#char ;; mason

[full---ofstarlight]

Camille Scarlet (Hot, Mystical), Reese 🖤

Mason Scarlet (Booksmart, Keen Eye), Avery 🖤

Astrid Scarlet (Powerful Build, Talks to Animals), Kaneeka 🖤

[nathanavenue]

outfit swaps are in now, yeah?

[smallsimmer]

The Easton/Levin's

[grapecaseschoices]

the last of my twc mcs, andy yasar. done by the ever talented @rom3o!

[wmumase]

Mason's New Directions Audition

Mason's eyes fell on the stage in front of him, all of the nerves and excitement bubbling over. He'd done dozens of competitions over the years, dozens of tryouts, dozens of auditions... so he didn't know why this one was getting to him more than anything else had. Perhaps it was that this time he chose to audition alone, this time not having his partner in crime to carry him through with a well practiced duet. No, this time was all Mason all by himself, and he wasn't even doing a song he was particularly well versed in. It was something he'd arranged for one of his music classes, deciding it was good enough to bring to the stage.

But with that meant he'd only practiced it for about two weeks. It was an acoustic arrangement, also something out of his wheelhouse. He knew how to play guitar well though, so he hoped that'd carry him. He watched the person in front of him finish their set and clapped excitedly for them, hoping to see them in the club right along with him. Now was his turn, and he had to brush off those nerves to get through this at all. He shook himself a bit, clasped his guitar, and then headed out onto the stage.

He grabbed a chair and brought it over to the center of the stage, taking the mic stand and bringing it down as low as it could go. He then sat down in the seat and looked out to who'd be casting their judgment against him. "Hello, my name is Mason McCarthy. I'll be auditioning for you today with No One Like You by The Scorpions, but it'll be a bit of a different version than you might be used to," he said with a smile, then began to strum.

It was a slow, languid pace, much different than the original song. It was sultry, like he was trying to seduce whoever he was singing it for. Each note was done with a level of effortlessness few could boast, Mason making his way through the low notes like a hot knife through butter. As the song went on his pitch picked up, and eventually by the end of it he was near screaming the words with an intensity of a true rocker. With each passing moment Mason felt a little bit more at home on the stage.

And as the song came to a close, he stilled his playing fingers and smiled out to the room. "Thank you. I hope you enjoyed."

@wmublaine @wmu-hub

[sweetlullabyebye]

Ok so this makes no sense but here are characters from Teen Wolf as quotes from a french poetry book, because I have to know quotes from said french poetry book and none of them are sticking in my head. This whole thing makes no sense feel free to ignore.

Isaac:

L'homme fuit l'asphyxie. L'homme dont l'appétit hors de l'imagination se calfeutre sans finir de s'approvisionner, se délivrera par les mains. (L'Avant-Monde: Argument)

The man flees asphyxiation. The man whose appetite outside of the imagination seals itself off without finishing stocking up, will free himself by the hands. (The Foreworld: Argument)

Stiles:

J'ai rapporté du désespoir un panier si petit, mon amour, qu'on a pu le tresser en osier. (La Compagne du Vannier)

Tout à jamais prit fin. (Le Loriot)

I brought back from despair a basket so small, my love, that it could be woven with wicker. (The Basketmaker's Companion)

Everything ended forever. (The Oriole)

Theo:

Le décolleté diminue les ossements de ton exil, de ton escrime; Tu rends fraîche la servitude qui se dévore le dos; Risée de la nuit, arrête ce charroi lugubre

De voix vitreuses, de départs lapidés.

[...]

Je ne verrai pas tes flancs, ces essaims de faim, se dessécher, s'emplir de ronces; Je ne verrai pas l'empuse te succéder dans ta serre ; Je ne verrai pas l'approche des baladins inquiéter le jour renaissant; Je ne verrai pas la race de notre liberté servilement se suffire. Chimères, nous sommes montés au plateau. [...] L'intime dénouement de l'irréparable. [...] La Femme respire, l'Homme se tient debout. (Le Visage Nuptial)

The neckline diminishes the bones of your exile, of your fencing; You make fresh the servitude that devours its back; Laugh of the night, stop this bleak cartage

Of glassy voices, of stoned departures.

[...] I will not see your sides, these swarms of hunger, dry up, fill with thorns; I will not see the parasite succeed you in your greenhouse; I will not see the approach of the wanderers disturb the renewed day; I will not see the race of our freedom subserviently suffice itself. Chimeras, we went up to the plateau. [...] The intimate outcome of the irremediable. [...] The Woman breathes, the Man stands. (The Bridal Face)

Lydia:

X- Il convient que la poésie soit inséparable du prévisible, mais non encore formulé.

XIII- Fureur et mystère tour à tour le séduisirent et le consumèrent.

XXXII- Le poète ne s'irrite pas de l'extinction hideuse de la mort, mais confiant en son toucher particulier transforme toute chose en laines prolongées.

XLIX- À chaque effondrement des preuves le poète répond par une salve d'avenir.

(Partage Formel)

X- Poetry should be inseparable from the foreseeable, but not yet formulated.

XIII- Fury and mystery one after the other seduced and consumed him.

XXXII- The poet is not irritated by the hideous extinction of death, but confident that his particular touch transforms everything into prolonged wools.

XLIX- At each collapse of the evidence the poet responds with a burst of the future.

(Formal Sharing)

Liam:

40- Discipline, comme tu saignes!

48- Je n'ai pas peur. J'ai seulement le vertige. Il me faut réduire la distance entre l'ennemi et moi.

63- On ne se bat bien que pour les causes qu'on modèle soi-même et avec lesquelles on se brûle en l'identifiant.

92- Tout ce qui a le visage de la colère et n'élève pas la voix.

104- Les yeux seuls sont encore capables de pousser un cri.

219- Brusquement tu te souviens que tu as un visage. Les traits qui en formaient le modelé n'étaient pas tous les traits du chagrin, jadis.

(Les Feuillets d'Hypnos)

40- Discipline, how you bleed!

48- I am not afraid. I only have vertigo. I must close the distance between the enemy and me.

63- We only fight well for the causes that we model ourselves and with which we burn ourselves by identifying it.

92- Anything that has the face of anger and does not raise its voice.

104- Only the eyes are still capable of crying out.

219- Suddenly you remember that you have a face. The features that shaped it were not all the features of grief, before.

(Hypnos' notebooks)

Mason:

83- Le poète, conservateur des infinis visages du vivant. (Feuillets d'Hypnos)

83- The poet, keeper of the infinite faces of the living. (Hypnos' notebooks)

Hayden:

J'étais dans une de ces forêts où le soleil n'a pas accès mais où, la nuit, les étoiles pénètrent pour d'implacables hostilités. (Les Loyaux Adversaires: Pénombre)

I was in one of those forests where the sun does not have access but where, at night, the stars enter for relentless hostilities. (The Loyal Adversaries: Darkness)

Scott:

Glas d'un monde trop aimé, j'entends les monstres qui piétinent sur une terre sans sourire. (Poéme Pulvérisé: Donnerbach Mühle)

La souffrance connaît peu de mots. [...] Songe à la maison parfaite que tu ne verras jamais monter. (J'habite une douleur)

Partout essaime le nouveau mal tolérant. (Pulvérin)

Death knell of a world too loved, I hear the monsters that trample on a land devoid of smile. (Pulverized Poem: Donnerbach Mühle)

Suffering knows few words. [...] Think of the perfect house that you will never see built. (I live in a pain)

The new tolerant evil swarms everywhere. (Pulverized)

Allison:

Rivière trop tôt partie, d'une traite, sans compagnon, Donne aux enfants de mon pays le visage de ta passion. [...] Rivière souvent punie, rivière à l'abandon. [...] Rivière au cœur jamais détruit dans ce monde fou de prison, garde-nous violent et ami des abeilles de l'horizon. (La Fontaine narrative: La Sorgue)

River gone too soon, in one go, without a companion, Give the children of my country the face of your passion. [...] River often punished, river abandoned. [...] River with a heart never destroyed in this crazy world of prison, keep us violent and friend of the bees of the horizon. (The narrative fountain: The Sorgue)

Derek:

Assez creusé, assez miné sa part prochaine. Le pire est dans chacun, en chasseur, dans son flanc. Vous qui n'êtes qu'une pelle que le temps soulève, retournez-vous sur ce que j'aime, qui sanglote à côté de moi, et fracassez-nous, je vous prie, que je meure une bonne fois. (Assez creusé)

Enough dug, enough mined the next part. The worse is in everyone, as a hunter, in their flank. You who are only a shovel lifted by time, turn around on what I love, who sobs beside me, and smash us, I beg you, that I die once and for all. (Enough dug)

Corey:

Dans les rues de la ville il y a mon amour. Peu importe où il va dans le temps divisé. Il n'est plus mon amour, chacun peut lui parler. Il ne se souvient plus; qui au juste l'aima? (Allégeance)

In the streets of the city there is my love. It doesn't matter where he goes in the split time. He is no longer my love, everyone can talk to him. He no longer remembers; who exactly loved him? (Allegiance)

All the quotes are from 'Fureur et Mystère' by René Char btw.

[piperslovebot]

Full Name: Mason Francisco Dupree-Sanchez

Nicknames: ‘Mase’ (by everyone), ‘Honey’ ‘sweetie’ ‘kiddo’ (by Caroline), ‘Sunshine’ (by Miguel), ‘Dork’ (by Ethan), ‘Rockstar’ (by Bee Bee), ‘Lucky Guy’ (by Ella), ‘My Guy’ (by Julian), ‘Prince Charming’ (by Mary)

Gender: Male

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Eye Color: Brown

Hair: Brown

Birthday: December 25, 1996

Occupation: TBD

Family: Caroline Dupree (mother), Millie Sanchez (mother), Carson Geller (biological father), Miguel Dupree-Sanchez (oldest octet brother), Julian Dupree-Sanchez (older octet brother), Bee Bee Dupree-Sanchez (younger octet sister), Mariana Dupree-Sanchez (youngest octet sister), Ethan Louis Dupree-Sanchez (younger octet brother), Ella Dupree-Sanchez (younger octet sister), Joey Dupree (grandfather on Care’s side), Alex Dupree (grandmother on Care’s side), Carrie Dupree (aunt on Care’s side), Jody Dupree (aunt on Care’s side), Kyle Dupree (uncle on Care’s side), Mason Dupree (uncle on Care’s side), Ryan Dupree (uncle on Care’s side), Julia Dupree (aunt on Care’s side), Diogo Sanchez (grandfather on Millie’s side), Beatriz Sanchez (grandmother on Millie’s side), Paulo Sanchez (brother in law), Mariana Sanchez (aunt on Millie’s side), unnamed cousins

Relationship: TBD

First Appearance: TBD

Last Appearance: TBD

[andreadelucabishop]

Andrea snorted. "That would be absinthe, and the reason it tastes like grass is that it's godawful. Just because it's on special doesn't mean you should be drinking it. That's my pro tip for the day."

As he took the first drink out of the very green looking drink in his cup, his face betrayed the disgust he felt. "What the hell is this?" he asked, sour look still on his face. "And why do I get the feeling I'm literally drinking grass right now?"

[ghostieblr]

he knows

When people ask him what changed his mind, why he's back in Beacon Hills instead of at the fancy FBI job he earned through merit and luck, he just smiles and laughs it up. Insists this is how it just worked out. That the job was good, and being in the field was surprisingly easy for him, but the remote research work landed on his lap once and he realized he'd much rather do that. Working the field was great, but being able to actually spend time with his old man gives him more joy.

The old ladies call him a good man, tell him he's such a good son, and share their own turmoils with him. The old men sneer at his choice until he lets slip just how much he makes, and then they're singing praises, too.

After a couple of weeks, the noise dies down. He is no longer the novelty, the townspeople ready to move on to the next new, shiny thing that catches their attention.

What doesn't die down is whatever is spreading inside him. The burn under his skin is licking up towards his heart, coming out through his pores, charring him to immobility as the sun dips down and comes back up.

After week three, he's unable to move from the bed, and none of their research is bringing about any clues. No one knows why this is happening to him, and they have all accepted this.

That he is going to die. There's no coming back, no cure for this sudden illness that has taken him. None of the books that Deaton provides, that Lydia translates and pours her time into, have a single clue.

It's not as painful, if he's honest. Not now. It was at the beginning, the heat sudden and startling, the pain that comes with it bright and unending. But he's been with it for a while now, gotten used to the constant warmth. A false sense of security.

The only thing left for him is to stop feeling altogether. At the rate his body is shutting down, it's not too far, now. Another day or two, maybe three if he's unlucky.

He's said his goodbyes. Told his father to keep on living, to not only honor the memory of mom, but his, too. There's grief laced in each of their interactions, each word spoken with a weight that brings tears to Stiles' eyes and a tremble that rocks his father's body. It's an ugly sight, and it so happens to be his last. Nearly his last.

His dad's a strong man, he'll survive. He's enlisted the help of Lydia to do so. Asked her to be the child he'll not get to be for him. Through teary eyes she had agreed, and he's watched the two of them get closer in their quest of trying to heal him, and then grieve him. She's like the daughter he never had, and she is good for him. Stops him from drinking alcohol and makes him healthy food, even when he refuses to listen, and Stiles can do nothing but lay on his bed as the voices float up from the kitchen.

Scott and him never did resolve their differences. Scott's been a part of his life enough to warrant him a last goodbye, and despite everything that has happened, Scott promised to him to be there for his dad. He promised many things, but has delivered none, and has only been by to see him on day one — when Stiles had allowed Lydia to bring in the McCall Pack to help him cure himself.

It's as if Stiles being dead was an accepted outcome for him, and Scott has grieved him to the point of utter indifference since. If he's grieving in silence that's another thing, but for now, Stiles isn't dead. People do come in and see him.

Lydia, of course. His dad. Jackson flew from London to come see him, and he hasn't left since, feet set like stone in Beacon Hills, despite the final acceptance of their failure. Isaac came with Jackson, and it's so silly, he thinks, that being on the verge of death can bring together people you would never see in one place by choice.

Kira has stopped by multiple times, as have Malia, Liam, Mason, Jordan, and surprisingly, Hayden. She insisted he's a hero, and cried while hugging him.

Scott hasn't come again. And, honestly, it's not as bothersome to Stiles as someone else not coming in to see him.

Cora has face-timed him, and Peter was there, he knows. The two of them were there, and when he'd asked about Derek, Cora had snapped out, "He's an idiot," while Peter had calmly told Stiles, "He's determined."

Stiles is smart enough to put together the fact that Derek has been pursuing his own leads to find the cure, but he'd hoped that once the finality of his situation reached him, he'd see Derek one last time.

He wouldn't burden Derek with the knowledge of his own feelings. Wouldn't confess like in the fairytales, and hope for a true love's miracle. Stiles is honest to himself these days, and he'd rather go with unconfessed feelings than burden Derek, because somewhere in their interactions, Stiles has developed a pure hatred for anything that could even remotely hurt Derek.

He supposes this is love, and how ironic is it, that this is the most intense feeling he's ever had, and he can't even speak aloud about it?

So he lounges in his bed, waiting for the light to take him. Each time he closes his eyes he knows he's closer to never opening them again, and tonight, as he hears Lydia turn the pages of a book, and Jackson walking outside in the hallway, and his dad sobbing in his own room, and Isaac cooking, he just wishes tonight's the night. He cannot have the people he care about clinging onto false hope.

He closes his eyes, and behind his eyelids, he sees his family. He sees his mom, beckoning him; his parents, smiling, as he runs towards them for a family hug; Lydia, when she told him she loves him in the Jeep, and the night when he came back, declaring that he's not supposed to leave her, ever; Jackson and Isaac laughing at his expense, but not in a mean way, instead enjoying each other's company like the friends they've become these days; Derek, as the last time Stiles saw him, smiling softly at him while he rambled on about the way he convinced the FBI to let him join the mission that saved Derek's ass.

He remembers, with immense clarity, the moment he realized he's in love with Derek. The heartbreak of saying goodbye to him, of watching his brows furrow at the clear lie of, "You should go," and hesitant step forward he'd taken before realizing it.

He'd said, "You should go or Cora will leave," and left the, "I want her to," unsaid.

He sleeps, and wishes to dream about a world where Derek didn't leave and things happened differently. Where somehow, they found their way to each other, and Stiles never got ill like this.

Instead, he dreams about a purple light guiding him to a tunnel that simply looks white, like that is all there is.

He follows.

He doesn't wake up, again.

At least, that's what he thinks — until his eyes open and he's face-to-face with —

"Derek?"

*

The whole place is white. The only splash of color exists on Stiles himself, his clothes rumpled with sleep, and on Derek, whose jeweled eyes are shimmering with unshed tears and sparkling joy.

"Derek, what the hell did you do?!"

Derek doesn't deem that a question worthy of replying. Instead the werewolf picks him up and hugs him so tight Stiles worries about not being able to breathe, and then realizes, with a startling clarity, that he is not in pain.

Still in embrace, he asks, a little choked up, "Why am I not in pain?"

Derek takes an exaggerated sniff before reluctantly pulling back and fixing him with a look that screams of resplendent joy, but also like he's waiting for a reprimand. He says, "This is Bardo."

Stiles stills. "Bardo," he repeats. He's dived into enough books to hear what Derek is leaving unsaid. Bardo is where spirits go after dying. It's an in-between space for spirits with unfinished business, one that opens only on a land with a Nemeton on it. Beacon Hills fits the criteria for it, and Stiles the criteria for having wishes he didn't get in his life, but he doesn't... He doesn't fit the other criteria. "Derek Nobody Will Tell Me What Your Middle Name Is Hale, that place — which apparently is this place, what the hell — is for supernatural spirits. Me?" He laughs, humorless and frantic. "I am not a supernatural creature. I'm just a human who used to run with a Pack."

Derek's worry melts away into nothing, as if Stiles would miss the fact that for Derek to be here, he has to be dead.

"Don't think I don't understand that you're dead, too! Deliberately!"

There. That is the face of a chastised puppy. "But it worked?" Stiles squints his eyes and motions for Derek to go on, who sighs but complies with the command. "The illness that took you was a Supernatural fever, last recorded with a Spark centuries ago. I tracked down the journal —"

"Wait, hold on, Spark? Where have I heard that word..." The Vet clinic, years ago. The Kanima in the club. The mountain ash line that never should have formed because there was much too less of it to complete the circle. As the realization hits, he closes his eyes and rests his fists against them. He isn't ashamed to let out a scream of rage as well.

When he lets his arms fall back down to his side, Derek takes one of them and starts rubbing comforting circles on the back of his hand. "You are one," he says softly, like he's trying not to spook Stiles with the declaration. Like Stiles' world didn't just shift irrevocably as he put the pieces together. "I don't really understand why your powers never unlocked, because traditionally speaking they should have kicked in your teen years. With the added clusterfuck of those years they definitely should have. They did not."

Again, he laughs humorlessly, and gives Derek a "duh" look. "Our lives have rarely dared to be traditional." He thinks back to all the awful things that have happened over the years to him, but mostly, as Derek put it, in those years. The Nogitsune was definitely the worst thing to happen to him, and holy shit. "Do you think it chose me because of my power? Rather than her?"

Derek doesn't answer for a moment. Then he says, "I think that is why you survived. Because of your Spark."

Oh. That... makes sense. Sort of. But that is the past, and they're in the present, and they're in fucking Bardo of all places. "Derek, I think I really need an explanation. Like right now. Including why you thought killing yourself was the best fucking idea."

Derek winces, but he also looks determined once Stiles' glare eases off of him. And they're still holding hands, which he realizes with a warmth he actually enjoys feeling. "When I got the call, I had an inkling... So I followed my instincts and ended up at probably our oldest vault."

"You knew what I am." He doesn't even feel angry. Somehow, Derek knowing a thing about him that nobody else does (and he is not counting Deaton as a factor here at all, that cryptic asshole), it feels nice.

Derek uses his free hand to tap at his chest, once, twice. "Instincts," he says, with the same effect as saying, "Werewolf," like he once used to, as if that was the answer to everything. "This illness confirmed it for me. I found a journal at the vault that belonged to that Spark, and in it, he detailed how the illness felt, how it spread, and how within weeks he could do nothing but lay on his cot." Derek swallows, his voice turning rough with choked up emotions. "Stiles, just reading it was so awful. I can't imagine..."

Derek Hale doesn't cry. He feels deeply, and he cares even deeper, but he doesn't cry, not in front of people.

But Stiles is not most people, and he is aware enough to know that he is, for some reason, one of the people who is most important to Derek. So as Derek breaks down at the idea of Stiles' suffering, Stiles reaches forward and brings his arms around Derek.

"I'm here," he assures, over and over again, until the words are stronger than Derek's shaking. "I'm right here," he says one last time, and stays close to the man he loves most for an indeterminate amount of time, silently not-breathing together.

Stiles breaks the silence with, "I love you, you know?" He had promised to not say it to Derek. To not burden him. But here they are, in Bardo. Together. A Pack of two who would do all that is possible and all that is not to protect the other. Derek deserves to know he is loved.

The way Derek's arms tighten around him says he doesn't know. And when Derek pulls back, just a little to stare at Stiles like this is unbelievable, Stiles pulls him back in by grabbing his hands and putting one on his chest, the other on his face. He kisses the inner palm of the latter, and smiles brightly. "Never thought I'd say it. Especially once I was on my deathbed. Still hate that you chose to die with me, but I'm hoping you have a plan, and you deserve to know. You're amazing and I love you, Derek Hale."

The smile he gets is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, and Derek presses forward until their foreheads are resting against each other's. "Samuel," he says.

"Derek Samuel Hale? Samuel like Sam and Dean's grandpa?"

Derek does a snort-chortle thing, then says in the small space between them, "Shut up, Stiles."

"Shutting up."

The silence stretches, and they stay together, seizing the moment. Who knew Bardo could be peaceful? Except...

"Our escape plan? See, I'd love to explore you biblically anywhere and everywhere, but I would much rather do it on —"

"Stiles."

Derek's look of scandalized horror makes Stiles laugh until he's being hauled off in his strong, muscled arms like a sack of potatoes and starts walking. "I don't know why I love you too."

"This is just sexy. I don't think you know what you're doing to me."

"I can still smell your arousal, Stiles. I know."

"You know loads of things. What else do you know?" He says it in a simpering, sexy voice, and then giggles as Derek stumbles a step before balancing himself.

"I know how to escape. We need a bed, yes? So stop distracting me and let me do my thing."

Stiles is just glad he is already in Derek's arms, because otherwise he would have swooned and fallen into them.

The escape plan is easy and a let down, if he's being completely honest. What they need are:

A Spark's Belief ✅️

An Alpha's Roar ✅️ (When did Derek become an Alpha again?)

An Anchor on The Other Side ✅️ (Peter)

An Incantation That Derek Has Memorized ✅️

To Stand Where The Veil is Thinnest ✅️ (Derek's instincts strike yet again)

All in all, it is very anti-climactic, and very dirty as they end up materializing in a clearing near the Nemeton which is muddy. Peter looks one look at them and says, "Finally."

Stiles isn't sure if he meant it for them coming back or for Stiles and Derek finally confessing to each other. Either way, Peter hands them clean clothes and agrees to drive them back to Stiles' house, where apparently everyone is in a panic because "Stiles dissappeared."

"It's only been like, an hour or something," Stiles says, confused, as he changes into the clean t-shirt while Peter faces the other way and Derek stares, unabashed, much to Peter's verbal disgust.

Peter takes a break from chastising his nephew to say, "It's been 72 hours."

Huh.

"We should get going then," he says, and Peter sighs.

"If only you could ask my dear nephew to rein in his urges."

Stiles throws Derek a glare, who rolls his eyes but obliges. However the glare the turns into an appreciative look over Derek's abs, and Peter throws up his hands.

*

Acclimating to having magic is easy when he already has an anchor. Derek's presence is both wanted and needed, and despite Scott's insistence that another Alpha cannot stay in town, Derek stays as long as Stiles does.

Two weeks pass before Stiles calls back his boss and lets her know that he's now alright, and then he's promptly being shipped off to another state for a case. Everyone has already congratulated him on both being alive and doing something about his pining, so they throw a simple dinner on his last night in town and Stiles watches, with amusement and fondness, as all the people in his heart mingle with easy conversations and banter.

Peter chooses to stay in town to reconnect with Malia in person, while Cora deems it better to go back to her Pack in South America. Lydia and Jackson leave together for London, but Isaac decides to stay back.

When Stiles asks him why, he says, "Liam needs a good mentor. His control is weak. I can help him, plus, Derek needs a pack."

Stiles raises an eyebrow. "Liam is Scott's beta," he says.

"None of them have a pack bond," Isaac fire backs, and oh.

Derek must have heard the conversation, too, because he comes over and claps Isaac on the back, proud and all smiley, and Stiles can't help but lean in to kiss it. To taste the constant joy off of Derek's face, to give him his own in return. The action is met with Derek's soft moan and a ring of disgusted groaning from the others, including his dad's.

Stiles laughs after he pulls back, and looks around at the lot of them. There's tragedy woven into all of their lives, but there's also happiness.

Who knew getting ill would lead to this? To re-founding a family?

Maybe Derek knew, the bastard. Loveable bastard, though.

[full---ofstarlight]

What are Mason and Astrid like? Also what were their (and Camille’s) dilemma and hangout choices again so far?

hi hi!

Mason is very curious, but also very timid and unsure of himself in social situations. He suffers from a bit of low self-confidence, but he wants to be more daring and try new things. He really admires people like that and he wants to be braver! He believes in aliens and the supernatural

I forget exactly what I picked for his job situation in the run itself, but now I'm landing on gaming streamer (might change). And he's from Portland.

Decisions: Saved Gretchen // Trait Save // Trait Save // Obedience

Hung out with Avery

-

Astrid is very blunt and straightforward. She's confident but also pretty rational and tries to keep levelheaded, even if she does think she can solve a lot of problems by punching them. She doesn't like people telling her what to do. At all.

She's from Austin, Texas and she's a gym teacher.

Decisions: Trait Save // Rescued all the teens // Left the Ghost // TBD

hung out with Kaneeka

im still in the middle of astrid's playthrough which i actually have to redo a bit bc i felt sooo bad being mean to tabby but i think i locked myself out of kaneekas romance SO i really gotta stick to my guns lmao and maybe for flavor i'll leave becka/alexis...

-

And Miss Camille is perky, bubbly, and adventurous -- but also very impulsive and has no sense of self preservation. She's a huge people pleaser too, so she tries to get everyone to like her <3 It mostly works because she is so damn hot.

She's from Seattle and she's a graduate student in English.

Decisions: Saved Duke // Rescued all the teens // Tabby gave up her years // Trait Save

hungout with Tabby <3

--

ty for the ask!!

[dudosik0]

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, GATOBOB!

14th of February is traditionally marked as day for confession and validation for your loved ones. Ukrainian Gatoverse community decided it would be the greatest opportunity to show all the affection and admiration towards your incredible work, universe and characters in it. Despite everything happened, we are very happy to be the part of one big happy family that you have united with your games, comics, merch and general kindness. We really want to keep this space as supportive as you wanted it to be. So this time we wanted to return at least something that you raised us with, no matter how hard it was and how many struggles you went through.

You raised talented artists and cosplayers, encouraged new game developers and editors, helped to create many own universes and characters. We are truly engaged with everything you made for us and what we made for ourselves. ❤️

@gatobob

ARTIST COLLABORATION:

Fox — alicesyreyv

Celia — @yujiniani

Derek — @nemo-not-okay

Anthony — @rottinginthebathroom

TINR Strade — @emflare

Sid — @olesmaesto

Farz — Ronya

Raven — @aigeneratedpickle

Ashe — @gooseyalo

Marten — grh_boob20

Lawrence — @dudosik0

Strade — @rezyaraschlenonka

Komodo — DismasLover

Dragon — @serwilad

Ren — @loverykmoon

COSPLAY COLLABORATION:

Derek — @military-fashion-show

Celia — Ronya

Mason — Alexmur

Fox — @olesmaesto

Ren — @char--u

Raven — dreamspaceitsnotme

MINORS DNI

[adokle]

Just some chars around the notion of The Buyer having some potential hitters within the weapons dealing empire he's implied to have built for himself.

He outsourced work in the Pre-quill (Jason and Lindsey's crew) and in 'Knuckles' (Mason and Willoughby, the bounty hunters), but I was thinking about people in his faction here.

Def more organized crime adjacent rather world conquering aligned.

---

Tennyson: Part of the up the main production crew under the Buyer's purview. Loves the weapons testing stage most, though anything involving a blow torch, soldering iron, furnace, etc is a close second.

Hilton: Liaison to the crews that handle product distribution to 3rd party distributors and priority clientele. the title 'The Birdmaster' is self-appointed and not intended as an alias. Not that Hilton is real name either.

Hatch: Collector of unique salvage (Eggman, Quark, Black Arms, etc) that ends in the various corners of the black market that might be of interest to The Buyer. Not a Townsperson RE4 merchant.

The Hound: Who The Buyer sends to organize a face-to-face meeting with someone who's made themselves scarce.

Hopkirk: She's something of a Skewering Scorpion.

McNess and Lurch: Muscle, based on the guys that bring Mason and Wiloughby to meet The Buyer.

---

Fun fact: Character names and titles here are taken from character and shows in Rory McCann's (aka The Buyer) filmography. Just FYI.

[grapecaseschoices]

Lloyd Duarte

He has a name! And a board. I like having aesthetics and qoutes, because it helps me feel out the character. It also answers the buzzy in my brain to CREATE without taking [much] effort.

[topazy]

Hunted

Pairing: Liam Dunbar x reader

Warnings: Swearing

Chapter: 6.04

You were thankful Scott’s mom hadn’t returned from work yet; you didn’t want to be there when Melissa McCall discovered the large black scorch marks on her ceiling or when Liam went to a party in her house. You were collecting red cups and other trash that was scattered across the living room and tossing them into a black bag.

Realizing you’re the only one cleaning, you drop the bag and say, “I’m gonna need some help if we want this done before Scott’s mom gets home.”

Hearing multiple heartbeats racing in the next room, you go through and see Scott, Liam, Mason, and Corey staring up at the ceiling. You walk towards them and gulp down, “That’s where the ghost rider came in. It looks like it was burned.”

“Usually you'd find charred spots like that on the ground after a violent thunderstorm.”

Scott’s eyes widen as he processes Mason’s words: “That's how the Ghost Riders got in. He rode the lightning.”

Liam tenses, “If they can use lightning to pass the mountain ash...”

“We can’t hide from them. Nowhere is safe.”

“What about the others?” Corey asks. “It's my fault they're marked.”

“Hey, it’s not. We are all still learning about the ghost riders.”

“We'll find a way to protect them. All of them.”

Although Scott was determined to save everyone, you still doubted it could be done. Breaking the gloomy atmosphere, you pull two black bags out of your pockets and shove them at Mason and Liam. “Come on, we better clean this place before Melissa kills us.”

Scott gives you an appreciated nod.

—

Frustrated, you shove your phone into your bag before going to join Liam and Mason in the library. You hadn’t heard back from your dad in a couple of days and were starting to become worried.

The first thing you notice sitting across from Liam is the frown on his face as he stares at the book in front of him. You felt bad for Liam; he still blames himself for what happened at Scott’s party. “The k-index quantifies the horizontal component of the earth's magnetic field.” He bites on the end of his pen, looking lost in a deep thought, before asking, “What’s a k-index?”

“It’s a scale that meteorologists use to measure thunderstorm activity,” Mason explains. “So, a k-index value less than twenty meters means no activity, and above thirty-five is severe.”

“How bad is it?”

"Well, your average storm has about ten thousand lightning strikes. In the past three months, the average storm in beacon hills has been five thousand.”

“What’s it reading now?”

Mason types onto his laptop and brings up what he’s looking for: “It’s at fourteen. We’re clear.”

“If a spike in the K index means more lightning, we could know if they're coming.” Liam says, sounding unsure.

“That’s good. As long as it stays low, we’re good.”

Just as the words leave your mouth, Mason’s computer starts beeping. A few students turn and glare in your direction as he struggles to turn it off. You can’t see the screen, but sensing how anxious they are both becoming, you know it’s something bad.

“What’s wrong?”

Mason gulps down, “Oh, this is really bad.”

Under the table, Liam links his fingers with yours, attempting to comfort the both of you the best he can.

—

You pace back and forth up the hallways of Beacon Hills High School. You keep glancing back over your shoulder, waiting to see someone standing there. You didn’t know how to describe it, but you just had a feeling that you shouldn’t be there alone. Someone else was supposed to be with you, helping you.

Stiles.

That could maybe be the answer if you knew who Stiles was.

Liam and Hayden had managed to get everyone who was at the party, aside from three lacrosse players, into the underground tunnels. Your uncle Chris and Malia were staying with them underground to keep them safe.

Since the majority of the lacrosse team and coach were in the boys locker room, you couldn’t go in to help try and persuade the players to leave. Hearing familiar footsteps, you turn and see nobody, yet you have the feeling someone is standing right in front of you.

“Stiles,” you whisper. “Stiles, can you hear me?”

“Lu, who are you talking to?”

“No one,” you mumble. Turning back around, you met a confused-looking Mason’s eye. “Where’s Scott and Liam?

“They are playing the game.”

—

You sit beside Mason on the bleachers, cringing as coach becomes more and more angry. The Bulldogs had scored three times, and your school's team hadn’t had one goal all game. You weren’t happy about Liam being out on the lacrosse field, but they reasoned it was the only way to keep the other players safe.

“What are you doing out there?! i'm gonna kill the three of you!”

“Look how red coach’s face is,” you whisper. “He looks like he’s gonna blow.”

“This is the worst ga—“ Mason doesn’t finish his sentence when he notices Scott and Liam looking at him from across the field. “But of course we have bigger things to worry about.”

Over the cheers and boos of the crowd, you hear someone saying your name; they were calling for you. Suddenly sensing who it was, you stand up, and Mason takes your hand to gain your attention. “What is it? What do you hear?”

“My dad's here; he’s with Parrish. He needs to talk to me.”

“Want me to come with you?”

“Find Hayden first, and then I’ll meet you inside. Liam and Scott will call if anything is wrong.”

You sprint from the bleachers towards the high school just as the light rain becomes heavy, soaking your clothes almost immediately. You burst through the doors. “Dad, dad?”

Derek appears behind you and pulls you into him. “We need to go.”

“What?”

“Kate’s coming. We need to go now.”

“But I—“

“The ghost riders are afraid of hellhounds, which is why I called Parrish.” Placing his hand on your back, Derek starts moving you towards the exit. “I’m parked outside. Soon as Liam is here, then we are leaving.”

“Liam is coming?”

He pushes the main doors open and says, “Liam will stay with you while I come back and help Scott and Chris with the ghost riders.”

On the opposite end of the hallway, you hear Hayden and Mason’s voices; they sounded panicked. You spin back around, “Somethings wrong!”

A brunette woman overtakes your friends while running in the hallway but is shot by one of the ghost riders bullets and disappears. Turning into his hellhound form, Parrish is shot by one of the ghost riders. The flames surrounding his body turn green, and he falls back, but is only momentarily stunned before getting back up.

The ghost rider turns its body to face in your direction and aims its gun at you. Growling, Derek shoves you forward just as the bullet skips past where you stood seconds before.

Parrish grabs the ghost rider from behind, giving Hayden and Mason a chance to run by it without being attacked.

You go to run outside but are pulled back. “There’s more out there, fuck.” Being faster than you, Derek takes hold of your hand and keeps you beside him. “Go to the nearest classroom and lock yourselves in.”

Mason’s eyes were widened with feet and adrenaline; he looked as if he were going to throw up. “The science lab is just down the next hall!”

The four of you make it to the classroom. Mason slips and falls. Derek, let’s go of your hand to help him up. Just as you’re about to step inside, a black cord tightens around your ankle. You sink your claws into the side of the door to fight against the ghost rider trying to pull you backwards.

You let out a piercing scream, “Dad!”

The ghost rider pulls on the whip, dragging you along the floor. Expecting to be shot, you squeeze your eyes shut, but they quickly open when the pressure around your ankle disappears. Derek had cut the cord with his claws before lunging on top of the ghost rider.

“Dad!”

Hayden yanks you backwards into the classroom. There’s a bright flash of lightening, then the ghost rider disappears.

[military-fashion-show]

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, GATOBOB!

14th of February is traditionally marked as day for confession and validation for your loved ones. Ukrainian Gatoverse community decided it would be the greatest opportunity to show all the affection and admiration towards your incredible work, universe and characters in it. Despite everything happened, we are very happy to be the part of one big happy family that you have united with your games, comics, merch and general kindness. We really want to keep this space as supportive as you wanted it to be. So this time we wanted to return at least something that you raised us with, no matter how hard it was and how many struggles you went through.

You raised talented artists and cosplayers, encouraged new game developers and editors, helped to create many own universes and characters. We are truly engaged with everything you made for us and what we made for ourselves. ❤️

@gatobob

ARTIST COLLABORATION: Fox — alicesyreyv Celia — @yujiniani Derek — @nemo-not-okay Anthony — @rottinginthebathroom TINR Strade — @emflare Sid — @olesmaesto Farz — Ronya Raven — aigeneratedpickle Ashe — @gooseyalo Marten — grh_boob20 Lawrence — @dudosik0 Strade — @rezyaraschlenonka Komodo — DismasLover Dragon — @serwilad Ren — @loverykmoon

COSPLAY COLLABORATION: Derek — @military-fashion-show Celia — Ronya Mason — Alexmur Fox — @olesmaesto Ren — @char--u Raven — dreamspaceitsnotme

MINORS DNI

[loverykmoon]

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, GATOBOB!

14th of February is traditionally marked as day for confession and validation for your loved ones. Ukrainian Gatoverse community decided it would be the greatest opportunity to show all the affection and admiration towards your incredible work, universe and characters in it. Despite everything happened, we are very happy to be the part of one big happy family that you have united with your games, comics, merch and general kindness. We really want to keep this space as supportive as you wanted it to be. So this time we wanted to return at least something that you raised us with, no matter how hard it was and how many struggles you went through.

💕💕💕

@gatobob

ARTIST COLLABORATION: Fox — alicesyreyv Celia — @yujiniani Derek — @nemo-not-okay Anthony — @rottinginthebathroom TINR Strade — @emflare Sid — @olesmaesto Farz — Ronya Raven — @aigeneratedpickle Ashe — @gooseyalo Marten — grh_boob20 Lawrence — @dudosik0 Strade — @rezyaraschlenonka Komodo — DismasLover Dragon — @serwilad Ren — @loverykmoon COSPLAY COLLABORATION: Derek — @military-fashion-show Celia — Ronya Mason — Alexmur Fox — @olesmaesto Ren — @char--u Raven — dreamspaceitsnotme

MINORS DNI