#nevada wolf pack

[athleticperfection1]

Nevada Cheer

[pokemonwearingsportsmerch]

[dazeofcoral]

Just watched Wolf Pack again, I've got even more questions and theories after 7 episodes. We still don't know what happened to Connor, he wasn't in the pile of bodies. So where is he, dead or alive ? Turned or not ? Did Ramsey save him, 'cause then I'm betting the poor kid is locked up somewhere safe.

Am I the only one thinking maybe Ramsey set the fire? I mean she's there as a chief arson investigator, they only needed one if there was a fire and we know she's also there for the werewolf. Coincidence? 'Cause it would make sense she'd help Everett and Blake surviving, they are the perfect guarantee that the werewolf is going to keep showing up. Ramsey is the mom... But how can she have fought with her son if Baron is the same age as the twins and she lost him 17 years ago ? Or maybe he's much older and they're wrong about his age... Do the wolves not age as long as they don't go to a human/monster werewolf form ?

Also, pretty sure she saved Danny from becoming the next kill because he hit Blake and the werewolf would have seen this as a threat. Does this mean she can control her werewolf form?

That amazing scene in the woods with those poor guys running for their lives... But if they killed dad, why would the mom just go after them and not stay with her pups ? I mean kids surrounded by fire > revenge or you're just not a good mom sorry XD

(also, one of they guys is still alive, if you go for revenge go all the way you know what I mean... but since she's putting up everyone to believe there's a sort of serial killer running around, maybe Malcolm will get what's coming for him)

Don't think she wants to kill Garrett, but then again if he becomes a threat I don't think she's going to show him mercy either. If she's the twins mom killing him would be a bad idea but well, can't trust a beast when it gets angry.

Everett is so linked with Baron.. And Blake, it's weird that he doesn't have this powerfull bond with the twins... But then again, they weren't bitten by Baron.

He's not just standing up to his horrible mother out of nowhere, that's the wolf peaking through and not liking the treatment, go wolf go 'cause that woman is a nasty piece of work and the ep 8 promo has told us enough about what her reaction is gonna be to him standing up to her.

Austin, well, if he makes it through the finale it's gonna be nothing but a miracle, because if he really killed Baron (still not sure that's enough to even kill a werewolf btw), then I'm pretty sure Ramsey will be coming for his head... Fine by me, sorry Austin #notsorryatall. And did I see Cyrus in the finale promo ? Talking with Baron ??? Need that boy back because I can't believe they just threw him in the plot to be the potential BF and arson suspect. Who calls a group of friends a 'pack', seriously ? And even if he never believed Malcolm, how can he not start to believe him after seeing an actual werewolf ? I sure would.

So many questions, one week for a few answers and they better answer them all because so far no season 2 was confirmed yet TT

[zonetrente-trois]

[boomgers]

Ruega por sobrevivir… “Wolf Pack”

La vida de Everett y Blake cambia para siempre cuando un incendio forestal en California despierta a una aterradora criatura sobrenatural. Heridos, ambos empiezan a sentir una extraña atracción el uno por el otro. Pero también por los gemelos Harlan y Luna, dos jóvenes adoptados hace dieciséis años por el guardabosque después de otro extraño incendio forestal. A partir de ese momento, cada vez que hay luna llena, los cuatro se unen con el objetivo de desentrañar el secreto que los conecta.

Estreno: 27 de enero de 2023 en Paramount+.

Basada en la saga de Edo Van Belkom, la serie está protagonizada por Armani Jackson, Bella Shepard, Chloe Rose Robertson, Tyler Lawrence Gray, Rio Mangini, Bailey Stender, Nevada Jose, Zack Nelson, Rainer Dawn, Rodrigo Santoro y Sarah Michelle Gellar.

El productor Jeff Davis y el elenco atendiendo la premiere mundial el 19 de enero de 2023 en Los Ángeles, California

El productor Jeff Davis y los protagonistas atendiendo la proyección especial del último episodio de la primera temporada el 14 de marzo de 2023 en West Hollywood, California

[molotov-girls]

Hey wincesties I need help finding 3 samdean/wincest fics please!

1: I read this one on either Live Journal or FFN (I definitely didn’t read it on AO3). I think it was called The Wolf Pack or something? I keep typing that in and not finding anything though. Sam and Dean and John are on the darker/more evil side in this. I think all or most of it takes place from the outside POV of a cop or detective? Sam and Dean and John are running something illegal out of a bar or a brothel or something in Nevada or New Mexico and the cops set up a bunch of cameras in the cabin they know Sam and Dean will be staying in. They describe the canon really vividly, it’s one room, falling apart, there’s a bathroom behind a curtain, and two shitty army cots. Sam and Dean have sex in the cabin and then threaten the cop or something?

2: I definitely read this one on Live Journal. Sam and Dean are teenagers captured by a regular person and bricked up behind a wall in a construction site and they have to escape. They spend months down there until the food runs out and construction workers find them. I believe they go to (Rufus’s?) cabin after with John.

3. This one was definitely on AO3. I remember it being popular. Sam and Dean were hunters and Dean ended up famous and Sam stayed out of the limelight. Dean I think becomes an army trainer or something on monsters and wants Sam to join him. He meets Sam at a bar and a bunch of paparazzi show up and speculate on them. Sam eventually comes around and joins Dean in helping with the training. The public eventually moves on from obsessing over Dean to fawning over Jake I believe?

Thank you guys!! These have been driving me absolutely nuts.

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Wednesday, August 14th

ANDREW: Ooh. This one has oxygen tanks. ANYA: They'd only be useful if something big was attacking, and then we could shove one down their throat and blow 'em up like Roy Scheider did with that shark in Jaws. (Andrew stares at her) What? ANDREW: You are the perfect woman. ANYA: I've often thought so. Wanna rob?

~~End of Days~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Whatever It Takes by badly_knitted (Buffy, Angel, PG)

Succeeding by apachefirecat (Faith, Buffy(+/Spike) with cameos from Angel and Dawn, rated G/K)

Always Prepared by veronyxk84 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

This One's On Me by Anonymous (Cordelia/Gunn/Spike/Wesley, Explicit)

Возвращение из страны Оз by B_E_S (Buffy/Angel, T)

In The Spotlight by bunniesitmustbebunnies (Angel/Cordelia, T)

Permission by itsalwaysteatimeinwonderland (Spike/reader, NSFW gif in post, content warning: Smut. A lot of smutty smut.)

Always Prepared by VeroNyxK84 (Buffy/Spike, anthology rated PG-13)

[Chaptered Fiction]

Strange Estrangement - Chapter 1-13 (COMPLETE!) by purple_mechanicalpencils (Andrew/Xander, Andrew & Anya, Andrew & Spike, T)

Choosing Peace, Pt. 11 by itsalwaysteatimeinwonderland (Spike/reader, not rated, content warnings: None)

Bound, Ch. 63 by RavenLove12 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Reclaimed, Ch. 10 by Holly (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

East of Nevada, Ch. 15 by Blissymbolics (Buffy/Spike, R)

A Tumble in Time, Ch. 1 by thedoppleganger (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Regency Slayer, Ch. 1-5 by vampirische liebe (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Love Can't Fix Us, Ch. 3 by calikocat (crossover with Herbie/The Love Bug and Teen Wolf, Xander, FR15)

Stiff Pole, Ch. 1 by scratchmeout (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

[Images, Audio & Video]

Comic: I'm not calling you "good girl" Faith by aa-arttss (Buffy/Faith, worksafe)

if i were a weapon, you said i'd be a gun. by snakeliciousbaby (Oz, Xander, worksafe)

Vid: BtVS season 4 tribute by Faith Victoria (ensemble)

Digital drawing: Willow vs. Salem from RWBY by Blueflymagic (worksafe)

[Reviews & Recaps]

The Pack Fashion Part Two by theoverlookedoneedits1997

Angel [the episode] Fashion Part One by theoverlookedoneedits1997

Stake fodder's rewatch: S2.9 & 10 What's My Line?

Buffy S7E7: Conversations With Dead People (feat. Ben Gierhart) | Booze & Buffy

Episode 69: Something Blue (w/ Dean Jurhs) by Gym Was Cancelled: A Buffy Podcast

[Recs & In Search Of]

Please recommend me some time travel fanfics... by sunnydaleslayer

[Fandom Discussions]

In my dream version of season seven... [Faith, the jacket from Him] by 5bi5

Re: s7 hot janitor!Faith by explosionshark

call willow's s6 relationship with tara what it is. + willow has one thousand fatal flaws by greensaplinggrace

how losercringe (affectionate) (but also a little derogatory) it is that angel named himself angel by imunbreakabledude

One of the bits I’m really enjoying with In the Company of Witches and Slayers by lightdancer1

nonsensical to try to apply labels like ‘abuse’ to angel & darla’s relationship by moistvonlipwig

xander is a character i have many complicated feelings about by moistvonlipwig, zorilleerrant

They could give some other reason for Giles to leave. by redhatmeg

I also think a lot of people misinterpret what the monks did with Dawn. by theredpharaoah

Just to clarify, I do not call Faith Buffy’s boyfriend because... by fictiongods

Reasons why I ship Buffy/Spike by deird

What kind of magic would you have liked to have seen in Buffy? by Kat-Attack-52

La importancia de Buffy y Joyce para mi ❣️ [in Spanish] by MineRepulsive

The metaphor of Willow and Oz's relationship by spectacleskeptic

Willow question by Tsole96

Kind of feel bad for Kathy by shey-they-bitch

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[rocksaltandmountainash]

Waking up in Beacon Hills - pt. 28

Chapter summary: Kara gets back to work, but an interruption from Beacon Hills makes it tricky. Set in the gap between Teen Wolf season 3b and 4, and Supernatural season 7 and season 8.

Series masterlist: can be found here.

Word count: 5.9k

Warnings/notes: swearing, canon (TW and SPN) typical violence, gonna be honest - it's just pure smut, peter hale is on my brain, but! the sex is safe - that's something? Gif sources: Deaton | Peter 1 | Peter 2 | Peter 3

“As in Bardo?” Deaton’s eyes belie his concern; “Why? Is Stiles okay?”

“No, no!” you cry, “It’s not him - he’s good.”

He relaxes and drags a stool over to the exam table for you. Dumping your bag on the ground, you sit across from him as he sips his coffee.

“I mean actual Purgatory. Bardo is, like, um, a state of being?”

He nods, holding the cup lightly in both hands, displaying all the patience and calm that makes him such a successful vet and mentor; “That’s right.”

“But I need the place.”

“I don’t understand.”

“There’s here, right?” you gesture around the room, “And Heaven and Hell. And Purgatory.”

“Okay,” he nods again, following your logic, but not sure where you’re headed with this hypothetical discussion.

“So…how do I get there?”

Deaton is stunned into silence, expecting you to laugh and admit this is a joke. It has to be a joke - the breezy way you’ve asked, like you’re requesting he direct you to the nearest gas station.

“Doc?” 

“I…I don’t know.” 

Although Deaton finds he’s surprisingly accepting of your rambling assertion that Heaven and Hell are real, he has no clue how it all works. 

“Why would you want to?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you shake your head. He’s right, he doesn’t understand. 

You’re discovering that Bobby and the Winchesters have spoiled you, giving you insight into parts of the life that apparently even Deaton hasn’t seen. It would scare the shit out of you if you were still the same woman you were a year ago. 

Once you learned all this was real - monsters and magic and angels - it blurred together. Doesn’t help you’ve lost most of the people who could provide you some perspective. And you’re loyal to your core, possibly to your own detriment. So all you see in front of you is the puzzle of pieces to figure out. The how, the maybe this, the A that can lead you to B, which might unlock C. 

The work - research, fighting, hunting, helping - has given you so much. More than you’d hoped for when you packed up your flat and turned up on Bobby’s doorstep, telling yourself to keep your expectations low. You’d never been happier to be proved so wrong.

It’s granted you friends, a sense of family. Sam can’t see it, or doesn’t want it, you can’t blame him, and you’ll respect his choice. 

Dean - he’s gone. But after all the good the Winchesters have done, someone should get him back so he can make his own decisions about how his life will play out. Fuck knows how you’ve gotten here - where it appears you and Samandriel will be the ones to bust him out, but finding him has stopped feeling like a task to feeling like duty. Morphed from a want to a need.

Painting on a fake smile, you chat with Deaton a while longer as you finish your coffee. Eventually the bell chimes, signaling another patient for him.

“I better get going.”

“I don’t think you should do whatever you’re thinking, Kara…. It’s risky... and…” 

His voice trails off as he walks you out or you just don’t hear the rest because you’re mentally fixated on the next step. You thank him for the advice, grateful for the distraction an overexcited bichon puppy brings and ignoring his pointed looks as you exit the clinic. ****

Nevada:

There’s a loud knock that makes you jump, because Samandriel never knocks. He doesn’t even use doors, just pops up without warning, making your heart fall into your ass every time.  

Taking a peek out the window, you scold yourself for not checking the porch light was working - you can’t quite make out who’s standing there.

Opening the door a crack, you grip your gun tight behind your back. When you spot Peter, your nerves dissipate into confusion that tints your greeting.

“What…how…what are you doing here?” 

Pushing the door closed, you remove the chain before opening it to allow Peter to stroll in. He glances around the room and drops his keys, wallet, and phone on top of the TV.

“You told Stiles where you were.” 

“Yeah, I told Stiles,” you rake your eyes over him.

Judging by his disposition - confident, arrogant, acting like he owns the place - nothing is amiss. He’s not here to rush you back to Beacon Hills because something is horribly awry. So you ponder what he’s here for, why he’s shown up ten hours from his home. You think you may know. But it will be much more fun to hear him say it.

“Let me guess, you were eavesdropping around Derek’s like a stalker?”

He grins as he wanders over and lays his palms on your hips; “Maybe.”

You remove his hands, not forcefully, but enough to console yourself that you’re not this easy, that he might need to jump through a few hoops, do more than merely turn up. It’s dismal how happy you are to see him, and you do your best to not show it. 

“But I didn’t tell him where, just said I was in Lovelock.” 

Keeping your tone light, you search for something other than Peter’s body to occupy your hands, because he’s looking at you like he can feel the excitement that’s pinging its way through your body. You grab a beer from the fridge, throw the cap in the sink and take a long pull to calm yourself. 

Peter studies the subtle way you’re sucking down deep breaths and pretending you don’t want him as he gauges the most efficient way to get you naked. Like this wasn’t inevitable, as if he was going to let you leave town and never see you again.

You raise an eyebrow, waiting on him to answer your question.

“I just found the motel with the most bed bugs.” 

“Hey! Fuck you Hale.” you defend your choice of accommodation though you’re smiling as you tell him off.

Peter laughs, circling around the small table to pluck the bottle from your grasp and set it down. He slips his arms around your waist to hold you in place; “This town is small. There are only two motels.”

You try for a witty remark or sassy retort, but your defences are slowly being eroded by the warm cradle of his arms around you, the pressure of his palms resting on your ass. 

 A sly smile tugs at his lips while his eyes dart from yours down to your mouth and back. He holds in a sigh when your hands find their way to the front of his shirt.

“Okay.” is all you manage, because his eyes are twinkling and maybe you’re a bit lonely and maybe you’re a lot weak but he looks good and his chest is so firm that it seems like a pointless waste of time to act like you don’t want this.

Peter dips his head, “Okay. Happy? Can we fuck now?” 

The raspy way he asks sends electricity down your spine and you press yourself closer, feel him stiffen against your thigh, “Yes.. please.”

Not even embarrassed that you’re whining, and Peter forgets to feel smug that he’s won because as soon as the plea leaves your mouth, he kisses you. You let his tongue delve into your mouth and give tiny little whimpers that he swallows down.

This shouldn’t be turning him on this much - he’s a grown man who enjoys sex in its plentiful and varied forms, so why is the simple pleasure of your lips on his driving him crazy? Fully clothed, with your fingers threading into his hair, how do you make it so there’s no air in the room? Peter’s thoughts are halted when you moan, and it becomes a flurry of lips and tongues and you rubbing against his crotch as you fumble with the buttons of his shirt. 

Squeezing the back of your thighs, he urges you up, craving the crush of you on him. He can’t get close enough upright like this. Needs access, needs your scent filling his nose and your skin sliding along his.

“Wait…wait,” pulling away, you shake yourself free of the horny daze Peter put you in, “I don’t have a condom.”

“What?” 

The abrupt change of pace tilts Peter off balance, and his arms flex automatically, wanting your warmth back. Then it occurs to him you hadn’t insisted on protection the other times. That fact, combined with his recent discovery of Malia, has him suddenly worried, 

“I thought you were on the pill?”

“I am. But, you know,” god this is awkward, “That just covers pregnancy.”

Peter annoys himself by asking, “Are you seeing other people?” 

You shrug - you aren’t, but he’s missing the point, “None of your business. Besides, it takes two.”

“And you don’t know where I’ve been?” he chuckles, breaking the tension. 

You laugh too but are adamant, “If this is happening again - condom.” 

“Right,” Peter agrees with a quick nod before re-buttoning his shirt and smoothing it down, then focuses on dealing with his hard on. You grin at his desperate attempts to rearrange himself so it’s not so obvious and he grunts at you, “Your fault.” 

Throwing your hands up, you step back to give him some space, not wanting to make matters worse.  But Peter, this shook up, is too delicious, feels a bit like giving him a taste of his own medicine so you can’t resist -

“Bet this is the first time you wish you weren’t so big.”

He stills, closing his eyes as his hand fists around his cock and groans, “Not helping, Kara.”

“Sorry! I’ll just…” you make your way to the bed and find the remote, but hesitate before turning on the TV - should ask if he wants company, it’s your request that requires a run to the store, after all. 

It’s only polite.

“Peter? Do you want me to come?”

By the sour glare he throws over his shoulder, he’s not amused. 

“Just wait here,” he orders, shoving his wallet and keys into his pockets. He’s halfway to the door before he switches course and stalks over to you, leaning down to grab you by the chin and plant one more kiss on you, “You’re trouble.”

You beam up, basking in his discomfort.

“Don’t start without me, sweetheart.” with that, he slams the door behind him. ****

Peter always selects a high end rental when he travels, but he’s too preoccupied to enjoy the ride when stuck behind a line of trucks. Apparently he has hit the dinner traffic - every person in this ridiculous town is queuing at the intersection for Main Street - and the drugstore is at the other end. Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he checks the clock - if they close early, he’s gonna have to hurt someone. 

He sighs, thinking he could have just told you the condoms are unnecessary. He’s clean, prides himself on it, in fact. If you didn’t have such a bug up your ass, he might have tried.  Maybe he should tell you he’s not fucking anyone else. He’s irked to learn he doesn’t like that you are. Didn’t think he had anyone - anything other than the shadow of Argent - to contend with. But you’re young, and sexy, and probably spend your nights in bars flirting and taking your pick, so now he feels foolish.

“Hurry the fuck up.” he mutters and gestures at what must be the oldest man alive, who is incapable of parking in one swift movement.

A perplexing flush spreads through his chest at the idea of you waiting for him, which he attributes to the heated seats, jabbing at the button to turn them off.

“Fucking finally.”

There’s just enough space for him to maneuver around yet another idiot who can’t drive and pull into the Walgreens parking lot, breaking into a hurried jog as another image of you pops into his mind. **** After taking a quick shower, you sit cross-legged on the bed, watching TV as you dry your hair. The tepid stream of water did nothing to quell the daydreams of what Peter had in store for you. You cannot hide your eagerness when you hear the ‘click’ of his car locking and him busting through the door.

He tosses a plastic bag to you then undresses at the foot of the bed.

“Why’d you get all this?” you ask, digging through the assortment he’s returned with - a pack of cigarettes, a bottle of body wash, candy, some beef jerky, aspirin, and stashed at the bottom - a large box of condoms.

You laugh, holding up the items, imagining him all flustered, ashamed of his intended purchase, like a teenager.

“Thought you’d like ‘em.” Peter shrugs, joining you on the bed, his hands going to your ankles and tugging to encourage you to uncross your legs.

“I do. Thanks,” you tell him, moving so he’s positioned between your knees, slowly running his palms over the soft skin of your inner thighs. 

Ripping open a bag of gummy worms, you twirl your tongue around one and suck it into your mouth, feeling his fingers squeeze into your flesh as he watches you. You dangle another in front of his mouth, “Want one?”

“I’m having something else.” With a wink he buries his head between your thighs and when he has you quaking, a few minutes later, you have the sticky sweet taste of fake raspberry on your tongue.

Peter stays, keeping you up till dawn. When he leaves later in the morning, he tells you to text when you have a night or two free.

Colorado:

“Any reason we’re not going in?” you ask quietly, blowing into your hands.

“There’s at least ten of them.”

“There’s four of us…” 

You’re working with a father - Darren, his son - DJ, and his nephew whose name you don’t remember, and hating every single minute of it. 

Despite the weak afternoon sun breaking through the trees overhead, it’s cold out, and if you have to stand idly by as they take turns with the binoculars for one second longer, you think you’ll scream.

“Too risky.”

You back down after one boy gives you a judgemental stare, “Your call I guess,” and stamp your feet to stay warm.

“We should wait for nightfall.”

“When they’re awake? Yeah, that makes sense,” you comment sarcastically.

“Hey, this is our job. You don’t like the way we run it - you can leave.”

“Okay.”

They nod, glad you know your place and unaware when you turn on your heel and head back toward the road. 

You’d taken an instant dislike to the men - not sure if it was sexism or because you just didn’t command attention like Sam or Dean, but you’ve had enough of them bossing you around. 

You type an angry text to Clyde, then delete it before coming up with kinder wording as you crank the heater on and wait for your windshield to clear. 

Eventually, you settle on telling him you’re working on your own thing and won’t be available to help anyone for a bit. Not his fault these fuckknuckles are complete amateurs.

The entire day has been a total shit show. For starters, Samandriel turned up in your passenger seat with no warning, causing you to drop the overpriced Starbucks you were holding. 

Already frustrated, cursing as the hot coffee dripped down your lap, Samandriel looked at you all prissy, which just set you more on edge.

Then you’d accidentally revealed you knew Sam wasn’t in Purgatory along with Cas and Dean, and Samandriel badgered you for close to forty minutes, implying you were being childish and acting stupid.

“But he could help us.”

“If he wanted to be here, he would be.”

“I can ask him - you wouldn’t even have to see him.”

“Fuck! Just drop it, okay?” you hit the steering wheel with your palm, sick of going round in circles. “I’m not dragging him into this.”

“I could make you tell me where he is.” Samandriels voice is icy, but you’re too pissed off to care.

“Fucking try then!”

You peel your eyes away from the road, but he’s gone, and you sigh miserably.

****

Replaying your argument as you drive only winds you up, and you can’t stop yourself from becoming more and more annoyed. You’d only agreed to help Clyde’s buddies ‘cos you were itching for a fight and you can’t understand the point of calling in reinforcements if they weren’t gonna use them. If they wanna hang around the woods and watch a farmhouse all night, well, they can fuck right off and do it without you.

So you’re agitated, boiling with pent up aggression by the time you arrive at the motel and see Peter waiting at your door. Distractedly you press a kiss to his lips, ignoring his affections in favor of pacing around the room, fuming, as you tell him all about the job. 

“They didn’t even read the case files!”

“God, stop.”

“Excuse me?” 

“I said stop. Stop being such a brat.”

“What the fuck, Peter?” you round on him, taking offense and on the verge of exploding.

He strides over to you, pinning your hands behind your back and pressing you against the counter with his full weight, “You don’t need anyone’s permission.” 

He stares at you, daring you to disagree, to push him away and make believe this isn’t exactly what you need.

“If you want to kill something… just go do it,” Peter slides his hands under your shirt, fingers coasting along your hips and the tiny touch anchors you in the moment, “Hell, we can go now.”

“You’d do that? Work with me?”

That’s touching.

“If it would get you out of your head for five minutes?” he reaches his hand up and grabs at your breast, “Yes.”

Maybe not so touching.

“Are we going?” Peter steps away.

“No!” you yank him closer by his jacket, “Later. Tomorrow.” 

Doesn’t matter, just not now - not when he’s tweaking your nipple and you can feel him hard and ready, a willing distraction you desperately want. Winding your hands up his chest, you apologize. “I’m sorry.”

“Good.” 

“Do I…oh…” your voice falters when Peter pops the button of your jeans and brushes his fingertips along the skin of your belly.

He stops, nodding for you to continue.

“Do I need to make it up to you?” you ask sweetly.

It can stay a suggestion, just loose preambling banter if Peter doesn’t pick up what you’re laying down. But there’s a version of you that’s dying to be set free. You want to stop your mind whirling, to be fucked out, empty-headed, and Peter’s a solid bet to give that to you, even if you can’t come right out and say it.

He feels a twist in his gut at the tremble of need laced through your playful tone, your big innocent eyes tilted up to him, filled with curiosity and longing. 

“Hmm,” he pretends to consider it, like a shiver hadn’t just run through his cock, “Maybe you need to be punished?”

There’s a devious glint in his eye as you swallow thickly and give the faintest of nods.

“You’d like that?” 

He slips his hands into your underwear, moaning at the wet he finds. “Shit…yeah you like that.”

****

Peter abandons you to remove his clothes and lay back against the pillows before beckoning you over. Your legs move of their own accord, though stop short next to the bed, unsure of what to do next. 

“Take your jeans off,” he orders, sounding gruff and almost cold.  

He’s clearly done this before, from the smooth way he’s eased into control and how his lips twitch up into a smirk as he watches you.

Complying with his request, you’re suddenly nervous you don’t know what you’re getting into. Can’t help but wonder about Peter’s other partners, spiraling into self doubt as you compare yourself to the imaginary women, maybe men. They’d no doubt have more experience, be more confident than you could ever be. Sexier, you think, self consciously tracing the scars on your abdomen. 

Peter sees you nibble the inside of your cheek and play with the stitching along the bottom of your shirt.

The first time you’d been together you were covered in bandages, and the second you’d gotten fully, gloriously bare, but distracted him with your mouth when he went to turn the lights on. Aside from those exceptions, you always keep a shirt on when you fuck. He’s noticed, but never mentioned it, though it drives him crazy that there’s a part of you that you’re keeping from him.

“Shirt?” he tries his luck.

Freezing, your face clouds with an uncertain expression.

“Never mind,” he says, more gently, “Just come here.”

He tugs you by the wrist, splaying you out across his lap. Impatient to get his hands on you, even if he can’t get all of you.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, darling,” he uses a hand to part your legs, “You’re getting ten because you deserve it for being rude.” 

“Ten what?” you ask, your voice muffled by the blankets your face is buried in, and Peter chuckles before he answers by swatting your ass firmly. You gasp at the sting and squirm in his lap.

“Ten of those. And you’re going to count them, okay?”

Nodding your head against the crook of your arm, you pray he can’t spot the flush spreading across your skin. You’re sure he does, you’re ass up over his thighs after all. 

Turning to risk a glance at Peter’s face, you find him staring down at his palms running over the curves of your cheeks. He slides his eyes to yours, and you’re pleasantly surprised that he looks as excited as you feel. He looks hungry for you and your thighs want to press together but he keeps a hand in place, holding you open.

“Have to say it, doll…. I need to hear you.”

It feels wrong to ask for this, to want it, resembles walking a tightrope. But mostly you only feel his hands, kneading and squeezing, and your cunt clenching around nothing, and it just feels good.

“Yes, yeah - I’ll count.”

He grins, immediately landing a hand on your other cheek, and you cry out “One!”

“That’s it.”

Another smack to your left side, “Two.”

“Good.”

Again, “Three.”

You make it to five easily with Peter talking you through, before he pauses to let you recover while he runs his hand between your folds, gathering up your slick and using it to ease his fingers inside, “See what happens when you’re nice?” 

He strikes - six and seven - in fast succession, one hand still pumping away at your pussy.

“Poor little slut, so stressed.”

You bite into your own forearm when he gives you another, harder, spank.

“What’s that?”

“Eig - Shit! Eight!”

“You know what I think?” he teases you mercilessly, moving his hand away. “I think you needed this.”

When you say nothing, can focus only on your cunt throbbing, and trying to wriggle over the hard bulge in Peter’s pants, he grunts out a command - “Words.” 

“Yeah - I” he cuts you off with another whack and you scream, “Nine.”

“Doing so well for me, darling, just one more.”

You’re shivering, anticipating the last hit, keening for him to touch you again. He takes his time admiring red handprints while he rubs his thumb over your clit in tiny, torturing circles. 

Waits while it builds, witnessing you shake and arch your back and he raises his hand to give you a final slap. You swear you hear when his palm makes contact, but he presses his thumb down on your clit and slams thick digits into you and then it’s only your own moans and sobs in your ears as you come, ending up a writhing, panting mess. 

When you’re able to see again, breathe again, you turn over, carefully - so you don’t squish him, 

“Fuck Peter,” you sigh, then giggle, practically glowing with bliss, “Ten.”

****

You purposely close the bathroom door louder than is required and shoot Peter - sleeping soundly - a death stare. When he sighs, you roll your eyes and finish fixing your hair into a tidy bun. You’re mad, regretting every choice that led you here. 

After your spanking last night, Peter toyed with you for hours, but didn’t fuck you, wouldn’t let you orgasm again. He declared, standing behind you where you knelt on the bed, “Rude sluts don’t get to come.” 

You begged and whimpered, tried it all as you watched him stroking himself over your shoulder, but your frustration only made him worse, meaner. 

He only barked out orders, “turn over,” “touch yourself” “stop” and you did everything he asked, desperately bending yourself to his will for just the promise he’d make you feel full again.

Then he’d laid down his rule - that when he’s around, you forget about hunting, pay attention to him, only him - and you’d agreed instantly, though you would have said anything at that point. 

He’d finished himself off with a satisfied groan, shooting ropes across your stomach before turning over and promptly falling asleep.

Peter ignored your incredulous threats, pretended not to notice when you chased an orgasm on your own instead. He hid his grin, and his erection when you failed, too over-stimulated with his body next to you but off limits, too empty, to reach your release.

“Fuck you.” You hissed at his back before you gave up.

Now he observes you stomping around the room, looking gorgeous in an outfit he’s never seen before with a face like thunder.

“Morning.” 

You huff - busy packing your laptop into a handbag, and taking out a mirror to check your makeup. The lighting in the bathroom was shit, and you’re not the greatest at blending. 

“You look nice,” you look fucking edible in a knee length skirt, pantyhose, and dress shirt, “Where are you going?”

“Sheriffs….” using your pinky, you tidy up the edges of your lipstick. “Working, remember?”

Peter smiles. You’re pissed off and testing him. He can feel the reflexive instinct in you to pull back. A woeful attempt to regain control. It won’t work, you’re in it now, but this is a part of the game and he’ll play along.

“Course. Give me five minutes.”

“Wait, you’re coming?” you stare after him as he goes to brush his teeth.

“Said I would.”

You think of reasons he shouldn’t, but can’t find many, it’s always smart to have backup and he could be useful if you run into Darren and his lot again. 

“Do you have a suit? Or a jacket?”

“Think it’s my first time in a police station?” he digs fresh clothes from his bag and gets dressed, grinning at you.

“I’m sure it’s not…” you say dryly, “What about impersonating federal law enforcement? You alright with that?”

“Not a concern.”

Of course it isn’t - nothing is for him, you think bitterly, hating the way he moves around the room casually, how he exists so comfortably. Acting like last night didn’t happen, that you hadn’t humiliated yourself and he hadn’t been cruel.  

“ID?” you ask, trying to rein in your emotions.

“What for?”

“Need to make you a badge,” holding out a hand, you sigh impatiently, “License… or something with a photo.”

Peter plucks a plastic card from his wallet and hands it over. “Will this do?”

Reading the ID, “Montana State Livestock Commission”, you wonder if it’s real, and why he has it, but won’t give him the satisfaction of asking. 

You scowl when you see the picture. Fucking typical, even in the grainy, low contrast photo he’s handsome. 

“This might work actually, there’s been some cattle deaths.”

He smiles proudly, irritating you further.

“Come on. You’re driving.”

Your wall of disinterest remains up during the journey to the Sheriff’s Station and you stare glumly out the window, opening your mouth only once, to advise Peter that when you go in, he should take the lead, introduce you both and ask to speak to whoever is in charge of the case. He gawps at you, can’t believe what you’re saying.

“You’re older, and you’re a man - they’ll expect me to defer to you.”

You despise it, but it’s the truth and it’ll get you in and out fast.

****

Peter’s far too proficient at being dismissive. You had told him to take the lead, even so, might have been nice if it felt like more of a struggle for him to talk down to you in front of the Sheriff. 

“Where to now?” he asks, thoroughly enjoying your simmering rage perfuming the air.

“Morgue.”

“Why?”

“Wanna see the bodies, something’s not right. Plus, I need to restock.”

Peter reminds himself to pull up, tread light, you're moody and he wants to break you. But he wants to do it slowly. 

“Restock?”

“Doesn’t matter, just drive.” You snap, reading through the reports from the Sheriff, the headache of Peter temporarily forgotten as you try to figure out what’s vexing you.

****

Handing Peter the syringes you’d filled from the bodies at the Coroner’s, you switch out your sensible, professional flats for your boots.

“What’s in here?” he sniffs, his nose crinkling in disgust.

“Dead man’s blood. Won’t kill them, but slows ‘em down.”

He senses the shift in you as you prepare, an almost visible change while you flick through the report one more time and mutter to yourself. You sit up straighter, eyes narrowing while you chew on a nail.

“Hey,” he moves your fingers away from your mouth, “What are you thinking?” 

Before you can snatch your hand out of his, you catch the worried way he’s looking at you. You appreciate him taking this seriously, and manage a small smile. 

“The first body was a vamp.”

“So?”

“They’ve probably been here for months, feeding on livestock.”

“Right,” the Deputies had mentioned the local farmers were up in arms about the number of cows going missing from their herds, “And?”

“And…shit…I don’t know.”

You shrug - don’t know why it bothers you, why you feel such an obsessive need to have every little detail before you jump in. If you wait any longer, you’ll be as useless as Darren, staking out the nest while townsfolk keep turning up dead.

Peter seizes on the opening. “C’mon, sweetheart, you’ve got a theory.”

“Just thinking - this could be retaliation, you know? Maybe - if they’d been left alone…”

“They might’ve stuck to beef?”

“Yeah.”

“But they haven’t.” 

“Nope,” you smile again, but it’s conflicted and Peter wants to slam the car in reverse. 

“Let’s go” you hand him a machete.

Pieces connect and it starts to make sense, coming at you full speed when you’re halfway through the nest. The son, DJ, he’d been limping, and the other guy - the nephew - was the one who shot down all your ideas about how to handle the job. So the encounter, the fire thrumming through you which should have lifted your spirits, had you buzzing with adrenaline for a few hours after - does nothing. 

Logically, you should be grateful for Peter’s help, you know this, but he’d proven too helpful, too nimble, and you hadn’t gotten to hit enough, hurt them enough, for your liking. 

“You were good in there,” he tells you, rinsing the blood off under an outside faucet.

He means it as a compliment, but your brow just knits in confusion.

Because - no shit, you’re good at this - it’s the only thing you are any good at. 

You’re undeniably not good at casual sex or at being alone and seem to fare just as badly when you try to live differently, indulging in the delusion that you deserve something else. 

Can’t he tell? Doesn’t he see?

That you’re achingly, transparently bad at stopping bright, shining boys from getting possessed by Nogitsunes or from saving your almost-boyfriend’s daughter. 

You turn your back on Peter to change into a fresh t-shirt. You didn’t sign up for this, you don’t need this.  Don’t need angels berating you when all you’re doing is trying or idiotic men picking fights they don’t finish with vampires and leaving you to clear up their messes. Don’t need Sam’s silence while he plays house and pets his dog. You don’t need anyone, definitely not Peter goddamn Hale and his infuriating mind games.

****

Peter stews as he drives back to the motel, not comprehending why you’re still angry, why getting your hands dirty and tearing up the vamps hasn’t calmed you. It helped him - provided an outlet for his rising frustrations. Watching you land fists to faces, swinging a blade, getting your pretty little blouse drenched in blood and sweat was enough to soothe his misgivings about accompanying you. 

He’d woken up with other plans for the day, but you had ruined them. Working with you was him making the best of an unpleasant situation, wouldn’t kill you to be more appreciative. You should thank him. 

Your phone pings, and you chuckle scornfully, reading the message from Darren.

“Assholes. Get this,” you pivot to share with Peter, “Last chance if you want in - meet at the farmhouse at 7.”

He’s relieved to no longer be the target of your ire, “Gonna tell them?”

You tap out part of a text before deciding to call. A girl has to get her kicks somehow.

“Hello?”

“Don’t bother. Vamps are dealt with.”

Darren scoffs, “You took out a nest by yourself?”

“No, I had help.” You smile at Peter, a crack in your armor he intends on exploiting.

“You’re not supp - “

“If you got a problem, talk to your nephew. Ask him why they started chowing down on locals.” 

Waiting a beat, you revel in the gratification as your meaning dawns on Darren, “Burn the bodies, and don’t call me again.”

Feeling better after laying into Darren, you talk yourself down to something approaching normal while you smoke a cigarette.

“So, what now?” he questions after you return to the room. You stare at him blankly, the late night and exhaustion of the day creeping up on you. Peter, still clad in his "work" clothes, looking deceptively clean cut, moves forward, hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“After a hunt - what do you usually do?”

You picture it - used to be Sam or Dean would get burgers and beers and you’d chill out, rest. Other jobs - ones that didn’t go clean - you’d take off, Dean putting as many miles between you and the case as fast as Baby could manage. 

Lately, on your own, you pretty much drink and smoke and drink and rattle around until the sun comes up. Vamps are different, it’s better to hit during the day, so you don’t really know how to fill in the evening.

“Not usually done this early,” you tell him, his thumb brushing down your jaw has you weakly deciding - you’ll give him one last shot to salvage the day, “Thanks for the assist.”

“It was fun,” he admits, pulling down a deep breath. He smiles when he can’t smell bristly prickles of fury any longer, and it stretches wider when a yawn bursts out of you.

“How ‘bout I go pick us up some dinner?” he loops an arm around your waist, “Then you can have your reward.”

Trailing your hands over his broad chest, you lace your fingers behind his neck, impossibly cute as you ask, “Reward?”

“Think I’d leave you hanging, doll?” he tuts, and tips your chin, making sure you’re looking him in the eye before he continues, “You took your punishment,” he drops a leisurely kiss on your waiting mouth, “You’ve earned a treat.”

[plethoraworldatlas]

The California Department of Fish and Wildlife reported late Monday that it has named two new wolf packs that were confirmed in the state last summer.

The newly named wolf families are the Beyem Seyo pack in Plumas County and the Harvey pack in Lassen County. Another of 2023’s newly discovered packs, the Yowlumni pack, ranges in Tulare County and was named in December.

“These awe-inspiring animals continue to show us that California’s wild landscapes are great habitat for wolves and that they’ll find their way here,” said Amaroq Weiss, a senior wolf advocate at the Center for Biological Diversity. “Wolves belong in our state, and we should do everything we can to ensure they thrive.”

The department’s quarterly report covered known wolf information from August through October 2023. It reported that the state has five wolf packs plus several groups of wolves, including new individuals and groups in four northeastern California counties.

The new report noted the continued existence of the Lassen pack in Lassen County, the Whaleback pack in Siskiyou County and a group of two or three wolves in Tehama County. Another group of three wolves was documented ranging in Sierra and Nevada counties, and individual wolves have been sighted in Modoc County. A previously known wolf family in Plumas County, the Beckwourth pack, is thought to no longer exist.

Based on the department’s count, California is currently home to around 45 wolves including adults, yearlings and pups of the year.

The Beyem Seyo pack has at least two adults and six pups; the Harvey pack has at least two adults and one pup; the Lassen pack has a minimum two adults, five yearlings, and three pups; the Whaleback pack is composed of at least two adults, one yearling, and eight pups; the Yowlumni pack consists of two adults and six pups; and the two unnamed groups of wolves include a group of two to three wolves in Tehama County and a group of three wolves in Sierra and Nevada counties.

“I feel so fortunate to bear witness to the return of these top-level carnivores to California,” said Weiss. “Not only are wolves essential to healthy, wild nature, they also have for thousands of years been integral to the human spirit and imagination and a symbol of our connection to the wild.”

Background

The first wolf in nearly a century to make California part of his range was OR-7, a radio-collared wolf from Oregon that entered California in late 2011. OR-7 traveled across seven northeastern counties in California before returning to southwestern Oregon, where he found a mate and settled down, forming the Rogue pack.

Several of OR-7’s offspring have since come to California and established packs. Those include the original breeding male of the Lassen pack and the breeding female of the Yowlumni pack residing in Tulare County. The Shasta pack, California’s first confirmed wolf pack in nearly 100 years, was discovered in 2015 but disappeared a few months later.

[follow-up-news]

A new pack of gray wolves has shown up in California’s Sierra Nevada, several hundred miles away from any other known population of the endangered species, wildlife officials announced Friday. It’s a discovery to make researchers howl with delight, given that the native species was hunted to extinction in California in the 1920s. Only in the past decade or so have a few gray wolves wandered back into the state from out-of-state packs. A report of a wolf seen last month in Sequoia National Forest in Tulare County led researchers to spot tracks, and collect DNA samples from fur and droppings, according to the California Department of Fish and Wildlife. Researchers concluded that there is a new pack of at least five wolves that weren’t previously known to live in California: an adult female and her four offspring. The pack is at least 200 miles (321.8 kilometers) from the next-nearest pack, which is in Lassen Park in northeastern California, wildlife officials said. A third pack is also based in Northern California. Gray wolves are protected by both state and federal law under the Endangered Species Act. It is illegal to hurt or kill them.

[lovewriting-5]

Faith

2. Leap of Faith

4. Miracles

3. The Long Haul:

When the car finally ran out of fuel. We parked it along the side of the road. We decided to make the trip to Haven Point, Nevada by walking. Sean says “So the…the wolf brothers were split apart…The oldest wolf brother was badly hurt…But nothing could stop the wolf from following his brother’s tracks…”

We both are sunburnt and tired. Sean stops to look up at the sky. He says “Okay, still a few hours away from Haven Point…almost there…Shit, we need a break.” I say “Might be some shade at the next billboard.”

We walk closer to a billboard that reads, ‘Two Pair Casino Poker, Blackjack, Spaghetti 22 Miles Ahead.’ I say “Yes! Shade!” The two of us sit underneath the shade. I say “It feels so good to sit down.” Sean says “Oh, man…my feet are killing me.” I say as I begin massaging my legs and outside of my boot, “Mine are too.” He add “Feels like hiking in Hell…”

I grab the water bottle out of my backpack as Sean does the same thing. I take a long swig as the water feels good going down my throat. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand as I ask “Sean, how are you doing? That guy back there really did a number on you.” He says as he lightly touches his chest, “Ow, I need a full-body band aid…those assholes really hurt me…”

After 15 more minutes of rest, we stood up and kept going. After a few minutes, there was the sound of wheels rolling on the asphalt. We turn around and see a semi truck coming. I say “Shit, there’s a truck coming.” The driver hits the horn a couple times. Sean asks “Whoa, is he honking at us?” The driver slows the truck down in front of us. I say “He’s stopping…Okay, be cool…just see what he wants…” Sean says “Truckers can’t be cops, right?”

We walk to the passenger side door. I open it. The man says “Hey, need a lift? It’s too damn hot to be walking…” Sean and I look at each other and nod. I tell the driver “Yeah, thanks…Hold up.” We place our backpacks on the floor of the truck. Sean climbs in first and then I do. The driver pulls back onto the road and keeps going. He looks at Sean and asks “Jeez, what the hell happened to you?” He tells him “We ran into a couple of assholes…who beat me up for no reason.” The driver says “Uh, I see…Happens a lot around here.”

A male voice comes from the radio. It asks “Hey, Anton, you there? Everything all right?” Anton picks up the receiver, asks “Yeah, what’s up?” The voice says “GPS tells me you parked in the middle of nowhere, just wanted to know what happened.” Anton tells him “I, uh…I had to make a shit stop. Over.” Both Sean and I smile. The guy says “Too much information, but 10-4.” He corrects him “You mean number two.” The guy says “You owe me a beer for that. Over and out.”

Anton puts the receiver back on the radio. He tells us “Don’t freak out. I…I wouldn’t have picked you two up if I cared about that hitchhiking law…”. I tell him “Okay, cool…” He reaches down into a cooler and pulls out a sandwich. He asks “So…you two hungry or what? You both look hungry.” Sean and I look at each other with gratefulness. Sean tells him “We are, thank you.” Sean takes the sandwich and we split it. Anton says “As you heard, my name’s Anton. It is good, huh? My wife packs the best sandwiches. Messy.” I tell him “Best sandwich ever…seriously. Thanks, sir.”

He asks “What’s your destination?” Sean tells him “Hmmm…Haven Point. You’ve heard of it?” He tells us “Oh, yeah. Straight ahead, ‘bout an hour.” I rest my arm against the window. Anton tells us “Take a nap if you want. You don’t have to stay awake to be nice. Hey, don’t worry, kids. I’m not a fucking weirdo. Just a boring trucker…”

As the truck continues driving, Sean and I begin drifting off. I lay my head on his shoulder as his head lays against mine. We close our eyes until we stop in Haven Point, Nevada.

[athleticperfection1]

Nevada Cheer

[phosphor06]

Art of my TTRPG character, Nevada! Local warrior wolf who was separated from her pack, meets weird earth aliens

[hclfbaked]

( brigette lundy-paine , non-binary , they/them ) las vegas may be packed with people, but jess hinkley has been on my mind. originally hailing from las vegas, the twenty six year old has been in vegas for their entire life. i know they’re a hiking trail guide , but there’s a rumor on the strip saying they’re also a werewolf. after some thought that makes sense , they can be + big-hearted , but also - half-baked. ask any local they’ll say they remind them of adrenaline-filled nights on carnival rides, whooping and hollering at old friends across the street, smoke leaking out from between lips as they laugh under neon lights, crooked smiles leaning out of the passenger’s side window, & dancing with strangers on their way home.

hi - diddly - ho , neighborinos ! your friendly neighborhood maeby ( 27, they / she, mst ) coming in hot and so stoked to be here ♡ i’m bringing my favorite little goofball,  jess ! so without further ado…

▻  STATS

preferred name: jess hinkley nicknames: yes, jessie, the hinks languages known: english, asl, conversational spanish birthday: april 1st, 1997 hometown: las vegas, nevada, usa zodiac: aries sun, sagittarius moon, leo rising interests: nature hikes, fun dip, buzzfeed quizzes, roadtrips, wailing on drums, air hockey tournaments, sweet & salty snack combinations, talking heads, john hughes-esque ‘80s movies, having to be introduced to current music after listening to 80s-90s their entire life tldr; permanent class clown and former athlete almost makes it big, hits rock bottom (cough, is attacked and turned by a werewolf, cough), then devotes the rest of their life to the beauty of normal things and the importance of living in the moment. mostly just smokes weed, hikes, and goofs off. again, is a werewolf. pinterest: peruse here ! playlist: listen here !

▻  ABOUT

tw: parental death, werewolf attack, injuries

jess was born and raised right here in las vegas; their late mother’s hometown. you see, their parents met in kansas city, missouri where jess’s father (guy) was apprenticing under a rbbq pitmaster at the restaurant jess’s mother (robin) waited tables at during college. when they fell in love and got married, they moved back to las vegas to be near robin’s family. tragically, robin died when jess was eleven years old and they were raised through their adolescence by their father and older brother (elijah).

despite being a major goofball and terrible student, jess was a positive role model for their younger sister (mackenzie) and a big help at robin’s; the barbecue joint guy opened when they moved to las vegas to raise their children. as jess grew up, it seemed they were destined for greatness by way of their athletic prowess. unfortunately, right before their twenty-first birthday and their national track-and-field debut, they were badly injured in a werewolf attack and lost their place in the competition.

jess’s brother elijah was also injured and turned in the attack, but thankfully, the wolf didn’t lay a single claw on their sister mackenzie. nevertheless, for jess and elijah, surviving meant having the werewolf’s curse passed onto them. now that they know what’s lurking behind las vegas’s neon lights, neither of them are willing to leave their family behind or uproot them; certainly not until mackenzie is done with college and guy is ready to retire. at least the two of them have each other, right?

▻  HEADCANONS

jess calls charcuterie “grown-up lunchables” no matter who they’re around.

jess’s taste in music is 100% based on their father and late mother’s playlists from when jess was a young’un. if they can remember the two of them dancing to it in the kitchen, it’s on jess’s favorite playlist. they have a portrait of talking heads’ founder david byrne in a gold frame in their home like many people have portraits of jesus christ.

jess wasn’t a good student in school, but they have a knack for learning languages. they grew up in a household that used asl for mackenzie, jess’s younger sister, so that was a given, but they’re also fluent in spanish and have conversational skills in french and japanese.

▻  CONNECT IDEAS

fellow werewolves ! witch friends from the arcade ! vampires who vibe with our wee werewolf weirdo ! sirens jess has casually fallen in love with twenty times ! supernatural beings who defy stereotypes to hang with jess !

the other half of jess' podcast duo ( maybe trio? ) since there’s no way jess doesn’t have a podcast that a whole twelve people listen to every week – i picture them talking about haunted places in las vegas à la buzzfeed unsolved / ghost files or random topics with too much energy like the basement yard

texting buds who share memes and not much else

someone jess keeps just constantly running into somewhere, they absolutely cannot get rid of each other and fate seems to have decided that they’re in each other’s lives whether they like it or not

fellow regulars at jess’ favorite haunts, where they spent too much time making fast friends with the employees and then loitering like they also work there. examples: pizza places, bars, arcades, bookstores, record shops, climbing gyms, hipster cafes, locally owned breweries, etc

people who only know them from the parties they throw ( which have truly ridiculous themes, often result in noise complaints, and are always a wild time )

someone who hates jess because their chaotic antics have consequences, just not on them. jess is a runaway bull in a china shop and at the end of the day, someone has to clean up the china shop, right?

returned and unrequited crushes, exes, flings, a “ will they, won’t they ”

any friendly connect, considering jess sees the good / a good time in almost everyone

a less than friendly connect, since jess isn’t everyone’s cup of tea

anything under the sun you might be vibing !

[lahija-del-molinero]

New Gray Wolf Pack Discovered in California’s Southern Sierra Nevada

Lobo ♥