#but for some reason it’s more often Gregory than Greg

[mxflowercheck]

Greg: oh, he likes John. Really likes.

Mycroft: mm. i agree. Share your thoughts, Gregory

Greg: you both are attracted to snark, stubbornness and spite

Mycroft: i'd say we're attracted to intellect, dear

Greg: oh, come on, you know it's not true. i punched you in a face and spoke a total of 5 not sarcastic words when we first met.

Mycroft: seven, actually.

[hideawaysplace]

This is for all the characters human and animatronic. Kid and adult. What is each characters cooking from 1 to 10

Lefty: 10/10 perfect.

R Freddy: 7/10 very good.

R Chica: 10/10 Teaches you to cook.

R Foxy: 5/10 Doesn't care to cook unless he really wants something.

R Bonnie: 3/10 Is not trusted to cook, would put foil in microwave.

Music Man: 9/10 Still calls himself a learner, his cooking is fantastic.

Helpy: 7/10 He is smol guy, he struggles but he gets it done!

Security: 8/10 Cooks for friends and family.

Fetch: 5/10 Cannot cook but he's such a good dog so he gets bonus points.

Ralpho: 2/10 Why cook? Eat someone else's food. Not Lefty's.

Funtime Freddy: 7/10 Best food is cakes!

Michael: 2/10 This guy needs lessons.

Jeremy: 6/10 Better than Michael.

Nightmarionne: 9/10 Doesn't need to eat, cooks for his son.

Plushtrap: -2/10 Has eaten a frying pan before.

Alec: 7/10 Getting better, lessons from Dad.

Hazel: 6/10 is not allowed to use the grill however as it is very hot.

Millie: 6/10 Likes to cook for herself and her Grandpa sometimes.

Sarah: 3/10 Does not cook, usually just throws some food together like a cream cheese bagel and a fruit salad.

Greg: 4/10 instant noodles is as much as he knows.

Oscar: 8/10 Has had to make dinner by himself sometimes.

Devon: 4/10 Very limited knowledge.

Kelsey: 8/10 he is still learning.

Pete: 9/10 Spent a lot of time learning to cook from his father.

Chuck: 3/10 Cannot cook anything beyond a boiled egg and a grilled cheese, loves it when his brother cooks.

Stanley: 6/10 trying to learn to cook more.

Matt: 2/10 Takeout exists for a reason.

G Freddy: 1/10 burns toast.

G Chica: 1/10 She just eats the food.

Roxanne: 4/10 Understands a little more but not perfect, which is why she often refuses to cook anything out of fear of embarrassment.

Monty: 8/10 Surprisingly very good.

Daycare Attendant: 5/10 Only know fruit snacks and juice boxes but they want to learn to cook real food.

DJ Music Man: 2/10 Never been in a kitchen before.

Mini Music Man: 7/10 When you are alone, you get bored, and there's a kitchen full of food, and you have a lot of time to teach yourself!

Vanessa: 5/10 Coffee, Take out pizza, and homemade chicken wraps are her diet.

Vinnie: 10/10 Had a grandma who taught her to cook.

Gregory: 3/10 not trusted at a stove, plus Freddy is a protective parent when it comes to knifes.

Cassie: 2/10 No food knowledge.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Gregory Brown

Published: Sep 1, 2023

About the Author

Dr. Greg Brown is a professor of Exercise Science at the University of Nebraska at Kearney where he also serves as the Director of the LOPERs General Studies program. His primary teaching responsibilities are undergraduate and graduate courses in Exercise Physiology, but he has also taught courses in Introductory Anatomy & Physiology, Sports Nutrition, Research Methods, and Professional Development in Exercise Science. His research has evaluated the effects of nutritional supplements on the physiological response to exercise, the physiological responses to various types of exercise, effective teaching in the exercise science program, and sex-based differences in sports performance. He has authored or co-authored over 50 peer reviewed publications and serves as a peer-reviewer for over two dozen academic journals. He is a member of the American College of Sports Medicine (ACSM), the National Strength and Conditioning Association (NSCA), and the Association of American Educators (AAE). 

He and his wife (Amber) have two adult sons and one daughter-in-law. Sadly, both their cat and dog passed away in the past year. His hobbies include running, hunting, fishing, studying history, and watching movies. 

--

In the current battle over women’s and girls’ rights to female-only sports, a commonly heard mantra is that there are no sex-based differences in sports performance before puberty. Those who make this claim often contend that if a male is put on puberty blockers before age 12 (or Tanner development stage 2; whichever comes first), he can compete fairly in the female category. But is this really true?Are there really no differences in athletic performance between boys and girls before the onset of puberty? Do puberty blockers administered to children really erase male sex-based athletic advantages? Below, I’ll try to provide answers to these questions.

Like many things currently being put forth in public discourse as settled science, the presence or absence of sex-based athletic differences before puberty is not an open and shut case. There are few databases of records for children’s competitive sports performance and there has been limited scholarly research evaluating sex-based differences in competitive sports performance before puberty. Currently, there are no consensus statements from professional organizations such as the North American Society for Pediatric Exercise Medicine (NASPEM), the National Strength & Conditioning Association (NSCA), the American College of Sports Medicine (ACSM), or the National Athletic Trainers’ Association (NATA) stating that there are, or are not, sex-based differences in athletic performance before puberty.

Below, I will cover the main reasons our data on pre-pubertal sex differences in athletic performance is relatively poor, and draw some preliminary conclusions based on the data we do have that indicates such differences are actually quite significant.

Lack of Records

One challenge that arises when trying to determine whether there are sex-based differences in athletic performance before puberty is the limited availability of records documenting competitive athletic performance in children. For adults participating at the Olympic and collegiate levels, meticulous record-keeping is the norm, and these records are readily accessible online. A simple internet search yields numerous listings of Olympic and collegiate records spanning various sports such as swimming, track and field, cross country, bicycling, and more.

Similarly, records for sports in secondary schools are also carefully maintained. In the United States, it is fairly easy to obtain the results of the most recent state high school track championship from news sources and on the state scholastic athletic association websites. Most secondary schools additionally showcase records for track and field, cross country, and other sports. The abundant availability of records in the Olympic, college, and secondary school arena makes it very easy to compare male and female athletes competing in the same events at the same level of competition. Such comparisons vividly illustrate that once puberty sets in, males outperform females by 10-30 percent (depending on the sport and event).

However, most sports involving pre-pubertal children operate outside the jurisdiction of state scholastic athletic association or even the local primary school. Instead, these activities are typically organized by local clubs or community recreation departments. Children’s sports often prioritize recreation and skill development over competitiveness. As a result, records pertaining to race times, throwing distances, weightlifting achievements, or other athletic benchmarks for children are not as meticulously maintained or as readily accessible as records for high school, college, or Olympic sports. Some have interpreted the lack of records for children’s sport as an indication that any sex-based differences in athletic performance before puberty are negligible or insignificant.

Lack of Scholarly Attention

Adding to the challenge of limited records detailing competitive athletic performance before puberty is the constrained number of available scientific evaluations. For example, Handelsman [1] analyzed publicly accessible data on swimming, running, and jumping in children and adolescents. Although his data clearly illustrate that boys aged 10 and under run faster, swim faster, and jump farther than girls of comparable age, he published these findings in 2017 in a paper titled “Sex differences in athletic performance emerge coinciding with the onset of male puberty.”

In 2019 Senefeld et al. [2] drew upon data from USA Swimming and found that, before age 10, the top 5 girls swam faster than the top 5 boys. However, no disparities in swimming performance were observed between the 10th-50th ranked girls and boys. Additionally, in 2020, Huebner and Perperoglou [3] reported that there were no sex-based differences in competitive weightlifting performance before age 10. To my knowledge, these studies represent the only scholarly examinations of competitive performance in children before puberty.

Taken together, the scarcity of sports records for pre-pubertal children and the limited scholarly output on children’s competitive performance has led some to conclude that there are no differences in athletic performance between boys and girls before puberty. Some have even gone so far as to erroneously asserting that a broad consensus exists regarding the absence of sex-based differences in athletic performance before this developmental stage. However, this does not appear to be true, and in the sections below I will present information that demonstrates the existence of sex-based differences in athletic performance before puberty.

School Based Fitness Testing

In contrast to the limited records available for sports performance and the scarcity of scholarly evaluations regarding children’s competitive sports performance, there exists a plethora of scholarly evaluations focused on school-based physical fitness testing in children as young as six years old. Various tests, such as the Presidential Fitness Test, FitnessGram, Eurofit Fitness Test Battery, and other school-based physical fitness assessments, consistently show that boys tend to outperform girls of the same age in tests measuring muscular strength, muscular endurance, running speed, aerobic fitness, ball throwing, and kicking distance. On the other hand, girls tend to perform better than boys in tests assessing flexibility.

A small sampling of publications evaluating school-based physical fitness testing includes a longitudinal evaluation of 240 German boys and girls aged 9-12 years [4], an analysis of 85,347 fitness test results among Australian boys and girls aged 9-17 years [5], an evaluation of 424,328 Greek boys and girls aged 6-18 years [6], a study examining 1,142,026 performances in a 20-meter shuttle run among boys and girls aged 9-17 year from 50 countries [7], and an assessment of 2,779,165 Eurofit performances among boys and girls aged 9-17 year from 30 countries [8]. 

Collectively, these studies (along with many others not listed here) indicate a consistent pattern: before puberty, boys tend to outperform girls of the same age in tests measuring muscular strength, muscular endurance, running speed, aerobic fitness, ball throwing, and kicking distance. Conversely, girls typically exhibit better performance in tests focused on flexibility. While physical fitness tests do not always accurately predict success in competitive sports, physical fitness is often a prerequisite for success in sports.

Sports Records

USA Track and Field (USATF) sanctions youth track and field meets in most states, including regional and national championship events. The youngest age categories in USATF are the 8-and-under and the 9-10-year-old age groups, both of which can reasonably be assumed to represent pre-pubertal athletes. Upon evaluating the performances at the USATF state-level Junior Olympics, it becomes apparent that boys frequently jump and throw farther, and run faster than comparably aged girls.

For instance, if we examine the race times for the 100m, 200m, 400m, 800m, and 1500m races, along with the distances achieved in shot put, javelin, and long jump events in the 2023 USATF Nebraska Association Junior Olympics [9], for both boys and girls in the 8-and-under age group, we find that no girl would have outperformed a boy to secure the gold, silver, or bronze medals in any of these events. For the same events in the 9-10-year-old age group, only one girl would have secured a gold medal (out of a possible 8), while two girls would have clinched silver medals (out of 8), and another two girls would have won bronze medals (out of 8). Of course, one could reasonably argue that data from a single youth track meet in Nebraska may not be representative data for pre-pubertal athletic performance as a whole.

So, if we make the same comparison in the same events (100m, 200m, 400m, 800m and 1500m races, and the distances for shot put, javelin, and long jump) in the 2023 USATF Arizona Association Junior Olympics [10], we observe that girls in the 8-and-under age group would have secured zero gold medals, one silver medal, and two bronze medals. In the 9-10-year-old category, a girl would have tied with a boy for a single gold medal, and three girls would have taken home bronze medals. Yet, once again, one could reasonably argue that the combined data from track meets in Nebraska and Arizona may not accurately represent the broader spectrum of pre-pubertal athletic performance.

So, if we make the same comparison for the same events (100m, 200m, 400m, 800m and 1500m races, and the distances for shot put, javelin, and long jump) at the 2023 USATF National Youth Outdoor Championships [11]—an event that includes athletes from many different states—we discover that girls in the 8-and-under age group would have won two gold medals (out of 8), three silver medals (out of 8), and no bronze medals. Girls in the 9-10-year-old age group would have won a single gold medal, two silver medals, and two bronze medals. Collectively, looking at these three track meets, placing side by side the race times for the 100m, 200m, 400m, 800m, and 1500m races, as well as the distances for shot put, javelin, and long jump for boys and girls in the 8-and-under and 9-10-year-old age groups, it’s clear that if girls were to compete against boys, they would have secured only 23 out of 144 medals. Within this tally, girls would have received only five out of 48 gold medals.

Of course, one could reasonably argue that the examples above represent only a single year and only three specific track meets. However, if we evaluate the overall youth records for the best performances in running, throwing, and jumping from USATF [12], the USATF National Junior Olympics [13], and the School Sport Australia Track & Field Championships [14], they collectively indicate that boys aged 10 and under outperform girls of the same age across all recorded events. On average, boys outperform girls by 3 percent in running, 9 percent in jumping, and 16 percent in throwing events. Similarly, records for boys aged 10 and under in USA Swimming show faster times than girls' records in 18 out of 22 events [15].

While examining medal counts at specific track meets offers valuable, albeit somewhat anecdotal, insights into performance differences between boys and girls before puberty, these counts do not qualify as a rigorous scientific evaluation. Though scholars often use evaluations of overall records for best performances to showcase sex-based differences in adult athletic performance, disparities in pre-pubertal children’s performance are frequently dismissed as being too small to be meaningful. Moreover, the overall youth records from USATF have not been updated since 2018, the records from the USATF National Junior Olympics have not been updated since 2019, and the School Sport Australia Track & Field Championship records have not seen updates since 2016. It’s unclear why these records have not been updated, but it does raise some questions about the accuracy of these records.

Nonetheless, by considering scholarly assessments of school-based fitness test data, several youth track meets, track and field best performance records, and swimming best performance records, it certainly seems like there is an emerging pattern of pre-pubertal male sex-based athletic advantages.

Scholarly Evidence for Sex-Based Sports Differences Before Puberty

Some colleagues and I have recently presented an assessment of sex-based differences in athletic performance before puberty at the 2023 Annual Meeting of the American College of Sports Medicine [16]. Drawing upon a national database of track and field performance (athletic.net) and evaluating the top 10 performances for boys and girls in the 8-and-under and 9-10-year-old age groups over a 5-year period, we observed consistent trends. Boys consistently (and statistically) ran almost 5 percent faster, long jumped 6 percent farther, threw the shot put 20 percent farther, and threw the javelin 40 percent farther than girls of the same age. At the 2023 Annual Meeting of the American College of Sports Medicine, a separate team of researchers from a different university used the same database, albeit with slightly different evaluation methods, and came to similar conclusions regarding the pre-pubertal advantages of male athletes [17].

In light of these findings, it is reasonable to conclude that male athletes indeed possess advantages in sports performance before reaching puberty. This conclusion is founded on extensive scholarly evaluations of fitness tests in schools, data gleaned from youth track meets and records, as well as youth swimming records for best performances. My personal analysis of the top 10 national track and field performances for boys and girls within the 8-and-under and 9-10-year-old age groups across a 5-year period supports this, further corroborated by similar outcomes from another team of researchers. Admittedly, the sex-based disparities before puberty are less pronounced than after puberty, but they exhibit a consistent pattern that yields a statistically significant difference favoring male athletes.

What about Puberty Blockers?

Whether there are, or are not, sex-based differences in athletic performance before puberty still leaves questions about how puberty blockers affect athletic performance. The truth is, we don’t have enough information to answer questions about how puberty blockers affect athletic performance. There are no published studies evaluating the effects of puberty blockers on muscle strength, muscle endurance, running speed, aerobic fitness, as well as throwing or kicking distance in children, whether in school or laboratory settings. Similarly, there is no research on how puberty blockers might impact performance in competitive sports. Limited studies have touched upon the effects of puberty blockers on body composition and height.

Two long-term studies investigating the impact of puberty blockers on body composition and height indicate that the sex-based differences in lean body mass [18] and height [19] persist even after 2 years on puberty blockers followed by an additional 6 years of so-called “gender-affirming hormone therapy.” It is undeniable that male advantages in lean body mass and body height translate to athletic advantages as adults. It’s reasonable to assume that these advantages also extend to athletic performance among children and adolescents. The sex-based differences in performance in children may be smaller than in adults, but small differences can mean the difference between a gold medal and no medal in sports.

Conclusion

Readers of Reality’s Last Stand will be familiar with the important sex-based differences between males and females. These differences begin at conception and continue throughout one’s life. Sex-based anatomical and physiological differences confer inherent athletic advantages to males when compared to females of the same age, possessing similar talents and undergoing similar training, across all age groups, even before puberty. Having a transgender identity, with or without the use of cross-sex hormones, does not eliminate sex-based differences in anatomy and physiology, nor does it erase sex-based differences in athletic performance.

It is my opinion that, in order to maintain a level playing field for female athletic competition, transgender identified males (i.e., “transgirls” and “transwomen”) should not be allowed to participate in the female sports category before or after puberty even when puberty blockers are used.

[michelle-is-writing]

Family Matters, Greg House

Word count: 1.7k~

In the time I’ve worked at Princeton-Plainsboro teaching hospital, some might say I'm the bubbly doctor in our group. Although I don’t know how true this might be, I do know everyone can agree I'm definitely more bubbly than doctor Gregory House, but that's for another day to discuss. I'm usually the one people send in to try and cheer up patients. Because of this, I mostly work in the pediatrics ward where young, sick children are. Sometimes, I have an easy time talking to the kids and making them happier, and sometimes, I don't; usually, when I'm upset, I have a hard time.

Right now, I'm having a very difficult time.

A young New Jersey girl at the age of 11 had developed mastoiditis, an infection that affects the mastoid bone above the ear and is typically caused by a middle ear infection. Usually, this all clears up, but sadly, this infection had grown to be so bad that the girl ended up with only twenty-three percent of her hearing left in the one ear. Although this is the case, I'm not having a hard time because of the girl's loss of hearing, no.

I have my own problems at the moment.

Since I'm working in the children's ward, I don't get to see Wilson or Greg as much as I want to. Despite Greg's tendency to be an asshole, he's still my best friend and not to mention that Wilson is the kind of guy anyone can talk to about anything. However, our schedules are all different, so, as I said: we don't get to see each other that often.

At least they're still in my life though. For my family, I can’t say the same. Recently, I've just lost the closest person to me in my family; although it wasn’t through death, but through immaturity and childishness. Because of this, all of my other family members have closed me out as well, causing me to be alone. With all of my friends busy and my family shutting me out, I have no one to talk to or enjoy time with... no one. I can't even get a boyfriend for Christ's sake, and it's not like the guy I have my eyes on actually likes me back. Greg is the type of guy you can easily fall in love with, yet at the same, you really shouldn't.

"Doctor (y/n)," the young girl by the name of Jessie states. Putting all my focus back on her, I remind myself not become distracted anymore today. This isn’t the first time, unfortunately. "Will my hearing ever return?"

I smile sadly at her and shake my head. "I'm sorry, Jessie," I tell her. "Your hearing in that ear won't return, but it's not a bad thing!" I assure her. She smiles in relief. "We can always get you a hearing aid, and that will help get your hearing back to normal again, but the wait might be a little long," I explain. "Is that okay with you?"

She nods her head at my question. "I'm okay with that, doctor (Y/n)," Jessie tells me, "I'll have my family help me until then," she smiles brightly. "You can always look up to your family, right?" She states, confident in her words.

Tears slowly rising to my eyes at the thought, I nod and quickly blink them away. "That's right," I tell her, still smiling. "And don't you ever forget it," looking toward her parents, I nod my head. "The discharge nurse will be here in a few moments with the papers. If you'll excuse me..."

Without another word, I quickly leave the room and walk as fast as I can to the nearest empty room. I prefer going to James’ office instead, but it's two floors away, and I don't want any awkward elevator trips. So, before I have a mental breakdown in the middle of the hallway, I find an unlocked janitorial closet before walking in and closing the door behind me, ultimately sliding down the hardwood door once it's shut.

Sitting on the cold, tile floor, I begin sobbing as quiet as I can, my hand covering my mouth. I already had my family drama on my mind all day, but for that girl to unintentionally throw it back in my face? That was the frosting on top of the already leaning, three-layer cake.

Tears stream down my cheeks like raindrops as I cry my heart out. I can tell my cheeks are red by the sensation of heat I currently feel on them; my hands feel it too. I'm crying so hard my chest begins to heave up and down as if I were having a panic attack. Oh God, I can't have a panic attack. Not here, not now.

Behind me, I feel two knocks on the door, causing me to halt. The only problem is: the knock wasn't above me, it was where my back is against the door. Remind you, I'm currently sitting on the floor. The only way someone can knock that low is if there is a midget behind the door there or someone used something like a cane... it's Greg.

Slowly moving up a little, I shakily open the door and let the grey haired man in, watching as he looks at me with pity. I've never seen the confident doctor House look like this with anyone. It's like a... a totally different Greg.

Sitting down beside me against the door, Greg drops his cane beside him as he sighs and wraps his arm around me before gently tugging my body close to his. Shocked, I tense up, tears no longer pouring out of my eyes. Greg never comforts anyone like this. He always makes fun of them or says something that many people take offense to, but he never... he never cares. He always brushes it off his shoulder, yet for some reason, he seems like he actually cares this time.

"What's wrong?" He asks, his voice deep as usual with no emotion.

I wait a few seconds before lying. "Nothing important," I tell him, my voice wavering from my scattered emotions.

Pulling me back to face him, Greg looks me in the eye before sighing again. "I know you've been crying by the wet tears on your cheeks, slight puffiness, and redness to your eyes, and fast-paced breathing - and I don’t even have to be a doctor to notice that," he breaks down my current state, lifting an eyebrow. "Now, are you going to begrudgingly tell me what's wrong or do I need to stay in here with you until you finally give in to all my unrelenting sexiness."

His comment makes me laugh, causing a grimace of a smile to fall on House's lips. Out of all of us, I've been the only one to do that. I've been the only one to break Greg's stone exterior and interior. Plus, It doesn't help that I like Greg romantically. I like the fact that he's confident and witty; he's not afraid to be himself. Although, he can still be quite an ass to others, but to me, he’s always been nothing but kind. Even when I first started working here, he was still patient and sweet - a rare sight to everyone else. It used to hurt me to think he’ll never feel the same way as me, but I’ve gotten so used to that fact that it doesn’t even bother me anymore.

"It's just... my family," I explain, Greg pushing my head back onto his shoulder as he holds me. At this point, I'm not shocked by anything he does. The infamous doctor could be high for all I know. He probably took a few Vicodin tablets before coming down here now that I think of it.

"They've completely... shut me out," I explain, shrugging as I rest my hand on his shoulder. "They never talk to me anymore, they've blocked me in any way of even trying to talk to them. My cousin just sent me an email last night telling me that I didn't need to contact them anymore as they no longer wanted me in their lives," I close my eyes, tears rolling down my cheeks. "Plus, I wish I could work with you guys again," I take a breath before saying the next thing. "I miss you."

A few seconds of silence pass before Greg leans down to my face level. Opening my eyes, I'm greeted by his own sapphire orbs, watching as he continually inches forward until his lips plant themselves on mine. Our eyes close at the same time in response to the touch of our lips, and they stay that way too. With my heart beating fast and a different fire in my cheeks, I instantly respond to his kiss while placing my hands on the sides of his face, feeling his hands attach themselves to my hips as I do so. We kiss until we have to breathe, both of us pulling apart simultaneously.

"They don't deserve you," Greg tells me, a little out of breath. "You are wonderful; a decent and kind human being, inside and out," he takes a small pause, flashing his blue eyes down to mine. "I never thought I’d say this, but… because of you, I think maybe not everyone is a horrible person and that maybe I can be a bit nicer a time or two," he then smiles at me, kissing me once more. "You have made me feel love believe it or not."

Smiling, I lean up to kiss his forehead before sitting back down and resting my head against his chest, my eyes cast upon him as he looks down at me. "You've also made me feel love," I confess to him, my voice shy. "I've grown to love you as well. You and your sarcastic comments and witty comebacks and your insults to apparent stupid people," for once, he laughs, making me grin. "I can't help but love it all."

After a few moments, Greg speaks up. "I know I can't be your entire family," he murmurs, holding me close. "But I can try to be your... your..." He draws on, clearly trying to come up with an appointed title for himself. After a few seconds, I giggle and cut him off.

"Boyfriend?" I ask, making him roll his eyes.

"I was going to say significant other," he argues, looking over to me. "The term boyfriend is so, well, childish," he complains, making me giggle.

Leaning closer, I peck his lips. "Good thing you have a childish mind," I tease him, pressing my lips to his one more time before he responds to my comment with something horrible or completely inappropriate. It is Doctor House we’re talking about, after all.

[love-and-other-potions]

Best Friends with Benefits

Gregory Goyle x Reader

You're in Slytherin. You have a couple of classes with Goyle, where Malfoy is absent, and he's smart. Like top three in the class smart, but when Malfoy is present he's one of the most stupid people, no matter how simple the class is. The only reason that you know he's brilliant is because you sit next to him in some of those classes and you happen to see his scores. You're curious and want to know why he does this. You decide to confront him.

You search and you find him with Crabbe and Malfoy. That's a shocker.

You know that when Malfoy's around he's 'stupid' and eats a lot, so you walk up to him and ask sweetly, "Want to walk me to the kitchens, Gregory?"

Malfoy seems taken back that you came to talk to Goyle and not him.

"What do you want Goyle for?"

You bat your eyelashes and answer dumbly, "I just want to talk to Gregory."

Malfoy scoffs.

"Goyle, it looks like someone has a crush on you."

"You're just jealous I don't have a crush on you," you reply lightly.

"So, you're saying you don't?"

"I'm so glad you can keep up in a normal conversation, Malfoy."

He scowls at you.

"Why you little-"

Goyle grunts, "Yeah," and starts to follow you.

You grin in victory at Malfoy and turn and walk with Goyle.

As you get to a safe distance from Malfoy, he asks, "Now, what do you really want?"

"I was wondering why you're saying complete sentences away from Malfoy when you can't say two words in front of him. Care to explain?"

"That's none of your business."

"Really? That's how you're gonna play?"

"Yes."

"I wonder what Malfoy would say if I went and told him that you and I are now in a relationship?" you threaten.

He snorts.

"Go ahead. He'd probably think you're very ignorant to be with me."

There's a bitter edge in his tone.

"And it doesn't bother you that he thinks that he's better than you when he's really not?"

He furrows his eyebrows.

"You don't think Malfoy is better than me?"

"No. For some reason, you act like a ignorant fool. And that's one way you're better than him: you know how to act around certain people. He's an arrogant git all the time."

He smiles.

"Wow. No one has ever told me that I'm better than Malfoy."

"But I bet no one has seen past your charade either."

"No. But why did you?" he muses aloud.

"Because I act a certain way around certain people. To my parents, I'm the innocent, obedient type. To my friends, I'm the haughty, daring type. To my sister, I'm the 'oh so special older sibling'."

"What about your best friends? Or your boyfriend?"

You chuckle humorlessly.

"They don't exist."

He looks thoughtful for a moment.

"I see. So you saw through my charade because you're familiar with your own?"

"Yes. So who are you?"

"Well you see how I am around Malfoy and Crabbe. My parents think I'm a poor excuse of space. My siblings share their belief. And my only friends think I'm a dim-witted fatty."

"I see... how about we can hang out more often and we can be ourselves?"

It makes sense. I mean you both understand the feeling to 'need' to act.

He looks surprised and pleased.

"That sounds great."

"And you're not a poor excuse of space. You're brilliant. And you can show me how much by telling me why you act like a daft dimbo."

He blushes slightly at your praise and sighs at your request, but starts to talk nonetheless.

"My parents are Death Eaters along with Lucius Malfoy. Everyone knows that the Malfoys are in the Dark Lord's inner circle. So if I'm this brilliant guy, the Malfoys can say 'have you heard about the Goyle kid?' I don't want that. I don't want my choices taken away from me by some evilly depressed dictator. So if I'm a dim-wit, he doesn't want me. I'm left out of the situation. So I let my family believe it so they don't let anything slip accidentally."

You're in awe.

"Wow, Goyle. You've sacrificed a lot."

"Please call me Greg."

"Okay, Greg, you're letting everyone believe that you're daft. You get no credit whatsoever. And that's a lot of work to act daft when you're really not. So you've already given up time, credit, and work. And you also have no one."

He chuckles dryly.

"Wow. You just summed up my life."

"Thanks." You flip your hair dramatically. "I try."

"But why do you act?"

"Because it's what people expect of me."

He has a confused expression on his face.

"So? They expect you to be yourself. "

"No. They already have an image of what they want from me in their head. And if you are what they want, you're accepted. If not, you're judged. I'm just throwing the crap out the window before it can happen."

"We both lie to the world because of people."

"Yeah.... we do."

We're both silent until he breaks it.

"So if we hang out more, what are we telling Malfoy?"

You both think. You come up with an idea.

"Oooh! I know! We could actually pretend we're dating."

"Why pretend?"

He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

"We don't have to pretend if you don't want to."

You wouldn't mind. He's extremely smart and he isn't unattractive. He understands you like no else. And you guys are going to hang out anyways.

He's surprised.

"You want to date me?"

You cover your tracks.

"I was joking."

"Well what if I want to be your boyfriend?"

"Make up your mind, Greg."

"(Y/N), I want to be your boyfriend."

"Okay."

You reach over and intertwine your hands together.

"Ooh, can I act like Pasny? Oh, Greggie, you're so smart. And since you're handsome, let's run off into the sunset and have baby Greggies!"

He laughs.

"So you're gonna act like a dim-wit too?"

"Why not? Then we can laugh about it later."

"You can do whatever you want as long as you're yourself."

He kisses your forehead.

You could get used to this. Huh. Your boyfriend and best friend just came into existence through Greg Goyle. Who knew?

[newtonsheffield]

I think in a post you once wrote that Gregory once drove Anthony to the hospital to see Kate after an accident...can we please get some angsty Kate and Gregory feels🥺?

Oh heyyyy!

You guys are as always, very good at remembering tiny little factoids from this universe! Gregory did in fact drive Anthony to the hospital when Kate got into a tiny little car accident. She's fine guys! She just dislocated her shoulder when her taxi was in a mmulticar pile up. A taxi she was in I mean, Kate's not out there being an Uber driver in her spare time! Anyway, so I wrote some Lucy+ Anthony headcanons last week and you can see these here this is the reverse of that.

Gregory truly wasn't sure when it happened but somewhere in the year since she'd been dating his brother, Kate Sheffield had become one of the only people he went to for advice. Logically he knew he could go to anyone of his siblings for advice but time and time again he found him spell seeking out Kate’s calm levelheadedness. The way she carefully assessed situations before making decisions, calmly reasoning with herself, he truly admired it. And even more he’d found himself seeking her approval. So when Anthony had taken Gregory into his office and told him calmly that Kate felt Gregory had done quite enough with Lucy. That it was time to leave her alone, his heart sunk, shame welling up inside him. Because Kate always said You’re never in trouble with me, Greg. And apparently, he finally was. And then he’d sprinted up the stairs and told Lucy he was in love with her and he was thrilled, but he couldn’t shake the nerves in his stomach when he knocked on Kate’s door later that afternoon, his hand shaking a little as Lucy looked curiously up at him. Gregory had nervously pushed his way inside, her shoulders squaring, preparing himself to tell Kate that he was prepared to look out for Lucy, he would love her, and support her until she had to beat him away with a stick. Only to be immediately engulfed in a tight hug, his brother’s future wife practically crushing the life from his chest a she rattled off Jesus Greg! I thought you’d never wise up! Ugh Greg! You’re going to be so happy together! But- she said pulling back and looking at him sternly Gregory, if you hurt her I’ll kill you. Gregory nodded vehemently Kate I would never! And as Kate grinned at him, his nerves disappeared completely

Kate would never admit to having favourites between Anthony’s siblings, but she did have a soft spot for cheeky little Gregory, who now as a father of 7 (soon to be 9) wasn’t so little anymore. And god he was a spectacular father, he loved his children and his wife with a single minded focus that was beautiful to see, Gregory could often be found learning new braiding techniques for his daughters, baking, far more competent a sewer than Kate could ever claim to be: Lucy and Gregory’s children always had perfect Halloween costumes. It was truly admirable. And then she got a call one afternoon, her Brother in laws choked voice saying Umm Kate, can you.. ahh can you come to the hospital... Lucy’s had the twins umm but. And then he burst into tears, and Kate’s heart was in her throat Greg, is Lucy okay? What happened? And then she heard Lucy’s quiet voice. I’m fine Kate, but umm Eloise, the baby, she needs some surgery and just- and Kate was already in the car, Anthony hot on her heels. And when she arrived at the hospital her heart broke, Gregory looked nearly manic tears running down his face, Lucy near despondent and when Gregory wrapped his arms around her he didn’t seem any old than he had the very first time she’d met him.

[prettyputrified]

Part two of the kiddos!

WARNING CENOBITE STYLE BODY MODS

Tahllulah Abigor Tudor, daughter of Sister Nikoletta and Gregory Tudor

The worst little girl™, the first thing Tahllulah does when she walks in a room is scope out any weaklings. She’s very resentful and always out to get someone, looking for a reason to hurt them. Many people never find out what they did to upset her in the first place.

Being nasty doesn’t make you many friends, which is why the only people she treats worse than...well strangers, are those who encroach on the ones she loves. A handful of people know that she actually has the ability to use her natural aggression for some good. When she isn’t picking unnecessary fights she’s got a nose for injustice, not being afraid to stand up and call it out where she sees it. So if the one who's getting picked on just so happens to be a weakling she’s fond of, she doesn’t mind coming home with a bloody nose.

She’s also a huge hypocrite. Antagonizing the ones she loves and making them feel less than is a death sentence...but this is literally what she spends most of her time doing to others, this is something she’s somewhat aware of but she doesn’t seem to care.

Fighting, whether that be physically or verbally, is one of the times Tahllulah feels secure with herself. It's not that Nikoletta and Gregory are bad parents, they just weren’t very prepared and their methods of handling Lus behavior aren’t the most effective. She’s very loved by them both and they’re some of the only people she’s ever soft around. Her mother will read to her when she gets overwhelmed, knowing that talking about their feelings isn’t something either of them will be able to do well. Greg in the kitchen like usual making them all something sweet for comfort.

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

A bit of an explanation. This backstory isn’t fully fleshed out, I’m still working on it. Just don’t focus on how this happened too much sdhodshgg I based it somewhat off the soul splitting from Cult of Chucky. A soul is just a spiritual or immaterial part of a living being, so Santa has one its just more of a demonic essence. Long story short, there was a magical accident and they ended up with 3 little doll children. Their relationship started out as a “I guess we have to do this for them”  co-parenting thing and slowly blossomed into something more. It wasn’t too bad, since in addition to two dads they also had a drove of elf nannies.  --------------

Eric Ulysses Claus (Puppet), son of Charles Lee Ray and Santa Claus

On average he gets along with both of his fathers very well. After all, he has Santas brains and composure with Chuckys toxicity and temper. What’s there for them to take issue with? Erics true personality lies under a thick shiny plastic veneer. Always quick with a charming smile, a witty remark, or a...convenient anecdote. In fact he’d often be described as quite solicitous if you’re stupid enough to trust that.

When he wants to get something done he’ll stop at nothing, no matter how cruel he has to be to do it, or the opposite. He’s not opposed at all to pretending to be your friend. In fact he’ll show way too much enthusiasm to get to know you, especially with new people who come into his life that he hasn’t had time to study and observe yet. Eric absolutely cannot stand being out of control of a situation though. The easiest way to see him at his most true self is to knock him down a few pegs. He turns into something akin to a malfunctioning robot.

This is why to his family...he’s completely harmless. His dads get along with him great, every member of his family loves him just as much as they love eachother. Arthur is up his ass all the time with his “moral policing” but at the end of the day he knows that the twerp still cares about him, and Helga is just...well generally annoying and wears her heart on her sleeve. There’s no arguing there.

Helga Felicity Claus (Baby Doll), daughter of Charles Lee Ray and Santa Claus

Helga is a doll who can open and shut her eyes, even if she wasn't possessed! And open them she does….the crybaby doesn’t shut them that often though. All the world is a stage and she gives a sensational dramatic performance, about every little thing. Every problem is the end of the world. This isn’t always necessarily selfish, she has a killing streak of her own but she also often finds herself getting teary eyed over the plights of others.

Chucky does have a bit of a weakness for her tears, hence why she goes to him with her woes the most, much to Santas chagrin. He’s not like a great confidant or anything but hes always there to pat her back and buy her a snack. They talk a lot about this and that, Helga curiously asking a lot of questions about his experiences. Santa doesn’t necessarily think she’s trying to manipulate Chucky on purpose, but he’s not an idiot and crying brats are one of his biggest pet peeves.

Her and Santa don’t get along sometimes not because of any grudge towards her, but because Santas the one who actually disciplines her.

She is incredibly honest, often in her pursuit to talk about her problem as much as possible she ends up revealing too much information. Helga also tends to get herself and her brothers into trouble this way. Other than that, she values sincerity. Which is why if someone is willing to admit they need help or need something from her, she’s often willing to help. Instead of trying to appeal

Arthur Preston Claus (Cabbage Patch Doll), son of Charles Lee Ray and Santa Claus

Arthur is just a happy little ball of sunshine. His piranha teeth aren’t his fault, he’ll swear up and down that he’s never used them and he never will. He has the spunk to accomplish anything that he puts his mind to, especially if it's making a friend. Artie is a pacifist but not a quiet one by any means. He will consistently call his family out on their behavior, trying his best to make them understand that he can love them deeply and still protest what they do.

He’s a very compassionate person so he gets along with Helga the best, she respects his candor and confidence in what he believes in. Arthur will often talk her into being on his side when Eric tries to drag them into one of his horrible plots. He and Chucky butt heads a lot, he’s not exactly the kind of guy who likes being told what to do or being talked back to by his kids. Arthur really doesn’t have an angry bone in his body. So these conversations are usually Chucky getting angry and Arthur jokingly pretending to be angry back.

However, he’s the apple of Santas eye. He just can’t stay mad at a kid with such an adorable face and such reasonable points in a debate.

Millicent Krueger-Firefly, daughter of Freddy Kruger and Baby Firefly

Oddly normal? Just a nice southern lady who finds her familys horrible antics incredibly endearing, will participate but it's more like the reluctance of playing monopoly with your parents than forcefully betraying her morals. She wants a simple quiet life where she can care for her animals and her crops...oh and time to catch up on her reading. Milly can be a little flighty but not irresponsible, just difficult to track down. It’s like she lives in her own little world sometimes.

Not a lot gets to her. She knows she’s letting down her father in a way, he’s not above comments with a varying range of subtlety, but it slides off her back. Milly has a skill of reading people so she can tell when he’s just trying to appease her too. Her strategy is to just...ignore him.

She doesn’t spend more time with her mother persay, even though their relationship isn’t bad. They just don’t have a whole lot in common. When the two of them do talk its usually pleasant (unless baby is oversharing the plans for that nights spree) and her mother will ask her how she’s doing, if she’s upset because her book characters are having difficulties. Millicent actually spends the most time with her Uncle Otis, shes content to silently eat ice cream and read a book in the corner while he rants to his victims.

Charlene Brackett, daughter of Winona Brackett and Judd Campbell

Charlene has never really been allowed to be herself. Her mother died in childbirth so she was raised by her grandparents, whose old world views immediately placed her into a box. Ma and Pa Brackett do “love” her in some decrepit definition, they never thought something so beautiful could come from their daughter. They want her to get married to a nice man with money so they can be taken care of in their twilight years. Most of the conversations she has with her grandfather is him saying no to her or criticizing her ideas and what she’s wearing. Ma usually backs up her husband but if he goes too far she will stick up for her, little moments Charlene cherishes deep down.

Usually, she isn’t one for confrontation and will easily go along with what she’s told to do. She really doesn’t like making trouble for people. Charlenes whole life revolves around her looks, because of this there are some days she’d rather not be seen OR heard at all. When salesmen come to the house she doesn’t try any less than her best, but not because she wants them to sweep her away from her life. It took her some time to catch on but she realized, even if they ended up dead, she could learn something from every one of them. She’s come up with a repertoire of scams and lies of her own, mostly using them to get out and get some fresh air.

[deliquescentnightmare]

Character Introduction

Hello! my first little character sheet so you all can meet Delila, the main protagonist of my still untitled story. Most- if not all- of my characters are blatant self-inserts, and Delila is no exception. I identify as GF so she's kind of the embodiment of my very fem moments, and my soft cottagecore side. Anyways, here's all you need to know about her! I'll post newer versions of her character sheet later on as certain events happen in the story so I don't give you guys spoilers.

Name: Delila Amelie Lestrade

Age: 24

Hometown: Born in Atlanta GA, moved around a lot as a child.

Occupation: Forensic Psychologist. FBI agent.

Sexuality: Asexual, questioning.

Talents/Skills: Writing. Playing Uke. Can't cook at all. Great skill of falling down or bumping into things. Hands are steady in times of crisis and is very levelheaded.

Siblings (describe relationship): Theodore 'Theo' Grayson Markham. 35, older half brother. Second son of Alana Markham(nee Ramses) and Fredrick Markham. Lives in NY. Jameson Albert Markham, 36, oldest half brother, and firstborn son of Alana Markham and Frederick Markham. Lives in rural North Carolina with his wife and kids. Gwendolyn 'Gwen' Beatrice Markham (deceased). Born 1980, died at 26) Killed in a car accident in St Louis in 2006. Very close to Delila and Jameson. Entire family mourned after she passed, and Alana became very different emotionally.

Mother (describe relationship): Alana Elizabeth Markham (nee Ramses). 54, lives in Ojai, California with Frederick Markham. They talk intermittently, but Alana isn't very responsible and Delila refuses to interact with her too much because it's emotionally draining. Alana refuses to acknowledge Gwen even existed.

Father (describe relationship): Gregory 'Greg' Lestrade. 49. Their relationship is close, and Greg would often visit Delila, or fly her out to see him during school holidays when she was a child. They call often (when he actually picks up or calls her back) and email back and forth. She loves him more than life itself even if he often forgets to call her because he's busy.

Significant Others (describe relationship): Struggles to remain relationships due to lack of intimacy, but had a long-term relationship for 2 years that recently ended for undisclosed reasons.

Pets: none yet. had a childhood snake named Jonathan.

Friends: Li Huang (will be introduced in the next chapter or the one after), John Watson, Molly Hooper, Sherlock Holmes (tentative), Theo, Mycroft Holmes(eventually).

Height: 5'2" or 157.5 cm

Weight: 135 lbs. or about 61 kg

Race: Caucasian, British-American

Eye Color: Blue in Original Fictions. In this AU, however her right one is Purple. her left is Pink. (I like pink and purple very much)

Hair Color: Naturally brown, dyed pastel orange.

Distinguishing features: Constantly has scrapes and bruises, often topped off with band-aids on her fingers and cheeks. Her wild orange hair and round gold-rimmed glasses. (they're bigger than Harry Potter's, before you ask). She wears a black pea-coat often, and it's worn from years of use. (it was her sister's)

How does he/she dress? Black pea-coat when it's colder. Likes to wear slightly-too-large clothing. Often wears stolen shirts, sweaters and button ups. Flowy, flowery dresses and skirts and occasionally ripped jeans. She did go through an Emo phase and dyed her hair white in her late teens/early 20's, and has some clothing left over from that phase that she occasionally wears.

Hobbies: Writing romance fiction and crime. Reading, often James Patterson or fantasy. Playing ukulele, and singing. She likes to dance but isn't very good at it, so she often does it when she's alone or it's dark (or both). She likes to go for walks with John in the park, and used to go for walks with Theo.

Greatest flaws: She cares too much too fast, and becomes attached to people within a day or so of meeting them. She can be slightly needy and clingy if she doesn't have a lot of friends, because she thrives off of physical affection. She's very stubborn, and will do things even when she's been given explicit instruction not to because she thinks she may know a better way. (sometimes she does, but other times she just is too strong headed to stop). She can either be unabashedly arrogant or filled with crippling self-doubt dependent on the situation as she's experienced a lot of respect and praise for her intellect. She also puts a lot of pressure on herself to succeed and it can lead to devastating burnouts.

Best qualities: Very loving and openhearted. She will put others' needs above her own nearly every time. She will make sure her friends and those she cares about are taken care of, and are taking good care of themselves. She is extremely intelligent and knows an array of weird and sometimes useful facts, and has a large span of knowledge thanks to her time at uni. She also has a way of making friends wherever she goes, which leads to a large web of connections and sources whenever she needs them.

Introvert or Extrovert? Ambivert, it's dependent on the situation. For example, if she's forced to be in isolation then she's going to be more extroverted when she's around people again. She enjoys talking to people, but after a certain amount, she can become worn out and need alone time. I think it would be good to note she is much more socially adept than Sherlock, though he is better at other things socially. (she has Asperger's and therefore he picks up on certain cues or details she may miss)

How does the character deal with anger? Delila can either run hot or run cold in terms of temperament. When she runs hot, she is often so overcome with emotion that she 'loses' words, struggles to speak and gets really flustered. (not in a good way) she never really says anything unkind when she's like this but she will be very dismissive and tell people to leave her alone. She is prone to shouting or crying to voice her frustrations and get out her emotions. The best way to calm her down is to let her rant about it, and she often calls Theo- who lets her rant. When she runs cold, she is eerily calm. She becomes sharp-tongued, cold and calculating. She will destroy whoever has angered her in this way and feel no shame. Sometimes she will spend days like this, and will be snippy and distant to anyone who tries to talk to her. She is vengeful and fully of unabashedly cruel remarks. It takes a lot or something particularly bad to get her this way.

With sadness? Delila tends to cry when she's sad, and is most comforted by physical affection. She listens to sad music, curls up under a blanket, and will write, whether it be in a journal or creatively. She will occasionally vent, but usually keeps it to herself as to not burden people around her with her issues or emotions.

With conflict? Delila can be rather argumentative and stubborn, but if she cares about the person she will do her best to listen to their side of the argument or disagreement, even if she feels as though they are wrong. When it comes to other peoples' conflicts, she will try and take the side she feels is most correct, or try and be an unbiased judge. She will defend her friends if there is a conflict in which they are being attacked in some way.

With change? Delila isn't a big fan of change but she will try her best to adapt and overcome by setting goals and new routines.

With loss? Delila will self-isolate. She will spend a lot of time re-consuming media that reminds her of what she has lost, and will go through a period of denial. Eventually, though she will come to honour the memory and move on.

What does the character want out of life? Fulfillment. Delila has spent a lot of her short life searching for something she is truly passionate about, but once she finds things that make her happy she becomes hesitant to follow them. She longs for fulfillment in ways other than reproducing and relationships, but one day she wouldn't mind having a family.

What would the character like to change in his/her life? Delila wishes she'd spent less time worried about how her mother perceived her and hoe those around her viewed her and her achievements. She is quite successful now and has learnt better but she wishes she hadn't let her doubts hinder her in the past.

What motivates this character? Delila doesn't excel because she longs for success, but because she fears failure. She refuses to be a burden, and will be independent almost to a fault.

What frightens this character? Delila is terrified of her family being hurt in any way, or losing someone she loves again. She also despises spiders and rejection.

What makes this character happy? Music. Her family, her friends. The rain. Tea. she loves to dance, but she only does it when she's alone.

Is the character judgmental of others? Delila's job required her to profile people, and because of that it has become her nature to psychoanalyse or even try to make assumptions about people from the get-go. She will often alter this perception of people later on depending on how she sees them interact with their environment, and people around them.

Is the character generous or stingy? She can be overly generous when it comes to those she loves, but also hesitant to share other things. It all depends on the item or person's emotional and sentimental value to her.

Is the character generally polite or rude? Unless given good reason to be rude, Delila is generally kind.

[spaceskam]

Him. (the werewolf au)

warning: mild sexual content, guns, hunting, daddy issues

ao3

Alex Manes did not get along with other human beings. It was a simple fact.

He'd known he was different from a very young age because of this one little fact. It meant he got in fights at school. It meant he didn't listen. It meant he was deliberately rude. He didn't mean to come off so horrible, but he learned it was the only way to get people to leave him alone. If he was an asshole and perceived dangerous, they’d leave him alone.

Another one of those little things he did as a kid to make him unapproachable was spend his free time in the woods, usually with his grandmother who lived in a cabin deep in the trees. While normally, in any other place, that wouldn’t be a problem. Maybe that’d make him a person to bully, but here it just made him that much more of an obvious outcast that people didn’t even want to associate with negatively.

According to the hunters' legend, the wolves that populated the woods outside of Roswell weren’t quite... normal. They were larger than normal, more violent, more deadly. They were the wolves, yes, but also not. Whispers were spread from generation to generation about how everyone should be wary of people they didn’t know well enough; you never knew who wasn’t quite who they claimed to be. Alex thought it was funny to play right into that idea.

His grandmother, before she’d died, had been the only sane one. She’d learned to fend for herself, growing her own food and hunting deer and using every part of the animal to avoid going into town. She was completely self sufficient where she lived in the middle of the woods and not once had she ever had a negative encounter with those supposedly vicious wolves. She was more reliable than the hunters and their tall tales, Alex deduced, and had been living in her old cabin since he was 16.

It wasn’t that easy, though. His father was still the leader of the group of hunters that ran the town and made it their mission to go out into the woods once a month and try to kill one of those wolves. They usually succeeded. It was a carnal, horrific act that was meant to be applauded, parading these dead animals around after they’d killed them and insisting that they were in some way human and not caring. Alex hated it.

And yet he was still a Manes man. His brothers still came to him for deer meat and kept him up to date on town gossip. His father still stopped by and made it clear that people spoke negatively about him and that he should join the hunt. After all, he was skilled gunman, he’d be good at it. But Alex denied.

On the few occasions that he did go into town–whether it be for things like soap or just simply a man to warm his bed for the night–people stared. The Manes boy who went wrong, the Manes boy who was one of them, the Manes boy who had somehow made it to the age of 26 without caving under his father’s iron rule. He’d be lying if he said that didn’t make him feel powerful.

“Don’t you get lonely?” Forrest asked. He was nice and he was cute and he didn’t judge Alex, always being open to make the drive into the woods for a lengthy fuck in front of the fire. Alex wouldn’t even mind seeing him more than once every two weeks if he didn’t do things like ask that.

“No,” Alex said, shaking his head. He was in Forrest’s lap, both of them bare and comfortable being that way. Another benefit of living in the woods was that, as long as the hunt wasn’t happening, there was a very slim chance anyone would stop by without a warning. They could do whatever they wanted.

“I would,” he admitted, “If I lived out here, I would.”

“Good thing you don’t live out here then,” Alex said. Forrest wrinkled up his nose before giving a playful laugh, reaching a hand up to comb Alex’s long hair behind his ear. He couldn’t actually remember the last time he cut it, but it didn’t matter because it pissed off his dad and for that reason alone he would never cut it again.

“You ever think about moving back into town?” he wondered, craning his neck as Alex moved down to kiss his neck. He slowly kissed his way to his ear, taking it between his teeth gently.

“I’d rather put my dick in a blender,” Alex said as seductively as he could. He felt Forrest physically recoil at the thought, a groan coming from him as he leaned away. Alex smiled.

“Why do you say shit like that? Jesus,” Forrest breathed, shaking his head. Alex just grinned at him until he grinned right back. “I hate you.”

“Yeah, I believe that so much,” Alex said sarcastically, rolling his hips forward to get a little bit of a reaction from him. It worked far too easily. “Round two?”

“You expect me to say no to that?”

“No, I really don’t.”

Forrest left around two in the morning, needing a little coercion to make him realize staying over night wasn’t an option. Telling him he planned to be up early to do yoga didn’t work, but telling him he’d be forcing him to wake up at 5AM to join if he didn’t leave definitely did.

He didn’t really understand Forrest’s desire to be around him. Sure, he was probably the only person Alex had found since his grandmother that he could tolerate for more than thirty minutes, but that didn’t mean he wanted him around always. He liked space, he liked being alone. His brothers asked often when he would settle down and Forrest occasionally liked to see if he wanted something more, but apparently ‘I don’t want to’ wasn’t a valid answer. Apparently, it wasn’t right to enjoy being on your own.

Sometimes, on days that weren’t great, he’d consider it, though. He felt like this now, yes, but would he always? Wouldn’t he want someone eventually? And, when that time came, wouldn’t it be nice to have Forrest around, someone who he already knew he could tolerate? But then he remembered that’s just what society told him to feel.

If he found someone worth altering his life for, it wouldn’t be a question. He’d know it.

Bright and early the next morning, Gregory Manes, the middle Manes boy, showed up at the door with iced coffee. He was the least pushy of Alex’s brothers and was the only one who, while still going hunting every month, hadn’t killed any wolves. That was the only reason Alex tolerated his early morning visits.

“Wasn’t Flint supposed to come?” Alex asked, sipping the coffee as he led the way to the side door. It entered straight into the not-quite-outside room that Alex used to do all the fun stuff like skinning and packaging.

“Yeah, but I wanted to come talk to you,” Greg said. Alex raised an eyebrow as he opened the freezer, desensitized to the smell of blood and meat that filled the room as he continued to drink his coffee while simultaneously pulling out package deer meat to put in a bag. For a town full of hunters, they never seemed to be able to get any deer of their own.

“Why?”

“You need to steer clear of that Long boy. Or at least tell him to stop acting like you two are an item,” Greg said. Alex furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Since when had he ever taken being told what to do well? “I’m not judging you or trying to tell you what to do. I’m just saying he’s starting to outcast himself by association and he seems too nice to suffer like that.”

“He shouldn’t be telling anyone that we’re together anyway,” Alex said, slamming the freezer door shut, “We aren’t and he knows that.”

“Okay, well make sure he knows that. Mrs. Sibley, the lady who runs the coffee shop, refused him service this morning and I have to assume it’s because word is getting around that you two are together.”

That took Alex off guard as he looked at him with wide eyes. Even he had never been refused service. Maybe that was the fear, but still. 

“Seriously? Jesus, why do any of you stay in that town?”

“It’s not that easy to just get out.”

“For him it would be. He’s smart and friendly, he’d be able to get out easily,” Alex explained. Greg sighed.

“I don’t know, that’s not my call to make. All I’m sayin’ is he’s gonna suffer if something doesn’t change,” he said. Alex nodded and decided to be nice about it. He knew Forrest wouldn’t listen to him if he told him to stop, but it wouldn’t hurt Alex to distance himself from him for his own good. He didn’t need him like that.

“Okay.”

“Also,” Greg sighed, “I need you to drive into town later and pick up Isobel from work because I have to get ready for the hunt tonight.”

Alex froze and looked over at him, carefully pulling the coffee away from his lips. Greg was giving him that pleading little smile and Alex hated him for it. This is why he didn’t socialize. They did shit like this.

“So this is a bribery coffee?” he asked. Greg rolled his eyes.

“Please? Your the only guy that I trust around her anyway.”

“Then maybe get her to ask one of her friends? You know, women so she doesn’t have to be picked up from work by some guy she’s met once?” Alex explained. 

Greg gave him that look like he should know that wasn’t an option. Which, granted, it sort of wasn’t. All the women in the town usually got together on the night of the hunt to cook for all the men when they got back. It was all very sexist if Alex was concerned. But, still, Isobel already got judged because she wasn’t from around there. If she asked someone to go out of their way on the night of the hunt, it could make it worse.

“Fine,” he groaned, “But you owe me. That’s like a two hour round trip just to pick up your girlfriend.”

“I’ll pay for your gas and I’ll make sure dad doesn’t come around here for three months,” Greg offered. Alex eyed him.

“Deal.”

-

Alex spent his day compiling fire wood, checking his garden, and making sure the fence around his cabin was secure. His one rule was that, during hunts, if any of the fuckers even tried to enter or shoot around his property, he’d shoot them. They listened, but you could never be too cautious.

He combed and braided his hair before he left, even bothering to get dressed in something that wasn’t dirty. As much as he didn’t care to impress anyone, he also wasn’t too keen on alienating a girl who was already alienated enough. 

She was quiet when he picked her up from her work, saying her thanks and nothing more. He dropped her off and immediately started heading back home. The sun was starting to go down and he knew that as soon as it go dark, idiots would be in the woods. He was trying to avoid getting his tires blown by boys who got spooked by every little sound and mistook his truck for a wolf.

He was none too lucky though, navigating that dirt road that he specifically carved out for his truck as the siren rang throughout the town to signify the beginning of the hunt. He rolled his eyes and kept an eye out for people that were in the woods hunting, not really eager to hit anyone despite the fact that he could hear just how gun crazy they were. 

But then something dark was laying in the middle of the path. Alex slowed to a stop and turned on his brights. He felt all the air leave his lungs as he realized it was a wolf. Big as ever, but not in pieces every other time he’d seen one. Instead, this one was wounded and looking in the lights with scared eyes. 

Against all better judgement, Alex climbed out of his truck and slowly started walking towards it. It was hurt, but it wasn’t dead. Maybe he could help and then he could feel just a little bit better knowing he wasn’t as bad as the rest of his family.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, as he neared the animal. It’s fur was thick and a dark brown, eyes almost too human as they stared him down His stomach swooped in fear, but kept his hands where the animal could see and took slow steps. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I just wanna help, okay?”

The wolf whined, but didn’t bark or growl. Alex tried to remember all the tales of how vicious these creatures were and wondered if maybe, just maybe, they were only vicious because they were treated with venom first.

“Let’s see where you’re hurt, okay?” Alex cooed as he got close, crouching slowly. He held eye contact and slowly reached to pet the wolf’s head, promising that he wasn’t a threat. It didn’t bite his hand off, so that was a plus.

It only took a few seconds to see that there was a bullet graze in it’s front leg which was probably why it was in the middle of a path instead of hiding somewhere. However, it looked like something he could feasibly patch up. Alex frowned as he tried to figure out how the hell he was going to get the animal back to his cabin. Sure, he was strong, but strong enough to pick up a whole ass wolf?

A gunshot rang through the air and the wolf startled, whining and fearful. Alex had never felt so much compassion for anything in his entire life. Never had he ever felt as bad for a human as he did for this wolf. Which is probably what led him to deciding to carry it.

“Give me one second, okay? I’m gonna help. If you wanna bite my arm off, that’s cool too,” Alex said before running back to his truck. He dropped the tailgate and grabbed a blanket from the back seat before heading back to the wolf. “I got you.”

He laid out the blanket as fast as he could and, will a lot of struggling, he managed to get the wolf on it. He didn’t question why it was trusting him so much, he just went with it. His grandmother did always say he had an open soul. He always thought that was bullshit, but maybe he was just open to a different species.

He dragged the blanket with the wolf on it all the way to the back of the truck and winced when another shot echoed through the air. Alex said a few cursed under his breath before looking down at the wolf that was staring up at him, putting it’s life in his hands so willingly.

“This is probably gonna hurt, okay? I’m sorry,” he warned.

Alex gathered the ends of the blanket and wrapped them around his hands, trying to think of it as picking up a heavy log instead of a living being as he lifted it and tried to throw it in the back of the truck as gently as possible. That didn’t stop the pained yap the wolf made when it hit the bed of the truck and Alex instantly gave it another pet.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “Stay put, okay? It’s gonna be okay.”

He closed the tailgate and quickly got back into his truck, driving the rest of the way feeling like he had stepped into a different side of reality. This is why he didn’t go out during hunts. Now he had a stupid wolf to take care of.

When he got to his cabin, he moved fast to get the wolf from the bed of the truck and inside. It’d be safe there as long as no one actually saw him taking it in there. Alex had zero faith in his father to respect his privacy if there was a wolf involved.

“Alright, it’s okay,” Alex cooed, repeating himself over and over as he carefully got the wolf onto the ground. It was a lot easier to do that than it’d been to lift it, so that he was thankful for. 

He dragged the wolf on the blanket all the way through the front door and locked it behind him, letting out a huff of relief. He stood there for a moment to catch his breath as the wolf stared up at him, 

“You trust me, right?” Alex asked rhetorically, but the wolf rolled onto his side and gave him unbridled access to tend to the wound on his leg. Alex tilted his head to the side. “Oh, you really trust me. Guess I gotta make it worth your while, huh? Gimme one second.”

Alex flicked on the lights in the kitchen, not giving a shit if it obscured the men hunting. He was the one that rigged up the generator and he was going to use it regardless. He started searching for his first aid kit, a rag, and then got two separate bowls to fill with water (well water, he couldn’t take credit for that, that was his grandmother’s doing). 

He brought everything back to the wolf and sat on the ground beside him, opening the first aid kid.

“Here’s water if you need it,” Alex said, putting one of the bowls by the wolf’s head, “This might hurt a little... I say to an animal who literally can’t understand me.”

The wolf a soft huff of acknowledgement, ears flicking. Alex smiled and shook his head, scooting a little closer. He tried to be gentle as he looked at the wolf’s bleeding leg, dipping the rag into the other bowl of water to use to wipe it clean.

“It’s just a graze,” he murmured in confirmation, “Took a chunk of flesh, but I think it’s superficial. You’ll be okay.”

Still, he got a little gauze pad and wet it with hydrogen peroxide before cleaning it with that. The wolf let out another whine and Alex gave mindless words of encouragement, trying to move as quickly as possible. After that, he got neosporin and dabbed that over it as well before wrapping it up. He hoped it would be enough. He decided he’d just keep a close eye on it to make sure he would be okay. 

“You can stay here until you feel better,” Alex promised, petting the wolf’s stomach gently. He watched him lap up a bit of water before laying his head back down. “You look tired.”

Tired sounded nicer than in pain because surely that’s what he really felt. Nonetheless, Alex pet him a few more times before getting up to put the first aid kid away and discard the bloody rag and bloody water bowl.

The wolf stayed right there by the entrance of the kitchen on the blanket, watching Alex as he got up to make some semblance of dinner. He hummed to himself and to the wolf as gunshots continued. He didn’t want him to be scared.

He made himself deer sausage and a potato, keeping it plain and simple. On another plate, he put a slab or raw deer meat and went back to sitting on the floor.

“I don’t know if you’re hungry, but here,” Alex said as he placed the plate beside him. The wolf eyed him, but Alex kept to himself as he ate his own food. It seemed to be enough and he eventually started taking small, delicate bites. Alex grinned. “Not very wolf-like.”

The wolf gave a superficial growl and Alex smiled even wider.

They ate in silence for the most part, gunshots dying down as it got darker. Usually, by 10, the wolves were either in hiding or dead and the men retreated back into town. Alex stayed with his wolf until the siren signified the hunt was over at 11PM. 

“Okay, well, I’m gonna go get ready for bed,” Alex told him after cleaning their dishes and double checking the lock on the door, “I’ll leave your water there.”

Alex headed into his room after that, grabbing a pair of sweats, an old sweater, and fresh boxers before he stripped down. He could take a shower in the morning. 

Right as he dropped his pants to the ground, he heard uneven tapping against the wood floors. He looked over his shoulder to see the wolf in all his wounded glory limping his way to be near him.

“Excuse you,” Alex said, feigning modesty. The wolf just gave another soft whine and Alex shook his head with a laugh, pulling on his clean clothes. When he looked back again, the wolf had gotten onto the left side of his bed. “Oh, so now you can walk and jump? You really did just want me to carry you.” Another whine. “Kidding.”

Alex climbed into bed, careful to be mindful of his wounded bed partner. He wasn’t actually used to sharing a bed to actually sleep, but this felt like a valid exception to the rule. He pet the wolf beside him a few times and scratched behind his ear.

“Goodnight.”

-

The next few days went by with ease.

They’d get up early, eat breakfast, tend to the garden, eat lunch, hunt deer, get firewood, eat dinner, go to sleep, repeat. The wolf followed Alex around as much as he could and he got stronger each day. By the third day, he wasn’t even limping anymore.

“I have never seen something heal this fast,” Alex marveled as he cleaned up the wound that was now just a scratch after dinner, “That’s insane.”

He stood once he was done and headed into the kitchen to wash his hands again. It was strange. This was the first time since his grandmother died that he didn’t get annoyed by the constant companionship. Hell, even when she was around, he’d go get lost in the woods for a few hours to be in his own mind. But there was something comforting about having another being that didn’t talk back. There was no annoyance about him, just a presence to remind him that he wasn’t completely alone.

Alex was halfway through putting his hair in a bun when someone knocked on the door. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and the wolf stood in attention. No one had told him they were stopping by.

Still, he made his way to the door with the wolf hot on his heels.

“Go,” he whispered to him, shooing him away, “Go in there.”

It took a few seconds of staring him down, but eventually the wolf went into the living room. Alex closed his eyes and let out a heavy breath, hoping that Greg had kept his word and it wasn’t his father. If his dad found out he was harboring a wolf, well, they had bigger problems.

Alex opened the door and saw Forrest, the man smiling hesitantly.

“Um, hey,” Alex said, “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t return any of my texts,” he said, “I was kinda worried.”

“You shouldn’t be, you know I don’t look at that thing,” Alex said. Forrest nodded, looking around as if trying to find a reason to stay. “Look, my brother told me about people acting rude towards you because of me. I think it’s best if we stopped.”

Forrest looked taken aback. “They’re rude because I’m gay.”

Alex gave a small smile and shook his head. “No. Well, maybe a little, but Mrs. Sibley wouldn’t refuse service to someone because they’re gay. Not saying she’s the most welcoming person in the world, but she takes her money very seriously. It’s because you’ve mentioned me to people.”

He bowed his head for a moment, thinking about it. Alex expected him to leave, but instead he just looked back up at him and shrugged.

“Fuck ‘em.”

“No,” Alex said, “No, I’m not about to be responsible for you.”

“Then I’ll say we broke up.”

“We aren’t dating.”

“Yeah, but clearly they think we are,” Forrest said, shaking his head, “Look, I don’t give a shit what we are. You’re the only guy in this town that is both not straight and not conformed to this town’s bullshit agenda. Can’t I fuck at least one person that isn’t a Republican?”

Alex snorted a laugh and felt himself caving. He did like having Forrest at his beck and call for the same reason that Forrest clearly liked having him. They were two of the only sane people.

“Fine,” Alex said, looking him up and down, “But you still came back here awfully soon.”

“What can I say? The hunt always makes me hate everyone around there a little more,” Forrest explain. Alex took that as a perfectly valid answer.

He pulled Forrest into his house and into a kiss, slamming the door behind him. Forrest grinned easily, wrapping his arms around his torso and pulling him in tight. Alex could feel how toned he was through his shirt which, honestly, he loved. Alex did yoga and lifted heavy shit, but he wasn’t all sculpted with abs and stuff. Forrest, on the other hand, was.

Their make-out was interrupted by a loud bark. Forrest nearly jumped out of his skin and Alex instantly looked over his shoulder to where the wolf was all but glaring at them.

He was growling low as he slowly stalked forward. Alex couldn’t be fucked to find it intimidating.

“Really? Relax,” Alex told the wolf. He just growled right back. Forrest hid behind him shamelessly.

“Since when did you get a fucking dog?” he asked. Alex didn’t really have an answer, so he just shrugged and then walked closer. He knelt down in front of the wolf despite his anger and looked him in his all too human eyes.

“Go to bed,” he said. The wolf’s angry demeanor dropped in favor of something close to a pout, a mournful whine coming from him. “Go.”

He slowly walked away, head bowed and tail all but tucked between his legs. Alex huffed and stood back up, turning to Forrest who seemed very confused still.

“What the hell was that?” he asked. Alex just shrugged and walked closer. He didn’t want to explain himself and he wasn’t about to. Forrest didn’t question him as he pulled him back into a kiss and started pulling him to the couch.

Alex tried, he really did, but it was hard to enjoy having sex when there was a wolf dramatically walking through the house and whining for attention. They got as far as Alex being shirtless and on his back on the couch and Forrest kissing down his chest to go down on him when they had to stop because the fucking wolf was just watching them like a disappointed parent who whined louder and louder by the second.

“Go to bed!” Alex told him. He just laid down on the floor right there as if that’s what Alex meant. “Oh my God,” he groaned, throwing his head back. Forrest chuckled against his stomach before sitting up.

“This is what you get for getting a dog.”

“Well, if I knew getting cock-blocked was a side effect of a pet, then I’d never have signed up.”

Forrest gave a small laugh and they both sat up, accepting that there was no way to continue without feeling awkward as hell. The wolf seemed awfully proud of himself.

“Why did you get a dog, anyway? I thought you said you weren’t lonely,” Forrest said.

“I’m not. And I didn’t really want him. I found him and he was hurt, so I’m letting him stay until he’s healed,” Alex explained. Forrest gave a teasing smile.

“You helped something in need? Aw, who knew you had it in you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Alex laughed, reclining back against the couch, “I guess you can go now since we’re clearly not allowed to do anything.”

“Seriously?” Forrest asked. Alex just raised an eyebrow. He sighed, but clearly wasn’t too shocked. He probably would’ve been more shocked if Alex actually condoned in letting him stick around if they weren’t going to hook up. “Alright then.”

Alex walked him back to the door and they shared a kiss before Alex locked up after him. He glared at the wolf when he walked back into the living room, shaking his head.

“Can’t believe I’m just letting you tell me what to do in my own home,” Alex scolded as he dropped back on the couch. The wolf got up and came over, jumping up onto the couch and licked at his face. Alex tried to lean away, but the slobbery kisses kept on. “Haha, very funny.”

The licks stopped, but the wolf laid heavily on him. Alex just accepted it and relaxed into the couch, stroking his soft fur. Was it bad if he didn’t mind this over sleeping with Forrest? 

“Lets go to bed, I guess,” Alex sighed eventually, giving him one last scratch before they both got down from the couch.

It felt standard now to walk to his bedroom and change and get comfortable in bed with a huge ass wolf. He’d only been doing it for a few nights and yet it was like he couldn’t remember not being this way. He was almost sad at the prospect of sleeping alone again.

“You’re almost all healed,” Alex whispered into the darkness but he trusted the wolf understood every word. He stared at him with conviction like he always did and Alex no longer assumed he didn’t hear him. He did. “Are you gonna run off tomorrow?”

The wolf blinked once and then shifted closer, nudging his nose against Alex’s chin and laying his head on his chest. Alex huffed a laugh and shamelessly buried his face in his fur. 

“I’ll take that as I’ll at least see you around.”

-

Alex woke up the next morning, not to fur, but to skin.

When he opened his eyes, he was face to face with a man. Alex immediately jumped up and scrambled out of bed, his heart thudding in his chest. The man in his bed sat up, unabashedly naked as he sat criss-cross and blinked up at Alex. He tilted his head to the side in that distinctly animalistic way that made Alex’s heart stop.

“What the fuck?” Alex asked, raking his hands through his hair as he tried to make sense of this, “What the fuck?”

“I’m all healed now, see?” the man said, pointing to the faintest little scar on his arm. Alex’s mouth went dry at the confirmation. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.

“I-what? Oh my God, cover up, I can’t fucking think,” Alex said and the man just smiled at him, doing as he said. He had curly hair that almost reached his shoulders and stubble dotting his cheeks along with a hairy chest. His shoulders were broad and so was his smile, his skin tan in a way that complimented his muscles. He was hot. But he wasn’t fucking human. “I’m so confused.”

“Why?” he asked. Alex scoffed, eyes nearly bulging out of his head.

“What do you mean why? I went to sleep with a wolf in my bed and woke up to a fucking man,” Alex pointed out. He blinked innocently, those eyes identical to the ones he’d seen in the wolf. It was only more confirmation.

“You like men.”

���And I liked your smartass comments better when I couldn’t hear them,” he said. Again he just blinked and tilted his head. Alex rubbed his hands over his face. “I just... I know the legend, but... really? Is this really a thing? What the fuck?”

“I... I don’t know what you want me to say,” he said. Alex took a deep breath, trying to focus on his thoughts so he could ask the right questions. When he did, though, they came out all at once.

“How do you speak English so well? Why did you wait so long to show me that you’re human? Why did you show me at all? Are you human? What’s your name? How old are you? What the fuck?” Alex rambled. The not-wolf stared at him with wide, overwhelmed eyes. “Fuck.”

“I... I...” he stuttered out, furrowing his eyebrows, “You usually say less words.”

“Yeah, well, I usually don’t get confirmation of fucking mythical creatures,” Alex snapped. The not-wolf’s face slowly got more and more concerned, not longer any trace of that big smile. In fact, he looked scared. Alex sighed and rubbed his hands over his face again. He’d told that wolf four days ago that he was safe here and he meant it. Even if that meant he had just quickly adjust to this. “I’m sorry for freaking out. Look, just... I’ll lend you some clothes and then you can explain everything to me while we make breakfast. Okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed, nodding his head as he stood to his feet with complete disregard of his nudity. He stumbled a little as he did so, catching himself on the wall and laughing a little. “These feet are weird.”

“Yeah,” Alex breathed, looking away and hoping he had clothes that would fit him. He picked out the baggiest sweater and baggiest pair of sweats he owned, turning to give the pair to him. He took them with welcome hands.

Alex watched as he fumbled with them, sitting the sweats on the bed as he decided to focus on the sweater first. He twisted it and unfolded it, flipping it around in his hands a few times before finding the large opening at the bottom. He looked up at Alex for confirmation that he was doing it right. All it told Alex was that he was basically dealing with a fresh goddamn human.

He stuck his hands inside, stretching and moving wildly as he tried to make it work. Alex smiled at the childish nature of it and moved forward, helping him get his arms through the sleeves and his head through the collar. He flashed a smile when they made eye contact. 

“Can you get the pants or do you need help with that too?”

“I got it. You did it so many times.”

“Great, glad to know I could teach you something,” Alex huffed, shaking his head with a little laugh. Still, the not-wolf had to sit on the bed and focus harder than normal to get his legs through the pants. “Does your hand-eye coordination improve the longer you’re human or am I going to have to teach you how to function?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Like, do you get better at doing things?”

“Oh. Yes.”

“Got it.”

They made their way into the kitchen and the not-wolf stood too close to him, lingering over his shoulder as if his wolf boundaries were still acceptable in human form. They weren’t though, not really, and Alex shoved him away.

“Give me space,” he instructed. He agreed, moving a few feet away before eventually deciding to sit on the floor by his water bowl that was probably not helpful anymore. “Now, give me answers.”

Within the 15 minutes it took to cook eggs and deer sausage, Alex got the run down of all things mythical. He learned that it was extremely difficult to shift when they were hurt, meaning he couldn’t have let Alex know earlier if he tried (but they healed faster in wolf form anyway so it was pointless). He also learned that he spent most of his time as a wolf, but usually became human during hunts because his elders had taught him that was what he should do. That was how his English had gotten as good as it had.

“Wait, so why were you a wolf during this last hunt? What happened?” Alex asked. He shifted awkwardly, pulling on the sleeves of the sweater as he tried to find his words.

“Days are different out there, it’s hard to know exactly when the hunt will be. Usually, my sister comes to get me and gives me a place to go, but this time she didn’t. I-I don’t know why,” he said. Alex furrowed his eyebrows as he looked over at him.

“Your sister?”

“Yes. She spends most of her time human, she doesn’t like being outside like that.”

“Because of the hunt?”

“No,” he said, but then he paused for a moment, “Yes. I don’t know. It’s strange. She wants to be normal, so she goes. I like being that.”

“I get it,” Alex said easily. He dispersed the food onto two plates and walked over to him, sitting down on the floor with him. He handed him the plate and a fork, but he simply put the fork on the ground and used his hands. “So, do you have a name? Or do you spend so much time as a wolf that you don’t have one?”

“No, I have one,” he said, picking up a small section of scrambled egg with all five of his fingers. Alex smiled as he shoved it in his mouth in the messiest way possible. “It’s Michael.”

“Michael,” Alex repeated, “I’m Alex.”

“Alex,” he said, nodding his head as he shoved more egg into his mouth, “I never had this food, Alex, it’s good.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome.”

They ate in silence for a little while longer, Alex finding amusement in watching him make a mess and then eventually having to show him how to wash his hands. Instead of a morning workout or going immediately to his garden, they sat down on the couch to talk more. Michael sat too close, too eager to lay on him like he did when he was a wolf.

“Okay, you can’t do that,” Alex told him, pushing him away until they were firmly on other sides of the couch, “I don’t like that.”

“Like what?”

“The whole unnecessary touch thing.”

“That man that was here before did that,” Michael pointed out. Alex opened his mouth to explain, but then he realized that Michael had caused that whole scene and knew exactly what he was doing.

“Yeah, and you ran him off. Why would you do that?” Alex asked. Michael had no shame as he looked at him.

“Not fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“He got all the petting and he was only here for a few minutes. I got none for that whole time,” Michael explained like it was obvious. Alex scoffed, but couldn’t help but laugh.

“You aren’t entitled to my attention, you know that right? I can pet whoever I want,” Alex said. Michael just shrugged, twisting to sit with his back against the arm of the couch and his legs criss-cross again. “But I was trying to have a sex and I think you knew that.”

Michael gave a guilty smile.

“What the fuck?” Alex said, giving another little laugh, “You’re such an ass.”

Michael laughed, so open and free that Alex nearly felt guilty for being cynical. But, still, this wasn’t a completely understood situation.

“So, what’s the plan? ‘Cause you can’t stay with me forever,” Alex told him. Michael pulled his leg up, resting his chin on his knee and giving him those sad puppy eyes that worked just as well as they did when he was an actual dog. “Oh no, you’re not guilting me into letting you stay here.”

“But I’m hurt.”

“You said it yourself, you’re all healed,” Alex pointed out. Slowly, that bottom lip popped out in a pout and Alex had to fight a smile. 

“But we’re friends.”

“Friends don’t cock-block each other.”

Still, that pout was still there. Alex shook his head, trying to hide his laugh before he got up. He was just going to have to think about this more. He felt bad just throwing him back out when he knew that his family was trigger happy, but he didn’t like the idea of having a whole ass person in his house. Maybe they could compromise. 

“Look, I’m gonna go take a shower, can I trust you to stay put?” Alex asked. Michael nodded. “Good.”

The rest of the day somehow carried on like normal. Michael sat on the bed like he always did to watch Alex braid his hair, staring like it was the most interesting thing in the world. They went to work on the garden together, this time with Michael working on his hand-eye coordination by trying to help. It was the same as they went to cut fire wood. Turns out there was a bonus to having someone around with werewolf strength--the dude could basically carry a whole ass tree.

For some reason, Alex didn’t hate it. He didn’t hate having him tag along and he didn’t hate having to explain things to him. He felt more patient than ever and that in itself was wild. He didn’t like people. But, then again, Michael wasn’t quite people.

“You need to go take a shower,” Alex told him that night. Michael just stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “Don’t look at me like that. If you’re gonna stay in human form, you have to act like one.”

With a little bit of persuasion, Alex showed him how the shower worked and what soap to use on his hair and what soap to use on his body. Alex waited outside of the bathroom for about five minutes until a large crash happened and not-so-manly whining followed it.

“What did you do?” Alex asked.

“My eyes,” Michael whined. Alex sighed and asked for permission to help him. It was granted without hesitation.

He walked into the tiny bathroom and pulled back the shower curtain, seeing him holding his palms to his eyes and yet barely any soap in his hair. Alex grabbed a rag and peeled his hands away from his eyes, holding his chin as he dabbed over his closed eyes.

“Now blink a lot,” Alex told him. He did as he was told for about a solid minute until it didn’t hurt as bad.

Alex decided to stay and showed him how to wash his hair, massaging his scalp and smiling at the way he seemed to purr at the sensation. He helped him rinse it out before deciding he could wash his body on his own. He left him with a warning that he needed to be completely dry with the towel before he came out. The instructions worked well enough despite Alex ending up drying his hair for him.

“So, I don’t know if you plan to stay human, but if you do, we can go to a thrift shop and get you some clothes of your own,” Alex offered as he gave him another pair of clothing. He would have to do laundry soon which was always a pain in the ass.

“I’d like to stay human for a little while,” Michael said, putting on the sweater with a little less trouble this time. 

“I thought you said you liked being a wolf.”

“Yes,” Michael said, “But I like being with you.”

Alex ignored the way his stomach clenched and he just made his way towards the bedside table, grabbing his brush before undoing his braid. He didn’t mind Michael, but the fact that he didn’t mind him was scary. It was scarier to know that Michael wanted to stay human to be around him. What exactly did that mean? Nothing, right? They hadn’t known each other long enough to be more than nothing.

The bed creaked as Michael crawled onto it and Alex eyed him.

“What are you doing? You’re sleeping on the couch,” Alex said. Michael made a wounded noise, looking up to him like Alex had just told him his dog died. “I told you. If you’re human, you have to act like it. Humans don’t share beds with strangers.”

Michael didn’t move, looking up at Alex like he was genuinely, deeply hurt by the idea that, not only could they not share a bed, but that he was a stranger. Alex held up his end for a total of thirty seconds before he caved. What the hell was this wolf-man doing to him? Since when was he this fucking nice?

“Fine,” Alex groaned. Michael instantly fell into bed and curled into the blankets, smiling all proud of himself. Alex shook his head, finishing brushing his hair before he climbed into bed too. 

Like the night before, only much different, Michael nuzzled his face under Alex’s chin. He snuggled close like that was okay and shifting and itching as he tried to get comfortable in not only his new skin, but new clothes. Alex thought about pointing out that unnecessary touching thing again, but he smelled good and he wasn’t actually that bothered. He didn’t instigate it by touching him more, but he definitely didn’t push him away.

“Alex?” he whispered, voice soft like it was a secret.

“What?” Alex whispered right back.

Michael didn’t give a verbal response, simply pressed in closer and pulled the blanket up to Alex’s chin which meant it was basically over his head. It had Alex wondering if he got cold without all the extra fur. Regardless, he still didn’t touch him.

But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it.

-

A week went by and it turns out living with a half-man, half-wolf wasn’t that bad.

Michael was actually quiet for the most part and he adjusted to human-living quite well. He picked up on how to make coffee very fast. He took showers regularly and wore clothes and helped in the garden. He was an effective hunting partner and wasn’t grossed out by the process of skinning the deer. He was still working on the boundaries part, but, hey, he was trying and Alex appreciated it. It had to be confusing to rationalize that it was okay to touch while they were in bed, but not when they weren’t unless he was a wolf.

It was all easy until they had to go into town to get him clothes and to refill gas cans.

“I don’t like stores.”

“Neither do I.”

“I hate them.”

“So do I.”

“Then why did we go?”

Alex sighed and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He hated going into public, he always had, and after moving into the woods, he hated it more. He hated talking to people and he hated the way the town looked at him and he hated having to perform social niceties that, to him, didn’t feel very nice. However, he hadn’t quite acknowledged that Michael had been even more isolated from it all. 

They’d been in the thrift store for a total of about thirty minutes and just barely made it to that point. People were staring and whispering and avoiding them like the plague, judging them openly. Alex was used to that. Michael, on the other hand, was not and he nearly had a breakdown in the middle of the store after four people deliberately speed-walked away from him and one lady loudly asked her friend why they thought it was okay to come during peak business hours. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around people not liking him on principal and it made him uncomfortable and, well, a wolf never really had to learn to contain emotions. So Alex sent him to the truck while he paid.

When he got to the truck, Michael was curled in a ball with his hands clasped over the back of his head.

“Look, I’m sorry, I should’ve warned you,” Alex said softly. He knew that the people who chose to be around him suffered consequences with the exception of his brothers and his father. And even then the only reason they didn’t was because they ran the fucking town. Alex was an outlier and everyone suspected he was one of them and that his father had sent him to the woods for that reason. The worst part was that Michael actually was.

“Can we go home now?” he asked, voice small as he stayed in the ball. Guilt filled Alex’s system and, for the first time since he was human, he reached out and initiated touch. He stroked his hair and then squeezed his shoulder, trying to comfort him.

“One more stop, but you can stay in the car for that, is that okay?”

Michael nodded.

Alex drove to the gas station while keeping one hand on Michael, hoping that that would be stabilizing enough. He left Michael in the car with a soft ‘I’ll be right back’ and went to go pay for his gas. He grabbed a coffee and sour candy while he was inside, deciding to give Michael some sort of prize for surviving a day amongst the humans of Roswell along with something to ground him, before heading to the counter.

“$50 on pump 7?” the cashier said without even looking up at him. Alex appreciated her lack of conversation mixed with the lack of judgement. She had the same distaste towards him as she did everyone else and she always had. Which is why this was the only gas station he went to.

“Yeah,” Alex answered, fishing out his wallet. There was something slightly annoying that all of his money still technically came from his father and brothers. Sure, they were buying meat off him for not only themselves, but for the big dinners on the night of the hunt, so it wasn’t like it was a handout. But still.

“Alex?” a familiar voice asked. Alex looked up to see his brother, Greg, walking inside. “Hey, I was just on my way out to your place.”

Alex gave a small shrug as he turned to him, coffee and candy in hand. He would never admit that he was a little scared that, if Greg saw Michael, he would know. They’d all been taught from a young age to question anyone who wasn’t from around there and, even if they were, to keep watch of all their differences. Greg was a little different and had been dating a girl who wasn’t from around there, but it still made him wary to let him follow him back to the truck.

“Need meat? Or just need a little brotherly companionship?” Alex asked. Greg huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes.

“Meat,” he said, “I told you, I’d keep dad from comin’ around there. I keep my word.”

“Right,” Alex sighed. He was thankful that he didn’t have to see his father, but, fuck, he didn’t want him meeting Michael. Not one bit. Especially not when Michael was having a bad time. He would like all of his brothers to not see him be nice to anyone. 

“Isobel’s with me,” Greg told him and then eyed him for a moment before looking towards the cashier and then looking back, “And I also noticed there’s a guy in your truck.” So much for keeping that to himself.

“Yeah,” Alex said simply, shrugging his shoulder. He could play it off.

“Moved on from Forrest already?”

“You’re the one who told me to leave him be,” Alex pointed out though he didn’t say that he’d sort of forgotten about Forrest over the last week. He’d sort of been distracted.

“Yeah, I did,” Greg said, nodding slowly. This was certifiably one of the weirdest conversations they’d ever had. That was saying something. “You usually don’t listen.”

“What can I say? We both have a thing for strangers, don’t we?” Alex said. Greg huffed a small laugh.

“I’ll see you at your cabin in a bit,” he said, clasping a hand on his shoulder as he walked past him.

Alex went to his truck, opening the driver’s seat and prodding Michael in his thigh with his middle finger. He peeked up at him through his curls and over his knees, eyes wide and cautious and obscenely gorgeous. Alex held out the coffee and the candy.

“Eat that, it’ll help you feel better,” Alex instructed. Michael nodded and grabbed the items with slightly shaky hands. 

As frustrating as it was to see Michael so distraught over a few rude people, there was also something fascinatingly pure about it. Hell, there was something fascinatingly pure about nearly everything this non-quite-man did. It had Alex’s mind filling with new questions each day. Was he born this way or had he been changed? Was he raised as a wolf? Was he given the option? Had he been in these woods with Alex their entire lives and somehow never crossed paths? 

Alex filled the gas cans in the back of his truck as quickly as possible, climbing back in once he was done and heading home. He was exhausted already and it was hardly noon. He rightfully blamed Michael.

“You good now?” he asked after they’d been shrouded by the trees on the path to the cabin for a good fifteen minutes. Michael had lifted his head entirely, sucking on the sour candy that made him make disgusted faces, but he kept on because Alex had told him to. He’d follow it up by taking sips of the coffee that caused an even more distressed face from the clashing tastes, but he persisted nonetheless. “‘Cause my brother is coming over and I need you to feel like a real person.”

“I am real,” Michael answered.

“Yeah, you can’t talk like that.”

“I…” Michael started, but he stopped himself and shifted, “Alright.”

When they pulled up to the cabin, Michael grabbed the bag of clothes they’d gotten, his trash, and went to help with the gas cans. Alex rationalized that that was a big reason why he didn’t mind having Michael around. He pulled his weight.

“Do you feel better?” Alex asked as they got settled in the outside area, filling a bag with frozen deer meat for Greg.

“Yes,” Michael said, but his eyes were still a little distanced. It only took a few seconds before he added, “But do you mind if I shift?”

Alex blinked in surprise, but he quickly shoved that away. “Yeah, of course, do whatever you need.”

Michael nodded and started heading inside to go do just that. Alex almost stopped him to wait until after Greg got here and left, but he figured he could say he dropped him off before coming home. Alex did have a lot of questions, more pooling in his mind that he supposed he could wait until he wanted to shift back. Maybe them healing faster in wolf form applied to emotional wounds as well.

A few minutes later, someone‒Greg‒knocked on the door. Alex brought the bag of deer meat into the house with him as he went to go open the door. Michael was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh, you really want me to leave as soon as I got here, don’t you?” Greg asked as Alex immediately handed the bag to him. He shrugged a dismissive shoulder. “You remember Isobel, right?”

Alex looked over towards the tall blonde that stood behind him. Her makeup was faint and her hair was down and her clothes were plain. It almost made Alex feel bad. When Greg had first met her, he’d excitedly showed Alex pictures of her since he was the only one he could go to about a girl who was from out of town. She looked lively and always dressed to the nines in every picture, regardless of how mundane the situation. That town had successfully forced her to conform. 

“Yeah,” Alex said, “I picked her up from work that day.”

“Yeah, I know, but you’re, well, Alex,” Greg said. He didn’t need to elaborate for Alex to get what he meant by that.

They barely had a second of silence pass between them before Isobel’s face suddenly lit up, looking much more like those pictures. Alex looked behind him at that and saw that Michael, fully wolfed-up, had made himself known. Alex stepped to the side and she took that as her invitation to go pet him.

Except it seemed a little more than that. Isobel dropped to her knees and Michael immediately jumped all over her, licking her face as she hugged him and pet him. Alex couldn’t help but feel extremely confused by that.

Clearly, so was Greg because he felt the need to say, “She really likes dogs.”

“I see that,” Alex noted. The two of them sat there on the ground even as Michael calmed down, just hugging each other. For a moment, Alex recalled Michael saying his sister much preferred living as a human. Was it possible that she… No. No, that’d be crazy.

“When, uh, when did you get a dog?” Greg asked, a little too much emphasis on the word ‘dog’. Alex licked his lips as he watched the two of them. Isobel seemed to be whispered into Michael’s fur, slowly but surely convincing him that maybe she was that sister he spoke about.

“He was hurt, took ‘em in,” Alex explained. Greg just nodded in a kind of stilted way. Alex looked between Isobel and Greg a few times, slowly but surely milling things over in his mind. Did Greg know? Was he also just harbouring one of them?

Oh, what would Daddy Manes say if he knew what his boys were up to?

“Iz,” Greg said after a moment, clearing his throat, “We gotta get back for dinner with my dad.”

Isobel looked over at him with sort of a neutral expression before she nodded. She kissed Michael’s fur and scratched behind his ear and he gave a little whine when she pulled away. Alex stared at her pretty intently as she stood back up and looked at him. She gave him a small smile.

“He’s a very nice dog,” Isobel said. Alex nodded.

“Yeah,” he agreed. They stared at each other for a while, longer than what Alex was taught was socially acceptable. Neither of them cared.

Greg cleared his throat.

“We’ll see you later, Alex,” Greg said, giving him a goodbye nod. Isobel reached for his hand and he took it, leading the way as they headed to his truck. Alex closed the door behind them and turned to the wolf that seemed to continue to take over his life.

“Was that your sister?” Alex asked him. Michael just stared up at him, his animalistic features making it difficult to receive confirmation. “Okay. Lunch?”

Michael stayed close, disregarding the boundaries they’d established when he was in human form. Honestly, Alex didn’t really mind. It was strange, but he was infinitely more comfortable with the wolf version of him snuggling up to his side, laying at his feet, rubbing up against him for pets than he was with the human man that breathed too heavy and still put his clothes on backwards.

After lunch, with not much to do, Alex laid on the couch and grabbed a book. Michael, in all his fluffy glory, sprawled across him. He got through maybe a chapter before the not-quite-wolf captured his attention. It was easy to just wrap his arms around him and hide his face in his fur. It was easy to focus on his steady breathing and the way he cuddled close despite his lack of human grip. Which, honestly, was what made it easy. People left and judged and spoke. Animals… There seemed to be an unspoken dedication that Alex could appreciate.

He could remember the last time he took a nap in the middle of the day before that.

-

Forrest: heard you got a new man. Feel like I shouldn't be surprised.

Alex rolled his eyes, throwing his phone back on the bed and grabbed his brush. Michael watched him with those intense eyes like always and still said nothing. Alex got to work braiding his hair.

It had taken a few days, but eventually Michael was ready to be human again. Alex woke up that morning with him snoring and naked, body cold from the lack of fur and basically burying himself into Alex to chase heat. It was clingy and annoying and so fucking hot that Alex wanted to kick him out. But he didn’t.

“More buzzing,” Michael noted as Forrest texted him again.

“Ignore it.”

“Okay.”

Alex pulled the braid over his shoulder to finish it, noticing it had reached his nipples now. A childish thought of how he could finally be a mermaid passed through his brain and he couldn’t help but smile. It was weird to think of how many years he’d wanted to be anything but himself and now he happened to befriend someone who had that choice.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Alex asked as he thought about it, turning to Michael who was eager to give an answer, “Were you always like this? Like, able to shift? Or is, like, the legend a thing and you can be turned?”

Michael paused for a moment, thinking relatively hard as he tried to find the right words. Alex let him as he tied off the end of the braid. He sat back on the bed and Michael, the king of needing physical touch, made sure their thighs were touching. Alex didn’t mind.

“Both is true. I was born like this. My parents were both this,” Michael said, “But they died. Or left. Or something. I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean you’re not sure?”

Michael shrugged. “I don’t remember. They were gone when I was a baby. I was by myself a lot.” 

Alex felt an uncharacteristic pang of empathy and he reached out, rubbing his arm slightly.

“I’m sorry to hear that. That must’ve been scary.”

“A little. I got good at hiding during hunts and stuff and a few people fed me when they didn’t realize I was a wolf because I was small. But one of the elders, Aliya, she found me and took care of me. She taught me to go human during hunts for safety. She died too,” Michael said. He seemed very flippant about that word, like so many people he’d loved died. And most of them were probably at the hand of Alex’s family. Wasn’t that just horrifying?

“What about your sister‒that’s Isobel, right?” Alex clarified. Michael stared at him for a minute, almost like he was scared to confirm it. Alex just squeezed his bicep in comfort. (It was obscenely muscular and almost ruined the mood, but Alex was adult enough to cover that up.)

“She… Don’t tell her I said so,” Michael said quickly. Alex nodded. “Yes. But she isn’t my real sister, we just…”

“Take care of each other?” Alex filled in. Michael nodded in agreement. It had Alex wondering a little bit what had stopped her from going to get him on the night of the hunt. Maybe it had to do with Greg, but even that felt weird. The whole thing was weird. “I get that.”

“Humans can become like us, though,” Michael said, changing the subject. Alex didn’t mind. Whatever was going on with her really wasn’t his business. “We can bite right here.” Michael reached up and pressed his fingers to Alex’s neck.

“Just right there?”

“Yes, I think,” he said, nodding, “But it’s scary. You can die if it’s wrong.”

“Have you ever done it?” Alex asked, his hand moving from his arm to tuck a few loose curls behind his ear. Michael kept that intense look. 

“No, never,” he insisted, “I don’t think it’s good.”

“Not even if I asked?” Alex said. Michael’s eyes seemed to widen just a little bit more, trying to register his words as Alex continued to fiddle with the ends of his hair. He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing. “Kidding.”

Michael swallowed harshly and stared, leaning a bit closer. Alex wasn’t sure if he should move or not. But Michael didn’t cross any boundaries‒or, not really‒and instead did that thing he did when he wasn’t human. He nudged his nose into Alex’s cheek and then buried his face in the crook of his neck.

Alex leaned back against the pillows and moved his hand to the back of his head, letting him lay there for a moment. Michael had gotten dressed more for a desire to be warm than a desire to be clothed, so Alex wasn’t surprised when he moved his hand up and put it over Alex’s collarbone. His fingers slipped beneath his shirt. Alex still had no desire to push him away.

“Did you ever think about being human and moving into the town?” Alex asked, gently scratching his nails against his scalp.

“When Izzy did. I didn’t wanna be alone,” he whispered. 

“What stopped you?”

“I found Max,” Michael said. That was the first time he ever mentioned someone named Max. Alex didn’t know what to say to that, so he just kept scratching his head and waited. “He’s my brother.”

“Where’s he?”

“I got hurt,” Michael told him, voice softer than before. Alex wrapped his other arm around him. “I’m not sure where he is. We got split up and you found me, so he’s probably out there.”

“Do you miss him?” Michael nodded. It was the first time that Alex considered that Michael might actually leave for real. Why was that so much scarier than him staying? “Do you want to go back into the woods?”

“I want to find him,” Michael said instead, “So he knows I’m okay.”

Alex dragged his thumb over Michael’s jaw, staring up at where the wall met the ceiling. His great grandfather on his mother’s side had built this little cabin back in the late 40s when the Manes had changed the status quo from killing wolves for protection to killing wolves for glory, moving out into the woods to make a statement that it wasn’t dangerous. His great grandma and his grandma had lived in the town for awhile after that, though, and his grandma only moved out here after she’d had two kids and her husband died. 

Alex’s mother had been raised in this tiny cabin with her brother and her mother, fully living off the land like it should’ve been. To this day, he still never understood how exactly his mother met his father and why she liked him enough to have four children with him. It felt like a disconnect. Why would she choose that over this?

But it didn’t matter. This cabin, small and quaint as it was, was a statement of rebellion and family and change. Who would Alex be if he tried to make Michael stay? Even if he wanted him to?

“You can go, if you want.”

Michael sucked in a deep breath and nuzzled in a little closer. 

“And I could come back?”

“Always.”

They fell silent like they usually did, soft touches still being given. They didn’t really need to discuss the logistics. He would probably leave and he would probably come back. Alex had been alone for a long time before‒he liked being alone‒it wasn’t some dramatic thing. This was just a wolf person he’d housed for the last three weeks. It wouldn’t be a drastic change.

It was only when Michael tilted his head and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck that Alex realized he was beyond fucked.

-

“Stop talking.”

“Then you talk. C’mon, tell me how good I‒”

Alex coved Forrest’s mouth with his hand, chasing his release with each thrust of his hips and trying to get the man under him to stop fucking ruining it. 

It was perhaps Alex’s own fault, though. Michael had left to go find his brother four days prior and Alex, for the first time ever, felt lonely. It was weird sleeping alone and it was weird gardening alone and it was weird eating alone. He missed the annoying heavy breathing and the too much touching. Staring at the unused pile of clothes felt like they were taunting him. So he called Forrest up. It was dumb of Alex to think it was a valid replacement.

The man was still a little burned by Alex “moving on” and felt the need to show that by attempting to be bossy. It had Alex wondering how he even dealt with him in the first place. He liked the silence that came with living with a literal wolf much more than the ramblings of a man who claimed to be an animal in bed.

“Fuck,” Alex grunted as he finished, catching his breath for a second before pulling out and rolling onto the other side of the couch. Forrest seemed to be silenced by his own climax which, honestly, was a blessing.

A blessing that didn’t last nearly long enough.

“So, why’d you call? New guy not doing it for you?” Forrest asked. Alex rolled his eyes and groaned, wanting for him to just shut the fuck up for a few minutes. Forrest kicked his leg to get him to answer. 

“Why do you care? I made it clear we aren’t a thing,” Alex said.

“Yeah, but I at least deserve to know who else you’re fucking for my own safety. Like, when’s the last time you’ve been tested?”

“I’m not fucking anyone else,” Alex huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “And I got tested, like, last month. Which, again, haven’t fucked anyone else.”

“Well, then who’s that guy everyone saw you with? You know shit spreads fast in that town when it involves a Manes,” Forrest told him. Alex closed his eyes. “You’re known whether you want to be or not.”

“Oh my God, will you fuck off?” Alex asked, pushing himself to his feet, “It’s none of your business, nor is it anyone else’s. I’m out here for a reason.”

“Which I still don’t get. You’re a Manes, your family runs this town. Why aren’t you basking in that?” Forrest asked. Alex walked to the kitchen and grabbed a towel, wiping himself down and trying not to be irritated.

“Why would I want to? I fucking hate it,” Alex said, “The only reason I hooked up with you in the first place was because I thought you got that.”

“And I do, on some level. I don’t wanna be associated with my family either. But the difference is my family is a bunch of annoying bigots, your family runs a town.”

“A town full of idiotic, cold-hearted people who thrive off the glory of murdering innocent animals for generations,” Alex scoffed, “And you think I want that tacked onto my name?”

“No one fucks with you because of your name, Alex.”

“No, no one fucks with me because they think I’m some fucking creature of the night.”

“And you do nothing to dispute that, by the way.”

“Because I don’t give a shit! Let them think what they want.”

“Sometimes I think your dad was right,” Forrest said, his words making Alex freeze in place. He looked up slowly, seeing Forrest just standing there completely naked and with none of the charm that Michael’s nudity had. The power those words held, the ‘your dad was right’, hit Alex square in the chest. He hated it.

“What did you just say to me?” Alex asked. Forrest shifted under his gaze, his angry stance swaying just a little bit with the fear that came with being stared down by a man with the last name Manes. Alex felt he was the least scary of them all, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know what he was capable of. 

“After I first met you, your dad cornered me and told me to tell him if there was anything sketchy about you and he’d make sure I was safe in town. And there is something sketchy about you. This, this whole isolation thing and your weird indiviuality complex is fucking weird. You do know humans are social creatures, right? We’re supposed to feel more comfort being close, not being separated. Sometimes I think maybe you really are what the rumors say,” Forrest said. 

“So you were hooking up with me because my father told you to?” Alex clarified slowly, his body filling with anger and something akin to betrayal. It wasn’t like he’d ever really put anything into a relationship with Forrest, but, fuck, he did think they were at least friends on some level.

“No,” Forrest said quickly, shaking his head, “No, that was my choice. He just… took advantage of that. But still.”

“No, what the fuck have you told my dad?” Alex scoffed.

“I told him you self isolate and that’s probably a mental issue,” Forrest said, having the audacity to sound like he cared, “That isn’t normal, Alex.”

“Fuck you,” he said, shaking his head, “Seriously, fuck you. Why would I want to be normal? Why can’t I just do what I want? Why the fuck do you buy into bullshit standards that are set for us? You even said it yourself, everyone in that fucking town conforms to the same bullshit ideology. Why are you buying it?”

“I like you, Alex,” Forrest said softly, “But I’m worried about you. So’s your dad.”

“Oh my God,” Alex breathed, a small hysterical bout of laughter raking through his system. He felt so stupid. So stupid for thinking that someone else, someone human, would get it. “Get out.”

“Alex‒”

“No, get out. You don’t know shit about my dad if you think he’s worried about me. Get the fuck out of my house.”

It took a few minutes too long, but eventually Forrest was gone and Alex was left with more regrets than ever. How the hell did he let someone into his space? He’d known for his entire life that humans were shitty and thrived off their stupid hive-mind. Why did he think Forrest was any different? Was it the blue hair? The fact that he was intrigued by Alex’s way of life until he realized how in depth it was? Why?

 He missed Michael.

-

Gregory Manes showed up unannounced early one morning, no coffee in hand.

“I’ve come to expect coffee from you and now I’m disappointed,” Alex said flatly. 

“I know that you know,” Greg responded instead, voice a little on edge. It was how Alex noticed the way he was fidgeting. “But the hunt’s tonight and Isobel’s out there and you know the woods better than anyone else. Help me.”

Alex had to blink a few times to fully process what he was asking. He figured that Isobel had probably gone to fetch Michael before the hunt. He wanted to reassure him, to tell him they’d probably be fine, but Michael had been shot last time. And, honestly, he was a little eager to see him again. 

“Okay.”

Greg waited for him to get dressed and braid his hair. They filled their water bottles and stuffed a bag with two blankets in case they shifted and needed cover. Then they headed out into the woods to find their respective objects of affection. It was strange that they had this thing in common and both of them seemed very determined not to elaborate. Alex had no idea what Greg knew, Greg had no idea what Alex knew, and they were both aware of how dangerous it could be to share information. So they didn’t.

Alex didn’t really know where the wolves went when they were out and about. He rarely saw them and, when he did, they kept their distance. He never felt the need to bother them before. They shared space, it was free reign. That meant he really had no idea where the hell he was going. 

It was the definition of wandering. Neither of them spoke or tried to call out for the wolves they wanted to protect, deciding to keep it to themselves. Truly, it was more for Greg’s safety than Alex’s. If all the wolves were like Michael and Isobel, that meant they knew exactly who the Manes were. Alex didn’t hunt them, but Greg did. Maybe he didn’t shoot, but he was there. It had Alex wondering if Isobel suffered any judging from other wolves for being with him.

They walked for hours, going deeper into the woods than even Alex really hadn’t gone since he was an angry 13 year old who ran out of school and into the woods. His father had assembled a search party after six hours of him being gone only for his grandmother to find him in a clearing, eating berries she’d taught him were safe.

They reached that same clearing around noon after a solid five hours of walking and decided to take a small break.

“Dad’s gonna kill us when he finds out,” Greg sighed as they sat down on a log. Alex shook his head.

“Why are you going to tell him?” 

“Didn’t say I was. He’s just… Dad. He knows,” Greg said. He had a point. The worst part about his father was that he was one of the smartest men Alex had ever met. He had a military background and was a born leader who had studied human psychology to only boost that more. He could read body language too well. The idea that Greg even brought Isobel over to his house for dinner felt like bringing her into a trap.

“Why do you let Isobel around him?” Alex asked. Greg huffed a laugh.

“I tried not to. Even, even before I found out about all this. I didn’t want her influenced by him,” Greg said, giving a stupid little laugh, “But she has been, so…”

“Does she spend enough time out here? I think it makes a difference,” Alex said, keeping his words as vague as possible. He knew Michael handled things by shifting. It wasn’t even like he was trying to run away from the problems, it seemed to be more about things making more sense in the mind of a wolf. 

“I don’t think so,” Greg admitted softly. Alex nodded. He wasn’t very good with words and he didn’t know how he was supposed to comfort him in that moment. Was he supposed to say it gets better? That it’d be fine? That she wasn’t out here because she was mad at him? Because he didn’t know any of that.

“If you wanna, like… spend more time out at the cabin… It was your grandma’s too,” Alex said as if that was helpful. And it seemed to be because Greg smiled.

Maybe it would’ve been more heartwarming if a low growl didn’t come from behind them.

They both looked over to see a wolf, bigger than Michael, growling at them with his head bowed and eyes narrowed. It was a similar tactic to the one Michael had used in an attempt to run off Forrest, but this time Alex actually did find it intimidating. This wolf seemed out for blood.

The two of them jumped off the log as the wolf took a step closer.

“It’s okay,” Alex said softly, holding out his hands to show that he wasn’t a threat, “It’s okay, we’re not going to hurt you.”

It was stupid of him to think what worked with Michael would work with this wolf. Alex caught the moment the wolf lunged and immediately pushed his brother out of the way. Before the wolf could get to him though, another one tackled it out of the way.

Alex and Greg both fell to the ground as they watched the two fight with wide eyes. It was jarring and confusing and Alex only got more horrified when he realized one of them was Michael. But it wasn’t like they could do anything. They just had to wait.

Eventually, Isobel, barefoot in human form, appeared. Her hair was a mess and her clothes were thrown on like she’d shifted in the woods beside some hidden stash of clothes. She whistled loudly, efficiently breaking the two wolves up.

“Thanks,” Greg told her. She simply walked over and held her hand out to him, helping him to his feet. 

Before Alex could get to his, Michael came to him and instantly started to greet him with licks and nuzzles. Alex shamelessly accepted them, scratching behind his ears.

“Hi,” he said softly and Michael damn near purred in response. God, he missed him.

“We need to get out of the woods, they’re going to prepare for the hunt soon,” Isobel said sternly. It was more words than Alex had ever heard her actually speak and he sort of understood why. There was a comforting, yet commanding lilt to her voice. It was impossible not to obey.

“We can go to my cabin,” Alex offered despite the fact that part of him actively hated the idea of packing his house with that many bodies. However, he could suffer one night with it.

Besides, he could close the door and only focus on Michael being back in his bed.

“Let’s go.”

- 

“I’m sorry for almost attacking you. I’ve never seen any Manes that weren’t a threat.”

“It’s alright.”

Alex didn’t say anything. He just let Greg accept the apology from Max and Max could just take the fact he let him in his house as enough of a compromise.

It was dark by the time they all got settled in the cabin and all in human form. Michael and Max had to shift back and Alex witnessed it for the first time. It looked ungodly painful and, according to the looks on their faces, it was. Their bodies were morphing in different ways and contorting unlike anything Alex had ever seen. But then they’d both stretched, bones cracking, and they were fine.

Michael put on his clothes, but Max was a little harder. He was taller and broader than Michael and Alex and it wasn’t like Greg had clothes in his truck. He had to just settle for pants that didn’t quite reach his ankles and a jacket.

“Coffee?” Michael whispered, his breath hot against the back of Alex’s neck. He was hovering and touchy, but Alex honestly didn’t mind. He had a bad taste in his mouth after the night before and he’d sort of missed the way he wanted to be close.

“It’s night time,” Alex pointed out. Michael hummed and pressed a kiss to his neck. Logically, Alex knew that meant nothing. Michael was a fucking wolf, he didn’t know what constituted as romantic and platonic affection. But, still, it was getting difficult to make sense of it.

But, then again, his brother was sleeping with a wolf, so it must be okay.

“Coffee,” Michael repeated. Alex huffed a laugh.

“Fine.”

They made coffee and joined the other three in the room. Max had sat on the floor and Isobel had chosen to sit in Greg’s lap on the couch. Alex took the other end of the couch and Michael placed himself at his feet. The siren signalling the beginning of the hunt rang through the air and it didn’t go unnoticed how all the wolves in the room got stiff with discomfort.

“It’s okay, they know not to come close,” Alex promised, hand mindlessly rubbing Michael’s shoulder as he sipped his coffee. 

“Dad’s gonna fucking kill me for skipping,” Greg noted.

“Kill him first,” Max suggested. Alex snorted and nodded in agreement. 

“I wish it was that easy. I don’t even know how to fix any of this at this point. How do we change a whole town’s mindset? Like, no matter what, they’ll be scared and they’ll want the hunt to continue,” Greg complained, making it a little too serious. No one really had a response because he was right. People have tried to make statements before, but they all got virtually shunned out of the town. 

“Well, it doesn’t help that they’re right,” Alex said. That got the wolves attention, but he wasn’t going to back down. “They’re scared of creatures that aren’t quite human, aren’t quite wolf. And they exist. Maybe it’s not the same way they think, but they do. And because of the hunt, the wolves are defensive. Like, Max wanting to attack us. That’s because of what the humans did first. There’s a lot more to stop before we just say no more hunting.”

“How many wolves are even left out there, do you know?” Greg asked. Isobel didn’t answer which made sense since she was in the woods the least.

“Not many,” Michael said.

“A lot left decades ago,” Max chimed in, “Like, at least eight different packs left decades ago. Most of the ones that were left were just stubborn. But, now, with the way things have been going, most of us that are still out there are alone or run in packs of two. Makes it hard to keep a head count.”

“But there are other places? Like, you won’t go extinct or anything?” Greg clarified. Isobel huffed a laugh and shook her head.

They sat up and talked through all the gunshots, trying to provide a distraction. Alex kept his hands on Michael the whole time and Michael did the same. It made it hard to focus entirely, but he did his best. 

Alex, deciding to be nice, offered to let them stay for the night. Greg and Isobel could take the couch and Max seemed content to take the floor. They just all agreed that they would find a better hide out in the morning. Then Alex and Michael went to bed.

Alex changed out of his day clothes into his night ones, deciding that he could force himself and Michael into the shower in the morning. He just wanted to get back into bed with him and maybe steal a more efficient night’s sleep. Maybe. Spending so long touching all casually had him feeling sort of restless. Still, Alex took out his braid and shook his hair out before heading to the bed that Michael had already made himself at home in.

“Can I ask you something?” Alex asked as they stared at each other in the darkness. Michael nodded like he always did. “Why’d you trust me so easily that night of the last hunt? Like Max said he could smell that we were Manes. Why’d you trust me?”

Michael furrowed his eyebrows like he was confused by the question. Alex just waited until he realized he actually wanted an answer.

“I’ve seen you, Alex,” he said simply. It was Alex’s turn to be confused. “I’ve seen you for years. We share space, we always have.”

“So, what, you just trusted me based on watching me?”

“The one who lived here before you fed me when I was small,” Michael explained, “If she trusts you, I trust you.”

Alex let out a heavy breath at that little revelation. He remembered Michael saying that he’d been fed by humans, but he hadn’t quite put it together that it was his grandmother. But, if she had, she had known full well he was a wolf no matter his size. Suddenly, her insistence that they were calm creatures made sense. She fucking fed them. She took care of them.

She took care of him.

“I’m sorry, should I not have said that?” Michael asked.

“I want to kiss you,” Alex said, all those pent up feelings from missing him and wanting him and touching him rushing to the surface. Michael didn’t give him a verbal response.

Instead, he moved forward and placed a soft little kiss on his lips. Alex felt like his whole world shifted into place at that moment. That’s what it was supposed to feel like. Not like getting a fix, but like he was finally fitting somewhere. He’d never felt so welcome and in a good way. There was no hiding. He was wanted because he was him.

Alex exhaled slowly as Michael ended the kiss, still sort of hovering a centimeter away. It really wasn’t enough. 

He dove back in to continue the kiss, making it a little deeper and deliberate than the one that preceded it. Michael laughed as Alex rolled him onto his back, placing himself firmly between his thighs and sliding his tongue past his lips. Michael held him close, kissing back just as feverishly and seeming to enjoy the closeness. Alex wondered if this is what he’d been chasing this whole time.

He didn’t want to stop. He never wanted to stop.

And, with Michael so eager, he didn’t see why he would ever have to.

-

Alex Manes was never one to sleep in, but apparently having sex with a not-quite-man could knock you out for hours.

He woke up to someone knocking on his bedroom door and, as much as he wanted to tell them to go away, he couldn’t. He gently pushed Michael off of him since he’d decided to lay on top of him all night and grabbed his pants off the floor, putting them on before he opened it. It would’ve been all nice and fun if he didn’t open it to his brother looking like a deer caught in headlights.

“Dad’s here,” he said. Alex suddenly felt a lot more awake.

“What?”

“Our father is here,” Greg said, voice hushed as he leaned a bit closer, “And we’re casually harbouring three fucking wolves.”

“Right. Just… right,” Alex said, looking around as he tried to stop feeling so fucking shaken up. He’d spent so many years no giving a shit what his father wanted anymore, but put a hot, naked wolf-man in his bed and suddenly he was fourteen and trying to explain how the first season of Queer as Folk got stashed under his pillow. “Um, let me get dressed. Stall him?”

“Hurry.”

Alex closed the door behind him and Michael lifted his head at the commotion. His curls were an absolute mess and his face was soft, everything about him making it hard to deny when he reached out towards him. Literally all Alex wanted to do was crawl back into bed with him.

Instead, he said, “Get up.”

Michael whined in protest, but Alex was just quickly throwing on clothes and tying his hair back in a bun as he tried to get him to put clothes on. He sat up in slow motion, a pout on his sweet mouth as he tried to listen. Alex grabbed his jaw, kissing him hard and quick in hopes that it would wake him up a bit more. It did, but he seemed to want to use that energy to pull him back into bed.

“No, look, get up, my dad’s here. Put clothes on, okay? Actually, you know what? Stay in here, don’t leave the room, okay?” Alex said. Michael fed off his fear and gave him a concerned look, nodding his head. “Okay.”

Alex pulled on his shoes and left the room, trying to act normal.

His father stood in the doorway of the cabin, face irritated as he spotted Alex over Greg’s shoulder. He was unsure of where Isobel and Max had gone, but he hoped they were somewhere safe. It felt weird to actually care about two people he hardly knew, but he knew Michael cared about them and that was pretty much all that mattered.

“Either of you care to explain to me what’s going on here?” he asked. Greg and Alex didn’t fork over an answer, but nor did they look at each other for one. They knew their father. They weren’t going to show any sign of guilt.

“Just hanging out with my brother,” Greg said.

“And you skipped the hunt for it? Do you know how bad that looks on me? It’s already bad enough that we have Alex hiding out in the woods and then parading around town with strange men all the time. Do neither of you have any ounce of respect for our family name?” he demanded. Alex searched for his confidence as he gave a cocky smile, hoping that it came off as genuine.

“Not really,” he said. Jesse shook his head in disgust.

“For God’s sake, Alex, you’ve really made it your mission to be a disgrace,” Jesse said. No matter how many walls he built up, that still hit him in his chest. He didn’t show it.

“Don’t talk to him like that,” Greg snapped.

“Don’t,” Alex said, shaking his head, “Not worth it.”

Jesse huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I guess I should blame myself for this. I tried so hard to instill comradery in all four of you. Somehow it split into two groups, equally as hard to manage.”

“What do you need, Dad? I’m going hunting tomorrow, so maybe come back in a few days if you need deer,” Alex said. He shook his head.

“No, I had questions about that new friend of yours,” Jesse said, eying Alex. He tried his best not to react. “Forrest told me you had a dog and then you didn’t.”

“I had a dog for, like, two days. It was just one that was hurt and I patched up. He’s gone now,” Alex said, though he couldn’t help but feel a little betrayed. Then again, he knew his father was manipulative as hell. He was pretty sure Forrest had no idea of what his father might take from that little bit of information.

“And that man you were seen with. Where is he from?” Jesse prodded. Alex rolled his eyes.

“Seriously, Dad? You do get that the whole werewolf thing isn’t real, right? It’s a myth,” Alex said. Jesse didn’t buy it. Alex didn’t actually expect him to, but it was worth a shot.

“Both of you are playing with fire,” he said, looking between the two of them, “If I find out what I think I know is true… Both of you will suffer the consequences, do you hear me?”

And Alex heard him loud and clear. It was a simple threat. Stop or I’ll make you stop.

“Okay,” Alex said, “Goodbye.”

He slammed the door shut and locked it, both of them still unable to breathe properly until his truck was gone. It was nerve wracking.

“Alex,” Greg whispered, “I think we’ve dug ourselves into a hole we can’t get out of.”

Alex swallowed harshly and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm down. It was clear that the only alternative to stop or I’ll make you stop was to just leave. He either had to get rid of the wolves or get rid of the town.

And wasn’t that fucked. And, yet, it was simple.”

“I know a way out.”

-

“I feel bad.”

“Don’t.”

“I do.”

Alex held Michael from behind, pressing kisses to the back of his shoulder in an attempt to give him some kind of comfort. After Greg and Alex had talked for a while, they brought up the prospect of leaving the town to the wolves. They’d said it themselves, most of them left. Maybe it was time they did too.

“Maybe we could just go, just me and Izzy and Max. This is your home,” Michael said. Alex sighed and his chest ached at that. He didn’t really want to leave this cabin. It was his and had been passed down for generations. But now that he had confirmation of the beasts he’d been warned about his entire life, it didn’t seem right to stay.

Besides, what was this cabin standing for if not to inspire rebellion?

“I know that sounds like a good idea, but my dad knows we’re hiding something. Even if you leave, we’ve got a target on us,” Alex explained. It was, sadly, the complete truth.

“I’m sorry, Alex,” Michael whispered, that guilt so evident in his voice. Alex shook his head and craned his head over his shoulder to steal a kiss. Michael tried his best to reciprocate, but Alex knew he was hurting and it made it hard. “It’s all my fault.”

“No, it’s my dad’s fault for thinking genocide is a fun bonding activity,” Alex pointed out, “Besides, I promised I‘d keep you safe, right? Let me do that for you.”

Michael sniffled and nodded reluctantly. 

After speaking for the entire day after his father left, the plan was to pack everything up over the next two days and then get the fuck out of town. There was a tiny, woodsy tourist town a coupe states over that sounded appealing. They’d stay in a hotel for a few days until they found work and another cabin in the woods, hopefully one a little bigger so Alex could still keep his space. It would all work out. Probably.

It was funny to think that simply a month prior he never would’ve considered uprooting himself for someone else. But he guess he always did say that, when he found that person who was worth it, he’d know.

And he did know.

"Hey, look at me," Alex coerced and he opened his pretty eyes, "This isn't just because of you. This is right and wrong. He's wrong." 

"Yeah," Michael breathed, "Okay." 

"Let's get up and have breakfast and then we can start packing," Alex told him.

Michael was better once he got up and had Isobel and Max to talk to. He seemed to be reminded that their decision wasn't only about him. They both seemed to understand that, if their siblings hadn't been so directly involved, then maybe they would've decided against leaving. But it wasn't about their own safety, it was about the safety of the ones they loved.

Still, Alex itched for alone time and itched for things to go back to the way they were those three weeks where it was just him and Michael. It was calm and they fit. Now, though, Alex just had to deal with adjusting to socializing until he could find a new place to isolate.

He could do it. He did it for the first 16 years of his life.

Alex cooked for them, admittedly feeling a bit odd at Michael's lack of hovering. They'd only hooked up for the first time two nights ago, but Alex already felt more comfortable with him at his side when he was human. It had Alex wondering just how much of that was the wolf in him that made him addictive.

"I called a buddy of mine from out of town," Greg told him, hair slightly toussled from Isobel's hands more than it was sleep, "He said he could get us a job as farm hands out there for a little while. You think you can handle that?"

Alex nodded despite that being the last thing he wanted to do.

"We're looking for land too, right?" Alex clarified. He could take a little bit of working and living in close quarters, but he knew he'd be right back to being a pissy teenager if it was kept up too long. He needed to be alone.

"Yeah. How much do you have saved up? I was gonna go transfer my bank account so dad can't track us," he explained. Alex shrugged. 

"Few thousand. It's all in cash," he answered. Greg nodded as he absorbed that information.

"Okay. I'll see what I can do. It might take a little while to get self-sufficient," Greg said, "Property taxes 'n all."

The more Alex thought about it, the more he felt uncomfortable. He knew leaving was the right thing, he did. But he'd finally gotten to a good place.

"How about this," Alex said, "Once we get a cabin, I stay there and start a garden and hunt. You and Isobel can work since you like being around people." Greg gave him a stupid, older brother look. "Don't. I'll pull my weight and I'll work for awhile, but I can't do that forever or we're all fucked and you know it."

"Yes, but you're used to feeding yourself and maybe Michael. This is stepping up to five people."

"You seem to forget I fed the whole town every hunt. And Max prefers being a wolf, so he can feed himself," Alex pointed out. Greg sighed and nodded.

"I'll try to make it work, okay?" 

"Good."

Alex finished up and made all five plates, dispersing them. Michael took that as his opportunity to hover again and Alex loved it. He stood behind him, nuzzling his nose into Alex's jaw and giving his neck kissed in between bites. He felt so shameless and that was a wonderful feeling.

After they are, Greg, Isobel, and Max left to go pack up things from his house and deal with his bank account. It finally left Alex and Michael alone and Alex felt like he could finish fucking breathe again.

"I'm gonna miss this," Alex admitted as they walked into his bedroom, "Being alone with you all the time."

The plan was to pack, but Michael wrapped his arms around him and dragged him towards the bed. He didn't fight him, instead he just laughed and complied. Except it didn't turn into anything sexy. Michael picked up his brush and took it upon himself to brush Alex's hair before braiding it. Apparently all that intense watching wasn't mindless.

He tied the braid off and tugged him back a bit, pressing a kiss to his jaw. Alex turned into it, sealing the kiss easily. How had he gone all his life without those kisses?

“And you’re sure you won’t hate us for making you leave?” Michael clarified mid-kiss. Alex breathed him in.

“No. You’re just finally giving me an excuse to get away from my dad,” he admitted. Michael nodded and pulled him in for another kiss that quickly escalated into more.

Within the next two days, they found themselves all packed up and ready to go start anew. Alex’s heart broke a little knowing that he was leaving his cabin, but he told himself over and over that it was for the best. It was the only way to get away from his dad and all the shitty connotations that came with that town.

He was going to get away. He was going to breathe again.

He was finally free.

[ayla-221bee]

The Five Times That Greg made Breakfast- 6-  Mycroft makes breakfast.

  Previous chapter:https://hogwartsjaguar97.tumblr.com/post/627951450644971520/the-five-times-greg-made-breakfast-5-french

+1 Full English

Mycroft could not find the perfect moment to ask Greg that question. He carried the ring box all the time in the inner pocket of his suit jacket or in his briefcase, only putting it in the back of his sock index at the end of the day. He wanted to be prepared and would be able to propose once he had discovered the perfect moment to do so.

He had planned to ask over romantic dinners in high-end establishments but they had never gone to plan. Greg had been called out to work in between before the main course had arrived often. He had planned to propose in a quiet pub in Sussex after a lovely walk in the countryside with their new rescue dog, Rupert, but they ended up getting caught in a large shower of torrential rain and hailstones before they could reach the pub.

Mycroft tried to think of other suitable times and locations when he could propose with limited success. He just knew that it had to be perfect for Greg, he deserved nothing less for willingly putting up with his world of chaos and his quirks and he was a saint for all he had done for Sherlock over the years, among many other qualities that made him an absolutely perfect human being.

It would be simply foolish not to marry him.   He was an amazing cook and he baked his own bread; it would be the most stupid decision to not marry Gregory Lestrade.  

It was that morning that Mycroft decided that he would make Greg breakfast in bed.  Greg had often made him breakfast and did spoil him in the morning, even on his days off, by bringing him a mug of tea on the bedside table for when he woke up, occasionally with a homemade scone and jam on the side.

It only seemed perfectly fair to return the favour. Greg had done it for him so many times without a word or had to be asked, only doing it so out of love. It made Mycroft somewhat envious at times that Greg was able to allow himself to be loved and was able to show and express love with great ease.  He had so much love to give that he was almost radiant. He had a never-ending supply of it within him. He was not just a great man, he was also a good one.

He managed to slip out of the bed undetected, Greg was still snoring away with Rupert in the bed. Mycroft could not help smiling to himself, it was had become a favourite sight of his recently.  He had insisted to Greg that Rupert was going to be a dog that would not be allowed on the furniture on in the bed when they had adopted him. It had lasted all of five minutes before Rupert had made himself comfortable on the plush sofa right when they had brought him for the first time.

Mycroft often wondered if he had grown soft over the years. He reluctantly had to admit that he had turned as soft and melty almost like the inside of a marshmallow that had been burnt by a campfire. Almost gooey, he would never tell anyone that information, it would surely ruin him! He had a reputation to maintain, thank you very much!

Mycroft stared at the contents of the fridge for several moments before he closed it again, opening it again only moments later as if that alone would be able to help him find inspiration.  He did a similar action with all of the cupboards before he let out a heavy sigh when he realised that he did not know what would be suitable for breakfast or what he could actually make.

He never used to bother with breakfast until Greg arrived in his life and started to make his breakfast for him.  He had what Greg referred to as ‘liquid breakfast,’ until around one o’clock when he had his lunch, only having tea and the occasional coffee until he had a moment to actually eat.

With an annoyed grumble, Mycroft pulled out the packet of emergency ginger nuts that were only brought up when he was stuck on a tricky problem at work.

He wanted to make Greg a wonderful breakfast and it would be almost criminal to make him a subpar breakfast. He briefly considered ordering breakfast to the house and could decant it onto his own plates in the attempt to pretend that had cooked.

Mycroft shook his head to himself; he would hate to start the morning with a fib.   It was with the loud sigh that Mycroft reached into the fridge and pulled out a box of eggs and a packet of bacon. He tried to ignore the feeling that he was somewhat like his brother with this experiment in the kitchen.

Greg woke up to the smell of burning in the kitchen and the empty space in the bed. He could hear Mycroft mutter to himself in the kitchen, occasionally cursing.

He briefly entertained the idea that Mycroft had been cooking in the kitchen, but he quickly ignored the idea, it was more likely that the flat had been ambushed with armature arsonists than Mycroft making breakfast.

With great reluctance, Greg put on his dressing gown and left the bedroom.  

“Some guard dog that you are,” he grumbled to the dog that was in the bed, snoozing away, only moving to stretch out in the middle of the bed in a makeshift nest of the duvet.

He was surprised to see that Mycroft’s dressing gown was covered in flour and he was scrubbing at a burnt pan, muttering to himself. His cheeks were pink and he looked rather frazzled.  On the counter was the attempt of a full English, the bacon looked rather underdone, the toast was somewhat burnt and could not be salvaged. The fried eggs looked rather rubbery; the beans were congealed in one solid mass on the plate.  Greg was not sure what happened to the mushrooms or the tomatoes, he was rather afraid to ask about them.

“Are you doing okay, Myc?” Greg cautiously asked, keeping somewhat a distance from Mycroft by the kitchen.

Mycroft looked up from the sink and shot him a somewhat sheepish look. “I am not ‘okay,’” Mycroft grumbled, throwing the sponge into the sink with a sigh.

“Did you try to make me breakfast?” Greg asked, incredibly moved by the gesture even if the food was somewhat unreadable.  “What was the occasion?”

He started to pick at the plate when Mycroft did not answer and just looked mortified at the mess that he had made. “Greg, you don’t need to eat this,” he mumbled in response as Greg started to cover the plate in tomato sauce in the attempt to make the food somewhat edible.

“This is the sweetest thing that you’ve ever done for me,” Greg beamed, wrapped his arms around Mycroft’s waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. “What have I done to deserve this?”

“You don’t deserve this!” Mycroft protested. “I should have just ordered in breakfast and put it on my own plates instead of letting you see this mess. I am not exactly marriage material if I cannot even make toast without it burning to a crisp.”

Greg pulled back from the embrace, surprised from the words that had left Mycroft’s mouth.  “Marriage material?”  he asked, not quite believing his own ears.

It was the thing that he had least expected to hear from Mycroft’s mouth.  He had entertained the idea of getting married to Mycroft often enough but did not think that Mycroft would not want to do so.  He had been rather nervous to bring up the topic of marriage himself, almost afraid what Mycroft would say.

They had a rather happy and domestic life much to Greg’s surprise. They had even reached the stage where they had a dog and enjoyed walks in the countryside together. They had even talked about the future together and what they would do when they eventually retired. The only thing that Greg knew for certain was that he wanted to spend it with Mycroft.  If someone told him years ago that Mycroft Holmes would be in a kitchen wearing an apron and attempting to make him breakfast, Greg would not have believed it.

“I can hardly be considered to be a suitable husband if I could not even make you breakfast,” Mycroft grumbled, unaware of what he had said.

“Are you wanting to get married?” Greg asked, shuffling somewhat awkwardly on the kitchen tiles.

“To you, I would very much like to,” Mycroft said without a moment of hesitation. “I have been wanting to propose, I have not found the right moment to ask.”

Greg swallowed hard; he could practically count the seconds as they passed him. He discreetly pinched himself in the hopes that he was not dreaming, it had been a rather strange morning, it had to be perfectly honest. “Why don’t you ask me now?” He asked, suddenly finding the strength to talk.

“Greg,” Mycroft said with a somewhat frustrated sigh. “This isn’t a perfect moment. I was wanting to wait until the perfect moment.”

“Make it a perfect moment then,” Greg said with a shrug.

Mycroft let out a heavy sigh and wiped his hands with a tea towel. He looked somewhat sheepish and embarrassed. He cleared his throat several times and fiddled with the tie of his dressing-gown nervously.  “Marry me,” he said.

“Is that an order?” Greg asked with a grin, teasing. “You are demanding that I marry you?”

“It is not like I am asking if you want to sign a petition, Gregory,” Mycroft comment, a shy smile was on his face. “Would you like to marry me? There is little reason to hesitate.”

Greg considered the matter carefully and looked at Mycroft’s disaster of a full English breakfast with great care. “I’ll marry you,” he said, the grin making his way across his features. “Only if you promise to never make breakfast ever again.”

Mycroft happily agreed to his proposition.  The smile on his face was breath-taking.

@piemaker-from-gallifrey @cannon-32

[innitmarvellous]

Uh...I mentioned before that I was writing sort of a little Mystrade fanfic. I guess it's not really good, so I don't know about posting it on AO3 or elsewhere. But I would still like to know what others think, so...dear people of Tumblr, I would be really happy if you could tell me your opinion of my writing 😊 (Please note that English isn't my first language, hence the probably quite wonky grammar)

And now...well, let's just start 🤔

-

DI Greg Lestrade sat at his desk in his Scotland Yard office. It was just another one of these dreary days at work. Lots of files and papers were piling up on his desk, but he didn’t look at any of them. Instead of working he just stared out of the window, deeply lost in thoughts. A few weeks had passed since the incident at Sherrinford. And even though life followed its normal course again - well, more or less - he just couldn’t help but think of the events. And more specifically, he couldn’t stop thinking of what happened to Mycroft Holmes back there. Well, to be entirely honest, it had started way before the incident: he often caught himself thinking of Sherlock’s older brother. The two of them had met quite a few times over the last years - mostly because of Sherlock or some work-related things, so he knew Mycroft quite well by now. But still...Greg had sometimes wondered why Mycroft took up a really big part of his thoughts. And it just seemed to get worse every day. But it wasn’t until shortly before the Sherrinford incident that Greg finally realized something and the realization hit him like a ton of bricks: he had developed feelings for the other man. He wasn’t sure how or when that happened - but then again, he rather wondered by then why he didn’t notice his feelings earlier because everything seemed quite natural to him after he realized it. But even after this, he kept his feelings to himself. He had no idea how to bring up the subject in one of their few conversations. And he didn’t expect Mycroft to reciprocate his feelings anyway.

But then Sherrinford happened and Sherlock had asked Greg to take care of his brother. Of course he hadn’t hesitated a moment when asked and he and Mycroft had talked quite a few times right after the incident. Greg noticed quickly that even though Sherlock didn’t seem to care that much about his brother, he was right about one thing: Mycroft really wasn’t as strong as he thought he was. He rarely ever showed many emotions and even less weaknesses. But he was clearly shaken up after the past events. Greg was glad he could be there for Mycroft and they had even gotten relatively close, but at the same time he still couldn’t help but wish for more. Sometimes Mycroft looked really sad and weary, but only when he thought Greg wouldn’t notice anything. At such occasions Greg just really wanted to hug and comfort him, but he never found the courage to do so. Instead he just tried to enjoy their shared time and the knowledge that he was now one of the people closest to Mycroft. Whatever much that would mean with someone who was so distant as the older Holmes brother. Anyway, over the course of the last weeks their meetings became less frequent and everything slowly went back to how it was before. And Greg wasn’t sure whether he should be happy about that.

The phone rang and Greg snapped back into reality. The call was just something related to a case which he recently managed to solve, and so he continued his train of thought. They last met two weeks ago, which felt like an eternity to him. He could give Mycroft a call again, but when they last met the other man had made it quite clear that he felt alright again and didn’t need Greg’s help anymore. Of course he hadn’t worded it like exactly that, but Greg had got the message. And of course Mycroft was lying - after everything what he had to endure in the past and what happened to him just recently there was just no way that he was alright or even fine. Talking about it was painful though and so Mycroft always preferred to keep his thoughts about the matter to himself, a thought Greg could understand really well. Still...he decided that he would probably hate himself forever if the didn’t take one more chance. And so he grabbed his phone and called Mycroft.

Just two hours later Greg heard a knock on his office door and Mycroft Holmes entered the room. He gave a short greeting and came straight to the point. “Gregory, I think I made myself quite clear at our last meeting. I’m thankful for your support on this matter, but I’m really quite fine - and I always was. And you don’t need to feel obliged to meet up with me just because Sherlock told you so.” Greg missed the opportunity to say that he genuinely wanted to help, not because he felt obliged to do so. And he wasn't surprised that Mycroft knew that Sherlock had asked Greg to look after him, even though he never told him. After all this time, he got kind of used to Mycroft just knowing things.

"Be that as it may, you are here now though." Greg knew that Mycroft still tensed up at the mention of Sherrinford or especially the name of his sister Eurus. And it wasn't entirely fair, but Greg has used this knowledge to his benefit. He just knew that Mycroft would come to his office if he casually dropped this words, but he felt more that a bit of guilt over that. He suspected that - despite whatever else he might claim - Mycroft still felt uneasy about having to rewrite Sherlock's memories and lying to their parents about what happened to Eurus. The events had strained the relationship between Mycroft and his parents even more than it already was before. And once more Greg wished that he could actually do something to help the man he fell in love with.

"Yes, I obviously am, though I really shouldn't have come here and I can't stay long. I shouldn't even have left the office with the things currently going on in the world... Oh, please don't ask me for more details or you might get a visit from...let's just say, some people which are very good at their job." Greg flinched a bit at this threat which kind of sounded like an ironic remark, but could prove only too true.

"I know, I know. And I know you're doing a really important job for our country. But, you know...your own matters are important too. Look at it this way: you wouldn't want your private problems to have a negative influence on your ability to do your job, don't you?"

That was apparently a quite amusing notion to Mycroft, as he smiled sardonically. "Please Gregory, even you should know that I would never allow that to happen. And honestly, you can't compare a single person's matters to the security of an entire nation." As if Greg didn't know that. 'But to me, your problems might just be more important than the country...,' he thought.

"So...talking about Sherlock, did you meet him recently?"

Mycroft sighed. "Did you really want me to meet you here just to ask me about Sherlock? No, I didn't. I'll contact him once I've got a case for him."

"So you are avoiding him. Are you worried that he might be angry at you? I mean, the events must have taken a toll on him too. But don't you think that he'll understand why you had to alter his memories and all that?"

"I am not avoiding him, there was just no need for us to meet. But you can be assured that I am still keeping an eye on him, in case he might do something...stupid yet again, if that's your concern. ... Gregory, I'm honestly starting to think that our conversation right now is pretty pointless."

"Oh, I don't think it's pointless. But you know...you’re always looking after your brother, but I wonder... Has anyone ever looked after you?”

And with that, Greg must have hit a nerve. Even though he said those last two sentences more to himself it was obvious that Mycroft must have heard him just fine. Greg was really sure that the other man just flinched for a bit, but he wasn’t entirely sure. It was quite difficult to tell with Mycroft - he was called the ‘Iceman’ for a reason after all. He was quite relieved that at least he didn't seem angry. He wouldn't honestly want to imagine an angry Mycroft. (Or rather, the image wasn't that bad, he thought...just not in this serious situation.) And he would have definitely regretted his words if they would mean that Mycroft wouldn't want to talk to him anymore.

After a few moments of almost eerie silence, Mycroft rose from the chair and apparently wanted to leave. So he decided to deliberately ignore the remark, after all. "Well, if that was all you wanted to talk about...I told you I don't have much time."

‘Yeah, mostly because you prefer to bury yourself in your work so you don’t need to think about certain things,' was what Greg thought, but he swallowed down the response. Instead, he got up too. “Oh yeah, right. Just let me show you out.”

As the two of them had just entered the lift of the office building, Greg cleared his throat. “Uh...well, even though you say you don’t need my help with this anymore...would it be alright if we meet up from time to time anyway? We don't need to talk about...this issue, but we could just, uh, hang out together?” He kinda felt like a coward because it took him a surprising amount of courage just to say these words and he feared he might have sounded really dumb. And he didn’t even know why, but one thing he knew for sure: that he just didn’t want to miss this chance. But to be honest, he didn't expect a positive answer.

Mycroft looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a weird look in his eyes. Once again Greg was wondering if he was right, but...he could have sworn that Mycroft’s expression almost seemed like he was happy about Greg’s question for a moment. “My schedule is quite packed as usual, but I think I could spare some time in the evenings. You could accompany me to a restaurant, if that is fine with you?”

“Oh yes, yes, that’s totally fine! Just give me a call and we figure out something, alright?”

“I will, Gregory. And now please excuse me, I really have to leave. Goodbye.”

Greg looked after Mycroft as he got into the car which waited in front of the building. He couldn’t help but grin because of what just happened. 'I guess that means he must have sort of enjoyed my company after all. He never meets up with people who annoy him outside of work. And that means there's still a chance for me to tell him one day.'

And so they would meet up at a restaurant - and he was sure Mycroft would choose a quite classy, expensive restaurant, of course. “I should start saving up some money, or else I won’t be able to order anything," he said to himself with a smirk as he started going back upstairs to his office. And he thought: maybe that day wasn’t so bad after all.

[sociopath-analysis]

Sociopath Profile: Dr. House

Real name: Gregory “Greg” House, M.D. From the television series House (2004-2012) Played by Hugh Laurie Requested by @goldenautomaton​ and thanks to them for helping with research.

The eponymous character definitely has a knack for his profession. He has sociopathic traits, but he is trying to do the best for his patients and help solve their problems. He tries to be a productive member of society... That said, he’s extremely self-important, tends to be rather reckless in how he operates, has an almost active disregard for other’s feelings, and is generally not the kindest person around. While he’s not fully sociopathic in a clinical sense, he’s definitely close to the character-type.

As I mentioned, he’s incredibly prideful in how he carries himself. He often acts like the entire hospital wouldn’t run without him. While he is indispensable, his contribution is not outweighed by the several instances of misconduct that occur under his watch. He does have reason to be proud of himself. He’s good at what he does and gets several chances to show that throughout the series. It’s just that the way he decides to show this pride is often used to put others down in the process, whether intentional (most likely) or not. Usually people that annoy him. And the number of patients he blatantly belittles while helping them happens to be a rather long list. Even when they have life-threatening illnesses.

“Hello, sick people and their loved ones! In the interest of saving time and avoiding a lot of boring chit-chat later, I’m Dr. Gregory House. You can call me Greg. I’m one of three doctors staffing this clinic this morning. [...] I am a board certified diagnostician with a double specialty of infectious disease and nephrology. I’m also the only doctor employed at this clinic who’s force to be here against his will.“

Contradictory to his profession, House also shows a blatant disregard for the well-being of his patients. If it isn’t a challenge to him, he won’t take it as seriously even if he is trying to help them. This can usually be on display by the fact that he tends to mess with his patients or, in one instance, playing Metroid on his Gameboy while waiting for Dr. Cuddy in front of a patient. Other times, it can be way worse. Such as trying to use very dangerous (and very illegal) forms of treatment to help them. This extends to his coworkers as well. He has slipped amphetamines to Wilson just for his own amusement. More than once. When Wilson confronts him, House talks about it like he’s doing him a favor. In another time, he does this to Wilson and Cuddy’s mother and doesn’t bother trying to justify that one. He just wanted to get out of a dinner with her mother.

He also happens to have an issue with ethics. As mentioned, he shows some rather blatant recklessness. Many treatments he gives would realistically have his medical license revoked and would constitute for the repeated criminal behavior noted in many real cases of ASPD. In the middle of a hostage situation when someone forces him at gunpoint to diagnose him, he tries to slip a tranquilizer to one of the other patients to trick him into taking it so he thinks it’s safe. Had the guy not passed out earlier, it would have worked. In addition to other’s lives, he also has a disregard for his own safety since he gave the gun back to the man to keep up the hostage situation until he could diagnose him, showing more interest in solving the puzzle of this man’s illness. One thing that is also notable is his addictive tendencies - also something common in ASPD cases. Most notably, his addiction to painkillers.

“If you’re particularly annoying, you may see me reach for this. This is Vicodin. It’s mine. You can’t have any. And no, I do not have a pain management problem. I have a pain problem.”

And House mostly views his job as a game to prove his intelligence. He seeks satisfaction out of being right and solving a puzzle rather than saving lives more often than not. There’s also the numerous things that he does to mess with people just for his entertainment. Many of which are already detailed above. In addition to that, he also seems to enjoy preying on peoples insecurities for his amusement as well. His coworkers can probably attest to this, but a very blatant example was when he was in a psych ward. He pinpointed the things that made them uncomfortable and used it to blatantly antagonize them - including implicitly tempting a girl with suicidal tendencies into killing herself again.

Most of the guilt he displays tends to be over fear of the consequences rather than actual guilt. Considering the fact that he often tries to hide what he’s doing when he’s about to do something dangerous with a patient, he knows he could get into serious trouble for it and doesn’t do it more since he’d just get caught for it. This is also the case for what happens when he starts getting hit on by an underage girl and she starts stalking him. He knows that he could go to jail for having a relationship with her, but he still engages with her flirty banter. And when he realizes her horniness is due to an illness she contracted that lowers inhibitions, he only laments the missed opportunity while writing her a prescription for the ailment.

While he is an amazing diagnostic doctor who has no doubt saved many lives, his sociopathy still shows through in many moments even when he’s trying to help people. There are some implications that he does have some capacity for empathy towards others and genuine moments of emotions. However, this seems to be drowned out by the many instances of reckless and sometimes life-threatening actions he commits rather often.

See more profiles here.

[authorwiththedragontattoo]

The Snitch Seeker - Chapter 2

Chapter 1  

When he had first heard about Hogwarts eighth year, the thought of attending didn’t even cross Draco’s mind. He had run away from the dark lord, barely evaded Azkaban and spent the last four months living in a house that was being monitored 24/7 by the ministry. They knew every move they made, if Draco decided to put an extra sugar in his coffee one morning, the Ministry knew about it.

So, when Narcissa Malfoy came into his room one day holding a letter from Minerva McGonagall requesting his return to Hogwarts in September, he was shocked to say the least. —– or yet another hogwarts eighth year in which draco redeems himself fic

Rating: Teen and up audiences

Warnings: Mild references to violence and death, mild gore, references to alcoholism and bad eating habits

“I’m going back to Hogwarts, Father.” 

Draco stepped tentatively into Lucius Malfoy’s office. Lucius spent most of his time in there nowadays, drowning in old papers, frantically highlighting and scribbling down any notes he could. Neither Draco nor Narcissa knew exactly what he hoped to find in the old paperwork, but they expected he was looking for something, some way to climb his way back to the top. He had hoped that giving up the identities of escaped Death Eaters would be enough to earn him the title he had before, but it hadn’t. He was still just a failed ex- Death Eater who was considered a coward on both sides.

Draco’s words caused him to pause his frantic rummaging through his old draws, and look up at his son. His hair had grown long and unkempt, and his face was stubbly and old beyond his years. 

“Hogwarts?” 

Draco swallowed, “Yes, Father. To complete my N.E.W.Ts, I was invited by Professor McGonagall.”

Lucius’ brow furrowed, and he turned to face Draco properly; “And I expect all those mudbloods and blood traitors have been invited back as well.” 

Draco cringed at the language his father used. Words he had thrown around so freely before now left a sour taste in his mouth, “I expect so, yes.” 

This seemed to catch Lucius’ interest, as his face drew to that of concentration. Draco felt unnerved by him, Lucius had been rather… unhinged for a while now. While Draco and his mother had accepted their defeat with grace, quietly putting up with the punishments the ministry had chosen to bestow on them, Lucius had become angry and violent. He blamed ‘mudbloods’ and ‘blood traitors’ for their situation, for the possibility of being stripped of his fortune and for the state of house arrest they had been placed in.

“This is brilliant, my boy!” Lucius lunged forward and grabbed Draco by the shoulders, “Brilliant!”.

“It… it is?” Draco stuttered, taken aback by his father's unexpected joy.

“Yes! We can use this to help bring honour back to the Malfoy name, to bring us back to the power we were in before, you see? We just need to come up with a plan-”

“-No!” 

Lucius’ gleeful face dropped into one of confusion, “N-no?” 

Lucius wasn’t used to hearing his son say no to him.

Draco felt his father's hands tighten around his shoulders, before he shrugged them off, needing little strength to dismantle his father’s ever weakening grip.

“I just want to get my exams and go.” Draco replied firmly, “We lost, Father. One day you’re going to have to accept that.”

As much as it pained Draco to admit it, Ron was right; he had needed that sandwich. 

It had gone nightfall before Draco finally made his way into the castle and the great feast had been and gone. He approached Professor Flitwick somewhat sheepishly, expecting a lecture about arriving so late into the night as he marked him present, but Flitwick didn’t say a word. He simply nodded his head and opened the door to allow him in. This confused Draco; but he secretly thanked whatever higher power there was that he didn’t have to explain to the Professor the reason for his tardiness. 

He had been told in the letter that the Prefect’s floor had been converted into a dormitory for the eighth year, so Draco straightened his shoulders and raised his chin, ready to finally face what he had been dreading all day when something stopped him in his tracks. 

One of the walls that sat at the entrance of the school had been completely cleared of the old paintings, and instead held portraits. Portraits of all the people that died four months ago. 

The breath caught in Draco’s throat as the commemoration left him stiff; staring up at all the faces he had seen many times in his nightmares. But in his nightmares their faces were often frozen in fear, in pain, with blood painting their skin and rubble caught in their hair. Sometimes their faces would distort into vile twists, or their skin would melt off the bone. Occasionally they would talk to Draco, shout at him. Tell him it’s his fault they were dead, his fault they were murdered. Those were the ones that often had Draco retching over the toilet for the rest of the night. 

Here they were smiling, happy. Their most joyous moments caught in moving images, laughing and having fun. That’s how people wanted to remember them, Draco supposes. People want to remember when they were happy, not fighting for their lives. 

Draco’s rapid heart felt like it skipped a beat when his eyes landed on one particular image. In the corner of the wall, near the bottom, but there nonetheless. The brown eyes of Gregory Goyle burned into the grey of Draco’s. 

“Greg…” Draco whispered, stepping closer. 

Goyle was someone who was definitely a frequent visitor in Draco’s night terrors, and one of the rather more terrifying ones at that. More than a few nights a week Draco could still feel the flames lick his ankles after watching Gregory slip and be consumed by the inferno. He could still feel the smoke choke his lungs and make his head spin, making climbing for his life all the more difficult. Had Potter not come back, Draco for sure would have met the same fate as Gregory.

Suddenly, Draco selfishly thought of what would have happened if he had died that day. Would he be on this wall too? 

Once again he let his eyes roam the wall, analysing the different faces looking back at him. A photo of Lavender Brown in the stunning blue dress she wore to the Yule Ball smiled at him as she curtseyed to the camera. Colin Creevey proudly holding a photography trophy beamed at him, showing off the biggest, toothiest smile. Fred Weasley, slipping some sort of sweet gummy into Professor Flitwick’s cloak pocket cheekily winked at him, holding a finger to his lips in a ‘shushing’ motion. 

Giving a small, sad smile to Gregory Goyle’s portrait, Draco concluded that no, he wouldn’t have been included on this wall had he died that day.

-

The doors of the eighth year common room glared down at Draco, judging him for hesitating. He could hear the commotion coming from inside, lively chatter, clinking of glasses and what sounded like a riveting game of Wizard Chess, but the loudest thing of all was the sound of Draco’s heartbeat in his ears. 

He had made it through the train journey with no incidents, his interaction with Weasley was tame compared to what Draco had imagined would happen the second he showed his face here. But this was the real test; walking into a room of people who he’d looked in the eye as he stood among the Death Eaters, stood on the side of the man who killed their friends; their family. 

Deciding he had behaved cowardly long enough, Draco straightened his tie and smoothed down his robes, before opening the doors and stepping through. At first it seemed like no one noticed, the chatter carried on and no one seemed to glance his way. That didn’t last long, though. Eventually, people saw him, and gradually a hush fell over the room, until the only sound that could be heard was the crackling of the fire. 

For a moment, everyone was still, in shock. Draco stood like a deer in the headlights, but he kept his chin high and his face stern, hoping the pure fear that ran through his veins remained undetected by the crowd. No one seemed to know what to say, or what to do. Draco didn’t either. Until a voice piped up in the crowd. 

“Is this some kind of a joke?” 

Draco’s gaze immediately zoned in on the source of the voice, finding Seamus Finnigan, rising from the sofa near the fireplace; looking around incredulously as if to make sure he wasn’t the only one who saw Draco walk through the door. 

“I better not be seeing you, you better not be here right now.” Finnigan spoke again. 

Everyone’s eyes remained on Draco, some still in disbelief like Finnigan’s, some in mild to moderate disgust, and some blank faces. Draco noted Granger and Weasley sat in the corner of the room, and came to the assumption Weasley had already told Granger he was here considering the lack of surprise on her face. Or perhaps she was smart enough to know McGonagall would have invited him back despite his current reputation. That was also highly likely. He briefly noted in the back of his mind that Potter wasn’t anywhere in sight. 

“Well, evidently I am here, Finnigan. So why don’t you just fuck off and mind your business.” Draco shot back, feeling vulnerable as thirty pairs of eyes bore into his skin. 

Finnigan scoffed, and started moving closer; “What did you have to do to be allowed back here, huh? Did daddy buy your way in?” 

Draco looked Finnigan in the eye and scowled, daring him to go down this road. 

“Oh wait,” he continued, stepping closer “See, I heard your family is getting stripped of it’s fortune. Daddy doesn’t have any money anymore, does he?”

The room erupted into a low murmur, as people started whispering to each other; eyes flitting between Finnigan and Draco. 

“I’m warning you, Finnigan.” Draco replied in a low voice.

He knew this is the exact opposite of what he should be doing, of what he planned. He wanted to keep his head down, and get through the year quietly. He wanted to get his exams and leave as soon as possible, so he could get a good job and buy a house for his mother and father to live in if they weren’t allowed to keep the manor. He knew fighting with someone the second he stepped into the building was the easiest way to ensure he gets his second chance at a future ripped out from under his feet, but he couldn’t help it. Finnigan knew where to prod him so that it hurt. 

“Maybe your mother slept with the Minister, is that it?” 

Seamus knew exactly where it hurt.

Draco reached into his robes and pulled out his wand, aiming it at Seamus. Quick to recognise what Draco was doing, Seamus raised his in turn. The room gasped and people scuttled to the edges of the room, trying to keep out of the line of fire.

“Don’t you say a word against my mother!”

“What are you gonna do about it Malfoy? You’re finished! You may be back in school but no one is ever going to forget how you and your cowardly family ran away when the going got tough.”

“lingua ligatum”

Without thinking, Draco cast a tongue-tying curse at Finnigan; who easily deflected it with a wave of his wand. Gasps and cries could be heard as the spell was thrown, people covered their heads and ducked away from the conflict. 

Finnigan chuckled darkly, apparently not even in shock at Draco casting the curse, and turned to look around the room; “You see that?” he gestured to Draco with his wand before turning back to him. 

“Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater.” 

Draco broke his gaze with Finnigan and looked around the room. People looked at him with fear and anger in their eyes as they cowered away. It was exactly what he was expecting; exactly what he had hoped to avoid.

And now he tried to curse someone in the common room. 

He quickly lowered his wand and turned on his heel. He knew it was late, and all his things would be waiting for him in the dormitory; but he couldn’t stay there. So he did what he seemed to have become very good at these days, and he ran. 

As he pushed his way back through the doors, he heard Finnigan call behind him.

“That’s it, run away! Just like you always do!”.

And he was right. 

People who asked to be tagged:

@fantasticreads0402

[crieativity]

Mycroft only ever had one childhood friend were he to subtract Sherlock from his pitifully scant list.

He insisted Mycroft call him Renard as that was what his grandmother called him. Mycroft introduced himself as Mike, intimidated as he were with the boy’s friendliness.

The summer Mycroft and his family had spent in France had led to him being introduced to Maman Jeanne who would greet him with a tight embrace and Pere Clement who would open the family library just for Mycroft to take any of his books along for playtime.

Mycroft met Rousel and Marguerite who clung tightly to their older brother but even with the three being more keen on physical play and Mycroft detesting such pastimes, they did not mock him for it. They did not exclude him either.

Mycroft enjoyed that summer because he felt like he belonged.

There was no Sherlock to make him conscious of eating when Maman Jeanne makes apple fitters and peach pie. 

There was no Mummy or Father that force him to be something that he feels would trigger a panic in him.

There was no grandmama to point out his every flaw in front of his family.

No Eurus to keep away knives and sharp objects from.

There was only love and acceptance with Renard’s family and Mycroft took comfort from it when things took a sharper and more painful turn with his own family.

All these emotions he had confessed to Renard as he shot charcoal off at various parts of the farm for no fathomable reason. Renard only smiled and looked at Mycroft as if he mattered more than the sun that filtered through the trees offering them warmth.

“Then... if my family makes you feel this good, I hope you’ll come back here every summer so we could make sure you have a loving family even for just a little while.” Mycroft only smiled before returning to read the book he had chosen that day.

Sad to say, he never got to go back to France after that year. Or the year after that. Or the next.

Mycroft sometimes likes to think that perhaps Renard was somewhere out there remembering the sad, lonely, awkward boy that he was from years long gone. 

Even for just a little while...Mycroft wanted to hope.

Inktober Day 19 - Sling

Some Younger!Mystrade for all of you that may or may not want it! This is just me doing some more sad, lonely Mycroft stuff but uhhhh, now I kind of want to write a fic based on this snippet so that’s a huge likelihood in the future OML

Basically, Greg has two siblings and his parents often have a summer cruise that they go on which affords Greg and his siblings time with their paternal grandparents in France while Mycroft and his family go there to visit maternal relatives but Mycroft isn’t treated too kindly there so he usually takes long walks away from them all until he sees Greg and his siblings playing around and they invite him. When he says he doesn’t play, they ask him to be the judge of a race and he agrees.

Soon enough, they became close friends during the summer and Greg’s siblings now see him as a big brother as well.

*Greg’s name here is Gregory Renard Lestrade and his siblings are Clarence Rousel and Moira Marguerite

Anyway, I hope you guys like this!

[notmuchofatail]

19. Flip The Script: Change one DRASTIC trait about your character and write a one-shot. (A character who is a Magick is now a Mundus or vice versa; a character is suddenly born in an entirely different place; a 15-year-old is a 51-year-old etc etc.)

In which Gregory Eeyore is forever scarred. 

All his life, Gregory had always been pushed down, walked on and abused. He’d been told time after time that he was weak. Spineless. Pathetic. A nobody. Never going to amount to anything, or would never have the capacity to get far. He knew what people truly thought of him in the sneers and the looks that were given towards him. The way that people like Toulouse and Hades would lift their brows at him - the judgement evident even if often the former never even gave him the time of day. The snark and slipped in insults that often accompanied a conversation did enough. 

Too stupid. Too young. Too Naïve. 

But for twenty two years of his life - Greg had done little more than ignored it. The words and actions affected him mentally, but never did he let it change him. He wouldn’t let it. After all, if showing kindness and compassion for the people of Swynlake, regardless of gender, identity, magical status and more was weak and spineless - then that was fine with him. Gregory Eeyore would never stoop to the other people in town’s levels. Never wanted to harm another person or even hurt their feelings. That was just too far in his mind. Instead, he would always fight for justice, and change. He’d stand tall and in front of those being affected - stand by their side to fight for their rights and freedoms too. All Gregory Eeyore ever wanted was for Swynlake to be a home for everyone like it had always been for him. 

But.... something changed the night of the Town Hall Mixer. 

Like a small thread in the back of his mind had snapped, and with it - the compassion that normally shined so brightly behind blue eyes was forever dampened. He’d barely survived the two stab wounds to the gut - rushed to the hospital in a string of events the young man would barely come to remember. The details that would slowly fall into place within the next coming days didn’t help him piece together a fond memory - and easily Gregory felt himself turning more and more bitter in his recovery. 

Visits were quickly shunned - a refusal to see anyone, even those he considered his friends. Texts went ignored, and all too quickly Gregory simply turned his phone off and didn’t bother reaching for it for weeks. Instead, the boy wanted nothing more than to sit in the hospital himself, brewing in the information he’d been getting and putting together what had happened that night. Not even his mother could break through his train of thought and pull him from the darkness that circled all too viciously within his mind. 

Vampire. Compulsion. Mass chaos. 

How quickly his tiny town had once again been subject to horror. To some unthinkable tragedy - and this time Gregory had been caught right in the middle of it, and for what? There had been no reasoning behind the attack. Nothing, but the thrill for chaos. The Vampire (Anthony, he’d later discovered) might not have had an intention at all - if not just for Swynlake to turn against each other. 

Mindless... pointless violence. 

For once in his life, it felt easy to point that finger. To lay the blame on someone or... something - the blame that Gregory realized he was placing where he never thought he would before. 

On... Vampires in general. 

It was their fucking fault all of this had happened, after all. How could they ever think they could control a group of people so powerful that they could just warp your mind to believe whatever they wanted? That they’d been the very same people to trick his ex-boyfriend into thinking a dog attacked him when they snacked off of him after work. Vampires were the whole reason he’d lost so much - and nearly more that night. 

A vampire had just controlled more than half the town - just like that. Which.. was terrifying. It was terrifying and it made Gregory angry. 

....and it didn’t just stop there, did it? No.. Perhaps people were right all these years. He was far too naïve. He’d let this go on for far too long and never realized he���d been in danger his entire life. No one else went through the same trauma’s that Swynlake went through... and slowly Gregory was piecing together why. 

It was always the fucking Magicks, wasn’t it?

Magic had ruined everything. From the stupid dreams that still plagued him and caused him nightmares, to the bugs, the chaos, the forest trying to take over. There had always been something or someone behind it. Soleil, for example could have killed people - and... did she ever pay for what she’d done? No. She’d hidden as a tree for years before coming back. Greg had accepted her with open arms and for what? She’d been just as responsible for a mess that could have killed people as Anthony was for nearly getting him killed now! 

Something needed to change. 

Magicks needed to be stopped. 

- - - - - - 

It was a good month until the first board meeting after the disaster. Gregory had finally shown his face in public since the incident - and while his fellow board member’s greeted him warmly, Gregory only stared coldly ahead with a nod. He had no intention on wasting anyone’s time. No intention on idle small talk or stupid jokes. Not when so much was on the line. 

“I’d like to revisit a petition.” Came Greg’s words near the end of the meeting, his tone firm - without the hesitation or anxious stutter it normally possessed. A moment later and Jun’s old petitions, now revised and stricter than before with a few of Greg’s updates, was pressed across the table - his index finger tapping against it lightly before he sat back again. “...I want you all to think long and hard about this. We’ve ignored it for too long.” He spoke again, pushing back from his seat and pulling himself to a stand with a brief look at each of them - noting the confusion that melded into abject horror as gazes finally skimmed the paper in front of them. 

PETITION: Swynlake Dangerous Magick Persons Residency Act II PETITIONER: Gregory Eeyore DESCRIPTION: ARTICLE ONE: Swynlake Town Board should vote to enforce a mandatory residency restriction for Dangerous Magick Persons.  ARTICLE TWO: Swynlake Town Board should vote to enforce a mandatory and permanent eviction of any Dangerous Magick Persons within Swynlake.  ARTICLE THREE: Swynlake Town Board should vote to enforce a mandatory Magick Registry for all remaining Magick Citizens, with public access.  Dangerous Magick Persons will be defined as any person, human or humanoid, who has been convicted of any felonies and/or misdemeanors due to magic abuse, as well as persons whose magic and/or magick status results in or threatens harm, such as, but not limited to, vampires, lycanthropes, necromancers, various fairy talents, demons, etc. A person who violates this subsection commits a felony of the third degree and will be punished under the court of law and is subject to immediate eviction, and under worst circumstance execution.  No citizen of Swynlake should ever be harmed via a Magick-caused occurrence ever again. 

Gregory didn’t bother to wait around for their responses. He knew what it would be - knew that everyone on the board was far too spineless to ever do what needed to be done for the protection of their town. His town. Not a single one of them would ever have the guts to do what had to be done for the good of Swynlake. 

But it was fine. 

As Gregory walked out of Town Hall, he easily slipped his hand into his pocket - fingers running over the sharp blade that rest there. Blue eyes looked up again after a moment, and found Toulouse waiting for Hades nearby. Werewolf. Dangerous. His fingers tightened, wrapping around the hilt of the knife as he pulled it from his pocket with a tilt of his head. 

He would just take care of it himself. 

[eldritchsurveys]

768.

Why did you last feel like crying? >> When I checked my bank account because I was trying to decide whether to get HBO Max or not, and I discovered that my stimulus check is coming on Wednesday. I’m just really relieved, lmao. Had just about resorted to convincing myself that I wasn’t going to get one at all. But now I can get some stuff I need but can’t normally afford!

How long ago and why did you last feel infuriated? >> I don’t remember. It probably had to do with people making noise.

Do emotions control you or do you control your emotions? >> Er. Well, here’s the thing -- on a good day, when I’m not having Symptoms Of Disorders, my emotions can be pretty manageable, or at least my management of them can feel pretty competent and compassionate. On the other days, my emotions can be a fucking game of Minesweeper where all the squares have mines in them. Except one. One square has 100 mines in it. The probability of stepping on that square is like 80%. So.

Do you keep your friends secrets/private information to yourself? >> Well, yes, if that sort of thing was shared with me.

What negative quality do your friends bring up the most? >> I... don’t think I’d like to be friends with people who have a habit of bringing up “negative” things about me.

What quality do you think you have that others don't think you do? >> I don’t know, I haven’t taken a poll or anything.

Do you often "jump" to conclusions? >> I mean, maybe. I don’t know how often I do it but it’s probably the average amount.

Do you find being alone with strangers scary, interesting or indifferent? >> That definitely depends on the context of the situation.

Do you think you know a lot about the world? >> No, because I don’t.

What about the world do you wish you never found out? >> ---

Do you know first aid? >> Not really, mostly because I’ve rarely had an opportunity to practice it.

Does the sight of blood make you feel sick? >> Not as a rule.

Does your first name have an L in it? >> No.

Middle name have a C in it? >> No.

Last name have a R in it? >> No.

Do your initials spell a legitimate word? If so, what? >> No, they don’t. But Sparrow’s spells “SAD” and that’s pretty funny.

The word above, does it have any connection to you at all? >> I mean, she is on antidepressants.

Do you prefer classic rock or nope alternative? >> Nope alternative???? I don’t know if that’s a typo or what but that’s hilarious to me for some reason. Anyway, I listen to both classic rock and alternative.

Do you like Kings of Leon? >> Sure. They’re, like... motel-grunge/motel-rock adjacent. (I can’t be the only person who’s made up that term, for certain kinds of bands. Like Queens of the Stone Age and shit. Sometimes Kings of Leon gives the same vibe, but... cleaner, I guess.)

How about The Script? >> Never heard of them.

Does crying make you feel better? >> Sometimes, but first I have to go through the hell of letting myself cry in the first place.

Do you know a girl called Becca? >> No.

How about a guy called Gregory? >> No. I almost said yes and then I realised I was thinking of Greg Hirsch from Succession. smh

Does someones background effect whether you'll be friends with them or not? >> Their... background? What kind of background are we talking about here?

How about their religious background? >> I mean, I don’t think I could be friends with a fundamentalist evangelical Christian. But most non-fundie versions of religions are okay with me.

If someone admitted cheating in a past relationship of theirs, would you trust them? >> ---

Do you drink tea and/or coffee every day? >> Nope. It’s almost warm weather time, so I won’t be drinking much tea at all until fall, unless it’s iced.

Did you ever want to be a cook as a kid? >> No.

How about a fashion designer? >> Yeah, I used to draw outfits and shit. I still think fashion is a fascinating industry but I want no part of it myself.

Do you wish that magic was real? >> I mean, no, not really. Also, like. I have Inworld. So.

What food would you love to wipe off the face of the earth? >> ---

Can you use a bottle opener? >> Sure.

Do you own a cheese grater? >> Yeah.

What time will it be in 38 minutes time? >> 11.06p EST.

What day/date will it be in 11 days time? >> The 20th of May.

Have you ever owned a pet fish? >> Nope.

Do you prefer fire or ice? >> I have no general preference. They’re both valuable.

Do you rap along with rap songs? >> If I know the lyrics, yeah...

When happy, do you become more talkative? >> Not necessarily. Sometimes I’m happiest in silence.

Bowling or sailing? Why? >> ---

What colour is your kettle? >> Black.

How about your microwave? >> White.

Do you prefer sitting in the front or back of a car? >> It doesn’t matter.

How about in a train? On the bus? >> I have a specific seat I like on the bus. Train, doesn’t matter. (On the subway, I liked sitting in the smallest seats so there’d be less chance of someone sitting next to me. Some of the newer trains have that one-seater that flips up, by the door? Love that seat.

Do you care about politics? >> Fuck no.

Obama or Bush? >> Well, that’s this survey dated.

Blair or Brown? >> ---

When did you last cook something from scratch? >> I don’t remember.

What things make you jealous? >> ---

Are you offended easily by non politically correct language? >> I’m not easily offended, period. Most things I recognise aren’t meant to be taken personally by me, specifically. But obviously I’m leery of the usage of incendiary language -- I’m not going to hang out with someone who throws around racial slurs or mocks people for having feelings about words meant to hurt them, like, duh.

Do you think the censors/fcc go a bit too far or are just right? >> I have no opinion about this, especially not a generalised one.

Do you feel hungry, thirsty, sleepy or none of the above? >> I’m getting tired because it’s around my bedtime.

What's your I.Q? >> ---

What's your Mum's Mum called? How about your Dad's Dad? >> ---

Do you prefer crepes, pancakes or waffles? >> Waffles.

Do you have ice-cream in your fridge right now? >> I think Sparrow still has some in there. Oh, and I still have a few mochi ice cream balls.

How about chicken nuggets? >> No, just fried chicken.

Do you eat fish often? >> Not as often as I’d like.

Have you ever taken a martial art? Which one{s}? >> No.

Do you know anyone who is scared of you? >> I don’t know if anyone’s afraid of me. If someone is, I bet they’re not going to go around telling me about it.

What person who has died would you bring back and why? >> ---

Do you like watermelon? >> Eh. I don’t get the hype.

Can you remember the month of your first kiss? >> ---

Do you make friends easily? >> No.

What makes you different from everyone else? >> Nothing, dude. I mean, I obviously have differences from people I know, or people I might encounter, but not from literally every human on earth.

I give you a piece of paper. What do you draw/write on it? >> ...

What pictures or photos are up in your lounge? >> My what.

Do you like purple and white patterned things? >> Not especially.

Do you know anyone called Pipa? >> No.

I say purple, you think... >> Sparrow, because I think she’d paint the whole world purple if given half a chance.

What do you think is the most interesting thing about you? >> Just, you know. My existence.

Do you like being complimented or does it make you uncomfortable? >> It can make me uncomfortable because of brain shit, but I also appreciate it and will try to express appreciation instead of discomfort.

Does the description of your starsign correspond with your personality? >> No, because the language of astrology as used to describe a person is more complex than just wherever the Sun was when you were born.

Do you have a photo album? >> No.

What artists paintings do you find the most beautiful? >> *shrug*

What about the most disturbing? >> *shrug*

Have you ever gone to a camp or summer school? >> No. I did summer theater once and I’ve gone to day camps.

What was your favourite cartoon as a child? >> Johnny Bravo is the only cartoon I remember watching, tbh. I didn’t get to see a lot of television unless it was the boring ass shit (to a child, anyway) my dad watched.

What was your biggest fear as a child? >> Thunderstorms. Until I hit thirteen and then suddenly I just... wasn’t afraid of them anymore. Don’t ask me how it happened, I really don’t know. (It might have been more gradual than that, of course. Memory is unreliable, especially from that far back.)

Would you rather be able to fly or breathe underwater? >> Breathe underwater. So, you know, I could actually not almost drown for once.

What about invisibility or mindreading? >> Invisibility. I want nothing to do with other people’s minds.

Do you like what you see in the mirror? >> No, which is why I don’t look in the mirror unless it’s necessary.

Which stereotype do you dislike the most? >> All of them??? Stereotypes in general?

Can you remember all your past teachers names? >> I can remember more than I’d expect to remember, but definitely not all of them.

Do you like talent shows? Which ones? >> No.

Have you ever failed an important exam? In what? >> Yeah, I failed the English midterm and final in 11th grade -- well, I say “failed” but it’s more like “I got a zero because I literally turned in a blank sheet of paper”. I... was definitely struggling.

Do you find people taller than you intimidating? >> No.

Do you think you are better than people of a different country/background? >> Fuck no???

What's your favourite thing about your country? >> Dude.

What's your least favourite thing about your country? >> Sigh.

Who is your favourite bzoinker? >> I don’t have a favourite, I just use bzoink to find surveys.

What websites do you have bookmarked? >> I have a lot of websites bookmarked.

Do you use bows and ribbons to decorate your gifts? >> No. Well, I’ll stick a bow on a Christmas gift because why not, but outside of Christmas I don’t even wrap gifts. I might put it in a bag but that’s it.

Do you listen to the same type of music as your parents? What type is that? >> I grew up listening to soul and R&B and gospel, so yes, that’s all still part of me.

What TV show scared you as a kid? >> None.

Family Guy, The Simpsons or South Park? Why? >> Hmm. Well, I don’t really know anything about The Simpsons, but I’d probably like it better than Family Guy, and South Park is so hit-or-miss (with a lot of misses) for me that I can’t really deal with it anymore.