I don’t… You know that isn’t what I meant, Jae.”

Ben looked at Charlie for back up, but Charlie did not back him up.

“Actually, I think Jae might have a point. I mean, we’ve all been through some pretty rough stuff the last couple of years, and Godric knows what else we’ll be up against with the Vaults and the Cabal…”

Jae leaned towards Charlie and muttered, “Mate, I dunno if that’s going to help.”

“All I’m saying is that we’re still here. We’re still trying.” Charlie shrugged. “The fact that we haven’t given up yet is something, right? And I guess… Well, I guess that’s all thanks to you.”

Was it thanks to Ben? Ben wasn’t sure that it was, but Jae nodded his head emphatically.

“That’s right, this was all your idea. The defence lessons, and the name. The Circle of Khanna. That was genius, that was.”

Ben had been surprised that the others had liked his idea for a name as much as they had. He wasn’t going to suggest it at first. After all, would they really want to be constantly reminded of Rowan, of the loss of Rowan? Did they need to be reminded? Ben didn’t think there would ever be a day where he didn’t think about her, about her death, the way she had laid down her life for his. He didn’t think there would ever be a night where he didn’t dream that he was back in the forest, reliving her death. That memory would stay with him forever.

But, then again, Ben knew better than anyone what it was like to forget. He knew that forgetting was far worse than remembering. And so, he had suggested the name. The Circle of Khanna. With a name like that, none of them would ever forget the reason why they had joined together, who they were doing this for.

“It is a good name,” agreed Charlie.

“It’s all good, what we are doing here.” Jae paused, his eyebrows furrowing. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever really done anything good before.”

It was good, what they were doing — fighting, trying, working together. Rowan was gone, but they were all still here. They hadn’t given up. They hadn’t lost hope. Not yet, anyway. That was how the others were able to cast their Patronuses, Ben realised. It wasn’t because they had the happiest memories, or liked the idea of possibility; it was because they still had hope. If they could stay hopeful, then why couldn’t he? Why shouldn’t he?

He didn’t need much, just one thought. One hopeful, if not happy, thought. It could be anything. Maybe just being here was something. Here, surrounded by bright silvery light that had been created from his friends’ happiness.

“Expecto Patronum!”

This time, when Ben raised his wand and spoke the incantation, something happened. A small wisp of silver furled upwards into the air in front of him. It was only little, and it wasn’t corporeal — it wasn’t even shield-like — but it was at least something.

For now, he would take something. For now, that would do for him.

[multiplicity-positivity]

Dissociative Amnesia

Our thoughts and experiences, and some resources to learn more.

Hello everyone! We’ve gotten a few asks recently wondering about amnesia in dissociative disorders, so we’ve decided to put this post together. We will cover as much as we can about amnesia, and talk about our experience with it.

What is amnesia?

Amnesia is partial or total memory loss that is more severe than common, every day forgetfulness. People may experience amnesia for a wide variety of reasons, such as experiencing a head or brain injury, being inebriated, having an illness or disease that affects the mind, lack of sleep, and extreme stress/fatigue/brain fog. Amnesia (specifically dissociative amnesia) is a really big part of many dissociative disorders (with the exception being OSDD-1B). In dissociative disorders, alters may experience full amnesia (blackouts) or partial amnesia (greyouts).

What are blackouts?

A blackout is when a person or alter experiences a jump in time, or finds that they cannot recall key events from the past. Their memories may feel fragmented, incomplete, or literally “blacked out.” Coming back from a blackout can be overwhelming, scary, and disorienting.

For us, blackouts look like: seemingly “snapping awake” suddenly with no recollection of what we had been doing. Coming to in odd places, like the grocery store or the park or the library, with no idea how we got there or what led up to that point. Feeling like we are jumping forward in time (it’s Monday today, but I blinked and it’s Thursday now). Large gaps in memory, especially memories from our childhood. Fragments of memories may remain as factual information (EX: “I know we went to the store yesterday, but I don’t remember anything we bought or any of the details”), or there may be no lingering information at all (EX: “I can’t remember what happened yesterday and there’s food I didn’t buy in the fridge”)

What are greyouts?

A greyout is an experience of partial amnesia, and the term covers a broad range of experiences. It may mean that a particular aspect of a memory was forgotten, or that you feel emotionally, physically, or otherwise detached from a memory. The memory may exist, but it feels hazy or incomplete when you try to recall it.

For us, greyouts look like: feeling emotionally or physically detached from memories. Able to recall the past but it seems shaky, foggy, hazy or unclear. Retaining some details in memories but not others. Memories feel like a film, or like something that we heard about in a story, but not something that actually happened to us.

How can I tell the difference?

Telling the difference between blackouts and greyouts can be quite tricky! In general, for our system, if we’re able to recall events with some clarity, there isn’t any amnesia. If we can recall only pieces, or feel like the memory isn’t ours at all, it’s a greyout. If our mind is just blank regarding a certain memory, or we can only recall what others have told us, rather than the events themselves, it’s a blackout.

Can I experience amnesia without knowing it?

Yes, and we actually thought we had a pretty good memory before learning about our dissociative disorder and the amnesia that comes along with it! This is because our mind tends to fill in the gaps that it can’t explain or understand. These pseudomemories, or projections, led us to believe our memory was healthy and normal. We’ve since learned that many of the memories we took for granted were just projections from our brain trying to fill in gaps and help us function to the best of our ability. It’s something we had been oblivious to for decades, but at this point we are very aware of how unstable and unreliable our memory is. It is a part of having a dissociative disorder!

Can dissociative amnesia heal/Can my memory improve if I have amnesia?

We think so, yes! Our therapist has assured us that memory can be repaired and healed with treatment and time. Patience and self-compassion can both aid in this process! We ourselves are trying to heal, and our hope is that as our system becomes more integrated, we will be able to recall more memories and recover details as a result. It is a difficult process though, and one that we are actively pursuing through therapy! Some may be able to heal their dissociative amnesia without therapy, but for us, having outside help and a support team is essential to our healing journey.

Sources/Links to Learn More:

Please feel free to reach out to us if you have any further questions, or to share corrections or concerns! Thank you so much for reading, and have a great day!

(Image ID:) A pale orange userbox with a cluster of multicolored flowers for the userbox image. The border and text are both dark orange, and the text reads “all plurals can interact with this post!” (End ID.)

[wordywarriorwrites]

Calendar Girl - June

Series Masterlist: Calendar Girl Joel Miller Masterlist Author: @wordywarriorwrites​ Summary: The story of how Joel Miller falls in love again, told over a series of months. Series Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Language. Violence. Discussions of rape and consent. Alcohol consumption. Age-gap.

June

Nightmares plagued him.

Played non-stop in his head, like a macabre movie that presented the highlights of his worst fears, biggest mistakes, and deepest regrets. Sarah. Tess. Ellie. Their faces were featured all too frequently in an endless loop of horror and heartbreak. Most nights, he’d wake up in a cold sweat and shake it off.

On the nights he couldn’t? A copious amount of booze usually did the trick.

But then, the dreams of you – once a blissful respite – had also morphed into night terrors.

You – tortured or dead at the hands of a QZ guard, bandits, or Fireflies. You – beaten and raped by Wesley. You – bloodied, broken, and lifeless in his arms. In his nightmares, Joel failed to protect you, and the pervasive helplessness paralyzed him until he’d wake himself up screaming, often with Ellie at his bedside, looking as terrified as he felt.

Then, he started sleepwalking.

He’d come to one night in the foyer – propped up against the front door fully dressed, with no recollection of having gotten out of bed. Another night, Joel had woken up outside Ellie’s room, stood like a sentry just beyond the threshold. When he returned to consciousness on your back porch, with a stolen gun from the armory across his lap, he knew he’d fucked up. The idea that he’d jeopardized your safety, that he could’ve hurt you, Ellie, or some innocent bystander – that had kept him out of bed entirely.  

Just past sunrise, on day three of no sleep. He’d been at the barn for a few hours already when his little brother decided to pester him.

“You’re wound tighter than an eight-day clock,” Tommy observed, head tilted curiously. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Joel grunted and kept on shoveling the shit pile in front of him, “M’fine.”

Tommy lifted his hat and ran a hand through his hair, “You sure? Haven’t seen you at mess in a couple weeks. Hank says you’ve been doin’ double-duty here, and I found out this morning you’ve signed up for night patrols?”

“Just makin’ myself useful,” he insisted.

“Look, Joel, I’m not trying to mother hen you,” Tommy replied as he shuffled his feet. “But you look like shit. And you don’t need more work – in fact, I think you need a break.”

Joel jerked his chin up, “You ain’t my keeper, Tommy. And you sure as hell ain’t the one to tell me what I do or don’t need. So, just mind your fuckin’ business, alright?”

Tommy snapped. He snapped back. They both shouted about forbidden topics and things best left unsaid. Harsh words turned into flying fists that attracted a crowd of onlookers. Joel had been running on fumes, but still managed to put his little brother flat on his ass more than once. Tommy – younger and a bit less sleep deprived – had always been a scrapper, and popped back up on his feet each time like a damn clown bop bag.

Joel reared his fist back, “Self-righteous-dickhead!”

Tommy ducked, “Stubborn-fuckin’-asshole!”

Blood flowed from Joel’s mouth and nose, and his knuckles screamed in protest with every hit that connected. A cut above Tommy’s eye trickled down his cheek, and even his sloppiest swings managed to land and hurt like hell. The number of spectators grew and got louder – as if the fight was for their entertainment and not something to be concerned about.

It ended when someone broke through the throng and sprayed them with ice-cold water from the very same hose Joel had used to fill the troughs not ten minutes before the brawl had started. Ellie had doused them, and after he and Tommy were separated, Joel noticed she hadn’t arrived alone. You, a few other town leaders, and a very harried Maria, with a yowling toddler on her hip, had flanked her. After the mob had quieted down and been dispersed, an explanation was demanded of them.

Tommy shrugged and shook his head, “Just a disagreement.”

“Brothers fight sometimes,” Joel volunteered just as nonchalantly.

Maria scoffed and stomped away. The other leaders followed. Tommy trailed after them. Ellie seemed both bemused and mollified, and after she turned off the hose, she gave a thumbs-up and declared she was headed back to bed.

You – all bleary-eyed, in your raggedy pajamas and unlaced boots, sporting some serious bedhead. You hadn’t said anything – just rubbed your eyes and motioned for him to follow you, and he did without hesitation or backtalk. It wasn’t until Joel was hunched over your kitchen table, a glass of preferred numbing juice in hand, that you finally spoke.

“Eat,” you grumbled as you placed a plateful of food down in front of him. “All of it.”

Chicken sandwich. Homemade chips. Fresh apple. It had all gone down like sandpaper, but it filled his too-long empty stomach, and he supposed that was good enough. When he finished, you put the plate in the sink and jerked your thumb toward the stairs. Joel limped along, with you right behind him, and you herded him into the bathroom for a long overdue shower. He emerged ten minutes later – stench-and-blood free, with a towel cinched tight around his waist.  You muffled a yawn, pointed to a bedroom across the hall, and he knew by the state of the rumpled sheets that it was your bed he was being directed to get into.

You kicked off your boots. Closed the curtains. Shut the door. Climbed in and patted the space next to you, and if he’d been in any other state of mind, he would’ve balked. He also had plenty of reasons to be wary – his sour mood, the nightmares, his nakedness. You’d ensconced him in your home, and though he’d willingly and silently obeyed your every reasonable request, it somehow felt as if he’d been put in some sort of timeout.

Joel should’ve been insulted. Pissed off. But the room was quiet and dark, the pillows and blankets smelled like you, and when you tucked yourself up against his back and made him the little spoon, he just fucking caved and melted into the mattress.

“Don’t deserve you,” he slurred.

You kissed the nape of his neck, “Ya’ got that right.”

No chastisement. No questions. Just your soft voice and gentle touch. Joel closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he discovered he hadn’t moved an inch, and his stiff muscles indicated he’d gotten quite a bit of uninterrupted shuteye. He rolled onto his back and there you were – aglow in the lamplight and sat up against the headboard with your nose in a book.

“Time is it?” he rasped as he stretched.

You glanced up from the page, “Late.”

“Ellie?”

“At Maria and Tommy’s. She’ll stay with them while you stay here for a few days.”   

Joel acknowledged your answer with a squeeze of your knee. He had no doubt that you’d run interference for him with Tommy, Maria, and the other town leaders. He also bet you’d cajoled an undoubtedly disagreeable Ellie into staying at their place simply for his peace of mind. He wanted to thank you for everything, but you spoke up before he could.

“So, I hear you’ve been dancing with the devil in the pale moonlight?”

He chuckled lowly and stared at the ceiling, “Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

You closed your book and placed your hand on his chest, “Look, I know you’re not one for talking about how you feel –”

“That’s for damn sure.”

“But short of tying you to the bed –”

“Ooo, kinky.”

You laughed and whacked him on the chest, “Seriously, Joel.”

He grunted. Threw an arm around your waist. You let out one of your infamous, long-suffering sighs and changed the subject. You asked him if he was hungry, and when Joel petulantly answered, “yeah,” you snorted, and offered to make him something.

He burrowed his face against your stomach, “Just wanna hold you.”

“Alright, ya’ big baby,” you muttered playfully.

You shifted, and Joel cracked an eye open to watch you place your book on the nightstand. Once you got comfortable, he rested his head on your chest, and soaked up the warmth of your touch as it moved along his head, neck, and shoulders. You both hummed at the exact, same time, and when you giggled, he grinned, and squeezed you tighter.

“You know you can tell me anything,” you whispered. “No pressure. No judgment.”

Joel nodded slightly, “I know.”

A stretch of contented silence. His uninjured hand, unable or unwilling to remain idle, moved all on its own. Delved beneath your shirt and cupped your breasts. Mapped your waist and hip. Spanned the plush flesh of your tummy. Roamed over the outside of your thigh. Strayed and squeezed and caressed aimlessly until you whimpered and breathed his name.

“Please,” you begged lowly. “Please, don’t stop this time.”

Joel propped himself up on his elbow and grasped your chin, “I won’t.”

He pressed his mouth to yours. Parted your lips with his own. Deepened the kiss and tugged your lower lip with his teeth. The threadbare elastic of your pajama pants was a godsend – it gave way easily to his impatience – and it wasn’t until he shoved them and your underwear past your knees that he slowed down and searched your eyes.

“Show me, sweetheart,” he murmured, mouth pressed tight to your ear. “Show me how you like to be touched.”

You let out a ragged breath. Guided his unworthy hand between your legs. Dipped his fingers into your arousal, and then, maneuvered them up to your clit. Soft and slow at first, and then, firm, until your hips moved in tandem. Joel was so fucking turned on by the sound of your pleasure that his cock dripped onto the sheet like a leaky faucet. You eventually directed his fingers down, and Joel watched as they disappeared inside of you.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned as you rocked yourself against his hand. “I could come right now just lookin’ at you. God damn.”

You moaned. Kicked your pants away. Spread your thighs wider and took his fingers to the second knuckle. A steady, in-and-out glide, and Joel followed your lead – swiped his thumb over your clit and brushed his fingertips against the soft, spongy spot deep inside of you that made all those soft noises you’d expelled morph into telling cries.

Joel licked into your slack mouth, “Feel good?”

You nodded frantically, “M’gonna come.”

“Look at me, sweetheart. Show me your eyes.”

Half-mast and pupils blown – you looked at him beneath your lashes as you fluttered and clenched. Joel encouraged you as you reached your peak. Soothed you as you came down from the high. He’d always found you breathtaking, but post-orgasm? You stunned him, and he stared at you in wonder as he slipped his fingers from you and sucked them into his mouth.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he growled.

You cursed. Pushed him onto his back. The taste of you lingered on his tongue, and he felt so fucking alive as he watched you peel your shirt over your head and straddle his waist.

“I want you, Joel,” you insisted.   

Joel sat up and grasped the back of your neck, “You got me, sweetheart.”

You took him in hand. Guided him inside. Joel had fantasized endlessly about what it would be like to finally have you, just like this, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the reality of it.

His face, cradled in your hands. Your eyes, bright and focused on his. The roll-and-sway of your hips and the tight, wet clutch of your sex, and the way you twined your arms around him so possessively. You made love to him as if he weren’t some broken, old man, and that was it.

He was yours.

Next Chapter: June - Part 2

[vickyvicarious]

We pressed on the door, the rusty hinges creaked, and it slowly opened. It was startlingly like the image conveyed to me in Dr. Seward's diary of the opening of Miss Westenra's tomb; I fancy that the same idea seemed to strike the others, for with one accord they shrank back.

While Jonathan says he is reminded of the staking of Lucy, I can't help but wonder if a door opening to a certain other residence belonging to Dracula is haunting him here. Like, of course the memory is on his mind, and he outright says so a bit later but... even more so. I wanna make a point of it.

We closed the door behind us, lest when we should have lit our lamps we should possibly attract attention from the road. The Professor carefully tried the lock, lest we might not be able to open it from within should we be in a hurry making our exit.

I imagine Jonathan watching very closely as the lock is checked. Jonathan, turning his back to it and walking further into Dracula's house, telling himself that he saw the door remains unlocked, that it won't shut him in this time. Telling himself, over and over.

Jonathan, not quite believing.

The light from the tiny lamps fell in all sorts of odd forms, as the rays crossed each other, or the opacity of our bodies threw great shadows. I could not for my life get away from the feeling that there was some one else amongst us. I suppose it was the recollection, so powerfully brought home to me by the grim surroundings, of that terrible experience in Transylvania. I think the feeling was common to us all, for I noticed that the others kept looking over their shoulders at every sound and every new shadow, just as I felt myself doing. The whole place was thick with dust. The floor was seemingly inches deep, except where there were recent footsteps, in which on holding down my lamp I could see marks of hobnails where the dust was cracked.

Last time he was frightened because he was so alone. He should take comfort now in his companions, and he does a little, but - he feels like they aren't alone. He feels a presence here.

He looks at the shadows. He looks at the footprints in the dust. He knows neither means anything when it comes to vampires.

On a table in the hall was a great bunch of keys, with a time-yellowed label on each. They had been used several times, for on the table were several similar rents in the blanket of dust, similar to that exposed when the Professor lifted them. He turned to me and said:— "You know this place, Jonathan."

Walking through Dracula's home in the dark, searching the old and abandoned rooms for keys. Yes, he knows this place. Knows it too well.

It takes him a moment to remember about the map. To remember this is Carfax, not the Castle.

We were prepared for some unpleasantness, for as we were opening the door a faint, malodorous air seemed to exhale through the gaps, but none of us ever expected such an odour as we encountered. None of the others had met the Count at all at close quarters, and when I had seen him he was either in the fasting stage of his existence in his rooms or, when he was gloated with fresh blood, in a ruined building open to the air; but here the place was small and close, and the long disuse had made the air stagnant and foul.

It stinks, like the last chapel. But worse. The smell crawls inside, filling him with revulsion and fear. His feet feel cold in his shoes. He expects to feel stone with each step.

There were only twenty-nine left out of the fifty! Once I got a fright, for, seeing Lord Godalming suddenly turn and look out of the vaulted door into the dark passage beyond, I looked too, and for an instant my heart stood still. Somewhere, looking out from the shadow, I seemed to see the high lights of the Count's evil face, the ridge of the nose, the red eyes, the red lips, the awful pallor. It was only for a moment, for, as Lord Godalming said, "I thought I saw a face, but it was only the shadows," and resumed his inquiry, I turned my lamp in the direction, and stepped into the passage. There was no sign of any one; and as there were no corners, no doors, no aperture of any kind, but only the solid walls of the passage, there could be no hiding-place even for him. I took it that fear had helped imagination, and said nothing.

Counting boxes again, he sees the Count. Just a glimpse, just a moment - pale, red-eyed, red-lipped, staring. (Bloated, blood dripping from the mouth, eyes burning into him, his mind afire-)

It's not real. It must not be real. No one else saw anything. (He checks further, just in case.) There's nowhere he could be. It's just the fear getting to him, it's just paranoia. He shouldn't speak of this. No one else needs to know how his mind wavers, echoes what has come before. He will focus on the facts, those confirmed by others. He will focus on the task at hand.

Whether it was the purifying of the deadly atmosphere by the opening of the chapel door, or the relief which we experienced by finding ourselves in the open I know not; but most certainly the shadow of dread seemed to slip from us like a robe, and the occasion of our coming lost something of its grim significance, though we did not slacken a whit in our resolution. We closed the outer door and barred and locked it, and bringing the dogs with us, began our search of the house. We found nothing throughout except dust in extraordinary proportions, and all untouched save for my own footsteps when I had made my first visit.

See? It was just fear. When the rats are gone he feels better. The evil influence has vanished, the smell is clearing, his mind is clear. Mina is safe at home, they have got information of vital importance, this is a victory every step of the way.

(He sees his footprints in the dust, from long ago. The steps of a man unaware, walking blithely into utmost danger.)

[katyspersonal]

Not me detecting tropes again lol

Speaking of, I know I joked that they've learned what worked with Shabriri from Mico (themes of eyes and insanity + "ascending" by mass sacrifice), but actually Navlaan too, if not even more so?

Navlaan says that the sorcerer was looking for new forms of magic but instead "created" him, which does have the vibe of accidentally ending with split personality during experiments (Jekyll and Hyde vibe), however, description of Scraps of Life says this:

An esoteric spell created by Navlaan, the infamous exiled sorcerer. Awakens the souls of the long-buried dead. The heretic Navlaan was executed along with his entire village, and the mere utterance of his name became a crime. Some say it was because he sought to restore the banned art of resurrection.

Basically bro used to be his own person, existing probably long before this sorcerer or at least independently, and was another victim of cancel culture dshfdshjfsd So, the line "But instead, he created me" would mean sort of rebirth by possessing this sorcerer. It is not direct possession as in, controlling the body as a puppet, but neither a personality born from within the 'original' person (typically from dark and repressed emotions). But it is a secret third thing; say, he barely had recollection and semblance of his original self after death, so completing the otherwise almost-blank state and filling the gaps from what was lost with the memories and feelings of the host is as good as being born as a new person.

And it IS kind of like Shabriri, too! Except, Yura is certainly no longer present in the body, whereas the original sorcerer still appears when the player is in the human state to beg them to stay away for their own sake. But Shabriri also 'adapted' to what Yura used to be, like suddenly being able to fight the same way as him (with the only addition of Frenzy incantations), and Ronin Set is described as "armour of man that calls himself Shabriri".

As for Navlaan, some of his grudges seem like they came from the sorcerer rather than his existence within this vessel, and he unknowingly carries them out. He also describes the sorcerer as "naive" when he is pretty much naive himself now; he simply trusts that we killed people just because we bring their things! Also description of Chaos Set says "Robe worn by a chaos sorcerer. He calls himself Navlaan, now", so whereas original sorcerer's name is never learned, it is probably now abandoned and not relevant as Navlaan 'overrode' the original. Again, really interesting concept of two people that become an amalgamation upon merging (that I tooooootaly didn't use for what happened with Logarius and the King, and that is toooootaly not what likely happened with Aldrich after he ate Gwyndolin.......)

+ Also cool thing that Shabriri and Navlaan both messed with something forbidden and forbidden for a good reason, and both were incredibly hated! Shabriri is "the most reviled man in history" and Navlaan was so hated that you could not even mention him! I am sorry for bringing this topic often but I just really like to analyse how Fromsoft invents 'a type of a guy' and reuses blueprints later without being unoriginal about it, it is just fascinating