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jazlynriddle · 10 days ago

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Welcome to your life - Pt 2:

Acting On Your Best Behaviour Ch 16:

Summary:

They'd seen it in their fellow orphans often enough to recognise the pattern and were now forced to admit, despite their hopes to the contrary, that Isidora had likely suffered similar side effects.

No… they'd always known she had. The Keeper had just wanted the power that Ranrok had, enough to convince themselves that they would be able to handle it better than that naive woman.

With the start of the Keeper’s sixth-year in Hogwarts, comes a whole slew of headache-inducing challenges from the most unexpected of places. Between insignificant pests throwing wrenches into their plans and tedious teenage drama, that the Keeper is entirely unprepared for, they wonder if they'll make it to their NEWTs without losing their sanity.

Or worse, Ominis or Sebastian.

Warnings: This chapter contains smut! And violence. But not violent smut, don't worry xD

Warnings: Sebastian x MC x Ominis! Drug Addiction! Spoilers! Slow-burn corruption! Dark content! Fucked up 1800s orphanages! MC has no love for Anne or Solomon! Dubious happy ending (it's happy for MC, Seb and Ominis at least).

You can also read on AO3! (chapter specific warnings below)

Notes:

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of injuries! Canon-typical violence! Not exactly torture, but kinda torture? And of course, the SMUT you're all here for! Finally-

Also, I spent like 40hrs+ drawing the map for this chapter x') I redrew the lake like five times and the mountains four times before I was satisfied OTL I am so tired- I really don't know how I managed to finish drawing the map by hand and a 5k+ chapter in time lol

Anyway, feel free to speed scroll down to reference the map when the characters look at it or save it to look at after reading! I've uploaded two variations of the map, the original map, as well as the map that the characters have made notes and drawings on.

You can also view the artwork in HD for free on my Patreon page!

Also here’s a cool site I found that *ahem* might be helpful for the map :3 https://abcbraille.com/braille

"How is she?" The Keeper asked as soon as Sepulchria's feet touched the ground.

Tynx, who had come to greet them as always, bowed slightly as he replied. "Master's… guest, has given in to hunger, after refusing to eat for two days, and is currently consuming the food that Tibsy brought her. She has also been demanding that she be released or be allowed to speak with her captor."

"Ignore her demands, she'll see me again soon enough." The Keeper chuckled, holding the thestral in place while Sebastian dismounted first.

"How long will we wait before going after her?" Sebastian asked, offering them a hand to dismount.

Taking the offered hand, the Keeper hopped off the thestral, landing with a soft grunt. "With the anti-apparition ward, I'd give her a generous minimum of six hours to reach the borders of our territory, so we can wait in the gatehouse for about an hour before going after her."

The Keeper patted Sepulchria's flank, tucking the beast back into their Nab-sack, before turning to Tynx and passing him a small vial of invisibility potion. "I want you tailing her through the entire test. If she comes within reach of escaping, and restraining her is not an option, you have permission to kill her."

"Yes Master." Tynx dipped his head without hesitation, tucking the vial away in one of his coat pockets.

"Good, you can leave her cell door unlocked after clearing away the dishes." The Keeper nodded, gesturing for Sebastian to begin heading into the gatehouse and adding with a wry smile. "Try to make it look like an accident."

"Of course, happy hunting, Master." Tynx bobbed his head and popped away.

The Keeper snorted lightly as they turned to follow Sebastian up the stairs to the gatehouse.

"Are you sure we can't start experimenting with your power on her?" Sebastian asked, frowning as they fell in step with him. "The sooner we find a way to safely extract pain, the sooner we can cure my sister."

"I understand your impatience." The Keeper soothed, placing a hand on his arm. "But we can't properly prepare our defences if I accidentally damage her emotions."

Reaching the upper floor, the Keeper pushed the door open and entered the gatehouse as they continued. "Fear is a powerful motivator. Without emotions, she likely wouldn't attempt an escape and surely you remember what happened the last time you gambled on succeeding at complex magic on your first try."

Sebastian winced as he followed with a sigh, leaning against the wall. "You're right, sorry. I just-"

"I know." The Keeper murmured, closing the door and cupping a hand against his face, placing a soft kiss on his lips. "We'll save her, but we must be patient and smart about this or we'll never get there."

"Yeah, we will." Sebastian breathed, moving forward to capture their lips more firmly and placing his hands on their hips.

The Keeper allowed him to hold them for a few moments, before pulling away gently with a chuckle. "Let's not get distracted."

Sebastian huffed lightly but dropped his hands and the Keeper moved over to the map that lay on the table, the only piece of furniture they'd bothered to place in the gatehouse for the time being. The late morning rays streamed through the window and illuminated the large parchment.

"We can assume that this woman has some familiarity with the terrain of this region, having lived just east of Dìon for most of her life." The Keeper placed their hands on the table. Not noticing the way Sebastian's eyes lingered on their behind before he shook himself, dragged his brain out of the gutter, and joined them at the table.

Sebastian cleared his throat before nodding. "She probably knows the lake at least, it's a good source of freshwater and the far end of it is relatively near her home."

"Indeed, it is likely that she'll attempt to travel in that direction when she gets her bearings. The blood potion Tibsy added to her food should make it easy for us to track her through our territory." The Keeper nodded. "I doubt she'll make it to the red zone but we'll see."

"Hopefully she will, I'm eager to see if the runes we drew work." Sebastian grinned with all the mischievous energy of a hyperactive kitten.

The Keeper chuckled. "I'm more curious to see how the prototype Guardians we constructed will perform."

At that moment, the Keeper felt the fine hairs on their skin raise as the cell breach alarm rippled through their wards. Their mental visualisation of their environment now held a distinct point in space that they could sense even from a distance.

"Well, the detection wards on the cells work." Sebastian grinned, having long since been keyed into said wards as well.

"And the tracking potion works, are you getting it too?" The Keeper asked as they 'watched' the woman move upwards through the underground floors.

Sebastian nodded. "Yeah, feels weird, but it looks like I was right, mixing both our blood into the Indago blood-magic potion allows both of us to track the target."

"Excellent." The Keeper nodded, they were off to a good start.

Moving to the windows, the Keeper watched the tent covering the underground entrance carefully as they swished their wand. "Tempus."

Sebastian joined them and several minutes passed while they waited, before the tent flap was pushed open and the haggard looking woman peeked out of it, her wand gripped firmly in her hand.

"Not bad, she found the wand that we left for her in the elves' quarters." Sebastian chuckled.

"Twenty minutes to reach the ground floor with her wand, we'll see how far we can push that with obstacles." The Keeper muttered as they noted down the time on the journal they'd extracted from their satchel.

Seeing that the courtyard was empty, the woman sprinted for the castle gates. As she neared the gate, guarded by two simple clay statues on either side of the arch, designed in an approximate resemblance to the Elder Keepers' Guardians, the two statues came to life and attacked her.

The Keeper watched the statues' movements with avid interest as the startled woman dodged four consecutive sword strikes with unexpected agility, considering her condition. Perhaps her father had trained her to defend herself in the event that they were pursued.

However, another two attacks later, the statues' movements slowed, grinded to a halt, and then crumbled into a cloud of fine clay powder.

"Tch, only five minutes of active time for so much Ancient magic?" The Keeper kissed their teeth in annoyance. "I guess I'll have to perform the Leyline Binding ritual, before they are viable, after all."

While she seemed uncertain about the remains of the statues, the woman wasted no time and waved her wand, casting Alohomora on the gate's lock and sprinting through the gates the moment they were open. The woman sprinted to the other side, and the Keeper and Sebastian moved to another window to continue monitoring her.

She surveyed the environment, taking advantage of the castle's position atop a hill to get a good look around, before she took off downhill at a brisk pace. The Keeper watched impassively, trusting that Tynx was trailing after the woman at a distance under the invisibility potion.

"Well then, whatever shall we do while we wait?" Sebastian whispered, resting his chin on the Keeper's shoulder.

"You rest up for the hunt, while I take a hit." The Keeper chuckled and pulled out a jar from their satchel while Sebastian pouted.

Tynx watched carefully from his perch atop a tree as the woman finally finished winding her way down the hill after thirty minutes. He had been concerned when the statues crumbled at the gates, but he would simply continue following his master's orders until instructed otherwise.

In truth, he hadn't been particularly surprised when the Keeper brought an unconscious and bound woman to be kept in the dungeons. The design of the underground levels made their use obvious to him from the start. He'd done his best to minimise Tibsy's interaction with the prisoner to give her time to adjust, but this was something the young house elf would have to come to terms with.

As long as it wasn’t him or Tibsy being used to test their master's security, it wasn’t their place to say what their master could or couldn't do. It was more than enough that he wasn't the one stepping into a bear trap cunningly placed amongst the grass covering the long strip of field between the hill and the forest.

The loud crunch of her bone and the woman's shrill scream were jarring but Tynx simply swallowed and tried his best not to think about it. He'd tolerated far worse without a single complaint.

The woman lay on the ground, whimpering in pain for several minutes, before she pulled herself together and raised her wand shakily to sever the spring holding the trap closed. She then tore off a strip of her skirt and tied it firmly around her knee.

Her breaths became frenzied as she pried the teeth open, gasping in agony as the sharp metal slid free from her flesh, before choking out a Vitulus Emendo charm through her sobs and groaning in pain as her calf bone mended.

To her credit, she seemed to understand that she couldn't afford to rest for very long, and hurriedly cast a Ferula charm on her leg, causing bandages to coil around her leg in a neat splint. A sound concern, as the moment that she managed to get to her feet, the Keeper and Sebastian arrived on Sepulchria's back, landing a few meters behind her.

Propelled by fear and adrenaline, the woman began to sprint for the forest line as Sebastian flung a Confringo at her from the thestral's back. Laughing when she barely ducked in time, the cloth covering her shoulder catching on fire, stumbling as she cast Aguamenti on herself to put it out.

Tynx watched as Sebastian dropped from Sepulchria's back, chasing after the woman with a wide grin, while the Keeper followed at a more leisurely pace, gesturing for the thestral to circle overhead.

Sebastian threw an Expulso that the woman neatly dodged, throwing a Stupefy back at him, which he countered, as she ran in zigzags to avoid getting hit by the Keeper's Diffindo.

As the woman entered the treeline of the large forest surrounding the lake, Tynx popped over to another tree, tracking her progress through the thicket from amongst the high branches. Carefully making his way from branch to branch rather than travelling on the ground, specifically to avoid-

The woman shrieked in pain as she ran face first into a web of thin and barely visible wires strung up from the low hanging branches of one tree to the next. The thin and sharp wires at head level sliced into the woman's face, just taut enough to leave deep and painful cuts without threatening to cause more severe damage.

Jumping back, the woman placed a hand against her bleeding cheeks, gaping at the mesh of wires that were now adorned with small beads of red along the strands. Perhaps now understanding exactly how sadistic her captors were, that she had just entered an arena designed not to kill or even capture, but to cause as much pain as possible.

"Are you sure you have the luxury of gawping?" The taunting voice made the woman jump and she spun around to see the Keeper emerge from the shadows with a wicked smirk stretched across their lips, followed closely by Sebastian, a vicious light in his eyes.

At the sight of their sinister figures, she began running once more, followed closely by another Confringo from Sebastian, his voice filled with anticipation as he called out after her. "Come now, give us some fight, it's more fun that way!"

"Careful not to fall into one of our own traps, love." The Keeper chuckled as Sebastian leaped forward in pursuit.

"I know, I know." Sebastian called back distractedly, ducking under the wires, and throwing a Diffindo after the woman, who countered it with a Protego this time, throwing a Bombarda back at him.

The Keeper sighed as Sebastian dodged and tripped over a root with a yelp. Without missing a beat, they poured their ancient magic into their feet to sprint to his side, throwing up a shield to defend him from the explosive heat.

"Aha ha… thanks." Sebastian cleared his throat and laughed sheepishly as they helped him up.

They could feel his pulse thrum in their firm grip, the heat of his excitement felt almost scalding where their hands grasped. The Keeper allowed themselves to partake of Sebastian's feverish eagerness, fueling their own energy with it.

"Don't get carried away." The Keeper smirked knowingly, releasing his hand as he got to his feet, giving him time to collect himself.

"Sorry, I- well, it's just been so long since we got to fight together-" Sebastian explained breathlessly, brushing the dirt from his clothing.

"I know, but you needn't rush. This is different from our battles last year, we've got plenty of time to enjoy the hunt." The Keeper purred with a sharp smirk as they turned to follow the woman, offering him their hand again.

Sebastian felt their low voice resonate through him, reigniting the fire in his veins as he took their hand, feeling almost as though he had somehow become intoxicated. A wide grin stretched across his face and his eyes gleamed with elation as he followed the Keeper’s lead, weaving through the trees to catch up with their prey.

Meanwhile, Tynx had continued to keep the woman within his sight. His master was strong enough that he wasn't particularly concerned about their safety, a monster like them would probably melt a blade the moment it touched their skin.

The woman stumbled through the forest frantically, casting an Episkey on her face to close the gashes and doing her best to cover her tracks by rearranging the foliage behind her, to no avail of course.

Tynx shook his head as she wasted time and effort on a futile endeavour, though she couldn't possibly know that she was being tracked or that she wouldn't be leaving this forest regardless. Summoning a swirl of air to part the foliage woman examined the ground carefully as she continued walking, avoiding several bear traps this way.

As she reached a fork, she spotted several darker wires along the floor, perhaps thinking that her captors had made a mistake when trying to camouflage the wires, making them visible instead, she smiled and lifted her foot to step over them.

Only for her shin to press against a barely visible strip of wire placed right above the black ones. It dug into her skin, leaving a deep gash that burned as she fell forwards and over onto a mesh of wires, feeling the net sitting an inch over the floor cut into her palms.

The woman trembled, in such pain that she could barely breathe, nor did she really want to, as every breath made her weight shift and thus sliding the wires in her flesh. Holding her breath, she overcame the pain and forced her hands to apply pressure to the wires so she could leverage herself off the net cutting into her hands and knees.

Rolling off onto the soil, she curled up into a ball, gasping in pain. Her hands trembled, blood oozing from the multitudes of paper-thin gashes lining her palms and knees, as she cast another Episkey charm to close her new injuries.

Struggling to her feet, she pushed past her pain and continued stumbling through the forest for several minutes before the soil beneath her feet gave way and, with a yelp, she found herself falling into a pit filled with bright red ants. The fire ants went into a frenzy, climbing up her arms and legs, biting into her flesh angrily and the woman brandished her wand, crying out in panic. "Incendio!"

Tynx winced, she'd acted exactly as his master had predicted. The flames from her wand rolled over the ants, burning them to cinders, and unfortunately, igniting the oil covered wood that lined the bottom of the pit.

The woman coughed through the heat, desperately struggling to climb out of the pit. Unaware that the Keeper had designed this pitfall with a small tunnel dug out through the side that ensured that the fire would always have oxygen once started and the heat would build endlessly until she cooked alive.

Tynx hovered uncertainly, his master had not instructed him to save her life if she seemed in legitimate danger of dying and he wasn't sure if he should intervene.

However, while he was hesitating, the woman resolved his dilemma by managing to cast a non-verbal jet of Aguamenti, dousing the fire but also causing an explosion of hot steam and scalding water that probably would have wrung another scream from her if her raw throat were able to produce sound at this point.

The woman's hands scrabbled against the dirt around the rim of the pit, struggling to find traction in the loose soil as she dragged herself out of the boiling water. Her hands shook as she cast Aguamenti again on herself, whimpering in relief as the cool water soothed her burnt and boil-covered skin.

Tynx relaxed, at least he no longer had to guess what his master would prefer he do. He returned to his surveillance and was admittedly impressed when the woman dragged herself to her feet after barely fifteen minutes of rest.

"...found you…" The Keeper's lightly singsong voice was almost eerie as it cut through the woman's laboured breathing.

Immediately, she waved her wand, pulling the still boiling water from the pit and flung it in the direction of the terrifying voice. Without looking back, the woman began sprinting again as a Diffindo sliced into the bark of a tree just centimetres from her.

Sebastian grinned from behind a wall of ice, having cast Glacius, after the Keeper's Diffindo, to defend against the scalding water. Their prey had some fight in her, this was so much more fun than he'd hoped. Honestly, Sebastian had been looking forward to releasing his pent-up frustration from how awful this school year had been and this was exactly what he'd needed.

The Keeper slashed their wand, shattering the ice and the two of them shot forward as one, the Keeper lassoing a boulder with their ancient magic. With a grunt they launched it towards the woman while Sebastian cast a Levitation charm at her to prevent her from dodging it.

The boulder hit its mark with a satisfying crunch, shattering the arm she'd raised to defend herself and the stubborn woman crumpled to the floor. With her uninjured wand arm, she shot a non-verbal Bombarda at them and forced herself to her feet to continue running.

Shielding against the blast, the Keeper waved their wand to dispel the smoke from the explosion and flung another Diffindo at her. The spell clipped her on the leg, slicing open one of her boils and making her limp as the two of them continued the chase.

As they ran, Sebastian spotted the lake through the trees just off to the right and a thrill rushed through him when he realised their location. They were almost at the red zone, placed halfway between the castle and the border of their territory. A glance at the steely glint in his lover's eyes confirmed that they'd noticed too, and his excitement spiked.

The two threw themselves into their pursuit with renewed vigour, doing their best to keep the woman within their sights as she ran across a clearing, until…

The woman's left foot landed squarely on an inconspicuous patch of grass and in an instant, sharp spikes stabbed upwards through her shoes, into her sole and burst out through the top of her foot with a spray of blood.

Her mouth opened in a soundless scream, and she dropped to a knee. Her blood seeped into the soil and all of a sudden, runes began appearing in glowing red letters over her body and across the floor in two directions. The woman finally passed out from the pain, exertion and magic of the runes, unbeknownst to her, the red line of runes were now cutting through the forest in a long red strip.

Seeing the glow as they stopped several meters away from the woman, the Keeper grinned, and Sebastian let out a shout of triumph. Their hard work had paid off, three whole days of tedious rune-work and trap setting across the entire strip of forest between Dìon and the border.

Drunk on their success, Sebastian moved without thinking and the next moment his hands were pulling his partner into his arms. Their lips were electric against his own and he moaned in excitement as their bodies pressed flush against each other.

He wanted and wanted, and he didn't know exactly how to say what he wanted, but he really really did.

The Keeper smirked against Sebastian’s lips as his hands gripped their hips tightly, not particularly surprised that Sebastian's excitement had hit its peak here.

They couldn't deny their own joy and desire either, this was a victory that they weren't sure they'd achieve, there were so many ways that the blood magic could fail, but they'd succeeded at creating a powerful protective barrier over the most vulnerable entry to their lands with blood magic. One that would trap anything whose veins ran with blood, paralysing them and gradually draining their life and magical energy.

The mountains around their territory were mostly stone, incredibly steep and prone to landslides, making them a natural barrier that was treacherous to scale. So, they didn't need to guard against that direction very strongly, but the forest and long lake presented more of an opening to a ground invasion or escape on foot.

With this, the only thing that remained was the lake, but they could work on that later, the Keeper mused as their fingers worked their way under Sebastian's tunic to caress his heated skin. He whimpered into their mouth as he pressed against them with more urgency, and the Keeper chuckled as they pulled away, disregarding his noise of complaint.

"Let's take this elsewhere." The Keeper purred, whistling for Sepulchria and lifting their eyes, spotting an unnaturally weighed down branch along the canopy. "Tynx, get her back into her cell and pour this down her throat."

Tynx startled when their eyes lingered on him for a split second, could they see him?

"Yes, Master." Swallowing uncomfortably, he popped to the floor, catching the vial of wiggenweld that the Keeper tossed in his general direction as the red light of the runes faded from the floor. The runes were still on the woman's body, draining her magic and strength.

Until Tynx snapped his fingers and lifted the unconscious woman by her clothes, dropping her over the back of the thestral that had landed a few steps away from him. The moment the woman was back on the side of the red zone that she'd entered from, the runes' light faded and ceased its drain.

The elf then climbed into Sepulchria's back and the thestral began flying them back to the castle.

That settled, the Keeper took Sebastian by the hand and began to tug him towards the lake. Weaving through the trees and traps, the shimmering surface of the water that soon came into their view, took their breath away.

Letting Sebastian's hand go as they passed the treeline, and stepped into the sunlight, the Keeper tugged their shirt off, tossing it onto the light brown sand as they ran across the shore. Sebastian grinned as he got the idea and began divesting himself of his clothes as they reached the lakeside.

Kicking off their shoes, the Keeper paused to strip their socks before splashing into the shallow water in their undergarments, stopping only to watch Sebastian nearly trip on his pants and laughing as they waded deeper into the water. Enjoying the spring breeze, the warm afternoon sun and the refreshingly clear water, the Keeper happily dipped down into the water to wash off the sweat from their chase.

Sebastian had a hard time dragging his eyes away to tug off his sock, entranced by the sight of his lover's cheeks, still flushed from their chase, and the lake water sparkling in the sunlight as the droplets trickled down their torso. The simmering want in his heart resurged when they flashed him an inviting smirk.

Ripping the stubborn fabric off and flinging it off somewhere behind him, Sebastian waded through the waist high water towards them, sputtering when they playfully splashed water in his face. With a grin, he made a grab for them, and they ducked, weaving around him, before hiding behind a large half submerged boulder.

Chasing them around the boulder, Sebastian ducked a splash, catching them by the wrist and pinning them against the stone, its surface smooth from years of erosion. The Keeper laughed at the victorious grin on Sebastian's face as he braced a hand against the rock, holding them still with his body, drops of water dripping from his wavy brown hair as his heated breaths warmed their cheek.

Rewarding his hard work, the Keeper tilted their head to the side and pressed their lips together, allowing him to coax them open as he released their wrist to palm their side, groaning into their mouth. His pressing need pressed against them, the warmth of their chest against his own causing arousal to curl in his abdomen.

Sebastian could barely think past the heat pounding through his ears, the feeling of their wet skin against his own, reminding him of that night in the prefects' bath.

Eager to re-experience the sensation of cotial bliss with his lover, he urged them into a better position, where he could press himself against their arousal and grounded his hips against them, releasing an involuntary moan of relief at the stimulation. The muffled groan that they bit back at the same time was tantalising and he rocked against them once more, seeking to draw as many sounds as he could from his conservative lover.

The gentle lapping of water, rippling against the boulder with every thrust, was strangely hypnotic and he gasped as their nails dug into his shoulders, ecstatic that he could draw such carnal reactions from them. Peeling his lips from theirs, he moved down along their neck, tasting their skin and sucking the moisture from it like a man in the desert.

Sebastian could feel that he wouldn't last very long, so tightly coiled he yet was from their invigorating chase, but he wanted them to reach their peak together this time. So, he doubled his efforts, running his hands over their body desperately as he rocked his hips against them, determined to hold out until they came.

The Keeper's breath caught at the delicious way his body moved against theirs, feeling how powerful all their time spent working and fighting together had made him, both physically and magically. How far he'd come, how far they'd come. They had so much power now, this land, this lake, this boy. It was all theirs, and while they couldn't share this joy of hunting with Ominis, he was theirs too.

They gasped as Sebastian rubbed a thumb over their hardened nipple, feeling his muscles shift under his shoulder blade with every thrust that slid them along the smooth surface of the rock against their back. Loving the way his breath shook with every movement, his eyes glassy as though it was taking everything in him to hold them so.

Like they were worth it.

This thought and the building pleasure between them made the Keeper's grip tighten around Sebastian's shoulders as they felt euphoria sing through their veins and pulse through their body like fire. Groaning his name through clenched teeth, their body tightened and that swelling bubble of bliss exploded into pure ecstasy.

The sound of his name and the heated breath against his ear made Sebastian's brain sizzle and melt. A moan escaped his lips, feeling his grip slip and the dam burst, that incredible surge of pleasure crashing over him like a wave.

His hips ground against them a few more times, feeling their body jolt from the overstimulation, before he came to a stop with a sigh of satisfaction. His breaths were heavy and shaky, his legs trembling, as the two of them slumped against the boulder, panting from the high they'd reached, the cloth between their cores warm and sticky as their fluids dissolved into the water.

Regaining their footing, the Keeper removed their nails from Sebastian's skin and slipped their arms under his, supporting him as they slowly slid down the boulder to sit, letting the water's buoyancy carry some of their weight while the two of them recovered their strength.

Settling down beside the Keeper, Sebastian leaned back, resting his head against theirs and basking in the comfortable silence, the gentle sway of the lake water soothing against his skin.

"Our home really is quite wonderful." The Keeper murmured contentedly as their breathing settled.

"Yeah." Sebastian agreed with a soft smile. Home. He hadn't truly felt any particular place as "home" since his parents died. After that, home came to mean wherever Anne was, and then it changed to wherever his lovers were. In time, he could see this place feeling like home too.

"Anywhere we're together is wonderful." Sebastian took their hand in his as he spoke his heart.

"How sweet." The Keeper chuckled, turning to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek. "It is so to me as well, there's nowhere else I'd rather be than home with you."

Sebastian's eyes moistened, love swelling in his heart, and he knew that it didn't matter what trials or tribulations lay in their future, because he'd be by their side. He didn't care who had to suffer for it, he would protect what they had. He could face anything, as long as he was with the Keeper and Ominis.

Never one to stay still for very long, the Keeper eventually got to their feet and surveyed their beautiful lake. "Since we're here…"

Sebastian blinked as the Keeper seemed to spot something moving under the surface through the clear water and abruptly made a beeline for the deeper end.

With a fond smile, Sebastian got up to follow as the Keeper dived in and disappeared under the short waves. A few steps later, Sebastian felt the floor drop out from under him and, taking a deep breath, sank into the water as well.

The sun's late afternoon light shone through the water in multihued streams, and he turned his head around, searching for them for several moments, before he felt arms drape around his shoulders from behind.

Sebastian smiled like a loon as the Keeper's chest pressed against his back and he felt a soft kiss on his cheek. Before they released him and swam around him, offering him a hand, while the other seemed to be clutched around something.

Without hesitation, he took it, and they swam to the surface together, emerging close enough to the shore to stand. Breaking through the water, Sebastian only spared a second to breathe before he pulled them in for a proper kiss. He could taste the sweet lake water on their lips as he held them close, his heart melting in the heat of his affection.

The Keeper huffed a breathless laugh as he broke away to breathe. "You really only think of one thing, don't you."

Sebastian frowned indignantly. "No, I don't."

The Keeper chuckled as they ran a hand down his bare chest to palm his rapidly hardening length through the cloth. "Sure."

"That is extremely unfair." Sebastian protested, his cheeks reddening.

"It's barely been thirty minutes." The Keeper laughed, shaking their head.

"Now see here, you can't blame me for reacting when you're constantly riling me up." Sebastian argued.

"Am I?" The Keeper smirked knowingly, and Sebastian groaned as his heart rate spiked immediately.

"You absolutely are, bloody demon." He growled in frustration, knowing that there was no way he could win this one, he settled for covering their grinning mouth with his own.

Notes:

Sebastian: I'd kill for my lovers. *turns to the Keeper and Ominis* Please ask me to kill for you. The Keeper: Sure! Ominis: Absolutely not! Don't encourage him! — Were the Keeper's legs wrapped around Sebastian's waist so he could grind against their clit or were their feet on the ground and Sebastian was grinding their lengths together? Well, that depends on which assigned gender you prefer ;)

There's also going to be another smut scene between the Keeper and Ominis, because I want to be fair to both boys haha x3

Also, the traps in this chapter are actually based off Vietnam war tactics during the Vietnam War of 1955-1975, let's just say they had quite insane strategies.

Vietnam traps are designed to hurt, to make the soldiers who step onto a pressure plate and have their legs pierced with twenty thin spikes, scream as loud as possible to scare and demoralise their own comrades. They even threw naked women onto the field, surrounded by traps, to lure in American soldiers who would try to rescue these women and evacuate them or, well, possibly other reasons I suppose.

So, of course, our Keeper gonna use those kinda strats xP Also, the fire ant pitfall is made with a Dakota Fire Hole design, it's actually a rather brilliant way to create an oven in the wild. My partner came up with that one haha... we're both fucked up- x')

Also, I wonder if an Alohomora charm would open a bear trap, I mean, technically it's forcing open something after all xP

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lindsayb-406 · 1 year ago

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whoops your paranoia is showing, lol.

HAS a post op transwoman, America makes me, delighted that i live in the UK.

i can go into public toilets, unhindered, i don't get shot at for no reason, and best of all.

no dickheads with a gun fetish, and no sex life.

Yes we have gun laws, that are stricter than the US. but being a former Air Cadet Force, member, i have used military firearms, under supervision, on RAF firing ranges. and lived in Wales, where the use of guns, is for pest control and hunting. so i can say with total honesty, the US view on gun ownership is both immature and very probably a mistranslation of the true intention of the constitution.

At the time of it's drawing up, the US would have been undefendable, without gun ownership, probably the true intent. i'm sure those in government at the time, would have been shocked to see, teens turning those guns on their class mate, and workers shotting their bosses, so readerly. and whilst illegal at the time, in most countries, the killing of LBGT community members.

I would be interested, in your view/justification on that.

PS: it is the US's policy to interfer with the running of other countries, that makes them attack the US. the UK has far less problems, has a result.

So blaming the UK, for the US's problems is factually wrong.

jayne

The 2A was written because the the British Monarchy back then. That is what I am referring to. The king forbade the colonists from having firearms to revolt against England when they raised taxes on the colonies. The Bill of Rights was drafted in direct response to the actions that King George took at that time. Which is why we have the freedom of speech, religion, free press, to own and bear arm, to not have to quarter soldiers, no unreasonable searches and seizures, government needs to secure warrants, we can’t be tried for the same crime more than once (double-jeopardy), can’t be forced to self-incriminate, rights of speedy trials and trial by jury, and no cruel and unusual punishment.

While it is a tragedy anytime a gun (notice the 2a says right to own and bear arms, not guns) is used to kill any innocent person, the blame is on the person holding the firearm not the arms itself. Restricting the rights of law-abiding citizens is not the answer.

I understand that culturally you take a different view. I respect that. I will, however, stand up for the right of every law abiding US citizen no matter their race, color, creed, sexual orientation, gender identification, veteran status, etc. These rights were created to stifle the powers of the government to make sure we don’t get another King George trying to be a dictator over the people of these United States.

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dingbatnix · 2 years ago

Text

Bees

So I was watching the video where Sapnap played minecraft while in a room full of bees...aaand it gave me an idea! A wonderful idea, if I do say so myself! So, I got started on writing it, and here we are!

(Reference drawing pending...) (It's here now but I'm too lazy to change the text xD)

Also, much thanks to @da3dm for helping me proofread it and all that!

Soooo, without futher ado, here it is!

Word Count: 5,308

Warnings: Brief description of injury, Brief description of blood, ect.

Sapnap grinned. He'd finally managed to swat one! The bigger green one, to be more precise. It was buzzing around his ears, as the duo of bees usually did to torment him, and then bam! Sapnap had been fast enough to smack the annoying thing out of the air with his hand. It flew through the crowded space of his garden house before bouncing onto the cluttered surface of his workbench with an audible ‘tuk.’

Sapnap huffed, grin widening as he wiped his palm off on the side of his jeans. He got one! Finally! Now he just needed to squish the other one, and everything would be great! Since there were only two bees that would buzz around his head and terrorize him almost every time he had to go into the garden house (which was every day, his tomatoes needed constant maintenance), and he had just gotten rid of one, he only had the other little pest left to squash!

A weak moan came from the worktable, catching Sapnap’s attention. Bees can moan? He hesitantly peered down at it’s little crumpled body, curious, but also cautious. He didn’t want it to fly up to his face and attack him, after all.

He’d never gotten a really good look at either of the bees that would harass him, other than quick glances. They usually zipped around way too fast, but now…

The coin-sized bee looked human, more human than Sapnap would have thought was possible. (Sure, he had some experience with hybrids, but, he knew, he knew, that they couldn't get this small. They couldn't be as small as his freaking thumbnail. So, the bees couldn't be hybrids. It wouldn't be possible. It wouldn't.) Four slightly crushed gossamer bee wings protruded out from the back of a green-and-darker-green striped hoodie. A huge tear split one of it’s wings almost all the way in half. Small antenna stuck out from fluffy blond hair, hanging above an incredibly human-like, miniature freckled face. The extra eye on each cheekbone, under it's main eyes, made Sapnap think of Purpled. Three of it’s four delicate-looking arms were bent at odd, sickening angles, as well as one of it’s long, thin legs. Tiny, nearly invisible fingers seemed to spasm as the bee-not-a-bee-thing gasped, miniscule green eyes watery with pain and what was possibly terror. An inch or two away from the thing was a small white disk, seeming to have been broken into several tiny shards.

A strange feeling started to coil in the pit of his stomach, and oh, oh, that's guilt. That was…new. Sapnap hadn't felt guilty for anything he'd done in a long, long time.

It–it looked like it was trying to…talk, or something. "Hey…" He leaned closer to the tiny thing. "Are you…good?" The only answer he got from it was a long, high-pitched whine and another painful looking-twitch.

"DREAM!" Another bee zoomed into his sight, crashing to a halt next to the one crumpled on the table. Sapnap jolted, eyes widening as he watched his other tiny bee-tormentor, just as human-looking as the first, frantically fret over it’s companion. It–t-they could talk?! As he watched, the blue one helped the green painstakingly roll onto it’s side while it hacked out a series of deathly-sounding wet coughs, miniscule droplets of blood splattering against the rough wood of the worktable with each choking heave.

The smaller blue bee-thing grasped desperately at the other’s shoulder with a horrified gasp. “Dream, Dream, talk to me, c’mon, please! What do I do? Dream?! P-please?” The blue one’s gauzy wings trembled distinctly as a terrified sob seemed to bubble up in it’s tiny voice. Suddenly, it whirled around, turning on Sapnap and stumbling closer to him, near the edge of the worktable.

"Fix him! You have to! Please,” The tiny bee-thing pleaded, gazing up into Sapnap’s dumbfounded stare. It wrapped one pair of arms around it’s stomach and folded it’s other two hands together pleadingly. “Please, please, please fix him! Please! I–we’ll stop bothering you, I promise! O-Or, you can k-kill me, instead, do whatever you want with me, but please, please, just help him!” It begged, collapsing to it’s knees. Sapnap’s jaw worked uselessly as the bee sobbed through promises and platitudes, trying to convince the fireborn to help it’s friend.

A realization finally struck Sapnap when he saw the glisten of tears running down miniature cheeks from beneath the bee’s strange white goggles. They were just tiny people! An unusual feeling of guilt and regret started to churn in the pit of Sapnap’s stomach. Just…just tiny people. And he had probably just killed one of them.

He took a step back, suddenly struck with a sense of urgency. “I-I-I’ll be back,” he muttered shakily, whirling around and rushing out through the garden house door. It banged shut loudly as he first sped walked, then broke into a sprint and ran up the short path to his cottage-house. The one Quackity had made him move into. Quackity had said that he needed to chill, just for a little while, and had sent him out here in the middle of nowhere to focus on gardening. He’d said that it would be good for him, for everyone, if Sapnap spent some time away from the main Smp. So, he had helped Sapnap build this house, the shed, and the garden outside, then left. Quackity had told Sapnap he could come back when he was more...stable.

Sapnap burst through the door, B-lining straight for his row of storage chests and throwing the first one open. He had to find a healing potion.

He was getting soft, he realized as he rooted through the miscellaneous junk with shaking hands. Before he got here, before Quackity had sent him away for his ‘self-therapy,’ he wouldn’t’ve batted an eye at killing a bee-person-thing. He wouldn’t’ve cared about the anguished sobs tearing themselves out of the blue bee’s throat. He probably would’ve squashed it underneath his fist along with it’s counterpart without a second thought! He–he was changing, he realized. He was changing from the hot-headed psychopath that would make someone watch as he burned down the things they loved in front of them into…into something else.

Sapnap didn't know if he liked it.

M-maybe it was a good thing. Maybe it was good that he felt less…volatile than he used to? Maybe the constant gardening was actually helping him. M-maybe Quackity would take him back…? Or-Or maybe he was just trying to distract himself from the abnormal fact that he felt bad after nearly killing somethi–someone. Maybe that was it.

Sapnap’s hands met cool glass. He wrapped his fingers around the bottle, yanking it up and peering through it at the contents. Lilac-pink liquid sloshed against the glass walls, telling him that it was exactly what he was looking for: A healing potion.

He was out the door in a flash, not even bothering to close it as he sprinted down the stepping-stone pathway. He shoved into the garden house, panting lightly as he scanned for the little bee-people. They were both in the same place as when he had left them.

"O-okay, okay,” Sapnap skidded to a stop in front of the worktable, nearly crashing into it. The tiny blue bee yelped, throwing itself (himself?) in front of it’s quietly choking partner. Sapnap lifted the potion, swishing the contents to make sure it was mixed thoroughly.

“I have a healing potion,” he told the miniscule bee, moving the bottle closer so that it (he?) could see what was inside. It felt…weird, talking to someone so…tiny. Minute, even. It He shook, staring suspiciously at the bottle for a long moment before jerking his head in a nod and moving back to the other bee’s side.

Sapnap’s hands trembled as he uncorked the potion and carefully leaned over the little pair. The blue one flinched, but Sapnap ignored him in favor of cautiously tipping the bottle over the still-raggedly wheezing green bee. He didn’t want to wash the little guy away, so he had to be careful with how much potion he poured over him.

The few large droplets that splattered onto the bee’s torso were quickly absorbed by his body. Immediately, his breathing seemed to flow easier. A bunch of sickening pops and cracks sounded as his broken limbs straightened and reformed, and even a rustling crackle rasped when his wings smoothed out. His torn wing stitched itself back together about a third of the way, still leaving a large rip in the gauzy membrane. Seconds later, he shot up with a gasp, eyes wide.

“Dream!” The blue bee jerked forward, clutching at his friend’s arms as he doubled over, tiny shoulders heaving. Papery wings shuddered as the green bee hauled in deep gulps of air and grabbed at his friend's arms. Sapnap shifted his weight, leaning back uncertainly.

The green bee's head shot up and his four eyes instantly latched onto Sapnap’s hovering face. He jerked back with a gasp, springing to his feet and dragging his blue friend behind him. “G-George,” Sapnap barely caught the hissed words from that tiny sliver of a voice. “Fly! Go!” He shoved at the shorter bee, sending him stumbling into the air. The green bee leapt after him, wings flickering madly, but abruptly fell with a sharp cry, hitting back onto the tabletop with a harsh thud.

The blue bee whirled around and shot straight back down next to his friend, worriedly muttering to him. Sapnap couldn’t hear what the little guy was saying. The green bee was on his knees with his still-torn wing pulled over his lap, brushing over the rip in the membrane with miniature, shaking hands. Sapnap winced. Well, shit. Looks like he didn’t manage to give him enough healing potion.

The blue bee was now also fussing over the torn wing, speaking quietly with the other. They would both send wary glances Sapnap’s way, but mostly seemed preoccupied with the green bee’s injury.

Sapnap should…probably give the little bee some more of the health pot, right? Cause–cause he didn't seem to be able to fly with his wing the way it was, torn nearly in half. Sapnap bit his lip, staring down at the two. Ye-yeah, he should.

“Hey,” Sapnap murmured, leaning back a little more. Their features were a little harder to discern now that he was further away, but he could still make their expressions out. He raised his hands, one of them still curled around the potion bottle, and splayed them out in the universal sign of surrender. “I’m, I’m not going to hurt you two. Um, again.”

They flinched back when he spoke, hands shooting up to cover their ears. Sapnap winced, lowering his voice. He didn’t want to burst their tiny little eardrums.

“I, um, I still have the healing potion,” he muttered lowly, shaking it between his fingers and drawing their gazes to the sloshing liquid. “I can, uh, it could fix your wing the rest of the way?” He offered, darting his eyes over to the green bee’s injured wing. The bee drew his wing back defensively while his companion shoved to his feet and spread his own wings out behind him in an attempt to block the green bee from Sapnap's sight.

"Nn-no," the blue bee growled out. His body tensed, like he was ready to bolt. Or fight. Or both. "St-stay back. Stay away from us."

The green bee reached up and tapped the other, drawing his attention. With a hardly discernible sound, he spoke, stealing the blue bee’s full gaze and apparent consternation. He trailed out a long wisp of muttered words, suspicious eyes occasionally darting up to look at the towering fireborn.

Finally, the blue one grumbled something out to his friend, crossing his arms and turning a glare back up to Sapnap.

The green bee seemed to shudder before standing, inhaling deeply and staring up at Sapnap.

“Why? Why do you want to help us now?” The green one growled, flaring his three uninjured wings. “You’ve always tried to kill us before! What changed? Why are you suddenly being nice?!"

“You were harassing me,” Sapnap snapped back, instantly on the defensive. He crossed his arms and scowled, spine stiffening. They thought he was the problem?! No! He absolutely was not! He was just trying to keep his garden alive, and they just started to attack him! “I thought a couple of bees just made it their life’s mission to make my time out here worse.”

The blue one scoffed. “What, like we could do anything to hurt you? We’re just bees. We’re tiny compared to you humans!”

“Yes! Fucking bees! I don’t want to be tormented by a bunch of goddamn bees!” Sapnap dropped his arms down by his sides and leaned forward, glaring down on the miniscule pair.

“What, are you scared of bees? Are you scared of us?” The green one scoffed, crossing his four arms over his chest and seeming to suppress a flinch.

“Yes!” Sapnap all but snarled, shoulders tense and rigid. An awkward silence imposed itself over the three of them, feeling so thick that Sapnap could probably grab it and wring it between his hands.

The fire suddenly seemed to burn out of Sapnap's body, and his shoulders slumped.

“I didn’t know that you could talk,” Sapnap mumbled, gesturing softly. “I didn’t know you were people…” He took in a deep, calming breath, just like Quackity had taught him, and forced his still-tense shoulders to loosen up. “...I just thought you two were weirdly colored bees that had decided to terrorize me.”

The two bees glanced at Sapnap, then at each other.

"I...look," the green bee sighed, passing a hand over his face. "I feel like we got off on the wrong foot, here." He stepped closer, just the tiniest bit, gossamer wings twitching nervously as he sucked in a deep breath.

"You just got really close to our hive. You humans destroy our homes a lot for our honey, and we thought you were going to try and pull something. We were just protecting our home." The green bee sighed, running a tiny hand through his dirty-blond hair. “We–We thought we might be able to scare you off, or something.”

Sapnap’s brow furrowed, and he frowned. "So why did you continue, then? After it was clear that I wasn't a threat?"

The two bees glanced at each other for a brief, hesitant second before their expressions took on a more mischievous turn. "It was fun," they chirped at the same time.

Sapnap flared. "What?! What the hell?" His nostrils itched as smoke began to trickle from them. Why the fuck would they mess with him when it was obvious that he wouldn’t do anything to them? Aside from the fact that that was an asshole move, (he pointedly ignored the fact that he used to do that to people in the Smp) he could easily kill them if he wanted to! Like now. He could probably kill them now. There was nothing stopping him. Sapnap bared his rather sharp fangs in a furious snarl.

They both flinched back, wings flaring out defensively. The green bee yelped when the sudden movement pulled at his injury, twisting around to clutch at his torn wing with a whimper.

Immediately, guilt flooded back into Sapnap's system and his temper crashed to the ground. Wh-what the hell was he thinking? He couldn’t do that! Heck, he had just used a healing potion on the green bee. If he killed them now, it would be a waste of a valuable resource. Prime knew that he wasn’t even allowed in the nether right now.

Sapnap winced almost shamefully and leaned away a little more. He let his gaze drift away from the scene he had been the cause of, and let it settle on the healing pot still held in his grasp. Well…he may as well help the tiny guy the rest of the way, seeing as this was his fault.

“Here, hold still,” Sapnap popped the cork and reached forward with the potion in hand, intent on dumping more of it over the green bee so that his wing would finish healing completely.

"Ah!" The green bee stumbled back with a yell, away from Sapnap's approaching hand and falling against his partner. Sapnap faltered, lips parting as he stared at the two backing away with pinpricked-eyes and trembling wings.

He watched the two for a long, awkwardly silent minute before his brain kicked into gear and pushed some sense into his head. They don’t want you near them, you idiot!

A quiet ‘oh’ slipped past his lips, and he winced. “Uh,” he muttered eloquently. “Hold on a sec?” He cast his gaze around the garden house, searching for something he could use as a buffer between his direct involvement in giving the bee the healing potion.

The fireborn hummed uncertainly for a long moment, thinking, before reaching for the shelf above the workbench with a small ‘aha’. He missed the way the two miniscule beings recoiled as he leaned over them, more intent on grabbing an empty bottle he had up on the shelf that had a screw-on lid that he thought might work as a bowl for the healing potion.

"Okay, here," Sapnap popped the cap off of the bottle, putting it aside and turning the cap upside down and setting it on the tabletop a few inches away from the pair. They flinched back from his hand, sending another flash of guilt through his body that he promptly ignored. He then poured some of the healing potion into the upturned cap, letting it fill with the shimmering liquid about halfway. “This’ll help.”

With a hum, Sapnap corked the bottle and gently slid the cap over to the tiny duo. They took a couple of steps back from his comparatively massive fingertips, wary. Sapnap’s curiosity perked up significantly as he got a better look at how small the duo was. They were like, a quarter of an inch tall! If he laid his fingers flat in front of them, (disregarding the fact that they’d probably run from the close proximity of his hand) he guesstimated that the top of his fingernail would be even with their chests. It would be so, so very easy to hurt them.

Sapnap drew his hand back suddenly at the unwanted thought with a slight wince. That was one of the thoughts that he was told he needed to avoid, or else he would never be able to go back.

The half-filled cap was like an overly large kiddie pool compared to the little pair. They peered at it curiously, but stayed a few paces back in caution.

"Uh…what do we…?" The green bee gestured helplessly at the pool of healing potion, expression twisted. It suddenly dawned on Sapnap that the two probably hadn’t had any interaction with potions before, other than what he just did a little while ago. They were absolutely tiny, so any they might’ve found in the would have been too big for them to open, and Sapnap doubted that either of them would have survived a trip to the nether to get blaze rods for a mini-potion stand.

“Uh, it’s a healing potion,” Sapnap informed them. At both of their cautiously confused looks, he explained further. “It heals you if you’re injured. I used it on you to fix the…uh, what I did to you.” The taller bee flinched at the mention of his near-death, while his companion’s face darkened significantly.

“Yeah, well, if you hadn’t hit him, then this wouldn't be necessary.” Sapnap barely caught the bitter mutter as the blue bee crossed two of his arms. His eyebrows rose with slight amusement, and he huffed a slightly smoky breath out of his nose. Well, if they hadn't been bothering him, then his friend wouldn’t have been hurt.

With a roll of his eyes, Sapnap shifted his weight and looked at the green bee, pointing at the cap of potion.

"It would probably be best if you drank it? It'll run through your body to find and heal any more injuries you have, and it’ll fix your wing the rest of the way." Sapnap told him. The bee’s brows furrowed almost imperceptibly, but he followed Sapnap’s instruction by cupping the liquid in his hands and hesitantly sipping from it.

It barely took a moment for the tiny guy to gasp and drop the rest of the liquid cupped in his hands, wings shuddering as the cool, healing effects of the potion rushed through his body and soothed his remaining aches and pains. He twisted to the side suddenly, eyes wide in wonder as he watched the tear in his delicate wing stitch itself back together.

“Holy shit,” the blue bee murmured, stepping closer to inspect his friend’s wing. The green nodded in agreement, carefully brushing his tiny hands over where the tear was. “A rip like that would’ve taken me weeks to heal,” he muttered, brows pinching together in thought. He turned to look up at the looming frame of Sapnap. “Thanks, I guess.”

“We–we’ll be off now, okay?” The blue bee abruptly took a couple steps back, two of his arms latching onto the green’s and dragging him along with. Their wings started to flap, too fast for Sapnap to see. Before they could dart away, Sapnap stopped them, eyes widening as he remembered something.

"Hey, hold on," They both froze, wings tensing. An idea was forming in Sapnap's mind, and if he could use the bees (or at least the blue one, he did make a sorta deal with him, after all) for it, he would. "You said that I…could do whatever I…wanted, with you, right? If I healed your friend?"

The smaller bee’s face fell. "I was kinda hoping you forgot that I said that…"

The green bee’s eyes widened, and he gasped sharply. “George,” he hissed, just on the edge of Sapnap’s hearing, grabbing his smaller friend’s shoulders and ducking down to face him. “You made a deal with him? The human?! Why?!”

Sapnap watched as the blue bee shrugged out of the other’s grip and furiously whispered back. He almost couldn’t hear what they were saying, just barely catching the occasional word that floated up to his ears. His brow furrowed. S-should he intervene? They looked like they were getting pretty heated in their argument. Sapnap raised a hand, then hesitated. It-it probably wasn’t his place, was it? This was their business to take care of, not his. He was just a bystander. Plus, he’d probably just scare them more. He-he didn’t think he wanted that. Sapnap dropped his hand back down to his side.

Eventually, the pair seemed to calm down and come to a reluctant agreement. The green one reached forward, enveloping his shorter friend in a four-armed hug and pressing their foreheads together. Sapnap looked away from the intimate moment, feeling another wash of guilt bubble through him. He had scared them again, this time bad. He didn’t mean to! But…they obviously thought he was going to do something horrible to the blue one, or something.

…Maybe he should get Quackity to help him with his social skills, too, along with controlling his manic tendencies.

A small sound drew his attention back to the tiny duo. The blue one had stepped forward, closer to the edge of the table. His face was downturned, but Sapnap could see the small tremble in his shoulders that betrayed how he felt. The green bee was standing tensely behind him, worriedly running one of his wings between his hands and glaring darkly up at Sapnap.

The blue bee breathed in deeply, wings shuddering, then straightened. He crossed one pair of arms over his chest, puffing it out and flaring his delicate wings open. They still shook, but less than before.

“O-okay,” he muttered, taking in another deep breath. “I-I was the one that made the deal, okay? So-so this has nothing, nothing, to do w-with him,” here he flicked a wing back at his green friend. The taller bee’s glare seemed to darken even more, at that. “Okay.” His shoulders hitched up. “W-wh-what are you going to d-do—w-what do you want? F-from me?”

Sapnap felt another twist of guilt. Why was he feeling bad? He wouldn’t normally. He should probably clear up the little guy’s confusion, huh.

"Help me with my garden." He blurted plainly. The hang-dog expression on the blue bee’s face twisted up into one of startled confusion. His friend’s hands stilled, and he cocked his head.

"W-what?" The blue bee questioned shakily, cautiously. His wings drooped down a little in surprise, and his stance loosened.

"Help me with my garden," Sapnap repeated, cracking a grin. "I can't grow things that well, and my friend is probably gonna be disappointed in me if I let all of my plants die.” Both of their brows creased. They were looking at Sapnap like he had just grown a second head. And then a third. And then maybe an extra eye, too.

“T-that’s what you want? That’s all you want? Help with your garden?” Sapnap cringed under the incredulous stares from the two. It was an odd request, he would freely admit that.

“Y-yeah? I mean, you’re a bee, right? So you oughta know a few things about plants, right?” Sapnap twisted his hands together, worrying at his fingers as the bee processed.

Slowly, uncertainly, the blue bee nodded. “Yeah? We–I know a few stuff about plants?”

Sapnap brightened. “Great! Then–then that's all I want from you!”

Even though they were eyeing Sapnap like he was a little…special, the fireborn was completely serious. He wasn’t good at gardening, at all, but he was doing it as a form of self-therapy, and more especially, he was doing it for Quackity. The avian had made him promise that he’d do something to occupy himself out here, other than slaughtering the local wildlife, and Quackity had agreed enthusiastically when the fireborn had suggested gardening as what he should try and do. The thing was, Sapnap was exceptionally bad at it. Most of his plants were wilted, and some of them were probably dead.

Now, normally he wouldn't care, but he didn’t want Quackity to come visit and see that his plants were practically dead. Sapnap was doing his best to take care of them, but it looked like he was neglecting the garden. He didn't want Quackity to see that. He didn't want Quackity to think that he wasn't trying. Sapnap’s mind flooded at the gut-wrenching possibilities of what the avian might do then. He might refuse to take him back.

The miniature duo glanced uncertainly at each other for a long moment. They seemed to pass a few indistinct words, before the taller hissed unhappily and rubbed his partner’s shoulder with one of his four hands. The shorter sighed and shook his head, then stepped forward, closer to the edge of the table and nearer to Sapnap.

He suddenly stuck out a hand, the black lenses of his goggles gleaming as he peered warily up at the huge fireborn. Sapnap stared at the bee’s nearly invisible hand for a long moment while he shifted uncomfortably. What was the little guy doing…?

He voiced as much, expression twisting to one of confusion. “What are you doing?”

The guy shuddered at his question, gaze drifting down to Sapnap’s hands, then snapping back up to his face. "This is what you humans do, right? You shake hands to seal deals?" His wings shivered, seemingly reluctant to do what he thought he had to do.

"Y-yeah, but, uh, I dunno how that's gonna work. You're freaking tiny, dude! I might crush your whole arm or something!" Sapnap also didn’t want to touch the goddamned bee. There was a fucking reason he didn’t like it when the two tormented him. He was absolutely terrified of bees.

The bee cringed back at his words, then shook his head and stepped closer. “No, y-you w-won’t.” Under the tiny guy’s breath, Sapnap heard a faint ‘hopefully’ drift out.

“I-if you’re sure, man,” Sapnap breathed. Internally, he was whinging back. He, he really didn’t want to touch him, but it didn’t seem like he’d be able to get out of this.

“Yep, mhm, I’m sure, absolutely,” he ground out, nervously fluttering his wings. “I-I’m going to have to trust you, right? If I’m going to help you with your garden, anyway. M-might as well start getting it over with now, right?”

"Y-yeah, okay, sure, sure," Sapnap mumbled reluctantly.

He didn't want to touch the bee, he didn't want to touch the bee, he did not want to touch the goddamn bee—

"Okay, hold still," Sapnap pushed his aversive thoughts down, squinting and holding his tongue just right as he concentrated, slowly moving his pointer finger and thumb towards the bee's nearly invisible hand. The entire bee was smaller than his fingernail! Even though the thought of the brief contact made him want to cringe away, he didn’t want to accidentally break the little guy with a wayward movement.

Carefully, oh so carefully, Sapnap pressed the pads of his fingers against either side of the bee's outstretched hand and gently twitched it up and down once. Sapnap didn't feel anything against his skin, but the bee clearly had, drawing his arm back when the fireborn let go with a grimace. Sapnap winced.

"I-I didn't just hurt you, did I?"

The blue bee waved him off with a half-certain grin. “N-no, no, it’s fine. I’m fine." His friend shot him a concerned look which was then promptly ignored.

“Are–are we good, then? Is that…is that everything?” Sapnap asked, stepping away a pace. He wanted to wash his hand off, or something. He was more than a little freaked out.

The blue bee nodded jerkily, stepping back as well and moving closer to his taller friend. They brushed their wings against each other reassuringly as an awkward silence imposed itself over them all.

“Why are you out here?” The green bee suddenly blurted, arms crossing. The blue cocked his head, seemingly curious as well. “You humans usually stick together in great big colonies, so why are you out here in the middle of nowhere?”

Sapnap paused at the question. Why was he out here, instead of at the Greater Smp, with the rest of the Smp members? Well, it was because Quackity had told him that it was the better option from what he was presented with, and the fireborn wholly agreed with him. He told the two tiny bees as much.

"I was sent out here so I'd stop setting people and their pets on fire. My fi–m-my friend told me I was getting too violent. It was either this, or be locked up for ‘being a general fucking menace to everybody.’ Or be executed.” That, in particular, was one of the more popular options among the people of the Smp. Just kill him and get rid of one of their biggest problems entirely.

From the two bee's pale expressions, Sapnap didn't think he was winning them over. He chuckled uncertainly, suddenly nervous. He shouldn’t have said that. He should probably go ahead and leave, now.

“Alright, well, I’ll see you,” Sapnap forced a grin, flashing the two a cocky wave. They inched back, seemingly just as ansty and ready to leave. Sapnap swallowed, strangely upset when he only got a terse nod from the blue one. With a roll of his eyes, he turned to leave. “Later.”

Behind himself, he heard a faint buzzing sound as one last thought struck him, and he paused.

“I’m Sapnap, by the way,” He turned back around, but the pair was already gone.

#mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #tiny!george #tiny!dream #giant!sapnap #bee hybrid!dream #bee hybrid!george #bee!dream #bee!george #g/t writing #writing #poor sap is a bit unstable #buuuut the isolation is supposed to h help with that : )#happy Halloween!!!#g/t #giant/tiny #also! i am open to asks on this one!! i have a couple of ideas for it!?#!!

64 notes · View notes

slytherinspired · 4 years ago

Text

Firsts - A Sirius Black Imagine

Pairings : Young Sirius Black x Reader

Warnings : smut, obviously, unprotected sex, swearing, smoking, alcohol and mild drug use.

Hi love! I did it! Beware, it is quite long, I sort of took the liberty to provide some context, but I hope you'll like it! :)

Masterlist

Sirius is looking back at himself in the mirror, wincing at his reflection. He recognizes his traits sparingly; his dark curls falling to his shoulders, his mocking smirk, his overall nonchalant expression. He knows who he is, but the clothes on his back are completely robbing him of his own identity. He glances bitterly at his beloved leather coat sitting on the back of his desk chair and sighs. The ridiculous black suit he’s wearing barely fits him. He knows it probably used to belong to one of his distant cousins and that it has been quickly and grossly recut to fit him by the house-elf. His parents are downstairs in the drawing room, waiting for him to join them so they can leave for this stupid reception.

He doesn’t even know what it is about, except that he’s going to this apparent important new Ministry guy’s house who threw a sort of lame introduction party, since he just arrived in London with his family. And what he knows is that he’s going to spend the whole night with the type of people he doesn’t want to be assimilated with. From what he heard, the host of the reception just arrived at the Ministry of Magic to help with the passing of some bill for Muggleborn regulations, as awful as it sounds. He’d like to avoid to go, but Walburga has the upper hand on him, and nothing in the world would convince his dear mother to leave her eldest son behind, knowing full well that if she does so, Sirius is going to get the fuck out of there and join these Muggles mingling Potters fools.

‘You look dapper,’ says a soft voice behind him.

Standing in the doorway, Sirius’ youngest brother observes him, grinning.

‘Shut up,’ he replies, annoyed by the stupid smile on Regulus’ face.

His brother crosses his arms and steps into his bedroom. He looks around like he just stepped into some kind of freak show. His gaze rests a little longer on a certain poster. Sirius glances at the Muggle woman dressed in a revealing red swimsuit standing straight in the middle of the picture. He smirks, and caught-red handed, Regulus turns away quickly. She always was his brother's favourite, after all. Whether he wants to admit it or not.

‘Are you going to behave this time?’ he asks, stepping in front of his eldest brother.

Sirius shrugs, trying to adjust the bowtie strangling him. For Merlin’s sake, he thinks, it feels like he’s suffocating already.

‘I always behave, brother dear,’ he replies, trying to undo the knot around his neck. ‘I just don’t behave the way they’d like me to,' referring to their parents.

Regulus shakes his head and starts fiddling with his brother’s bowtie and adjust it perfectly in one fell swoop, as if it were child’s play. Once the knot is properly buckled, he taps Sirius’ chest in an encouraging gesture, and frowns when he feels something hard hidden in the inside pocket of his brother’s vest.

‘Really?’ he asks.

Sirius snorts.

‘Just a bit of courage,’ he admits.

‘And how much courage did you drink already?’

‘Not enough, apparently,’ Sirius replies, thinking about the full flask of warm whiskey tucked inside his suit.

He’d honestly rather be stuck in detention with Snivellus for the rest of his existence then go to this lame-ass party. That alone justifies the whiskey amply.

After a few detours in the city, he finds himself in front of an imposing white manor situated in one of London’s richest Square. Oh, this is going to be a long night, he thinks. Not only it seems like the host is wizard-rich, but he’s also everything rich, period. He rolls his eyes, there’s no issue. Walburga is pressing her long and emaciated fingers into his son’s arm as they step into the great hall of the house. The interior is as posh as the exterior, with its grand marble staircase curving up to the upper floor and its giant diamond-like chandelier hanging over their heads. For God’s sake, is it a live classical assemble he hears playing in the back? As his mother pushes him further inside, the sound of light chatter reaches his ears. He sees his father, dressed in his horrible robes, already on his way to speak with some old acquaintances, quickly followed by Regulus. He scans the principal room for a quiet corner, but it’s filled with this bunch of pricks, and he’s fighting with all his might the panic that is taking over his mind. He finally spots a free corner next to a big window and he walks straight ahead in that direction, hoping no one will recognize him on the way.

‘I heard his son has found some work as a doctor,’ he hears a shrill voice say.

‘A Muggle doctor? How peculiar!’ says another voice.

This is exactly the kind of chatter Sirius doesn’t want to hear. In no way he thinks he’s superior because he was graced with magic powers at birth. It is so suffocating, and he feels so incredibly small and inadequate, drowning in this sea of close-minded guests.

He studies them, recognizes some familiar faces from Hogwarts, but most of them are Slytherins and are not close at all to use them as an escape. A waiter walks in front of him, holding a tray where champagne flutes fill themselves up. He grabs one and drink it in one sip. He’s already quite tipsy, but he doesn’t care. He’d rather be intoxicated right now to bury this hatred deep within. God, he needs air.

He sees Walburga looking for him in the room, and she’s walking next to a tall and handsome man. For Godric’s sake, why is she walking straight in his direction? The man next to her doesn’t look as old as his mother, but the grey strands in his black hair betrays his age. He looks posh, and haughty.

‘This is my eldest son, Sirius,’ says his mother in a toneless voice. ‘Sirius, this his our host, Mr Santorini.’

‘Pleased to meet your, Mr Black,’ says the man while he extends his hand.

Sirius gets up on his feet, subtly struggling to find his balance, under the duo’s concerned stare. He rapidly and weakly shakes the man’s hand and nods. Ashamed, Walburga shoots darts at her son and quickly turns away from him.

‘My youngest, Regulus, is doing quite well at Hogwarts, see, he’s - ...’ her voice fades away.

Sirius closes his eyes; he needs to find some distraction. And what could be better than the little thing he has brought to the party that is currently hidden in his pocket behind the whiskey flask? He needs to feel something else than the dreadful thoughts he has right now. He struts to the giant marble staircase and finds his way on the upper level without attracting attention to him. That is one advantage when no one cares about you; not being seen. The voices downstairs are slowly fading away and he feels already so much better.

He runs a nervous hand in his dark locks, feeling quite hot, with this bowtie strangling him. There must be a door leading outside. He tries to open the first one on his right, but the handle doesn’t bulge; it’s locked. And Walburga has confiscated his wand at the beginning of the summer upon his return from Hogwarts, so there’s no use. He sighs and adventures further away in the hall.

He has more luck with the second door, and finds himself into a deserted bedroom. His eyes make out the giant bed over the central wall of the room, and spots some sealed boxes on the floor. The translucent curtains discreetly veil the large windows in front of him, and he opens one widely and lights himself a cigarette without a care, pacing into the room nervously. He sees some pictures resting on a vintage dresser on the opposite wall. There are rows of books in the built-in bookcases, and even some disperse vinyls taking up some of the space. He’s clearly trespassing someone’s intimacy, but whose? Sirius walks to the dresser and opens up the first drawer. A tickling feeling in his stomach at the sight of the several underwear – even in the darkness – makes him wonder how long has it been since he’s been intimate with someone. The last time was before school ended, with Mallory, and it was just snogging. He never went all the way... He chuckles discreetly at the thought and taps the ashes of his cigarette on the floor. Fuck this house, fuck this bedroom, and fuck this posh Pureblood family.

‘Mm, mm.’

Someone has cleared their throat behind him. He jumps, and tries to hide the cigarette away.

‘Please, don’t stop for me,’ says a girl in the doorway.

He can’t make up her traits in the darkness, but she sounds young. She steps right in front of him.

‘I don’t think you should be up here,’ she says.

He feels like a child, caught red-handed. He feels suddenly very trapped.

‘I heard the owner of this house is quite severe,’ she adds, taking the cigarette away from him, inhaling the smoke into her lungs, and exhaling. ‘If he found us in his daughter’s room, I think he’d torture us without any remorse.’

‘His daughter’s room?’ he replies nervously.

She nods, giving him back his cigarette.

‘A real pest.’

There is an awkward silence.

‘What were you doing here?’ she adds.

‘Looking for a way out,’ he replies in all honesty. ‘What about you?’

‘Just about the same.’ She glances at the cigarette. ‘You might want to put it out now.’

‘I really don’t,’ he replies, taking one last whiff, ‘but when do I get what I want anyway?’

He throws it on the hard-wood floor indifferently and follows the stranger in the hallway. She turns around to take a good look at him.

‘I’m Y/N, by the way – ‘

He feels like his legs are going to flinch. He doesn’t know if it’s the sudden nicotine rush, or the champagne mixed with the whiskey, or the lights in the hallway shinning over Y/N’s green doe eyes staring at him, or her long black hair waving on her back, or her delicious pink lips, or the gentle freckles on her nose, but he’s suddenly feeling quite light-headed.

‘You okay there?’ she laughs. ‘What’s your name?’

He shakes his head, trying to regain his thoughts.

‘I’m, er. I’m Si – ‘should he really tell her his real name? ‘I’m Sid.’

‘Sid,’ she repeats. ‘Well, Sid, you don’t look too good.’

‘I don’t feel too good,’ he admits.

Her expression changes. She’s not amused anymore. She’s pitying him.

‘Follow me,’ she says, grabbing his hand like she has known him forever, dragging him to the end of the wall where they cross a door and end up on a small balcony overlooking the deserted garden.

‘How to you know this place?’ he asks, resting his arms on the guardrail, humming the fresh crisp air.

‘Hung out with the pest earlier,’ she replies.

‘Not anymore?’

‘Told you, she’s a pest. I can’t leave, though. I’m sort of stuck here.’

‘So am I.’

She laughs lightly. The moonlight shines on her beautiful face, and her traits are so soft, and if he was much more like himself, he’d try to charm her the way he knows how.

‘So, Sid. What are we avoiding?’ she asks away.

‘My parents, I guess,’ he replies, taking out the flask of whiskey of his pocket.

He takes a big sip and hands it to her. She considers it for a moment and grabs it. The wind flies through her hair, and her perfume reaches his nostrils, a perfectly well-balanced mix of vanilla and gentle notes of citrus. The fragrance shoots up his nose and wafts around his brain. Fuck, she’s so beautiful.

‘What about them?’ she asks away, wincing when she swallows the liquor.

He snorts. He doesn’t want to talk about his parents right now. Not when the prettiest girl he’s ever seen is standing right in front of him. He has something else on his mind now.

‘Your accent,’ he says, switching subjects. ‘It’s not from here.’

Y/N nods.

‘I grew up all over the place, but mostly America.’

‘You don’t sound American.’

She smiles, revealing a straight row of perfectly pearly white teeth.

‘My family, we’re from Sicily.’

He nods.

‘It’s in Italy – ‘

‘I know where Sicily is, I’m not stupid,’ he replies harshly, a bit offended.

But Y/N chuckles lightly, and her soft laugh brings his attitude down. He can’t help but stare at her. She’s a bit overdressed to his taste, but hey, so is he. He wonders what is hiding underneath that navy dress of hers, and if her skin is as soft as he imagines it is. He needs to calm down.

‘First time in London, then?’

She nods.

‘What do you think?’ he asks, locking eyes with her.

She licks her lower lip without realizing it.

‘Well, I don’t hate the accent,’ she teases.

Praised be Godric.

‘Tell me, Sid, you seem to be about my age, yet you’re drunk like an old man with a drinking problem, and you probably smoke like a city boy. I keep wondering if I really should be alone with you right now.’

‘Are you afraid?’ he asks.

She shakes her head.

‘Rarely.’

‘To be honest, Y/N,’ he says, pronouncing every syllable of her name like he could actually taste it, ‘I was alone up there to find a quiet spot for this.’

He shows up the joint between his fingers. She squints for a short moment and smiles.

‘I see.’

Y/N’s eyes bored into him. He wonders if he has crossed a line. He barely knows her, after all.

‘Let’s go somewhere more private, then,’ she suggests, grabbing his hand. He doesn’t even have the time to appreciate the softness of her skin when he feels himself disapparating, his body swirling in every direction, and a sudden urge of panic takes hold off him. When he reapparates in a loud pop, he shouts:

‘What the hell are you doing? Are you bloody insane?’

‘What, did you never apparate before?’

‘Yes, I did but -,’ he is freaking out, Walburga must think he’s left and is probably fulminating. ‘My mother, she’s going to hex me! Bring us back!’

‘Why?’ Eliana asks, intrigued. ‘How would she know?’

Sirius shakes his head nervously.

‘She placed some sort of charm on me, I’m not allowed to leave her sight. If she knows I left the premises, she’ll find me and – ‘

He stops himself from saying too much. Perhaps it would be a bit intense to share with the girl what would Walburga do to him. At least, he wouldn’t have to explain the healing bruises on his ribcage.

‘Relax, Sid. We’re still on the premises.’

He looks around and spots the house in the distance through a small window. Are they in some sort of guest house? A garden shed? There is nothing around him, he’s just standing on a mat. Relieved, he sits down, running a hand in his hair. Y/N joins him and creates a small fire by flicking her wand, enough to dimly light the room they are in.

‘You’re actually scared of your parents. Why?’

Sirius chuckles. He’s not scared, he’s terrified of them. She points out the little stick he forgot he was holding between his fingers.

‘Shall we?’ she suggests.

‘Who says I want to share?’

She pouts adorably. He lights it up and he takes a good breath of the substance and exhales slowly, indulging the heavy smoke, his lungs burning, and a light sensation rushes to his head. Them Muggles can also do magic, he thinks to himself. Under her curious eyes, he passes the stick in her delicate hands, and observes her. Her delicious lips reach it, and she slowly breathes it in. She starts coughing, tears running to her eyes.

‘Wait,’ he laughs, ‘is this your first time?’

She presses her hand to her rounded chest, laughing uncontrollably. Sirius shakes his head, following her laugh, and explains to her how to actually get the smoke to her lungs.

‘There, yes – keep it still a second, let it -, yes, good,’ it’s like teaching children how to mount a broom, ‘and exhale. Brilliant.’

He waits a second before taking another whiff. Y/N’s mouth curves into a smile and she closes her eyes slowly.

‘Oh,’ she exhales, ‘this is – ‘

‘I know,’ replies Sirius, smiling. ‘I know.’

‘Oh,’ she repeats.

He stares at her, admiring her delicate features. Her eyes are still closed and he sees her falling on her back, completely relaxed. If his mother saw him right now, smoking pot with a random girl he met at this rich guy’s party, she’d have a good reason to use the Cruciatus curse on him for once. Or she’d cut his head before he could say he’s sorry. He decides to join Y/N and rests his back on the floor. He lays his head just beside hers and fixes the ceiling. He feels better now, and it’s not just the drugs.

‘I feel so heavy,’ she says, sliding her hands on her naked arms.

She turns her head and looks at him.

‘Do you feel heavy?’

‘Kind of,’ he laughs.

He doesn’t particularly feel heavy. In fact, he feels relieved, and mostly, he feels horny. Good god.

‘What is there to do in London at night?’ she asks.

‘Mm,’ he hesitates. ‘Pubs, clubs, walking around Southbank, I guess.’

‘Never went to a pub,’ she admits.

He wants to run his finger on her cheek. He wants to grab her face and press his lips on hers.

‘You’re kidding,’ he replies, still fixing that beautiful mouth of hers.

She shakes her head lightly, and a stroke of her long hair falls in her eyes. Her little red stained eyes. He smiles at the view, and slowly leans closer, replacing the stroke of black hair behind her ear.

‘I’ll bring you to a pub, one day,’ he mutters, daydreaming out loud.

‘Wouldn’t you mother kill you if you did?’ she jokes.

‘She would. It would be worth the risk, though.’

She turns on her stomach and rests her head on her hands. He keeps staring at her, detailing everything.

‘What are you looking at?’ she chuckles.

‘Just admiring the view,’ he replies frankly.

She would blush if she wasn’t all flustered already. There’s an odd adrenaline spluttering inside of him as he feels her close, and his pulse quickens and he’s feeling so hot right now, he’s melting into the rug. There’s a comfortable silence between them, and they both enjoy it for a couple of minutes. There is something about this girl, this nonchalant attitude, and her mesmerizing eyes, and her accent, and the way her body moves when she finally sits down again, pulling her dress over her thighs to sit comfortably, making him lose his fucking mind. If he weren’t so distracted by her presence, he’d be sweet talking to her, like he’s so used to do with other girls. But he’s simply incapable of doing so, like she’s robbed him of his means.

‘We should go back, they’re going to be looking for us,’ she whispers, showing him her hand to help him sit back.

But he doesn’t want to go back and mingle with the people he hates. He wants to be alone with her, if it is just to stay motionless on this rug in her company. He takes her hand and sits back up, and their eyes lock again, and they stare at each other, and he’s wondering if he’s hallucinating someone so perfect to help him cope with this emptiness he feels all the time. She absentmindedly licks her lips, taunting him, and he has to remind himself how to breathe, as his lips quirk hesitantly, sighing out loud to stop himself from pining her underneath him.

‘Yeah,’ he stutters, like a fucking coward, and then he clears his throat and steadies his pulse and sternly instructs himself to get it together, dude. James would be laughing at him if he saw him right now.

But they both stay there, motionless. He can feel the drugs running away from his bloodstream, he’s on another high now, another rush, and it has nothing to do with it. He can’t stop staring at her lips. Her expression washes over him in waves, and he pins a hesitant smile on his face, hoping it will distract her from the bulge growing down there.

‘Or we could just, you know, stay here for a while,’ she suggests.

For fuck’s sake.

He’s only able to gulp and nod, his cock painfully growing thick through the fabric. He tries to hide the bump by placing his arm over his legs, but instead it catches her attention down there, and her eyes quickly spots it, but she innocently acts like she’s unaware of the effect she has on him. If he could only smack his lips on hers.

Her emerald eyes are wide open, she leans in and presses her soft lips on his, and he’s never felt so relieved in his entire life, her mouth is warm and soft, and he can actually run his hands in her soft hair, and he can hear his heart hammering in his ears, and she actually lets out a discreet moan in his mouth, and fuck, there he is, gone, he knows there is no way back from there.

He feels her hands slowly unbuckling his belt and removing those atrocious trousers, and he follows through, pulling up her dress to reveal her skin. He removes his shirt, he has dreamt all night to rip it off his body from the second he put it on, and now she’s pushing him on his back on the hard rug and places kisses in the crook of his neck, sliding her tongue all the way down, and he knows where she’s heading, but he can’t let her do that, or he’s going to cum already. He grabs her head softly, and while he’s busy sticking his tongue into her mouth, he’s unclasps her top, tosses it on the floor, and starts licking her round breasts, circling her hard nipples with his tongue. He realizes it is actually the first time he’s allowed to touch naked breasts, and Merlin, this is so much better when there’s no fabric covering them.

He pins her small body under him, and he slowly moves down on her. He admires her ribcage moving up and down, and he can hears her heavy breathing, and he feels like he can’t hold it anymore. He runs his lips on her skin, down her stomach, to the birth of her underwear, pulling them down very gently. Sirius can’t believe he just met her a couple of hours ago; he feels like he has been desiring her for an eternity. There was a before her, and there’s now – and all the shit he’s been dealing with since school ended is now tucked away in the back of his mind. He caresses with his lips the soft bump between her legs, indulging the new sensation, and then just takes a mouthful of her sex. Her breathing stops, her ribcage is suspended for a second, and then she breathes out and grabs the back of his head while he tastes her. It’s sweet, and warm, and wet, and salty at the same time, and it’s so fucking good.

She’s squirming and writhing beneath him, her subtle moans amplifying. The gasps she makes sends sparks of unbearable pleasure through him, and he feels dizzy, like his heart is about to explode, ready to jump out of his chest at any moment. He slides one finger into her, and then another, and she spams around his fingers. He observes her perfect body tensing at his touch, cupping one breast with one hand while she orgasms into his mouth, her fluids mixing with his saliva. Her face is flushed and her pupils are dilated, and he could very well be on this high for the rest of his existence. But she places kisses on his lips, tasting herself on him, and his cock is so hard, he can’t help but groan when he feels her hand grabs his sex through the fabric of his underwear, slowly stroking him. It is pure torture.

He feels the small piece of clothing covering him sliding down his legs, and he kicks it on the floor. She stares at him in the eyes and licks her fingers, then moves her hand down there again, gently applying pressure on his hard-on. Sirius’ head tilt to the back, blood rushes through him. That is a different story when it’s someone’s else hand, isn’t?

She lays down in front of him, and he follows her as she guides is cock at the entrance of her sex, and it’s so wet, how is he going to pull through? He’s shaking with apprehension but pure pleasure. She suddenly frowns.

‘Wait,’ she hesitates, ‘is this your first time?’

He nods. There’s so point in lying.

‘Do you want to stop?’

Of course, he doesn’t want to stop. He shakes his head, and her face lits up.

They kiss and he presses the tip of his cock into her, slowly, to get every sensation right, and he closes his eyes and, oh this feels so fucking good, and he can’t help but exhales of relief when he feels the warmth, and he hears her gasping underneath him. He’s sinking into her, and she pushes his length even farther by raising her hips. Why does it feel so good? He starts to pace inside her, like he has known what to do forever, increasing the tempo, and she moans under him. He moves swiftly now, trying with all his might to not just release himself off the pressure. She throws her head back into the rug, he feels sweat pearling at the birth of his forehead, his locks fall into his eyes, and he accelerates his pace and presses her legs on her stomach, and oh my god, this is even better.

She presses her right hand on his chest, running her fingers over his hard stomach, avoiding the bruises, detailing each parcel of his body. She looks back up and pushes her lips on his, and their tongues meet, and he’s completely melting into her. She finally bucks her hips tightly and Sirius hisses, he can’t hold up anymore. Oh, he wants to hear her say his name – if only he had given his real one – but she lets a loud ‘fuck’ escape her mouth, and she’s damp with sweat, and he never seen something so beautiful, he slams into her harder and faster, he groans while his grip tightens around her delicate waist. He feels almost he’s in pain and something stronger than life itself is burning him; yes, he’s burning up down there, he can’t hold it anymore, his whole body is on fire, he glances at her one last time, and he lets out a guttural growl, while feeling his insides pushing his soul out, and for a short moment, he thinks he’s dying, spilling his warm seed into her, filling her up while’s he petrified, hanging between dream and reality, thinking his heart stopped beating.

It is only half an hour later that he comes back to the manor, flustered and feeling out of his body, followed by Y/N. She’s even prettier under the warm lights, blushed cheeks, and he relives in his mind what just happened over and over again. That wasn’t bad for a first time, he thinks.

‘Y/N! Papà has been looking for you forever, where were you?’, a young girl is staring at her.

She shares similar traits with Y/N, but she looks younger, about Regulus’ age. Her arms are crossed, and she observes Sirius oddly, in a manner that makes him believe she can easily guess what Y/N was doing all the time they’ve been away.

‘Where is he?’ asks Y/N.

The young girl points at the host, the man he shook hands with earlier, speaking with Sirius’ father and a couple of older men in the corner of the room.

‘Clara,’ mumbles Y/N with a threatening expression. ‘non dire niente a Papà.’

The young girl rolls her eyes and leaves them. Sirius frowns. Wait a minute, is this girl...

‘Didn’t you tell me the host’s daughter was -’ he mumbles, feeling his hands becoming moist.

‘A pest,’ she smiles. ‘My sister.’

548 notes · View notes

chaoticpuff17 · 4 years ago

Text

When the Chips are Down

Part 3

masterlist

The flight had been long, and Y/N was exhausted. By the time they had landed she was too tired to even recognize that they had landed beyond the hazy realization that Namjoon and Jin had moved her to one of the seats up front for landing, and that she had been moved to a car.

The next thing she really knew was when she opened her eyes to find herself back in the master bedroom at the estate. She had been tucked up under the blankets and someone had placed pillows under her belly to help keep her comfortable, but there was no Namjoon, something for which she was eternally grateful. It was nice to wake up without him looming over her. She needed time to mourn the life she’d lost.

There was no way that Namjoon was going to let her out of his sight anytime soon. There was no way he was going to let her leave again. Security would be tighter, and once the baby was born, there would be even less chance of leaving him. He wasn’t going to let her escape him a second time let alone with their child.

One of her hands wandered down to her belly as she wondered what their lives were going to be now that Namjoon had them back. What were their boundaries going to be? Was she going to be confined to quarters again? Was she allowed to roam the estate as she pleased? Namjoon hadn’t told her anything on the flight over. He had promised that they could go back to the way they were, but the way things were hadn’t exactly been stable the last time she had been at the estate. She had been confined to a room for the first weeks of her stay. She’d had an ankle monitor. She had babysitters. She had been chipped. What exactly was normal for them?

She was about to pull herself out of bed when the door to the room opened revealing a familiar face. Miss In stood at the door bowing respectfully, a gentle smile on her face.

“Buin.” She greeted. “Welcome home.”

“Miss In.” she nodded as Miss In motioned in a small train of maids carrying trays.

“Your husband has requested that we bring you breakfast in bed today. He thought you would be tired after your flight.” Y/N nodded tiredly. “Would you like to take breakfast in bed or shall we set it out at the table?” Miss In asked motioning towards the chairs and coffee table that were settled by one of the windows.

“At the table, please.”

“I’ll have the maids draw you a bath as well.”

“Where is my… husband?” she gritted out the title hating that he was the one that held it.

“Mr. Kim is overseeing some additions for the nursery. Shall I tell him you’re looking for him?”

“No.” She shook her head pulling herself out of bed to make her way to the breakfast that was being laid out. “No, don’t tell him that. It would give him far too much satisfaction.” She sighed lowering herself down onto the chair

“As you wish, buin.” The older woman agreed the slightest smile flashing across her features. “It’s good to have you home, buin.”

“Home sweet home.” She murmured sarcastically as she perused the food laid out before her and wrinkling her nose as nothing looked appealing. Morning sickness had been a bad at the beginning of the pregnancy, and she’d had a distinct lack of appetite ever since. It drove Mark nuts, and it would probably do the same to Namjoon control freak that he was. Mark had usually managed to get her to eat a piece of fruit most mornings though. It wasn’t much, but it was something. He also made sure she’d make up for it by snacking throughout the morning.

“I think I’d just like to take a shower.” She sighed pushing herself back up again only to have the housekeeper.

“You should eat something, buin.”

“No.” She shook her head slightly, gently pushing the older woman away. “My stomach doesn’t sit well in the morning these days. I’ll have something later.”

“Sajangnim would not like this.”

“He doesn’t like a lot of things.” She sighed making her way towards the en suite. “You can blame me if he gets pissy.”

“And why would I be getting pissy?” A deep voice called from the door. Both women turned to find Namjoon leaned up against the door frame with a brow raised as he watched them. He made his way across the room placing a gentle kiss to her forehead as she looked at him in annoyance. “Good morning, jagi. Now, why would I be upset with you?”

“I’m rejecting your breakfast in bed.”

He frowned at that but remained calm laying a gentle hands on her shoulders to rub soft circles against the fabric of her pajamas. “You need to eat, jagi.”

“I’ll eat something later.” She sighed pushing his hands away.

“Think of the baby.”

“The baby will be fine.” She huffed her brows scrunched together. “I’ve made it this far without your prenatal advice.”

A dark cloud passed over Namjoon’s face, the barb not sitting well with him. Any reminder that he had missed out on the majority of the pregnancy left him bitter. There was a rage churning low in his gut every time he thought of his girl, his wife, thousands of miles away from him preparing for his baby with another man. He wanted to scream at her, to shake her and ask her what she was thinking, why she had taken this from him, but no good would come from that. He’d been the one to frighten her away, and her reaction was understandable in that way, but it didn’t quell his anger. Instead, he directed all of that rage towards the one who had taken her from him.

The pest was situated in what was commonly referred to as the dungeons. Hoseok had made sure that Mark felt very welcome in his new home as Namjoon settled Y/N at home. Mark had been sent ahead on an earlier flight. Jungkook had accompanied him, and the only one who was even close to being as enraged as Namjoon by Y/N’s disappearance was the maknae. Mark’s punishment had begun the moment they’d found him in Italy.

“Jagi,” He growled warningly. They were both tired from the flight home, and he didn’t really want to fight with her now.

“I just want a shower.” She sighed running a hand through her hair. “We can fight about this later.”

“I don’t want to fight at all.” He called after her.

“Then let me take a shower!”

Namjoon sighed in frustration before turning his gaze on Miss In as though she had all the answers and could guide him through the minefield of a woman that was his wife.

“She’s only tired, sajangnim.” Miss In smiled gently as she looked at the bewildered man. “It was a long journey home, and she is very close to giving birth.”

“She needs to eat.” He growled flopping down in the chair that his wife had abandoned. “Why does she insist on being difficult?”

“It is her right as she is carrying your child.” Miss In mused motioning for the maids to clean up the untouched meal. “I’ll have something light sent up for her. She needs time.”

“I know.” Namjoon groaned, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. “But she doesn’t make it easy.”

“She was never an easy woman, and yet you married her anyway. She wouldn’t be the woman you married if she was anything less. She has a will to match yours.”

“If only she wouldn’t turn it against me so often.”

“You will find balance with time.” Miss In hummed. “And a child changes many things.”

Namjoon nodded as he listened to the older woman. “The baby will be good for us. I’m going to show her the nursery today.”

“She’ll enjoy that. If I may…” She paused waiting for Namjoon to give her permission to continue. “Perhaps it would be good to allow buin some female company. She had none before. It might set her more at ease.”

“I’ll call Yoongi and see if Sen could come. She could bring the baby as well.”

“Perhaps she would like to see Miss Iyla.”

Namjoon stiffened at the mention of his wife’s sister. “That’s not a fight I’m willing to have yet.”

“She’ll find out eventually.” The older lady scolded gently. “It will be better for you if she finds out sooner rather than later.”

“I don’t want to put any unnecessary stress on her and the baby.”

“She is already under stress, but it is good to have family around when a baby is due.”

Namjoon nodded even though he was still reluctant to let Y/N know about Iyla. He knew his wife well enough to know that she was going to murder him, Hoseok too, or at least she would try. She was a fierce woman, and Miss In was right. He wouldn’t love her if she wasn’t even if it made his life difficult at times. He wanted a woman who could match him, not some wilting flower.

“I’ll tell her, but not today.”

“As you wish, sajangnim.” The woman bowed before taking her leave, leaving Namjoon alone with his thoughts.

After a while, Y/N emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a robe with her hair damp. Before he could even get a word out, she had disappeared again into the depths of the closet where she found an alarming assortment of maternity clothes.

“I don’t need this many clothes!” She called, and Namjoon perked up from the other room hearing her voice. “I’m due in a few weeks. I’m not going to wear half of this.”

Namjoon walked into the closet watching fondly as she scowled at the maternity wardrobe he had assembled for her.

“I want to take care of you.” He hummed wrapping his arms around her from behind and doing his best to ignore the way she went rigid in his arms. “I can’t spoil the mother of my child?”

She scoffed pushing him away as she searched for something to wear. There were still far too few pairs of pants, but that was fine. The idea of squeezing herself into a pair of pants had become more and more daunting as her pregnancy had progressed, and now it seemed almost impossible as she looked down at her belly. Dresses and skirts were just easier at this point.

Eventually she settled on skirt and shirt combination that looked comfortable. It wasn’t as though there was anything that could really be classified as ‘comfy clothes’ in the closet except for pajamas, and there was something almost defeatist about the thought of lounging around the estate in a pair of pajamas and moping about her situation. She wasn’t going to give Namjoon the satisfaction of seeing her defeated. She wasn’t there yet.

“You look lovely, jagi.” He complimented wrapping his arms around her again once she was dressed. “I have something I want to show you.”

She nodded tiredly but allowed Namjoon to lead her out of the master bedroom in the direction of her old room. He pushed open the door and let her in only for her to stop short at the sight that greeted her.

The room she remembered was gone. In its place was an extravagant nursery done in shades of soft grey and white and a few accents of the muted teal and gold that had characterized the room when it had been hers. Even she had to admit that the nursery was beautiful.

The fireplace was boarded up, a safety precaution. There was a crib against one wall, ready for the baby, a changing table against another wall. Little framed paintings lined the walls, artwork that made the nursery seem warm and welcoming. Everything about the room was warm and welcoming from the colors to the basket of stuffed animals sitting in the corner. But her favorite was the chair. A rocking chair sat by the window ready and waiting with the blanket she had made for the baby slung over the back of it.

She made her way over to the chair and took a seat, sinking into the comfort of it. Even if she was angry at being back in Korea, she loved this chair. It was perfect. It was comfortable and seated nicely in the sunshine. She’d always loved rocking chairs. Even if this wasn’t the one that Mark had picked out for them, it was still lovely.

None of this was what she and Mark had picked out. They’d put so much care and love into their little nursery in Italy, but this one showed a great amount of care as well. It was clear that Namjoon had put a lot of thought and effort into preparing for the baby. He’d made sure everything was ready to bring them back even if they came back kicking and screaming. He was ready for them.

“What do you think?” He asked coming to kneel next to her.

“It’s beautiful.”

Namjoon smiled brightly resting a hand next to hers on her belly feeling their baby give a little kick where their hands rested. “All for you, jagi. Anything for you.”

part 4

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iclaimedtobethebetterbard · 3 years ago

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the sky’s open wide, i’m running with the wolves - chapter 1

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: All the sides, background Remy, background c!Thomas Rating: Teen & up (see Warnings) Relationships: Platonic/brotherly Virgil with Logan and the Creativitwins; platonic/parental Patton & Virgil; platonic/brotherly Logan and the Creativitwins with each other; platonic/parental Janus with Logan and the Creativitwins; background endgame Moceit. Warnings: Probably some language; references to Christianity; non-graphic violence. Word count: 1570 Notes: Wolfwalkers (2020) AU! You don’t need to have seen the movie to enjoy this, though.

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

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Summary: When Patton is charged with hunting down the wolves in the woods, he believes he is protecting his young son Virgil. But Virgil is afraid to watch his father vanish into the woods, and sneaks after him. When Virgil runs into three wolf cubs who hold the secrets of the forest, he has to make a choice: obey the rules he’s known all his life? Or try to help the three shapeshifting boys find their missing father—even though Virgil's always been taught that the only safe wolf is a dead one? As Virgil explores the wonderful world his new friends show him, and uncovers the lies his town is built on, he may be too late to realize that his choices will cost him more than he ever bargained for.

Chapter 1

Remy would never have particularly considered himself a God-fearing man. Oh, he said his prayers and went to church, of course, but it was more a comfortable habit woven into the fabric of his life than something he devoted much thought to. Even at nineteen, he preferred to occupy his day-to-day thoughts with such matters as the tending of his sheep, the comfort of a nice dry pair of woolen socks, the avoidance of wolves, and, most of all, the brewing of a good cup of tea.

Remy was good at his job. He tended his sheep; he stayed well away from the woods. Everyone knew you didn’t mess with the woods. Stay away from their territory, and keep up the deal of old, and always be safe. He had never put much thought into this, either; it was much more important, in Remy’s eyes, to consider the fine taste that a brew steeped just right could carry.

He never expected his thoughtless respect for the woods to pay off.

The first time Remy saw a Wolfwalker, he was twenty-five years old and had started to wonder if he even believed they were real. But after that day, he never doubted again.

After all, how else could one explain the way the huge, snarling gray wolf, poised to deliver a killing bite to one of Remy’s finest sheep, had heard that commanding howl come from the woods, and put its tail between its legs and run back home in response?

Remy had watched the wolf run, standing frozen in fear and shock—and then he’d seen the Wolfwalker. A tall, tremendous wolf standing at the edge of the treeline, easily twice the size of the largest man, with dark gray fur and eyes gleaming yellow, a jagged scar running down one side of its face. Lean and powerful. Remy instinctively knew this was no ordinary wolf.

Remy had never considered himself a God-fearing man, but staring at the Wolfwalker and the way it commanded the pack of ordinary wolves surrounding it, he thought to himself that perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to pray a little harder.

“Thank you,” he croaked out when the Wolfwalker turned its eyes on him. “Thank you, m’lord—bless ye—I’ll never cross your territory, you may be sure of that—thank you for protecting my sheep—” He barely even knew what he was saying, babbling out his thoughts in more than a little healthy terror.

He wasn’t quite sure if the way the Wolfwalker bowed its head was a nod of acknowledgement, but the next moment, the Wolfwalker was leaping away, the pack of wolves trailing in its wake. And not a single sheep of Remy’s had been harmed.

Remy didn’t see the Wolfwalker often; over the next decade or so, he crossed paths with—him? Remy somehow got the feeling it was a him—perhaps half a dozen times. Every time he came away filled with awe and fear and a renewed sense that though the Wolfwalker was terrifying and fearsome, Remy would far rather live under his odd protection than whatever farce could be provided by all these guards the new Lord Protector kept bringing around.

Before he knew it, Remy was nearly thirty-seven and his appreciation of a good cup of tea had only strengthened over the years. He went to church and said his prayers with gusto, and every night he glanced out to the woods and gave a little nod of respect. For the Wolfwalker and, these last few years, the little cubs that followed in his wake.

As long as the people kept themselves to themselves and stayed out of the woods, Remy knew there was nothing to fear from the wolves.

***

“I don’t want you to go!” Logan clung to Janus’s wrist, digging his heels into the ground and trying to physically hold him back.

Janus lifted his powerful arm and picked the near-teen right up off the ground with almost no effort at all. “This is terribly grown-up of you,” he informed his eldest son dryly.

“There are too many humans,” Logan insisted, dangling from Janus’s arm, the little claws of his hands pricking at Janus’s skin. “You said only the forest was safe!”

Janus drew a long breath. “And that has been true for time immemorial. But things have changed. I like it no more than you do. But I need you to stay here and look after your brothers, you understand me, Logan? I will find us a new forest, a safer one, without any humans who want to cut and burn the trees or trap us with iron. And then I will come back and get you three, and we will go there.”

“But this forest is ours!” Logan protested. “No other forest will be ours like this one is.”

“Logan,” Janus said, and his voice bore an undercurrent of a warning snarl now, “I am doing what I must to protect my cubs.”

He didn’t know where to go, only that they couldn’t stay here. Not with the way the humans kept getting bolder and bolder and venturing deeper into the woods. Between Logan’s poor eyesight and the twins’ recklessness, and the way all three of them were only cubs and couldn’t defend themselves well yet, Janus was getting twitchier and twitchier by the day.

Logan stilled, an unhappy look on his face. “Can I come with you, at least? I can help! I’m very good at figuring things out! We could find a new forest together!”

“No,” Janus responded at once, his heart rate quickening at the idea. “I don’t—” He broke off and reconsidered what he was about to say. “I need you to look after the twins,” he said at last, striving to keep his voice casual.

Not casual enough. Logan stared at him, a look of dawning horror on his face. “You think you might not come back!” he accused.

Janus refrained from speaking the curse he wanted to let out. Logan had always been far too observant. “Of course I’ll come back,” he lied through his teeth, running a comforting hand through Logan’s tangled hair. “I only want to make sure the way is safe for my little ones first.”

Logan had spoken the truth a moment ago: there were too many humans these days. Janus wasn’t sure it was possible to safely venture past the borders of the forest anymore. He wasn’t sure there was anywhere left to take his little ones.

He wasn’t sure he would survive this search.

But it wasn’t like there were any other options left at this point. “Logan,” Janus said, kneeling down and putting his hands on the boy’s shoulders. He focused on making his voice honey-sweet and sincere. “I’m going to keep you safe, you understand? I would never abandon you. You are in charge of keeping your brothers safe until I return, but I will be back in a month or two.” Janus held the little boy’s brown eyes and tried not to think of humans with their traps and spears and guns and the way that once Janus left the forest he would have nowhere to hide.

“I will come back,” Janus told Logan, and he put his whole heart into his lie. “I promise.”

***

“I don’t want to move to some stupid village.” Virgil kicked his feet against the edge of the wagon petulantly, poking a piece of straw through the bars of his kestrel Thomas’s cage.

Patton sighed and reached back to ruffle his son’s hair, not taking his eyes from the winding dirt road. “I know, kiddo. We’re going to have a better life there. The Lord Protector offers a handsome salary to Hunters who can bring down wolves. They say the town is terrorized day and night, and they need to rid the forest of these pests so they can safely harvest the wood and expand the borders of the town.”

“But I hate when you go hunting!” Virgil crawled up to the driver’s seat beside Patton and clung to his arm. “I’m always so scared you’ll get eaten up! Or step in a trap! Or fall off a cliff! Or drown! Or—”

“Hey, there. Hey, now.” Patton wrapped an arm around Virgil’s shoulders. “Breathe, child. Breathe for me.” He murmured soothingly for a few minutes. “Now, come on, tell me: who taught you to draw a bow and arrow?”

“You,” Virgil mumbled.

“Good lad. And who taught you to track?”

“You did.”

“And what do you think? Am I a good Hunter? Haven’t I always kept you safe as can be?”

“Yes, but—”

“Virgil,” Patton interrupted, gentle but firm.

Virgil fidgeted for a moment. “It only has to go bad once, and you’d never come home again!”

“It’s a good thing I’d never do that, then,” Patton said, chucking Virgil under the chin and chuckling. “I mean, I have a sturdy little lad to look after, I must always make sure I hasten home to him at the end of the day.” He drew Virgil close and gave him a protective, reassuring hug. “Nothing’s going to get your Papa. I promise. I will always protect you, Virgil, you hear me? And today, the best way to protect you is to find ourselves a new home out here. We’ll make do, never you worry. I’m sure you’ll have lots of new friends in no time!”

Taglist (ask to be added/removed!):

@theimprobabledreamersworld @private-snippers @fivehargreeves05

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aros001 · 3 years ago

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Read through light novel vol. 7. Random thoughts.

I swear Goblin Slayer looks like he's blushing through his armor on that cover. I don't blame him, given it's Cow Girl, but that's what it looks like.

I always get a laugh out of Goblin Slayer's completely unwillingness or inability to remember any type of monster outside of goblins. I think he only knows what vampires and dragon are because they're the most popular monster adventurers want to beat and thus the ones he'd hear about the most. He repeatedly can't remember what an ogre is despite dropping an ocean on one, nor the dark elf or troll, and I think last volume he needed a long minute to remember what giant rats are. No surprise he can't remember what the Loch Ness Monster's name was in this book, or what an elephant is. Mokele Mubenbe. It's hard for me to even pronounce that.

Lizard Priest was in the process of bringing each of the nuns upstairs into the chapel from the basement storehouse. “Stay strong, now. When dawn breaks, we can take you somewhere less upsetting.” “Thank you... Truly...” “Think nothing of it. We may revere different deities, but monkeys came from lizards, in the end. That makes us cousins.” “Heh-heh... You lizardmen...say the strangest...things...”

I don't say this often enough but Lizard Priest is just kind of the best, you know? He's like a big, scaly, green teddy bear. He's a very comforting presence and such an easy person for everyone, including those of different faiths like Priestess and the elves, to be friends with.

At first I was disappointed Priestess didn't get a cure poison miracle, given how often goblins come at the party using poisoned weapons, but her Purify miracle has certainly proved its usefulness, both for cleaning water and air as well as helping psychologically by cleaning up the victims of the goblins. Doesn't restore their stolen virginity but at least leaves less marks and filth for them to be constantly reminded what the goblins did to them. Plus, Goblin Slayer is no stranger to using smoke or poison gas, so Purify is probably good to have on hand to keep such methods from harming the party themselves.

In the middle of this flood of stories, Goblin Slayer said, “So this is your home.” “That’s right.” “That’s good.” “Well—” High Elf Archer’s eyes narrowed like a smiling cat’s. “It’s where my heart is.” Goblin Slayer nodded. Cow Girl blinked at him for a moment. Then he said, “And there are goblins near it.” The note of anger in his voice was unmistakable.

I love all the members of the party, so naturally I'm enjoying all the bonding moments between Goblin Slayer and High Elf Archer in this book, as well as the parallels he keeps drawing between them, especially in regards to their sisters. Their interactions are fun because their personalities contrast so much but in a different way than his and Priestess' or her and Dwarf Shaman's.

Then she went on, “Actually, even a lot of elvish adventurers act like that, especially if they’ve just left the forest.” It’s not that they have no sense of danger, just a poor grasp of scale.

That last bit is a good way of describing a lot of this series. There are people ignorant of how truly dangerous the goblins can be but outside of porcelain ranks it's usually not deliberately so. They just live in a world of other insanely large threats that don't like being ignored, with the elves in particular having members of their species whom lived through the old battles of the gods. Goblins are basically pests and goblin slaying pest control. They're a problem but barely a blip on the radar when you're comparing them to freaking Sauron, whom it feels like you just recently finally got rid of.

There is something absolutely hilarious to me that this man in dirty leather and steel armor, coated in faded red stains, who refuses to ever take his helmet off, barely talks, frequently walks in a manner that's described as violent, and who's sole obsession it is to wipe out every last goblin in existence, is known as The Kindest Man on the Frontier. But I still love it because it makes sense. Most villages on the frontier can't get help with their goblin problems because there's not a lot of fame or money in killing goblins and bigger threats are given more the priority, so they're just left on their own. But then Goblin Slayer comes in, doing the job without any thought to reward or praise. He's saved god knows how many kidnapped women prevented the destruction of countless villages. From the outside, yeah, it looks like just simple kindness. Get to know him a little better and you see that it's obsession. And when you get as close as Priestess and Cow Girl, you agree that it's kindness.

It's so cool that the elf adventurer the party saved on their first quest together made a reappearance, even if it's a small one. Like with Wizard's little brother wanting to avenge her, it's good to show that the people brutalized by the goblins aren't just props to show how serious the situation is. They're real (albeit fictional) people, who had their own lives and people who loved them, so having them still matter later in the story and them trying to get at least some closure is good writing.

I was talking with someone before in my vol. 6 post that something I really like about Goblin Slayer's character is his immaturity. Not that he's whiny and bratty like a kid but rather his trauma stunted him in a few ways. He likely had nothing to do with his village being attacked by goblins but to this day he blames himself for what happened to his sister, from him hiding and doing nothing to save her to in this volume believing she would have long moved on from their village if she didn't have to take care of him. Taking on all that blame and guilt, it's such a childish way of thinking and his trauma (and Burgler's training) meant he never was able to grow out of it. I can just see that little boy under the floorboards, thinking everything that's happening around him is some divine punishment from the gods for something bad he did, like not listening to his sister or getting mad at Cow Girl or literally anything else a kid would normally do.

This world has freaking elevators?! What?! When they first mentioned it I thought it was going to be something involving water or magic or gears, but no! Control panels, keypad, entering a code. It even goes bong when it arrives at its destination. I mean, they say it's not clear whether it operates magically or mechanically but this still feels like a big jump in this world's technology level, considering the most high tech thing I remember prior was ice cream making, and that was a chemical process. I just love the image of Goblin Slayer's party patiently waiting in the elevator as it's going up and soft muzak is playing.

By the time he noticed the change, it was too late. The goblin shaman’s blood had been turned to pure water.

WHOA! Priestess! What the f**k?! Was this her version of strangling the goblin champion with a bundle of hair?! That was awesome!

Also not good for her, given her beliefs. It's a good little conflict for her character and sets up some worry about what'll happen if she does something like this again. The Earth Mother spoke directly to her to warn this was a one-time deal. Would Priestess lose the ability to use Miracles or would the goddess outright smite her for such gross abuse of the powers she gave her? There's also the added conflict that Goblin Slayer praised her for what she did. He's not as important as the Earth Mother but he's still someone Priestess respects and is attached to more than anyone else, so she's going to be conflicted if his life is on the line again.

I've never played DOOM. Still love the reference with Hero.

...Is that why there was an elevator? Is this world some odd combination of DnD, Lord of the Rings, and DOOM?

Even though they showed his image, with everyone else all dressed up for the wedding I'm enjoying imagining Goblin Slayer in his normal armor, just with the addition of a bow tie.

Damn that bouquet tease. Who caught it?! Priestess?! Cow Girl?! Sword Maiden leaping in through the window?!

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/GoblinSlayer/comments/fzwykz/read_through_light_novel_vol_7_random_thoughts/

#goblin slayer #random thoughts #reddit repost

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phantastus · 4 years ago

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Separate person here, but I’d love to see the tag meanings for the other characters!

I tried to answer this once and then mysteriously lost the post, but I’m doing it again! Thanks for the interest, guys-- I’m really glad that my weird bird tags have been a source of intrigue and curiosity!

(And to address specific bits in these replies/tags: 1. Yes the coincidence with Heather’s bird name is the coolest thing ever and I can’t even take credit for it, it just worked out completely organically. 2. Yes you can totally reblog it, sorry for the Readmore! 3. Yes the title is from the lyrics to Hometown! Good eye!)

NOW FOR THE DEETS, follow the Readmore!

TRAVIS GRADY | CATHARTES AURA (Turkey Vulture)

If you’ve driven on just about any highway in the U.S., you have definitely seen one of these guys. They’re not just desert birds; they can be found just about anywhere in the Americas. Given Travis’s traverse-oriented line of work, a bird so associated with man-made roads just seemed appropriate.

Turkey vultures feed almost exclusively on carrion, and Travis unsurprisingly has a lot of roadkill themes and imagery in his Otherworld (he even has a monster CALLED “Carrion”!). Being an animal lover, Travis feels a lot of guilt about roadkill, whether it’s animals he hit himself or just ones he sees dead on the roadways. Although vultures are considered creepy for eating dead prey off of the ground (and Travis himself seems to be considered disconcerting by people around him), they’re smart and often friendly birds that perform the important role of cleaning up decomposing stuff that would otherwise just rot and go to waste. Plus,eating already-dead things instead of killing stuff themselves makes them objectively less scary than... most birds tbh.

Sort of like the other protags and their “corvids=pests” deal, vultures are not just seen as an annoyance but often actively considered disgusting and filthy. Travis doesn’t have an easy time making friends and a lot of people seem to consider him scary/bad for reasons that honestly don’t match up with his actions. SH0 has a weird dumb plot that doesn’t make a lot of sense (or even try to tbh) but edgy bad ending aside, Travis has always struck me as a bit of a gentle giant who’d rather avoid violence if he can. Also my firm headcanon is that he’s gay and experiences no small amount of alienation/perceived scariness because of it, so there you go.

Interesting fact! Turkey vultures lack a syrinx, the vocal organ that most birds have. As a result, their vocal communication is more or less limited to the occasional hiss or grunt. Travis isn’t much of a talker either.

EDDIE DOMBROWSKI | LARUS MARINUS (Great Black-Backed Gull)

Gulls are big, extremely opportunistic predator-scavengers. They’ll eat fish and crustaceans. They’ll eat eggs. They’ll eat garbage. They’ll eat anything. They’ll walk right into a convenience store and take a bag of chips without paying. I’m not about fat-shaming here, but Eddie is kind of unavoidably characterized by gluttony. And for eating mystery food he just found unattended in the middle of an abandoned building.

Gulls are also, well, kind of mean. While they’re not considered particularly dangerous, they rank right up there with geese on ‘do not fear God or man, WILL fight you if you look at them wrong’. Especially these guys, who are mostly found in New England and are freaking huge. they have very few natural predators (assuming they can make it to adulthood). The only things that regularly take down fully-grown GBB gulls are literal eagles. Other than that, they’re big and strong enough push around most other birds, and frequently do. Eddie is a victim of bullying, but also very quickly becomes one the second he realizes how easily he can turn the tables.

IDK, maybe it’s the blue-and-white striped shirt, but for some reason Eddie has always had, like, a maritime vibe to me. I just see him being from a coastal town. Maybe with a dad who spends lots of time working away from home on the big fishing boats.

Nobody likes gulls except me. And nobody likes Eddie except me*. :’(

One time a seagull snatched an entire (very large) slice of pizza from my room-mate and flew away with it without even faltering.

ANGELA OROSCO | MACROURA TURTURILLA (Mourning Dove)

Unlike most of the other birds on this list, mourning doves are NOT predators-- they are not only prey for wild animals, but are also hunted by humans for game. Mourning doves and Angela both have a lot to fear from the world around them.

While I PERSONALLY think they are very soft and beautiful, coloration-wise they are very unremarkable-- the plain browns and grays are perfect camouflage for the forest floor. Angela also spends a lot of time trying to avoid drawing attention to herself, for obvious reasons.

They’re very skittish, and despite staying under the radar most of the time, when they take flight in a panic it’s VERY noticeable. Their feathers make a distinctive whistling noise when flying. Angela’s tendency to be calm right up until the point where something is Too Scary (tm) and she just takes off kind of reminds me of a startled dove.

Mourning doves were totally among the birds featured in That Scene, The One With The Birds (tm) in Chapter 10 of Gravity. I am speaking from experience when I say that a previously-unnoticed mourning dove very suddenly taking off in front of you is extremely alarming.

The mourning dove gets its name from its call, which just sounds very forlorn and sad. Angela is also forlorn and sad. :(

Technically the ‘turturilla’ is a subspecies not found in North America, oops. I should change that but I’m lazy.

STANLEY COLEMAN | LINARIA CANNABINA (Common Linnet)

Linnets are a finch-like bird that were once a popular pet, leading to a lot of references to them in classic poetry, particularly to their sad status as an often-caged bird. While that’s sort of fitting since he was institutionalized, this is not why Stanley’s bird is the linnet.

BIG TW FOR STALKING / DISCUSSION OF ASSAULT

Stanley is the linnet because of this stanza of the SH3 Crematorium Puzzle: “Song of the Linnet: "He seeks out her soul by his own black ambition, Frightening her out of her wits. Whispering love songs into her ear, What cruel Linnet wants, he gets."

Stanley is literally the scariest thing in SH3 imo and the poem not only canonically refers to him (the poem is a clue leading to his body as part of the puzzle solution), but describes his actions towards Heather with very little exaggeration. He follows her around the hospital, always just out of sight, and leaves messages for her that get progressively more disturbing and graphic/sexually-charged as time goes on, repeatedly referring to her as his lover and describing what he’d like to do to her. She in turn is completely repulsed by Stanley and actively afraid of him.

Literally how could I pick anything else, I mean, there it is.

I THINK I will save the last three for another post, but hopefully these are interesting addons to the first four!

*i know i’m not the only one who likes eddie lol, but a consistent pattern over the years of being an SH fan has been me playing the Eddie Dombrowski Defense Squad to other SH friends until they appreciate him as a character more.

#Silent Hill #Travis Grady #Eddie Dombrowski #Angela Orosco #Stanley Coleman #asks 4 me #kit rambles about silent hill #Anonymous

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itsyourchoicedevotionals · 3 years ago

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A Reset

“He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside still waters.” Psalm 23:2ESV

Several preachers were decreeing from December 2019, 2020 would be the year of Psalm 23. We were made to lie down. Fall 2020, we heard 2021 would be the year of exposure and joy… Lots has been exposed, but joy? Not yet.

Plainly, the pastures weren’t green. Sometimes God allows difficulties instead of green pastures. I remember, when I was working eighty to ninety hours weekly in home showings of Home Interiors and Gifts. The choice to work long hours was mine. I cried out to God, ‘Slow me down to spend more time with You.’ One day, I went running down three steps stocking-footed. Whoosh. Feet went up. Buttocks went down on the corner of the bottom step. Diagnosis: broken tailbone, dislocated coccyx, later discovered, a ruptured disc. Barely able to walk, green wasn’t the color of that pain-filled pasture.

Green came. Downtime was a reset for my soul. Remember, in Psalms 91:15NASB God says— “…I will be with him in trouble…” (God didn’t cause coronavirus shutdown… He allowed it.) We weren’t promised to be kept from trouble. He promised— He’ll be there with us during trouble. What glorious comfort. Enduring trouble alone is horrid. What do people do without Jesus?

Check out V3 “He restores my soul; He guides me in the paths of righteousness For His name’s sake.” 2020 restored many people’s souls. Equally, many left faith in God completely during the reset and Coronavirus. I’ve dug down deeper into God. (Bill Gates would call me a fanatic.) Namby pamby Christianity won’t get it. Somehow, God reset my love for Him back to those days of first love.

Looking around from this restored love I wonder, have we become wimps? ‘Woe is me’ people? Did we forget Who we belong to? “…in Me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33NIV We belong to Jesus— have peace— are over-comers through Him Who loves us.

God didn’t plan for us to be defeated. Drawing close to Jesus, we learn the truth— “…in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us” Romans 8:37ESV.

Psalm 23:5ESV “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.” Wikipedia Hebrew Bible says “In one understanding, Ba'al Zəbûb is translated literally as "lord of the flies". It was long ago suggested that there was a relationship between the Philistine god, and cults of flies—referring to a view of them as pests, feasting on excrement—appearing in the Hellenic world, such as Zeus Apomyios or Myiagos” Antipas .com said—“Sheep are especially troubled by the nose fly, or nasal fly… These little flies buzz about… attempting to deposit their eggs on the …mucous membranes of the sheep’s nose. …For relief from this agonizing annoyance, sheep will deliberately beat their heads against trees, rocks… Often advanced stages of infection from these flies will lead to blindness.”

Do you see how God anoints our heads, continually, even during this time of rest? All satan’s lies are flying around, through the airways, trying to destroy our faith, our relationships, government, judicial system, and creating questions of doubt about God. (There’s a sermon here.)

With the anointing protecting our minds, we’ve overcome coronavirus. 2021 we’re exposing communism and stolen government— constant fear emitting over the air ways (flies). Green pastures have strengthen us. Whatever satan throws out next, and forever is not more powerful than our protection and Protector —IF— we decide to believe and walk in the truth. It’s your choice. You choose.

PRAYER: Almighty God, Thank You for giving us a reset, and moving us into power through intimacy. Help us to grow our roots down deep into Your truth, in Jesus’ name I pray.

#Jesus Christ #lord of lords #Word of God #Holy Spirit #God #it's your choice #devotional #reset #green pasture #protecting #deeper #restored #airways #love #hope #have faith

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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The Craft: How a Teenage Weirdo Based on a Real Person Became an Icon

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“We Are The Weirdos, Mister.” A phrase you’ll find printed over t-shirts, pin badges, mugs, earrings, tote bags, necklaces, and more all over the internet. It’s the most iconic line from The Craft, a film released 25 years ago that still has a rabid following today. For anyone unfamiliar with The Craft, it’s a line spoken by Fairuza Balk’s Nancy, an inferno in black lippy and sunglasses, the de facto leader of a homemade coven made up of outsiders who have taken the raw deal the world has given them and rejected it by learning to harness the power of nature. This line is everything. We are no longer going to be victims, it says. We will no longer be afraid. We reclaim our space, our power. That we are four teenaged girls will no longer mean we have to watch out for ‘weirdos’ – because it is us who are the weirdos. Mister.

“Nancy is the one everybody wants to be,” says Peter Filardi, the man who created Nancy, Rochelle, Bonnie, and Sarah all those years ago, chatting to Den of Geek from his home, an original poster for The Craft peaking out from behind him on the wall. Next to it is a poster for Chapelwaite, the series Filardi is currently showrunning with his brother Jason, based on Stephen King’s short story, “Jerusalem’s Lot,” a prequel to Salem’s Lot.

“Nancy is the one who is particularly put upon and who finds the power to get revenge or get justice and is going to do that with no apologies. I think it’s how we all envision ourselves or would want to see ourselves, I guess. Here we are 25 years later. Why do you think we’re still talking about it?”

It’s an interesting question because we very much still are talking about The Craft. With Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, A Discovery of Witches, His Dark Materials, and of course last year’s remake of The Craft, we appear to very much still be in the season of the witch, but none is quite as resonant and impactful as the original The Craft. Watching it back 25 years after its release, it’s still just as relevant.

The very first script that Filardi sold was Flatliners, the story of arrogant, hot-shot medical students who plan to discover what happens after you die by “flatlining” for increasing lengths of time. Filardi’s script prompted a bidding war and the movie became a big hit, starring Hollywood’s hottest: Kiefer Sutherland, Julia Roberts, and William Baldwin.

After Flatliners, Filardi had been working on a script about real life teenage Satanist Ricky Kasso, (“He was one of the first to really put the hallucinogenics together with the music and the theology and then sort of brew them all up into this really volatile cocktail,” Filardi explains), so when producer Doug Wick approached him about another supernatural project, Filardi was game.

“He said he would like to either do a haunted house story or something to do with teenage witches. And because I happened to be working on what I was working on I was pretty well-schooled in earth magic and natural magic and Satanism and all sorts of stuff. And we just started talking, and we hit it off, and we decided to develop and create The Craft together,” Filardi recalls.

At the time Wick had just two full producer credits to his name – for Working Girl and Wolf – but he would go on to produce swathes of heavy hitters including Hollow Man, Jarhead, The Great Gatsby, and win the best picture Oscar for Gladiator. Meanwhile, Andrew Fleming, director of The Craft and co-writer of the screenplay, had made horror thriller Bad Dreams and comedy Threesome, and would go on to make several comedy movies as well as many hit TV shows – he’s currently working on season two of Netflix’s popular Emily in Paris.

Filardi’s story was always going to be about women, and it was always going to be about outsiders, the memories of high school still fresh enough for him to remember the pain. “I’m sure it’s like this for every kid. You have memories from those high school years of horrible things that happened to people around you, or were said or done and just the petty cruelties,” he says. “I’m glad I’m an old man now!” (He’s not, he’s 59).

Rewatching and it’s certainly striking how much empathy you feel for the girls. Sarah (Robin Tunney), who is the audience’s way in to the movie, lost her mother during childbirth and has battled mental health problems, even attempting suicide. Recently moved to a new neighborhood with her dad and step mother, she is instantly the outsider at her new school, and is immediately treated abhorrently by popular boy Chris (a pre-Scream Skeet Ulrich), who dates her and then spreads rumors that they slept together. Rochelle (Rachel True) is a keen diver, subjected to overt racist bullying by a girl on the swim team, while Bonnie (Neve Campbell) hides away because of extreme scarring she has all over her body. Before Sarah arrives, the three dabble in magic and protect themselves as best they can from the horrors of high school by telling people they are witches and keeping them at arm’s length. It’s the arrival of Sarah, though, a “natural” witch with some serious power, that turns things around.

“I think that maybe traditionally Hollywood would have done a version where the women were witches like Lost Boys,” Filardi says. “The women were witches, and they had this power, and they’re the dark overlords of their school or something like that. And that’s exactly the opposite of what worked for me and how I thought magic works in general.

“Magic has always historically been a weapon of the underclass, for poor people… Think of England. People of the heath, who lived out in the country… The heathens, they didn’t have a king or an army or the church even behind them. They would turn to magic. And that’s kind of what I saw for our girls. For real magic to work, you have the three cornerstones of need and emotion and knowledge. And I hate magic movies where somebody has a power and they just do this and the magic happens. I think it’s much more interesting if the magic comes from an emotional need, a situation that really riles up the power within.”

These witches aren’t evil and they aren’t even anti-heroes. Instead, this is pure wish fulfilment for anyone who’s ever been bullied, or overlooked, or been dealt a particularly tough hand, and this level of empathy comes across hard in the film. Watching now and so many of the themes are so current with reference to issues of racism and the emergence of the #MeToo movement.

“I did not write it as a feminist piece per se,” says Filardi. “I really just wrote it as an empathetic human being, I think.”

There’s extreme empathy dripping throughout the script, but don’t mistake that for pity. The Craft deals in female empowerment and just plain fun. It’s here that one of The Craft’s enduring conflicts arises. Are you Team Sarah or are you Team Nancy?

The correct answer of course, is Team Nancy…

“It’s always harder to be the good guy or the good girl,” laughs Filardi.

After all, before Sarah shows up, the other three are doing fine – surviving, doing minor spells, and looking out for each other. The influx of power Sarah brings allows the group to up their game and together they each ask for a gift from “Manon,” the (fictional) deity who represents all of nature that they worship in the film. Bonnie wants to heal her scars, Rochelle wants the racism to stop, Nancy wants the power of Manon, but Sarah casts a love spell on Chris. Sarah is either taking revenge on Chris, or she’s forging a relationship without consent, and it’s a move which eventually leads to Chris’s death.

Meanwhile, Nancy is someone who just refuses to be a victim, despite the fact that of the four she’s clearly had the toughest life, living in a trailer with her mum and her abusive stepdad. Nancy won’t allow the audience to pity her. Nancy doesn’t let things happen to her, she makes her own choices, whether they are good ones or not. When newly empowered Nancy is running red lights, with Rochelle and Bonnie whooping in the back, and Sarah telling her it’s all gone a bit far, “Oh shut up, Sarah” feels like the right response. While Sarah might be technically correct, we are rooting for these girls to be allowed the pure joy of something they have created between them.

Nancy is an amazing creation, and Filardi says he couldn’t have anticipated how much the character would resonate.

“I did not envision the great look that Andy Fleming brought to her,” he smiles. “But Nancy was inspired by a real girl, whose older brother lived in a trailer in their backyard, and just had a hard go of it. She’s true to the one I wrote. She always embodied the earth element of fire. Each of the girls is their own earth element. There’s earth, wind, water, fire. And you can pretty much guess who’s who…”

We could speculate but it’s perhaps more fun to let the audience decide for themselves.

“Nancy in the beginning was always the constructive aspect of that element. She’s the light in the fire in the dark woods that draws the girls together,” he explains. “When she’s all passion and raw nerve, she’s very much like fire, but then when she crosses Sarah and gets overwhelmed with the power of her new abilities, she becomes the destructive side of that same element and burns the whole thing up. But she’s a fantastic character. I think that Fairuza Balk just elevated Nancy to a whole other level. I guess that’s what happens when you’re blessed with the right actor for the right part.”

Exactly who the true protagonist of The Craft is is something Filardi still contemplates. What is notable is that though, yes, Nancy, Bonnie, and Rochelle do at one point try to, um, kill Sarah and make it look like suicide, which isn’t a very sisterly thing to do, they never really become true villains. By the end, the only fatalities are sex pest Chris and Nancy’s abusive step father, and both deaths could reasonably be considered accidental. While Bonnie and Rochelle are stripped of their powers, they aren’t further punished, it’s only Nancy who gets a raw deal. Driven to distraction by her surfeit of power, we find her ranting in a mental hospital strapped to a bed.

Filardi’s ending was different, though he won’t be drawn on details.

“The original ending was different. I’ve never really gone into the detail of what the original ending was. Well, the original ending was just different…” he says, mulling over what he might say. “So, let’s see. Well, Chris always died… and it was just very different,” he hesitates. ��I don’t really get into it because there’s no real sense. It is what it is. I always like in a movie… Having two different children and you love them both for different reasons, but I would have never wanted to be hard on the girls in the final analysis in any way thematically.”

One element of the script that saw slight changes was the motivation of Rochelle, after the casting of Rachel True.

“To be honest, I think she was the exact same character. She was picked on by the swimmers. There was an added element that she had an eating disorder. She used to vomit into a mayonnaise jar and hide it on the top shelf of a bedroom closet. But other than that, she was really the same character,” he says. “Andy Fleming and Doug Wick, I don’t know who came up with the idea, but they cast Rachel and she added this whole other element to it, the racial element, which I think it was great and I think totally appropriate.”

Though Filardi didn’t work on the remake and hasn’t actually seen it, he’s able to see for himself, first hand, how well the film has aged and how it continues to endure for young women – he has teenage daughters of his own.

“I see them going through all the same stuff that I watched girlfriends going through. And it hasn’t changed all that much,” he says ruefully.

“It’s funny. For years, they had no idea what I did for a living. I think they just thought I hung around in the basement. And one daughter was like… She was going to school with somebody whose father was in a rock band or something, ‘Nobody in this house does anything interesting. Everything’s boring.’ And it was around Halloween and they were showing The Craft at the Hollywood Forever cemetery. I took them to the cemetery and it was great. There were boys dressed in Catholic high school uniforms and women all in black and with blankets and candles and wine and snacks. Amidst the tombstones, they set up a huge screen and showed the film. So, that’s when they first saw it. And it was really fun. A really nice thing to share with my daughters.”

Things don’t change that much. High school is still horrible. Magic is still tantalizing. The outfits are still fabulous. And Nancy is still a stone cold legend. The Craft is an enduring celebration of outsider culture that we’ll probably still be talking about in 25 years to come. After all, most of us, at one time or another, feel like the weirdos.

“I think of it as the story about the power of adolescent pain and self-empowerment. I think of beautiful young people who are just picked upon or put in positions they shouldn’t be or don’t deserve to be, and having the ability to fight back and weather it and survive,” says Filardi when we ask him what he’s most proud of.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

“I’m also proud of all the great contributions that the other talented people brought to the script. All I did was a script, but you have actors and directors and producers and art directors and production designers who just… Everybody seems to me to have brought their A-game. I didn’t come up with Nancy’s great look. Other people get all that credit. Like you said, you see her on t-shirts. So, so many people just brought so many things. I guess I’m just proudest to think that a bunch of strangers come together and connect to the message of the piece, and together just make something memorable all these 25 years later.”

The post The Craft: How a Teenage Weirdo Based on a Real Person Became an Icon appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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babiedeku · 5 years ago

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hallo! can i request a swan lake au with tanjirou? particularly at the part where the swan tries to stop the prince making a vow to the wrong girl, but fails, and now tanjirou must defeat the wizard muzan in order to save the reader. he then defeats the wizard and angst happens which is turned into a happy ending in which the swan curse is lifted and they live happily ever after and what not (*´ω｀*)

hi omg its finally here! after so long! im really sorry it took me forever but i hope you like it somehow! :”( thank you again for the request anon, this one was fun to write! - marianne

One thing’s for sure, Tanjirou wouldn’t be in this situation if he had just listened the Swan Queen’s, (Y/N)’s, warning. He had just brushed it off, thinking it was just some absurd lore that was passed down through word of mouth to warn people from being too trusting of strangers and that not everything is what they seem at first glance.

Who - ? Tanjirou just saw you flee into the woods, wearing nothing but a white silk night dress.

“What’s wrong, Your Highness?”

Bringing back his attention to the person in front of him, (Y/N), or at least a very convincing clone of the said queen. “Drop the guise,” Tanjirou’s voice was even despite the anger that was bubbling deep within him, and his hand was itching to reach for the hilt of his sword, but he remained still in front of the imposter. “Muzan.”

A low sounding laughter echoed throughout the room, the sickly smell of burning skin hit Tanjirou’s nostrils - it was the foulest and most evil smell he has by far encountered, how had he not noticed it before? - your beautiful and ethereal features sloughing off to slowly reveal the demon sorcerer himself, red eyes keenly looking Tanjirou over. “I’m impressed,” He said, voice soft but as cold as the winter breeze. “you’re the first to have caught on this early,” The pool of melted skin sitting at his feet.

The first? There have been a number of nobles and royals that have been killed, their kingdoms left to rot with no one ruling over them. The said kingdoms commoners would later on be found massacred, their blood soaking the lands, bodies mangled from only the gods know what. The stench arising from the dead was horrendous to Tanjirou and his keen sense of smell, and the scene of all those corpses were ingrained into his brain, the subject of his recurring nightmares.

To think that this man, Muzan, was the one who was responsible for all those innocent people’s deaths. This monster, as he continues to breathe and roam the lands, is an insult to their deaths.

“Oh, Tanjirou, my love,” Muzan mocked the young prince, his mouth was moving but your sweet and gentle voice was all that Tanjirou could hear, he could also almost see you vaguely.

Tanjirou’s breath hitched. Don’t, he thought, steering himself from trying to run up to you and wrap you in his arms. This madman was trying to get a rise out of him.

“I haven’t told you how absolutely delicious your family was, and how lovely they looked in their own blood.”

Something snapped inside of Tanjirou, it was as if there was a dam within him that was holding back all his anger and frustration, and his pent up anger was washing over him in waves. To massacre entire kingdoms to be able to gain power and impersonate the woman he’s in love with to be able to do the same with him and the kingdom he reigns over was one thing, but to also bring up his family in such a way and in your voice was something else - that’s where he fucking draws the line.

Drawing his sword, he pressed the tip to Muzan’s throat, with just enough force to draw a little blood. “You are a being that should not be allowed to exist.” Tanjirou said, face devoid of any emotion, but his words were dripping with venom.

“I am this close to being the perfect creature, and once I am able to feed on you and your pathetic subjects, I’ll be able to move on to other regions in Japan.”

The way he referred to himself was odd, ‘creature’? Tanjirou was confused, but he tabled that for a later thought, right now he had more pressing matters than think what Muzan is. “All this for wanting to take over the country?”

Muzan laughed, a cold breeze accompanying the humorless laughter. “You belittle me, prince?”

Darkness suddenly enveloped the room, even the late afternoon rays of the sun was obscured, leaving Tanjirou blind and surrounded in pitch black darkness.

“The last person who crossed me got turned into a swan.” The sorcerer’s voice echoed all throughout the room. “give me your kingdom, and i promise your death will be quick and painless.”

A swan? Could it be - ?

You had mentioned in passing, one night when he snuck out of castle grounds to come spend some time with you by your lake, about being turned into a swan as a punishment for defying the orders of a sorcerer who threatened to take over your kingdom.

His anger would be handled later, and perhaps an apology for being too dismissive of what had happened to you.

Tanjirou was calm despite being engulfed in darkness and having a sorcerer flitting around the throne room. His oddly keen sense of smell can easily pinpoint where Muzan was, if he could just -

A pained gasp left his lips, a searing pain on his left side suddenly bombarded his senses, as his hand slowly met the warm liquid on his side.

Taking a deep breathe to calm his nerves and steel himself, he tightened his grasp on the hilt of his sword.

Breathe.

Calm your mind.

His nostrils felt like they were burning with the horrid stench of burning flesh enveloping him. But, this was one of the many reasons why he treasure his keen sense of smell, because despite being literally kept in the dark and blindsided by his enemy, there would be moments that the smell of a silver lining would make itself known to Tanjirou, a thread of sorts that helps him pinpoint where his enemy’s location and weaknesses are.

And right now, it was right behind him.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Tanjirou turned around and brought his blade down onto Muzan as swiftly as he could, hoping he at least caused some sort of damage to the sorcerer.

The darkness slowly dissipated, revealing Muzan with a deep gash on his right eye and cheek, his blood gushing out as his veins stood out against his pale skin with a black shade.

“Pest,” The sorcerer spat, but gave the young prince a bloody smile. “you never seem to vanish, don’t you?”

Tanjirou nodded, his world was blurry and his head was heavy due to the blood that he was losing, but he would be damned if he can’t somehow defeat this monstrosity that stood before him and save the girl that has set his heart aflame. “Takes more than blood lust and thirst for power to rid me from this world.”

Muzan cackled, somehow truly bemused with the humans standing before him. “It is truly annoying how you pathetic human’s just don’t stop fighting -”

He stopped mid sentence, a sickening sound was heard along with a pained groan from Muzan, and then right before Tanjirou’s eyes, he fell to the ground in a pool of his own blood.

“I think a thank you is in order right about now,” You spoke, a small smile on your lips.

Tanjirou was rooted to his place, eyes wide and mind going blank as he stared at you standing in front of the crumpled sorcerer with a sword that probably belonged to one of the armors that lined the hallways. You were still in your white silk night gown, that was a little too sheer to his liking and left little to the imagination, making a blush erupt on the poor prince’s handsome features, and you were soaked in sweat and had some blood here and there - but god, you were still the most beautiful woman he has ever had the pleasure of meeting.

He wanted to weep at your feet, take you in his arms, apologize for not listening to you, and even give you a robe to cover yourself up, but he would save those for a time where the both of you were not involved with a madman sorcerer.

“But,” Your voice breaking him out of his trance, you grabbed his hand and ran through the winding hallways of his castle. “we have to run, that was just something to buy us some time,”

“Right,” Was all Tanjirou’s mind could think of to say, his mind was going hazy with the blood loss, but he was sure that he would run to the ends of the earth with you.

Finally outside of the castle walls, both of you ran toward your small lake where you would, even if by a fraction, have the upper hand when it comes to confronting Muzan.

“Leaving so soon?” The voice sent chills down both of your spines, the night sky was slowly getting darker as each second passed. “Disrespectful to just leave a guest lying in their own pool of blood, Queen (Y/N).”

You glared at the man, hovering just behind you, dark cloudy wisps surrounding him. “You were no guest, you were unwelcomed in the first place.”

Muzan was unhappy with his spiel being rebutted, he growled and lunged at the pair.

Looking to the young prince beside you, all you could give him was an apologetic look because you knew that jumping into a lake from the tears of another person is not something that everyone would want to do. With no further explanation to jumped into the lake with Tanjirou in tow.

Tanjirou was not expecting this, he was not prepared for the plunge and his lungs were ready to get oxygen in them, but he knew any other movements would be futile underwater.

You grasped his hand a little tighter, hoping that he would somehow be reassured that he is not alone in the hellish nightmare unfolding before their eyes.

After a few more painful seconds a distant bellow was heard, along with the sudden flash of bright light.

Tanjirou was the first so break to the surface, gasping for air as he tried to survey his surroundings, looking for any signs of Muzan that could still be lurking in the very woods.

“Gone,” You gasped beside him, finally going up for some much needed air. “H-he’s finally gone,”

Tanjirou was relieved to finally have Muzan banished from the world, he hoped that the souls of all those innocent people, and his family, are at peace knowing that Muzan no longer walks the earth.

You were also beside him, hands still intertwined as the both of you stood in the lake.

He could feel the tears from the pent up anger, fear, exhaustion, and relief finally forming in the corner of his eyes - he was just so glad to finally have you with you him where he could make sure that the both of you live a happy, prosperous, and safe life together.

The two of you were silent for a few moments before Tanjirou finally threw himself onto you for a hug - it lasted for a few seconds before he pulled away, because he doesn’t want to over step your boundaries. “I’m sorry, I-I should have-” His profuse and heartfelt apologies went on for a full minute before you decided to stop his rambling with a quick kiss to the lips.

“Stop apologizing, my prince,” You smiled at the blushing boy. “I’m just glad I finally get to be with you,”

#this one took forever im sorry :(#tanjirou #kamado tanjirou #prince!tanjirou swan lake AU #tanjirou x reader #kamado tanjirou x reader #Kimetsu no Yaiba #KNY #demon slayer #tanjirou imagines #kamado tanjirou imagines #demon slayer imagines #kimetsu no yaia imagines

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churchsplayground · 5 years ago

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“. . .”

The Pawn Symbiote - LF symbiotes

Pawn is only 33 years old, having been spawned at the life foundation (1986) as part of an anti-symbiote project. They are considered the second oldest of the siblings, however, they all are the same age, except the Knight symbiote.

Pawn is referred to as She/Her currently, however, this is subjective and based only on their current host's gender. They do not retain any personal preferences.

Pawn has a fixed height of 7′3″ as a humanoid, it does not change despite the host. -

Pawn lives at the LF with her siblings and parent symbiote in a special container just for them.

It should be noted Pawn does not possess a mouth on a regular basis, and for this reason, is a strong silent. That doesn’t mean they don’t talk, they speak when they want. Only rarely do you see them actually forming a mouth, they often just use a lot of gestures, somehow people still know what she’s talking about (or at least her siblings).

Pawn is a sassy, silver-tongued, she-devil of a symbiote, she can often be seen causing trouble with her sibling Rook. Breaking out of their containment, causing on-site property damage, just being rebellious in nature, acting out much as teens do, it seems they haven’t quite matured enough to grow away from this phase.

Pawn is extremely silent and sneaky, for this, she has earned her place as being able to do more things even the most talented human assassin could pull off. She is often paired in ‘missions’ with her sibling Bishop due to his particular skill set. Pawn doesn’t often abide by the mission’s rules often taking a more messy, bloody approach to things. Ignoring her brother bishop most time due to his passive nature.

Pawn is the LF’s most aggressive symbiote runner up to their parent symbiote, she is often the problem when it comes to keeping staff safe.

Pawn only shows tameness towards Amy, only allowing her to work with and host the symbiote. Pawn has attempted to kill many tester hosts/volunteers that were not Amy or her mother Samatha. Pawn is considered a highly dangerous and problematic symbiote. Often seen putting up fights or flat out trying to kill some staff that was not to her liking.

Pawn is a very murderous symbiote for reasons unknown, a possible fascination with human death is most likely the cause. Despite this, the symbiote does not seem to be corrupted by this mindset. Only words that could describe her are Chaotic Lawful, she has reasons behind her madness and only seeks the better good... that is, with a little fun on the side.

Big warning… DO NOT sneak up on pawn or her host when bonded unless you want to become a target practice dummy or rather, a dead body. It’s really your choice, they rarely miss, I don’t think you’ll be too lucky for them to miss either.

Unlike her sibling Bishop, she does not take well to foreign symbiotes often treating them as pests and lower life forms. She doesn’t have much respect for the symbiote species often calling them things rather than beings. Then again she is from the same species, in a way she doesn’t think too highly of herself as being part of the species either. All in all, she’s kinda racist towards herself much like her sibling Rook.

Pawn is a little bit more knowledgeable than her siblings on the human world having had been around Amy when she was younger she was often told of many things the child was learning of, learning those things herself when her mother Samatha brought Amy to work.

Pawn stabs first and asks later. She doesn’t care if someones screaming in pain, she’ll get them to talk one way or another.

Two words: Sadistic goo.

Bonus: Pawn looks like she has six eyes, however, she only has four, the top set being fake, why is anyones guess, possibly just to make her loser brother Bishop feel lonely being the only symbiote in the family without more than four eyes (besides Knight that is).

Symbiote Specific Abilities:

Pawn is able to make sharp spears and blades from themselves and is extremely good at welding them having a lot of training doing so. Pawn can make anything from a short dagger-like blade to a long spear being able to impale. Pawn has a wide selection that she is able to create.

Pawn has an extremely good sense of aim, being able to throw these blades just about anywhere and in anyone, for this reason, Pawn is considered an assassin.

Somehow speaks without a mouth, how is unknown. Maybe it’s in people’s minds, maybe the sound is just coming from somewhere?

Minor - Much like her sibling Bishop she’s deathly quiet.

Minor - Pawn has sharp almost blade-like growths on her arms that can be quickly used to cut things like, rope or maybe throats. They are amazingly durable.

She only has: A. Wits B. Stabby stabbers C. 100 sneak

Human Host - Amy Bergg

Amy is 5’9” and of the lastest is 27 years old

Amy has been working for LF for 7 years now, earning the job almost as soon as her mother had retired only due to the fact Pawn shows extreme violence to unknown hosts.

Amy is most likely only part of the symbiote project due to relations with her mother Samatha and the known fact the Pawn symbiote is hostile to all other human hosts besides her mother and herself. Both Amy and her Mother are the only civilians accepted into the project.

Amy has known of Pawn’s existence since a very young due to her mother being unable to get someone to watch her daughter whilst she worked. Amy has a very close relationship to this symbiote for these reasons and is currently the only person able to host the symbiote without terrible repercussions.

Amy.. acts exactly like her symbiote. Sassy, doesn’t take shit for anyone. No wonder they get along so well. They’re the match made in heaven and they’ve known each other since a young age. Maybe thats why?

She secretly, might, possibly, ship her two co-team workers. I mean. IF she did, she would say they have some serious cute dynamics with each other and they both should stop being dumb with each other.

Amy loves her symbiote with all her heart because they’ve known each other for so long, they have a very close relationship, much like best friends.

Amy doesn’t treat her symbiote with no regard even if the LF says they symbiotes are not sentient she thinks otherwise, ever since she was little it felt like she was talking to something real, not fake. She thinks the “Are only acting human so that you’ll sympathize with the parasite and achieve a lasting bond so they can use you.” Is kinda bull.

Bonus: Use to date Patrick (Knight’s Old Host) back in the day. “Patrick? I haven’t heard that name in years, you know he was a total charmer! I wonder how he turned out after all these years? Me and him use to date, haha. Too bad he had to move away because his parents kicked him out, I kinda miss that sweet smile. Bet he’s got a cute girlfriend now!”

< Special Notes - LF issued Warnings:

This symbiote is considered highly dangerous and extreme caution should be exercised around it.

Due to the [2016] symbiote incident. This symbiote is not to be taken off grounds unless instructed or permission is granted. >

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

Hey guys- Here’s the second one! Pawn’s ref, I have one more ready soon, I might have another one after that because I haven’t posted anything on the Knight symbiote!

As always if you’d like to know more about them you can always ask here. I always answer, unless the ask gets eaten or I’m stumped for an answer.

Also ~ In the keep reading undercut, you can find more 1 more drawing, don’t get to excited its just the one that was included on Bishop's ref! So nothing new at all!

Timestamp: January 19th, 2020 Related Links/Continuations: Siblings Ref - Bishop, (+1 coming soon)

- LF SYM HOSTS GROUP PICTURE -

Significance: A group drawing of all the LF symbiote hosts. This including Amy as a half drawing, meant to showcase all the hosts just having a group photo. This is included in all the symbiotes refs.

Left to Right: Zachary Ohenn (Bishop), Noah Keil (Rook), Amy Bergg (Pawn)

~ Thanks for reading ~

#Pawn symbiote #refs 1

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gruntadminloch-moved · 7 years ago

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I read an article the other day about how bad human trafficking is in Hawaii. So I found myself inspired to write a Team Skull drabble? Kinda? I wrote a thing. You can read it if you wanna. There was no planning or drafting anything regarding this, so. Be warned I guess.

Obvious warnings for human trafficking, child prostitution, kidnapping, references to abuse, threats towards family, references to sexual abuse. . .y’know, the kind of things that would come from sex trafficking.

Also warning for really bad mixing pidgin with usual slang. And I’m not very good at writing either, so mixing them together just makes a mess.

“She seems pretty upset about this.” The smaller of a pair of grunts said of their captive with clear concern in his voice. The larger of the two, carrying the essentially kidnapped girl over his shoulder, glanced at her as she screamed and sobbed in distress, although they were too far off of Route 10 for anyone to come investigate too much. “She wasn’t nearly as upset a few streets back, y’know. . .?”

“Barely even noticed.” His companion grunted sarcastically as the walls of Po Town came more into view through the trees. The girl was saying something, begging to be released, probably, but he continued to be indifferent and not acknowledge her fussing. The grunt joining him stayed looking worried at her, but they both continued to make their way home. It was just business.

The screaming turned to a frightened quiet as they passed through the gate and were finally in Po Town proper. Team Skull territory no one ever came out of alive, unless they were members of Team Skull themselves. Her crying continued, but she was exhausted--and by now out of hope, coughing and sniffling and keeping her gaze down despite passing many other Skull Grunts. Even the female grunts probably wouldn’t help her, and she could feel their pitying gazes--as well as some of delight. How many people were in this town? And how many of them were going to use her?

“‘ey, J!” One of the grunts called as they ducked into a building a ways up the main street, nudging the door shut behind with a booted foot. “We got anotha’ one!”

Another one? She didn’t know the extent of what Team Skull did--just that they were the biggest and worst gang on the islands, and what they did was often downplayed to keep citizens too scared. On the surface they may have just been seen as pests and troublemakers and petty criminals, but they practically ruled the underground in this region. Did they take others, too? Were they just going to repurpose her, take her from the work she was forced to do and force her into more?

She whimpered--her current pimp already treated her poorly--but at least he let her go home at the end of the day, even if she kept where she was and what she was doing a secret from her family. They just knew she brought some money home, and there was nothing wrong with a girl her age helping the family. But the boss of Team Skull was not known for his kindness, under or above ground.

And with her missing, he would surely punish her family--her mother, her father, her grandmother and little brother. . .would they all be forced into this hell? Would they be killed? And she would never see them again, either--once one went into Team Skull’s territory, one didn’t leave, and if they were prostituting taken girls like her, they surely wouldn’t be as considerate about it.

She continued to sob, more vocally again this time. Face stinging and burning red, breath barely caught at all, eyes red and full of tears she was surprised she still had any of, and her face a sticky mess from he mucus flowing down her face, she shut her eyes anxiously as she was plonked unceremoniously into a chair in the musty-smelling little building.

“Fuckin’ Tapu, Cage!” A new grunt’s voice snapped, followed by footsteps approaching her. “What’d I tell you about treatin’ people like this, man!? We seriously gotta talk to someone about getting you back on your damn meds, you can’t keep going out on jobs like this with zero empathy, my dude!”

The grunt called Cage simply scoffed. “I’m just doing my job. She’s here, isn’t she? She’ll shape up eventually. I don’t see why it’s a problem.”

“I’d’ve told him not to carry her or something," the other grunt accompanying Cage began, scuffing his sneaker against the carpet, “but I figured she’d run off without listening to a word we said or something. My fault, J.”

“Nah. Ain’t your fault he got taken off his shit.” ‘J’ sighed, his voice drawing nearer to the girl--vertically, now, as he knelt in front of her.

“We’re done already.” Cage dropped stoically, turning to exit. “We gotta do our task report and let the boss know we back. C’mon, Jij’.”

‘Jij’’ sighed another apology and left some kind of well wished towards J--and her, as well? It didn’t sound mocking, but he’d sounded rather down the whole trip. Maybe he was reluctant, as opposed to his partner. Nonetheless, Jij’ and Cage left the building, presumably leaving her alone with J, who grumbled something she couldn’t quite make out.

“Sorry ‘bout him, girlie.” He said after gathering himself. “He been off his stuff like two weeks. In a couple days, meds or not, he’ll probably be scramblin’ to apologize to you. Just kinda how his brain works when he ain’t got somethin to stabilize it. He shouldn’t’a treated you like that--you deserve better, y’know?

“I’mma touch ya face real quick--just’a clean you up.” A package of some sort sounded like it was being waved. “If ya don’t trust me, I got what I’m using all wrapped up still, so you can see it’s fresh out the bag if you wanna look. ‘Understand if you don’t, though.”

Why not. She might as well know the faces of her captors--her vision was blurry nonetheless as she opened her eyes, reaching a rain-dampened hand up to rub at them. When it was a bit more clear, a tanned boy with braided white hair became more visible knelt in front of her, and then gave her a smile. “Yo. Name’s Jace! You can just call me J, though--everyone does. You got a name I could call you?”

He held up the still closed package of what appeared to be some baby wipes in his gloved hands. “Like I said, gonna clean ya face up a bit--you can do i yourself if you wanna.”

She shook her head. Best to be as cooperative as possible, right? If it was covered in chloroform or something, it’d knock her out and maybe she’d be able to stay unconscious while she suffered. “Aight. Try stay still, yeah?”

He pulled the little travel-sized package open and pulled out a wipe, resting the holder on his knees, then began to wipe at her eyes carefully, clearing her cheeks of burning tear trails and cooling her down a little bit, if only physically. Her nose came next, and she felt a positive memory at the sensation and the smell, which made her hiccup. Her stress kept her from smiling as he pinched her nose in the cleaning process, reminding her of runny noses when she was just a little kid, although being cleaned up did feel better. “There. A little better.”

She began to say thank you, but only managed to whimper more, tensing up and closing in on herself.

Jace laughed nervously, tossing aside the wipe he’d used, and offering the package to her, which she took hesitantly and rest on her lap. “You want I should give you some time to calm down? You want some water?” He scooted over to get a bottle from the fridge, a fully closed and unopened one, which she took and opened, sipping from as best as she could through her shaking. “I should prolly tell you what’s going on--I bet Cage and Jij’ didn’t tell ya anything. . . .”

She figured she already knew, but what was she supposed to do? Tell him not to talk? Her silence didn’t seem to bother him so far, so she simply tried to keep her mouth busy with drinking--and hopefully he wouldn’t try and ‘busy’ it with anything else.

"So, Cage and Jij’, they picked you up to take you away and all, but we’re not here to hurt you or nothin’! They--they prolly gave you money and, uh, that’s yours to keep. We’re not gonna, y’know, try and bang you or anything--not unless you’re into that or whatever.”

She yelped and Jace jumped when the door was knocked on and then opened, a darker skinned individual with wavy, dark green hair down to their shoulders entering with a dark-eyed gaze falling on the pair. But his expression was soft and warm--welcoming, almost, and his voice was also clear and comfortable. “Master Guzma’s arrived to speak with you."

If the abnormal title wasn’t apparent enough, the name drop made it clear to her, and she began to lock up and hyperventilate. Guzma. That was the boss of this whole gang. Feared and hated and proudly proclaimed it wherever he went, she’d never seen what he looked like, only heard terrifying things. Only been told to avoid Skull Grunts by everyone from parents to teachers to neighbors all the way down to her pimp. And if she was supposed to stay away from the grunts. . . .

No matter what Jace had said, she had no reason not to believe Guzma was bad--let alone that he was prone to violence, given the scars and cuts across his fists. Just as Guzma supposedly was known for declaring himself, the man was big--at least six foot six, and that was with terrible posture, and his frame was sufficiently large to match. As he stepped in, she was sure the ground shook. The look on his face and in his eyes was. . .mean. Frightening.

When his gaze fell on her as he stepped in and the one who’d proceeded him slid the door shut, successfully sealing her to her fate,

She began to panic. The tears came back in full force and her breathing came in shallow bursts. And that her immediate alarm didn’t seem to draw any sympathy from him, just drew a ‘tch!’ out of him, only affirmed in her mind that he was here to show her just what Jace meant by that they wouldn’t hurt her. Her eyes closed shut tightly and she began to cry aloud again, her voice drawn out by her rearisen fears.

“She been like that since she got here?” Guzma asked, voice gruff and deep. She missed his vague gesturing towards her, which prompted his accompaniment to approach, pulling out a Pokéball and releasing a Lucario adorned with a Team Skull Grunt’s bandana around its neck.

“Uuuh, kinda, Boss.” Jace said, reaching over to wipe her face again. “She calmed down a bit, but she hasn’t said much.”

The most she’d said since she’d arrived from the gates was now, where she was begging, pleading messily, in fact. The Lucario prodded at her mind and she was surprised to find that her fear had lowered her walls significantly--she screamed some in confusion at the intrusion to her psyche, but simply returned to crying, finding that she wasn’t in any pain.

‘Miss?’ The Lucario projected to her telepathically. She began sending her waves of aura--calming ones, to gradually relax her. ‘I understand you’re afraid, Miss. But as Jace said, we aren’t here to hurt you.’

She grabbed onto her head, though she didn’t know how to push her out--and with the calming aura moving through her, she found that she didn’t want to as much. She opened her blurry eyes to look at the Lucario, still shaking. But the Pokémon was reassuring for her. She didn’t seem harmed in any way despite her surroundings and the people she lived with, and as Jace wiped her eyes again, she became more visible. The Lucario was smiling softly. ‘My name is Kikite. This is my trainer--Loch.’

She gestured gently back to the rather androgynous green-haired man behind her, who gave her a soft nod, but didn’t speak. Guzma talked to Jace in the meantime, but Kikite kept the girl’s mental focus on them and the sound of the rain outside.

‘You’re safe here. We’re here to help you. I promise.’ Perhaps it was more aura waves forcing her mind to change, but. . .she believed the Lucario. She gently ducked her head and pressed her wet nose to the girl’s hand, making her gasp from the sensation, then gently begin to pet her fur to soothe herself. ‘Mister Guzma has a few questions for you. But he is not here to hurt you. You have no reason to trust us, I know, but. . .if you want to leave, we’ll allow you to. But we’ve brought you here for your wellbeing. Please hear him out.’

She nodded finally, mimicking Kikite’s soft, even breathing. She stayed shaking, the fear and anxiety was still in her deeply, but it was easier to stay calm with the Aura Pokémon’s help.

“She good now, Loch?”

Kikite sent a wave of affirmation to Loch, who nodded, bowing deeply towards the Skull Boss. “Yes, Master Guzma. Her mind may still be in a delicate place, so I advise that Master Guzma, perhaps, speaks to her somewhat carefully, if possible.”

The girl tensed up again as Guzma approached, popping into a squat, balanced on his toes as always. His expression remained rather grim and frightful, but Kikite’s soft paw rest against her arm reassuringly. He seemed angry. .. but not at her.

“Hey, shawty.” He began, tone a little dialed down.

“Ah. . . .” She swallowed hard, looking back to Jace for reassurance as well, and keeping her gaze on the most familiar of the group present thus far. “Alo. . .la. . . .”

“Oh, thank Koko, she can talk.” Jace said with legitimate relief and an attempt at humor. She didn’t seem to find it as amusing, though Guzma let out an amused little huff and Loch’s smile took on an amused quirk as well.

“You got a name we can call ya? Jace said y’didn’t give ‘im one.”

“K--K--K--Kala.”

“Nice’a meet’cha, Kala.” He gave her a smirk, somehow friendly. Loch, Kikite, and Jace also expressed their greetings, Loch adding ‘welcome to Po Town.’

Was she really trapped here. . .?

“The guy who keepin’ ya. He threatenin’ ya fam, yeah?” Kala nodded stiffly. “You wanna tell me where they at?”

Her anxiety spiked again and she struggled to reply. “Uh, she--I don’t think she really knows what’s goin’ on, Boss.”

“Why didn’t you numbskulls tell ‘er, then!?” He snapped, prompting Kala to grip Kikite’s fur at his volume and the clenching of his fist, arm muscles flexing. He was gonna hit him. He was gonna hit her, he-- “Shit. A’ight. Listen up, kid.

“The shit you goin’ through? It ain’t right. Team Skull ain’t about that shit. Ain’t nobody deserve they body bein’ used against they will or no shit, not like that.” He was clearly trying not to snarl, to snap. “You scared to tell us who was shippin’ you ‘round that way? Fine. All good. If can, can, if no can, no can, yeah?”

She nodded at the little pidgin expression. It was strangely soothing to hear the local tongue, rather than the rough Unovan standard structure a lot of the Grunts seemed to use.

“You brought here so you ain’t gotta do that shit anymore. Not if you don’t wanna. You do, we got’chu. But we ain’t about that shit if you ain’t about it. And we ain’t about some scummy motherfucker threatenin’ ya fam and shit to keep you makin’ ‘em money. So we gonna take care them, too. You just gotta tell me where they stay at and Team Skull look after ‘em. You can stay here, lay low ‘til we get his head, or we can send you home with some grunts lookin’ after you, keep you from gettin’ snatched again.”

She swallowed and nodded, parting her lips to speak, then closing her mouth nervously. This repeated several times, before finally squeaking out, “and I. . .I won’t have to work anymore. . .?”

“Nah. If you no stay innit, ya don’t.”

“Really. . .?”

Guzma grinned--it was still a rather nerve-wracking expression, but he seemed. . .sincere still. What reason would a man with Guzma’s power have to lie? “Errybody stay misrepresent Team Skull, but we don’t hate Alola, not all’a us. Nah, Alola’s home--that’s why we want it should change, get better. Stay same for our people. And when we ain’t get help, we gotta fight back--but when others no get help, we stay fight for ‘em. We here for protec’ the ones Alola no protect. We got’chu.”

Of course, Kala had heard that Team Skull was composed heavily of trial failures and societal failures as a whole, people the islands practically rejected. They were outcasts, and that was considered bad, but. . .was it really that bad to support each other? Wasn’t that the true Alola spirit?

Were Team Skull the good guys all along, in some capacity. . .?

“We. . .we live in KoniKoni City.” She wanted her family to be safe. They were in trouble either way, if Guzma was lying. She’d be away from her pimp, who would seek out her family to hurt them--but if Team Skull went to see them, if they weren’t truly going to protect them, it’d be just as bad. But the chance that they could be safe. . . . “Ha-Hale Ipukukui Apartments, a block away from the lighthouse. Eighth floor, apartment 804 where we stay. I. . .I know it’s far--”

“Team Skull all over, Keiki.” Guzma groaned, rising to his full height and putting his hands in his pockets. One hand came back out, his phone held in it. “Won’t be no trouble. You feel like tellin’ me where ya guy is, or we gonna have to wait for him send his flunkies round your place first?”

Kala again opened her mouth like she wanted to speak, but flinched, recoiled, and returned to petting Kikite, who stroked her arm in return. “Yeah. Thought so. You ain’t the first here--I know for say so is scary, but you ain’t in no trouble while you here. You ever get comfortable enough for say so, lemme know."

He rose his phone to his head after prodding at it some. “Jace, if you could get her settled in, I’d ‘ppreciate that--yo.”

“You got it, Boss.” Guzma gave a nod in acknowledgement, seeming to be busy with the phone call now.

“You stay on Akala with them?” A pause. “Yeah, we good. Some’a your patrol say they bringing a girl home, yeah? Her fam’s in KoniKoni, at Hale Ipukukui Apartment--804. Can you send a squad out there to keep an eye on ‘em, ‘case her guy comes lookin’? Couple grunts live that place, maybe them.”

This was really happening. Her family would be safe. She might even be safe. Although a concern nagged at her. “Thanks, P. See you when you get home.”

He hung up and turned his back, fisting his hands but trying not to crush his phone--good thing they made these things pretty durable. “Loch.”

“Yes, Master.”

“We stay go. Jace got this.”

“Yes, Master.”

“W-wait--please--"

Kikite looked up at her, intent on staying by her side, having had requested such of Loch in her usual telepathic way, as not to interrupt their boss. Loch and Guzma paused on their exit, Guzma looking over his shoulder, and Loch only stopping when he reached the door in order to open it for Guzma.

“I. . .th-the money I got--from working--some of it. . .I could keep it--a-and it helped my family out, bu-ut if I can’t work--”

“If you’d like, there are businesses under Team Skull’s control throughout the islands.” Loch chimed in, that same smile on his face. It met his eyes more than it did before, perhaps a sign of approval. “Assuming, of course, you’d rather not participate in criminal affairs, it can be arranged that you work a civilian job during your stay in Po Town. If you would like your pay directed towards your family, that can also be arranged.”

“Yeah, Loch’s got’cha.” Guzma gave a nod. “But you get settled in here first. Ya look like you’d pass out if we weren’t talkin’ to ya.”

“Po Town’s pretty big.” Jace said as Guzma and Loch finally took their leave. “It used to be some resort town or somethin’--the kinda place you’d find haoles up the ass. The boss went all hostile takeover on it years ago, and now it’s ours. It’s kinda run-down, but. Havin’ a place for ourselves is good, and we try and keep it livable.”

Jace allowed her to hang out in the building for the time being, allowing her to rest on a worn and comfy couch in the room. He said that this was the first place they took her because he usually got ex-abductees settled in--Kala could see why, since he was fairly relaxed and disarming, even a little nervous. But she was welcome to choose a room anywhere in the big mansion up the street, or even stay in one of the other buildings or houses in town, whether with other grunts or not--oftentimes, the people they pulled from trafficking preferred to stick together. Safety in numbers was something Team Skull understood very well, and when she’d caught up on rest she could even meet other members of the gang living about the town.

Much like Guzma said, the second she’d collapsed on the couch, she was out like a light, Kikite draping a blanket over her and settling in next to the couch to keep her company.

She had slept the past couple of months with anxiety and fear in her heart. What was doing the same thing in another place? She was relieved to find that her mind was still calmed by the Lucario, even allowing her to stand in the face of her nightmares and fight back. In her sleep, she lost, but it was still a turn around.

When she’d wake to her mother’s frantic calling on her phone, relief washed over her as she anxiously confirmed that Team Skull was in their apartment, and she confirmed that she was in Po Town--and what the Team Skull Admin, Plumeria, the woman Guzma must have been speaking to over the phone, revealed to them about what she’d been hiding in her daily life. Her mother would accept no apologies--it wasn’t her fault. More than anything, she was happy she was safe.

The call had to be cut short at the guarding grunts’ instructions--that Kala hadn’t returned to him that evening must have tipped her pimp off to an issue. He’d probably sent some people to her home to look for her, and she hoped to the Tapu that Team Skull would truly keep her family safe after the call ended.

Months passed. And she became quite comfortable living among Team Skull. Their name had been so stressed as something awful that she had barely considered that the members may have simply been. . .people. People who wanted to live and survive and be happy, just like her and her family and anybody else.

In those months she made friends. She worked and she went home now and then to see her family. Eventually they moved elsewhere in KoniKoni, somewhere Team Skull could keep them a bit safer, and her brother even reached the age where he could go on the island challenge, setting out with Team Skull protecting him secretly, despite their distaste for the tradition.

In those months, she finally pulled Plumeria aside and, after struggling, she simply said,

“Scorp.”

She didn’t need to hear anything more, nodded, thanked her, and went off to talk to Guzma.

It was a week or so later before the results of her reveal had any visibility. It hadn’t been the first time this had happened, but a grunt whistled loudly to get her attention, calling out “catch!” before throwing something towards her. She caught it clumsily--a wallet, full of cash and cards--

And she dropped it when her eyes fell over the ID of the man who was once her pimp.

She pulled herself together after a brief panic, taking several minutes to breathe calmly. The grunt hadn’t meant anything by doing so. It was just a careless mistake. And it was just a picture. It wasn’t him. He couldn’t get her here.

When she picked it up again, she stared, uncertain what to do with it, before “Yo, we back!” rang out through the mansion, Guzma’s voice drawing everyone’s attention to the foyer, leading several, Kala included, to make their way over.

She believed the gift from the grunt earlier had simply been a. . .well-timed pickpocketing of some sort.

But when she peeked into the fouyer, she gasped at the group entering. She’d never get used to the sight of blood, she was certain, and Guzma would never not be terrifyingly intimidating, least of all when covered in a spray of the stuff, a similarly bloodied metal bat leant over his shoulder and a grin on his face.

But the biggest surprise was the. . .nine, Kala counted, nine other girls, some young, too young, that were accompanying the returning members of Team Skull, some shaken up, a couple staying strong and tense and alert, and some seeming barely there at all, not even jarred by Guzma’s cries.

All of them girls that Kala knew.

All of them girls who had been prostituted at Scorp’s instruction.

She stumbled out towards them as Guzma boasted about the mission they went on, drawing cheers and whoops from the grunts even as Guzma carelessly whipped his bat around in a display of how he used it, fortunately not nailing anybody in the process. Kala could vaguely hear him saying something about making a kill real personal, using his fists rather than the weapon he was now leaning against, the Team cheering that that was just the kind of thing Guzma would have done.

“Kala?” She started shaking, a soft voice she’d come to know so well and not heard in so long pushing her beyond her limit of hidden emotions. One of the girls pushed through any grunts between them, limping over, then running despite how much it hurt. “Kala! Oh, thank Arceus--Kala, you’re okay!!!”

Her mind was together enough to return the tight embrace, her eyes welling up with tears. The others also joined them, chettering excitedly and blurring together noisily.

Team Skull had saved her friends.

“Nohea. . . .” She croaked through her tears, the dyed-blue holding her out at arms length, looking her over.

“Baby, you’re--Arceus, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without bruises before!” Nohea snapped her back into a hug, rubbing their cheeks together. “Not--not without makeup--you’re okay--you’re so okay, oh my god. . . .”

“Is this where you’ve been. . .?” Another, one of the younger ones, a girl who;d been kidnapped all the way from Sinnoh asked, looking up at her with wide brown eyes. “We were so scared--Scorp was--he was so angry and--”

“Don’t even say his name anymore.” An older one chided, biting her thumb.

“He’s--he’s--”

“I mean. . . .” Nohea glanced back to Guzma, where he’d paused his raving to look over to them, instictively snapping her head back towards Kala.

“He’s good. Mister Guzma is--he’s been keeping me safe--all of them have--a-and my family, and he--”

“Team Skull was taking care of you? And you’re okay!?”

“I mean, they kind of saved us, y’know? We kinda owe ‘em, good or bad.” Nohea grit her teeth, relaxing as she looked Kala over again, sighing. “He. . .he killed Scorp, I think. I mean, he sounded dead as hell.”

“I’d show you his head, but leavin’ evidence ain’t good for nobody.” Guzma added. “But he’s real dead. Ain’t gotta worry about him or any his dudes no more.”

“. . .Thank you.” The older woman said.

“Thank you, Guzma. . .! I--I”

“I told you I’d get ‘im, didn’t I? Like I said, ain’t no one deserve that kinda treatment. Ain’t gonna happen on my islands if I got any say. You good?”

Kala was stuck between staying where she was with Nohea and running at Guzma to hug him in thanks. She decided on gripping Nohea tighter instead, nodding.

“Gucci.” Guzma nodded, stretching, cracking his back and heading for the stairs.

“No, we are not good!” Nohea snapped, holding Kala closer to her. “I mean, were--we’re awesome, but--! What’re we supposed to do now!? Some of us--we don’t all got places to go back too--”

“You can stick around, then, if you wanna.” Guzma said dismissively. He tossed a grin over his shoulder. “We wen take care Kala, yeah? We take care you, if you wanna stay. Ain’t gotta, but it’s an option.”

Kala nodded, already acclimated to life here, but the others weren’t so certain. “It’s--Po Town--Team Skull--they’re all nothing like I thought--well, not nothing, y-you did see them kill some people, but. . . .”

“Give it some thought. Jace, help ‘em get they shit together.” Guzma said, heading up the stairs. “Loch! I want cocoa!!”

“Right away, Master Guzma!”

Kala held Nohea closer and looked over her friends, some of the grunts following Guzma upstairs, wanting the rest of the story, some off to make mission reports or clean up, heal their Pokémon, the group dispersing for the most part(and Loch briefly heading towards the kitchen with a wave to make the Skull Boss Tapu Cocoa.) Nohea and some of the others watched them as well, expressions mixed. Among the remaining were some previous trafficking victims who had simply joined the gang, as well as Jace, all of whom Kala introduced.

“You can trust them.” She promised. “Team Skull can get rough and. . .terrifying, sometimes. But. . .I was thinking of maybe sticking around. I-I understand if you don’t want to, too! But. . .they’ve taken good care of me so far.”

Nohea looked around among the group that had been Scorp’s prostitutes. They were all tired. The reality of the situation was crashing onto them. Freedom, anxiety, trauma at what they’d seen and heard piling onto the traumas they already had from the trafficking, terror. . .Kala couldn’t parse together all the emotions there.

“You can sleep on it.” Jace added, hands up as if showing he was harmless. “You’ll have time to decide what to do. Nobody’s forcing your hand, y’know? Give it some thought.”

“You could come see my house!” Kala cheered. “Oh, but there’s not enough places for everyone to sleep in there--there are rooms in here that’re just for sleeping in! And--and the beds aren’t bad, and the grunts are all usually pretty nice--and then you can stay for lunch, too! It’s way easier to think on a full stomach--”

“Okay, okay!” Nohea laughed--she laughed, she herself couldn’t remember the last time she had. “If I trust anybody here, it’s gonna be you. So. . .if you say it’s all okay, we can at least rest up for a while. . .I don’t exactly have anywhere else to go. . . .”

“A shower sounds lovely, if we may. . .?”

“Oh, of course! And we can get you some clean clothes, too.” Jace confirmed with a nod.

“You look like you could be my size, so you can borrow some of mine!”

“Personally, I’m starved.”

“I could take you to the kitchen! No need to wait for lunch to eat!”

“I dunno if I’ll. . .be able to sleep in here.”

“You could at least lie down. . . .”

“We’re watching Finding Nemo!” Some grunts called over from a collection of couches by a TV. “You could join us!”

Kala beamed--they were already beginning to separate and make friends, staying in groups mostly to look after each other. . .they’d love it here, she was so certain. Chirping ‘come on,’ she pulled Nohea with her somewhere they could take a long rest--and maybe figure out what to do with the money Team Skull had stolen for her.

Plumeria smiled and shrugged from the top of the stairs.

Team Skull took all kinds.

And no matter what choice they made, they’d at least find themselves as new allies to the gang--and the more the merrier, truthfully. It only took one voice to change a group of them--and one life at a time, they’d fix Alola and make their own family.

#long post #if the fucking cut doesn't work on mobile i'm gonna throw a fit lmao #memories that tell stories | drabbles #loch's in it for like two seconds #guzma's in it for a few seconds too lol #ooc | out of commands #y'know i wrote all this but i didn't write my fucking tags. i still owe tags and shit.#okay to reblog #it's got team skull grunts and shit

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markscherz · 7 years ago

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Any tips for anyone who wants to be a herpetologist?

Okay so it turns out I get rather a lot of asks on this particular question, and rather than answer them all individually, I thought it would be sensible to compile numerous ones I have received in the last year or so into a single long post on the basics:

What you need to know if you want to be a herpetologist

Before I get into it, let me explain my credentials for those who are interested. @amandaderrick92 asked specifically where I did my degree: I did my Bachelor’s degree in Zoology (Hons.) at the University of Edinburgh, Scotland, and then my Master’s degree in Ecology, Evolution and Systematics at the Ludwig-Maximilian University of Munich (LMU), Germany. I am now studying for a PhD at the LMU, in partnership with the Zoologische Staatssammlung München and Technische Universität Braunschweig. So I guess I am more or less qualified to talk about this, though I would point out at this early phase in my career that I am by no means the expert standard example person—I encourage you to ask other herpetologists about their background as well. Twitter is fucking full of them, and most will be only too eager to share how they got into it and how you can, too.

Herpetologist is an umbrella term

First off, I want to make it clear that to be a herpetologist, per se, says little of the professional day-to-day career of a person. Herpetologists may be involved in a wide variety of fields, from pure academia (Herpetology sensu stricto), to applied research, to bioengineering, to veterinary work, to zoo-keeping, to animal breeding, to ranger work, to pest control, to conservation work… the list goes on. In this post I will refer mostly to herpetology sensu stricto, that is, the study of reptiles and amphibians, which is largely an academic pursuit. One of the anonymous askers above mentioned a desire to avoid veterinary work—this is almost a guarantee unless you decide to undergo the arduous training to become a vet. Yet, I want to make it clear also that it is possible to be a herpetologist and not necessarily be an academic, as I know that the prospect of academia can be frightening to downright off-putting to some.

How necessary is an MSc or PhD?

This brings us nicely to the issue of whether graduate level education is necessary to be a herpetologist. The answer is mixed, because, as I have just explained, herpetology, in the broad sense, is so varied and diverse. You can consider yourself a herpetologist even if you just do it in your spare time (I know a policeman who describes new species of snakes for fun). But for Herpetology sensu stricto as given above, generally I would say that at the very least an MSc will be required. The reason for this you will find below, but to summarise it, it is because your education by the end of your BSc is unlikely to have had much to do with herpetology, but rather will be general zoology. Focus on herpetological studies will have to come later.

It is important at this point already to note that the term herpetologist is in fact an umbrella term even in the strict sense. Many herpetologists study epidemiology, conservation science, invasive species biology, behavioural ecology, taxonomy, evolutionary biology and speciation, biomechanics, histology, etc. It is a science without an explicit angle of study, similar to ornithology and other organismal -ologies. So if there is a specific thing you are interested in about reptiles and amphibians, you are really most likely going to wind up pursuing that, and not herpetology per se, in your academic pursuits. But more on that below.

I’m in highschool and think I want to be a herpetologist when I’m older… what can I do to make that happen?

I think about this kind of question remarkably often. Well, actually, I think of things that I could have done better in my own childhood that would have made my life easier today. Here are a few pearls of wisdom I have gleaned from this introspection:

• Buy and read a textbook on the topic of herpetology. This is something I never did (I have never owned a herpetology textbook, let alone tried to read one), and I regret it at least once a week. There are huge chunks of knowledge missing from what a herpetologist is expected to know simply because I never took the time when I was younger to sit down and read the book. Sure, I skimmed herpetological books all the time, but I never really internalised them. I cannot identify larval stages of tadpoles. I don’t know the first thing about the actual metabolism of reptiles. I only learned this year how a frog’s vocal apparatus actually makes sounds. Learning all this stuff too late in your career is possible, but a pain in the ass, so try to get it out of the way as soon as possible.

• If you like frogs, buy Duellman & Trueb 1986 Biology of Amphibians. It is unmatched.

• Learn to identify your local herpetofauna. Chances are, some exist. Go find them. And do so with a buddy. Herping is always best done with companionship, especially if you live in an area where dangerous snakes are common (read: most of the world except Europe, New Zealand, and Madagascar).

• Join your local herpetological society. In the United States, the umbrella society are the Society for the Study of Amphibians and Reptiles (SSAR), the Herpetologists League, and the American Society of Ichthyologists and Herpetologists. In the UK it is various branches of the Amphibian and Reptile Group (ARGs). In Germany and Switzerland it is the Deutsche Gesellschaft für Herpetologie und Terrarienkunde (DGHT). These societies are always full of enthusiastic people, many of whom are fully fledged herpetologists, and showing your own interest will most likely be greeted with encouragement.

• Get into the right area of study. Choosing what to study in college is intimidating, especially when you don’t quite know if you want to choose between something about which you are passionate, versus something that will keep bread on the table. It’s romantic to think that everyone can eventually find a way to make money doing the thing they love, but unfortunately, it is not always true. Choose your undergraduate education in a way that you find will suit you and keep you happy in the long run. But now I’ve said my part on that, let me get into the nitty-gritty of what you actually need to study to become a herpetologist:

Where and what to study to become a herpetologist

Globally, there are numerous institutes where you can study to become a herpetologist, even if they do not explicitly say so on their curriculum websites. To accommodate the relatively broad global readership of this tumblr, I will try to keep this as general as possible:

The most important thing to think about is the ‘subject’ of study. To make headway into herpetology, you should direct your studies toward organismal or evolutionary biology. Possible ‘subjects’ as advertised by universities might be ‘Biology,’ ‘Evolutionary Biology,’ ‘Zoology,’ ‘Environmental Sciences,’ and very very rarely ‘Herpetology’. Most programmes will not allow you to specialise explicitly on herpetology until your Master’s degree, and even then not really explicitly. However, you should know that you can and should tailor your Bachelor’s experience to your own interests, regardless of its official title. Though my degree in Edinburgh was in ‘Zoology,’ I was able to focus mostly on reptiles and amphibians and evolutionary biology!

Despite the broad readership cited above, I wanted to draw your attention in particular to just a few universities worldwide that are renowned for their zoological undergraduate programmes, or herpetological research (note that this list only includes institutes that offer tuition in English, hence the rather narrow geographical sampling):

• The University of Edinburgh—I have to list my alma mater here for pride reasons, but I do so also because I think that my zoological education was incredibly rounded as a result of doing my Bachelor’s degree in Edinburgh. They have two appropriate courses, in Zoology and in Evolutionary Biology, and you can choose between them at the end of your second year.

• Kansas University, Lawrence, Kansas USA—Kansas has a famed herpetological history, and currently is home to some great minds in herpetology, including John Wiens and Linda Trueb.

• Villanova University, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania USA—I highlight this university solely because of Aaron Bauer’s lab, which focusses on geckos. They do some really great research. This group is particularly good for Master’s work.

• Harvard University, Cambridge, Massachusetts USA—Home of the Losos lab, probably the most famous group working on evolutionary questions with herpetological systems in the world.

• Bangor University, Bangor, Wales—This is one of the only institutes in the world that offers a bachelor’s degree in Herpetology (or ‘Zoology with Herpetology’). I have heard good things about the programme, and know a few graduates of it, but would not consider this a guarantee that it is better than other universities that only offer Zoology courses.

• University of Syndey, Sydney, New South Wales Australia—Home to the Shine lab, Syndey is apparently quite a good place to start off as a herpetologist. Plus, the reptiles in particular of Australia are really incredibly diverse and a great system for evolutionary and ecological studies.

• University of Manchester, Manchester, England—In terms of research and education, Manchester is a great university, ranked among the top in the UK. For herpetological interest, there is connection to The Manchester Museum, where a group works on frogs, focussed mostly on conservation biology.

(Für Deutschsprachige Studenten/-innen, würde ich Humboldt Universität Berlin, Ludwig-Maximilian Universität München, Technische Universität Braunschweig und Universität Trier empfehlen, obwohl viele anderen bestimmt auch super sind!)

So what do I need to get into a relevant course at a university/college?

To quash the questions before they come: prerequisites for the study of the above-mentioned courses in these institutes will almost certainly be advanced high-school level qualifications in biology and chemistry, and I can imagine that many would demand a tolerable mathematics grade as well. English language courses in high-school will not hurt in the least, especially as most work in academia is centred around writing and reading extensively in English.

Tips for non-speaking and non-vet work

As I have mentioned above, avoiding veterinary work is easy as long as you opt not to do it, but avoiding public speaking is actually fairly difficult. You see, although 99.9% of herpetological research is conducted in labs or in the field or whatever, occasionally it will be expected that you attend conferences, and there you will eventually be asked to give a talk, even if you do not volunteer yourself. Far more concerning I imagine is the fact that most academic careers require some degree of teaching. This is indeed something that is difficult to avoid if you do wish to stay in academia, but can be easily avoided with other herpetological career paths.

Also, it should be noted by the American readers that the teaching obligation of graduate students outside the US is considerably lower than in the US, so it becomes practically optional until you are looking for a position as a post-doc or even professor somewhere! Case in point: I am trying my hardest to find an opportunity to teach, but so far it looks like it will still be months before such an opportunity presents itself.

General tips for someone who wants to be a herpetologist

• Networking is your friend. If you can, meet local people who have similar interests. Go to conferences and meet people from across the world who are interested in similar questions or animals to you, and start big conversations with them. Nowadays, it is possible to work on the most incredible collaborative projects, and it is smart to take advantage of those opportunities!

• Shocking though it may seem, there is no minimum age limit on conference attendance! If you find that there is a herpetological conference happening near you, sign up to go! I have been at conferences where there were 14 year-old students present, and they asked some great questions of the speakers! But beware at that age that there may be a lot of topics that the education system is not designed to teach you until college, so a lot may be difficult to comprehend!

• Read as much literature as you can handle. Textbooks are great for basic knowledge, but when you get to a problem or animal you want to understand better, turn to the primary literature! Reading papers is not especially hard once you grasp the jargon, but getting hold of them can be. Join ResearchGate to get access to a lot of literature, and what you cannot get access to, you may find other ways to access…

• Learn to handle reptiles and amphibians. Do so with non-dangerous things, and with care and respect for the animals, ideally with the supervision of a more experienced person. This is really crucial for later work, and I always am exasperated by young students who clearly have never held a snake before but can identify dozens of them.

• Try to keep abreast of at least the major changes in taxonomy and understanding of the origins of reptiles and amphibians.

• Wrap your mind around the fact that birds are reptiles, crocodiles are more closely related to them than they are to squamates, and tuataras are not lizards, but snakes are.

• Learn the word squamate, and try to use it and other technical terms in favour of more layman, less accurate terms.

• Try to get a general impression for the families or at least orders of reptiles and amphibians. Don’t get into the embarrassing situation that you have never heard of gymnophiones or various obscure lizard groups. While depth of knowledge on one or two groups is almost inevitable, do not forget to try to glean holistic insights.

• Realise how often some evolutionary transitions happen, and what that might mean. Frogs repeatedly converging on the same niches. Lizards losing their limbs literally hundreds of times, from cordylids to geckos to anguids to skinks. Geckos re-evolving their adhesive toe pads repeatedly.

• Try to read primary literature as it comes out, but know that at the early stages of your education, an understanding of what has come before is arguably more important than an understanding of what is going on now. Hence, read your textbooks!

And that is all of my advice for now. I am sure there are things I have forgotten, and I would be happy to expand this in the future—please let me know if there are any specific areas in which I can offer further help in urging you toward your herpetological career. And good luck!

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