#yes he wanted to get to know her too and in return she gets werewolf!nick ^^

[neverfittedin]

@astrainclinantx | liked this & gets a starter for Mariah !!

“Ugh, my head. What happened?” The newly bitten werewolf groaned, lifting a hand to hold his aching head before feeling though his shaggy hair if he had a wound somewhere. Even if he had gotten one, the only clue left would be dried blood as the wound would long have been healed.

[be-side-my-self]

Thank you for the long response.

Please be aware that I don‘t dirsegard any of your points and anslysis because you came to your conclusion on what sounds like one watch of one playthrough?

Also I want to excuse myself for not clearing up that the two scenarios I described are only human Laura for the first and the second is werewolf Laura.

Anyway, you are 100% correct in the things you said because they are based on the things you know.

But I do have played various outcomes of the game and discussed the game and which interactions will cause which ending to length ends with other fans. (Personally I am still missing like six trophies.)

So I do have the burden of the knowledge besed on what could have been.

But yes, if you take that one playthrough as it‘s own story and ignore the other possibilities, then I do agree with you, that the motivation for killing Laura is probably not only caused by the fact that she shot him but everything else too. And certainly the fact that she is not who he made her out to be. Feeling like she owes him when she absolutely does not.

I was not aware that was your approach in the original answer.

Because personally I can't do that. I am aware that those are different outcomes, different AUs but the baseline personality is to me always the same. And making Travis snap is a huge thing and it takes one specific action for it to happen. I will always take everything I know into consideration and can't ignore it.

Which is why I like the game so much. With every new playthrough you learn so much more about the characters. Kaitlyn and Jacob know each other since they are children? They kissed? I did not expect that! Nick ignored Abi the first day of camp? But then at which point did he see her? That is very interesting.

And If I would have to guess I feel like most Travis fans take it like I do. We do have various endings. We know there is more to the story which is why I guess many come to his defense. Travis is not the bad guy in the story. He is a victim too.

One last point, I do not victim blame Laura. She is obviously traumatized and I assume we all would be.

BUT while Laura is a victim, she does not seem too heartbroken about the fact that she killed a human and plans to kill another one. That too is fact. She gets told that she killed Kaylee - a person that never did anything wrong to her. A teenager, the same age as her. Maybe younger. Laura says she shot a monster. But Laura knows that behind that “monster” is a human. She would also be sad if someone shot werewolf-Max and certainly not use her own arguments to cut the person some slack. It is okay for her - and only her - to kill people because they look like werewolves but certainly it would not be okay for others to kill Max because he looks like a werewolf. Laura is in a hyperfocus and won't be deterred. That is true in every playthrough. And that can’t all be put on the trauma. 

But everyone is a victim one way or another, the counselors, the Hacketts. Almost everyone is at fault too. Even Eliza. There are theories out there that killing Silas is in the end the only good ending, even for him. 

You asked why Travis did not search for Laura when she left the prison… It might have already been too late? Since it’s the version in which he was shot, he probably needed some time (as for why he was so fit after being shot, there are theories that the indigestion of werewolf blood helped the Hacketts to heal faster, which is also why Bobby can be shot by Ryan earlier in the game and seem to shake it off just as well.) to recover, get out of the prison cell and get home to help his family werewolf-hunting and protecting the counselors. There was no time to look for Laura. Or maybe he did? Maybe he looked for Laura and then had to return home after Kaylee was shot? We don’t know how he learned about Kaylee being killed by Laura. But he also did not know what exactly her plan was. Maybe he hoped that she ran far away? That she found a way to be safe from her werewolf boyfriend and leave? If she is gone the family won’t have to know what Travis did. If the Hacketts find Silas and kill him, that problem of werewolf Max will be resolved too. But that is all guesswork. We don’t have enough information. 

Because another thing is, Constance only wanted them all dead after she learned about Kaylee’s death. Maybe she would have asked Travis to take care of Laura and Max if she knew about them in the station… but we can’t be sure. Because it certainly looks like the Hackett’s do their darndest to protect the counselors. That might sound weird but in my latest playthrough I realized that it really seems like both Bobby and Jed get out of their ways to actively protect the counselors from the werewolves... which is weird since again it seems like Chris and Constance want to get rid of Max and Laura... you’d consider that maybe they would kill Max because he has been bitten and they don't want him to spread it further, while until a certain point, except for Nick no one else has been bitten. But they tried to abduct Nick... which again is weird because Bobby could just have shot him instead of trying to bring him "to safety". Heck, even later when Nick already is a werewolf they don’t kill him. They bring him into the cells in the cellar of the Hackett mansion! 

But still, Travis is protecting Laura and Max from his family for some reason. Is it because he wants to keep them to himself? Not what I would think but possible. I also want to point out that we don’t know who killed the journalist or the couple of hikers, but if I remember correctly at least one of them was killed/bitten by Caleb? It is not clear if it was his werewolf form or his human form.  

Again, to understand the game, I feel like one really needs to see all the variations. All the possibilities and take them all equally into consideration. 

That is why analyzing the Quarry and every single character is so hard, because the more often you watch it or even better, play it, the clearer and also more confusing it becomes. 

Again, Travis will only kill Laura in cold blood when she shoots him in the cell. ONLY THEN. Otherwise there is nothing she can do to make him kill her EXCEPT when she is a werewolf and Ryan does not shoot Chris. 

Then he will stab her in self-defense and she will rip his head off. Ryan will die too because Werewolf-Chris will kill him. 

So yes, in that one instance of the playthrough you watched, your analysis is correct (though I feel like even then there are still more answers to the problems shown.) 

Sorry if I misunderstood that again and you have already watched even more playthroughs. 

Also sorry for the late response and if I forgot something or misunderstood AGAIN. It is very possible.

From Travis's perspective, Laura is a legal adult (or only a few months shy, seeing as she and Max are applying to colleges and allowed to make a 500+ mile roadtrip unsupervised) who deliberately ignored his attempt to keep her safe (leading to him having to deal with the fallout of putting a bullet in his brother), shot him, and then murdered an innocent child while trying to kill a different member of his family. All to release her boyfriend from a curse he wouldn't have had, if they'd done as Travis told them two months ago.

Not saying that I think he was justified in killing her, just that I can see why he snapped, especially since violence is what he grew up with.

Ehhhhhhhhh I don’t know. That’s definitely his perspective and makes sense in a point A to point B perspective but. He hated his family (even if he did love them), he was intentionally fucking with max and Laura, lying, and kidnapped them. Truth be told there’s not “right” person in this situation, the entire thing is a cluster fuck and complicated on purpose. Still, Laura is justified. knowing your attacker’s sob story doesn’t suddenly magically make it okay. Not that you’re saying that, I just mean that regardless with or without the info what he did was fucked up and it’s crazy that he was rageful at her. He also planned to kill her when she escaped, before the actual showdown and murder when she was just a victim. Travis isn’t a hero even in his best ending. To be honest, Laura isn’t really either. No one “wins” in the quarry. You just gotta do what you can to survive. In a sense, that’s what Travis did too. She was a threat to his family. There’s no excuse for anyone’s actions, the bottom line of the story is honestly, what would you do to survive? What’s your justification for all this dark shit in this ugly world? All the characters have something to live with even if they all live. So, is your family’s life more important, or the life of innocents? That’s why Travis can either kill his entire family or not. He decides based on Laura’s actions if it’s all worth it and with your play you can decide no it’s not, or yes it is. The competing perspectives is what makes the quarry so cool and complicated. It’s truly just a big fuck up all the way around and I love it so much. Still think it’s ridiculous to murder someone over all that though lol. There’s only a hand full of scenarios where you can actively choose to murder someone in the quarry and I don’t think that’s for naught and the severity and horror of cold blooded murder (from humans and from not) is definitely a tool used in the quarry’s narrative. Idk. The quarry’s just cool man.

Also idk if ��legal adult” is really on anyone’s minds outside of the minds of people on tumblr, in the real world you’re either a kid or an adult to a lot of people and the fact Travis calls her a stupid girl I think it’s clear he sees her as a kid and that’s why they develop a kinship because she, like many of the people Travis failed, should be protected from his family. (Travis has a lot of guilt regardless of how the story goes down and that plays into it very much honestly)

And idk. I do feel like this is blaming Laura wayyyy too hard. Just like Jacob laura had no way knowing this was gonna happen. Like Laura points out Travis’ fault is he isn’t forthcoming with information and that puts them all at jeopardy (*sits Laura down to show max’s transformation, Laura: jeez! You could just said…, by this point Laura is a little more aware of what’s going on and does see Travis’ kind potential and that he’s not just doing this out of malice). It’s a crazy situation honestly but he easily could’ve convinced max and Laura “hey this shit is fucked up and you have no idea what you’ve stepped in” and they could a worked together. (At least explain it after a couple weeks. Two months? WTF??) Like, he does, kinda, but he’s so vague even after narratively we the audience know what’s going on that if you were Laura in the situation you wouldn’t just be trusting this fucking guy that kidnapped you ya know? He is dangerous. Laura doesn’t know what he’s gonna do. It makes complete sense how hostile you can play her. But in my head adding all that up, it’s crazy he wanted to kill her because she escaped. Like I know she shot him (lol) but he comes back perfectly fine in chapter 9 so whys he butthurt lmao 😭 I’m sure there’s some stuff missing because of the game’s cuts but still like I said he decides to kill her after escaping and I think he’s a little tender over it considering he kidnapped them and is in some way responsible for max getting bit because he didn’t warn them and even if he had warned them properly he’s still at fault for pussyfooting with his family’s curse which Constance calls him out for.

Ya know why I mean?

Travis is a flawed guy. Period. He’s interesting. It’s why so many people like him. I think it’s fair to be like lmao about him sometimes

Edit: Oh I kinda missed the important part that the context to get Travis to kill you is to simply play Laura resistant and fierce to her attacker and Travis decides this bitch is annoying and hates her THAT bad over it , it’s so petty it’s funny honestly 😭

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Male!Werewolf (Rhys) x Human! Reader (Modern AU) 3

PART 1  -  PART 2

Male monster x human reader

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing Part 3

“There is no way I’m doing that.”

“Ah come now, sugar.” Rhys had been sat on your bed when he had told you the announcement: the prospect of meeting his parents and other brothers had been spoken about since after you had gotten together, but you didn’t think the motion would be so… extravagant.

“You didn’t tell me it was going to be this extra, Rhys.” You sighed, heavily, pinching at your nose as you searched through your wardrobe for anything that could make you look presentable. A cocktail party, something you didn’t think Rhys would ever introduce you to.

“It’s just for one night, babe. And then, when it’s all over, we can go back to yours and have as much pizza and movies you want.” He grinned toothily, his brown eyes winking your way. “How does that sound?”

“You’re terrible, you know that?” You exclaimed over your shoulder playfully. “I don’t even think I have anything appropriate.”

“You can dress down for me if you want.”

“Rhys, this isn’t helping.” You quavered, “I’m meeting your parents! I need to make a good impression.”

“Look, they’ll love you for who you are, no matter what you look like.” Rhys smiled, standing up and coming to hug you from behind, wrapping his muscular arms protectively around your waist.

“You mean it?”

“Of course, sugar. I don’t want you getting overwhelmed by this.” He kissed your cheek tenderly, the warmth coming through his chest radiating through your back. “I appreciate you coming with me though.”

You leant further back into his chest, “You mean it?”

“These events always bored me, and my old man always asked when I would bring back a girl for him and mom to meet, but I never did nor ever want to show up. This is something I want to do now, not just for my dad’s sake.”

You smiled at that, grateful to be able to do this for him. “Then, I hope they like me.”

“They will,” he nuzzled into your cheek, “just like how I do.”

-

“So you’re parents’ names are?”

“Atticus and Eleanor.”

“And you have four brothers - Nicholas, Theo, Marshall and Jackson.”

“Correction: Nick, Marshall then Theo and Jackson.” Smiled Rhys, as he turned the steering wheel to the left, coming off the main road and down towards the secluded and private narrow road. You were staring out the window, shifting your dress to cover your legs as best as you could as you watched the tall trees pass. “You didn’t tell me you owned a private house.”

“It was my grandfather’s, he gave it to all his children to come to for celebrations and whatnot. It’s just used more often by my pops than his other siblings. The Hawthorn manor, something that has been in our family for two centuries.”

“I didn’t know that.” You pondered. His family is big but I didn’t know they were rich. The manor was a piece of grandeur in his family’s name, and it certainly was something of glory: its high walls and stone marble were glossed in onyx, with high foliage that grew over the bricklayers with its bright red double doors on display. “It’s beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you, sugar.” Rhys was dressed to the max in a borrowed dark blue suit and black tie, his hair swept back and gelled back as his hand came to wander and squeeze your thigh. “If we weren’t going to this, well—I don’t think we’d even make it out the house.”

“Just keep an eye on the road, silly.” You playfully said, averting your gaze in which Rhys noticed, his deep chuckle always seemed to calm your nerves. “You’re gonna do amazing, babe. I know it. Just remember, deep breaths.”

You did as told, breathing through the nose and out through your mouth, in and out, until you could say you were slightly calmer. “Oh shit, we’re here.”

The driveway wasn’t really a driveway, but more like a small acre in a field: large enough to hold four grand cars as large as the BMW Rhys drove: all marbled and glossed black and leather-bound seats, you didn’t know what you were walking into.

You stepped out and walked over, arms linked to the door as Rhys gave the knocks to the red entrance, the sound itself seemed to reverberate through the outside of the manor than inside, but it was still all too impressive.

The doors opened suddenly and outpoured the two people Rhys held some tolerance for. His parents were similar in height and dressed accordingly to the occasion: reds and blacks of silk dresses and ties, their dark hair sprinkled with occasional greys throughout, their olive skin still youthful to make them look to be in their early 40s than late 50s.

“Rhys, you look well,” His mother was dressed beautifully in reds with a long-sleeved maxi dress and her lips being the same crimson shade, her hair pulled back into a neat bun. Her eyes landed on you with the unexpectant warmth that radiated like the sun, “you must be the special someone?” Her tone was welcoming, caring.

“That would be me, yes.” You sheepishly announced, before Eleanor took the initiative and embraced you tightly in a welcoming hug. “Welcome, my dear. It is so nice to have a new face around here.”

“You’re the one who’s got our boy’s head doing cartwheels?” Rhys’ father, Atticus was presenting himself with a beaming broad smile, his large hand coming to shake yours tightly and all too enthusiastically. “My future daughter-in-law will be the needed asset to this family.”

“If you would, dad, I don’t think we want to spend the evening in the cold,” Rhys informed with a roll of his honey-brown eyes. Eleanor took you by the arm as she took your coat to hang up. 

“Finally, another girl to keep me company surrounded by these men.” She chuckled to herself, her eyes full of mirth. “You will like Rhys’ brothers, they take after my humour, not that old dog’s.”

“Hey, I’m still here.” Atticus jested with a wink, his crow’s feet creased. “Come, we can begin now that everyone’s here.”

You took a glance back to Rhys, portraying an ‘I’m sorry we were so late because I couldn’t curl my hair properly’ to which he looked back with an, ‘It’s okay, it’s still beautiful nonetheless.’

“Our guests have arrived, boys!” Eleanor announced, the reception room was extravagant with Corinthians that would put their Greeks to shame. There, from their spots turned the four men awaiting the final guests, all ranging in different heights and forms. 

“Boys, come say nice to Rhys’ girlfriend. Be kind.” Eleanor warned, flashing a sympathetic smile as she hurried to collect more glasses for the two of you.

His brothers were all tall compared to Rhys, maybe the second to youngest, Jackson was an inch taller than Rhys, but Nicholas was and foremost the tallest, followed by just two inches, Theo, then Marshall.

“I didn’t know you were bringing a girl round?” Jackson announced first, grinning from ear to ear as he looked at Rhys’ body language and facial expressions, “A pretty one too.”

“Look, you can go find one for yourself to bring here,” Rhys kept his tone oddly calm for this intrusion, gripping at your hand securely, “we’re a thing.”

“So, you marked her?” Marshall looked you up and down with a single glance, his nostrils flaring momentarily. “I see no mark.”

“Nor do I smell her claim.” Jackson sniggered.

“You’re making her uncomfortable, Jack.” Theo came to push aside Jackson, smiling warmly to you in return. “Forgive us, we must look like animals tonight.”

“Hardly ever.” Retorted Rhys with a click of his tongue.

“I’m sorry,” you interrupted, feeling slightly aware that what they were talking about was making you uncomfortable, “what do you mean by claiming.”

“A wolf claims their mate when they find the one,” Nicholas joined in the conversation, leaning over to smile almost considerately. “It’s what wolves do when they care for their partner.”

“I see.” You could feel the tension build with the silent back and forth glares that Rhys was sent to his older brother, the sudden realisation and disappointment in knowing that you hadn’t been marked by Rhys yet… or would you ever be?

“I’m gonna get another drink. This is killing me.” Marshall slipped past, walking straight to the bar as Eleanor came back with two drinks of champagne in her hands. “Our finest, though it does go a bit to Jack’s head.”

“Funny.” Pouted Jackson, “I’m sober enough to see this night through.”

“Like last time was any better.” Nicholas seemed distracted elsewhere, his eyes always drifting in the room. “Summer of last year was an awful one.” Theo sighed dramatically, “For me.”

“We had a great time!”

“You set dad’s car on fire. And I had to clean up your sick.” Theo addressed as Jackson shrugged. “Okay—but we still had fun.”

“Come, Theo, you gotta help me with bringing up more bottles.” Eleanor grinned as she beckoned the kinder of the Pearson brothers away, leaving now just the four of you to idle chatter.

The champagne couldn’t go down your throat any faster.

You didn’t know whether the tension building between Rhys and Nicholas was already ready to burst, but when you had looked to the oldest Pearson brother, you had been surprised to see his hardened gaze on you already. He regarded you with a curt nod, before saying your name clearly.    

“Nicholas.” You acknowledged him coolly. “You already met Nick?” Jackson addressed, eyeing the two of you up with suspicion. You regarded Nicholas with a small glance to find him already staring back at you. “Not on the best of terms, but yes.”

“I wasn’t in my best of moods, but I can say myself, I was acting like a dick,” Nick confessed earnestly. “No hard feelings?”

“None at all.”

“Good, I wouldn’t want to get awkward with you, since seeing you with Rhys makes him happy.”

“I didn’t think the day would come,” Jackson grinned, “he’s like a lovestruck puppy.”

“I’m still fucking here, Jack.” Gnarled lowly Rhys, his voice resorted to sounded two tones deeper than usual, almost imperceptible. “I’m sure your little girlfriend doesn’t want to hear you swear so much, Rhys,” Nick added, smirking thinly.

Rhys snorted through his nose as he gave you a final regretful look before storming off, saying under his breath of needing some more to drink. “My apologies for him, he’s always... struggled with expressing proper emotions.” Nicholas simply added whilst Jackson continued sniggering at the affair.

“Maybe to you, but not me.” You finally added, your brow furrowed, now angry to see how bad it could get being both the youngest and forgotten one of the family. “Yeah, he isn’t perfect, but who is? I like him just how he is, and I know that he cares for me.” You addressed to the both of them: Jackson’s laughter and jeering quietened, whilst Nicholas continued to stare at you as if you were the main hideous attraction to a circus.

“Now, I don’t know about you, but I want to enjoy my evening.” You pressed the champagne glass into your bottom lip, whilst finally, Nick was first to have a broad smile appear on his face as if your words had inspired him the most, his laugh a gentle and deep timbre. “You know, I didn’t think at first I’d like you, but you surely changed my mind.”

“How so?”

“You’re like him a lot, but that warmth and empathy you have is what maybe none of us showed much to Rhys.” He placed his large hand upon your shoulder, the warm startling hot in his palm. “I hope he sees himself how good you are to him.”

You couldn’t respond at first, but Nicholas’ words were merely earnest, as he collected his younger brother and dragged him off by the shoulder. “Come, Jack, let’s go find the others. Have a good evening.” He left with nothing else to say, leaving you more than confused and surprised by his change in his words. “What in the fuck?”

-

You had found him on the second floor on the balcony that you didn’t think would be accessible to them all, but here he was, staring out idly at the view that outstretched for acres.

“Hey, I knew I could find you here.” You smiled as you came to cradle you from his back, his back tensing from your touch as you leant into him, silently thinking to yourself as you took in his lack of words or movement. “Are you okay, Rhys?”

“I’m sorry about them, sugar.” He confessed, his voice hoarse and low, “I wanted to impress you and show them how good we were together, but all they did was mock and leer, mock you as much as my love for you.”

You removed yourself when you heard that certain word, the one word that made your stomach flutter and head spin. “You… you love me?”

“I know it’s shit, and I didn’t want to confess like this either.” He laughed dryly to himself, his eyes downcast. “I wanted to make it official too, you becoming… my mate.”

Mate. The word was innocent enough but it brought you to do somersaults in your mind, and your grip around his waist loosened enough to make Rhys assume you were reacting negatively to him. “You’re scared of me, aren’t you?”

“No, I just—I didn’t think you wanted to do this, not now.” You soothed, relaxing when his head rested against your forehead, his eyes closing in relative peace. “I didn’t want to pressure you into anything, not until you were comfortable with me.”

“Rhys,” you calmed him, “I’m with you until the very end. I… I love you.”

His eyes had opened when you confessed the three words to him, his honey-brown eyes so wide in realisation, yearning only for you. “I love you too, sugar. So much.”

He captured you lips rougher than you had expected, his fingers threading through your tresses, pulling you closer to him, the heat of his body and familiar scent of him was all you wanted and you needed.

“Shall we get out of here, babe?” He had asked with a full beam on his face when he had pulled away from you, the low growl reverberating through his chest like a soft motor.

“You want to ditch your family?” You had laughed, pulling him closer to you as he kissed from your jawline to your neck. “I mean, they won’t be looking for us now, and we can finally get that pizza and chill night in.”

You kisses him again, more passionately and rougher than the first time, pulling back to look him in the eyes as you felt the calmness lull you to competition. “I can’t say no to that then.”

-

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[dastardlydandelion]

what fic ideas are you MOST EXCITED to write (hopefully. maybe. if we're lucky) for Fear Street? what ideas do you want to see, but don't feel up to writing for one reason or another i.e. too much research involved, not the right genre for you, etc.

ahhhh!!! shiit, dude. i'm gonna answer this under the cut bc some of it's nasty, ngl.

i would rly like to write the ruby movie u know we're prolly not gonna get but ngl, that would defo take a shit ton of research. that would take me forever and i am already buried in wip.

obvi i'm only attached to like 10 versions where both berman sisters survive. that's already been written a couple times tho. i'm p busy rn so i haven't read those fics yet, but oof!! they're defo on my list!!!! i'd be p excited to write that if i had a version that was distinct enough...which ig i'll know after i read the existing ones.

ziggy getting killed by ruby. u know me and my gory sensibilities. i also think it'd be a neat angle, since another user on here pointed out, she's p close with ruby's mom.

pre-1978 cindy/alice having a rly mean and brutal argument that evolves into angry + angsty sex.

ziggy/sheila gritted teeth enemies to lovers where they team up against nick, torture him to death, and then have passionate sex on top of his dead body. it's gross, yes, i'm a gorror fan, i am gross sometimes. i'm thinking in this 'verse somehow ziggy figures out it was nick summoning the devil and this time, sheila's ass is actually grateful that ziggy saves her. she body worships ziggy during sex and submits to some srs spanking and erotic sadism to apologize for being a bully. this fic would be total porn. nothin deep, just porn for porn's sake.

super angsty fic where one berman sister has to kill the other. i'm thinkin they both survived nightwing 1978 where tommy is still the killer but later, after being rejected by ziggy, nick purposefully picks cindy's name to hurt her. soo cindy gets possessed and ziggy gotta kill her. maybe resuscitation is successful tho, soo no bummer ending? idk. i have a couple different versions in my brain. i'm not *usually* one for downer endings, but also, grief oriented horror resonate big w me, so.

lighter platonic fic of ziggy + nurse lane bonding. ziggy venting her frustrations of being ignored and snubbed by her older sister and bullied by her peers. mary finding solace in the company of a young girl bc her own is gone and her grieving process is complicated by the circumstances.

day in the life of martin at work. housekeeping and custodian-ing are not identical and his position involves more maintenance work than mine (not that mine has none, esp not at my old place where they p much called me for any maintenance nonsense whenevs the actual maintenance guy was ??? well idfk where he was, i stg that guy was hungover half the time) but it's p similar in certain aspects and i 10/10 guarantee that man has seen some shit. literally. martin hanging out with ziggy after long day at work, maybe they go dance on nick's grave or smth.

yes, i keep returning to the idea of alice being the killer in nightwing and running wild with a chainsaw. i just. see it. and yk me, i love my gory messes. chainsaw camp slasher = big bloody mess.

hmm...not much for deena or sam in my mind rn, so u'd think that means i don't like them but it's honestly just the opposite?? i love them and their story was so perfectly done in the canon proper that i don't feel any need to add onto it or explore it from another angle, or alter it for my own purposes. tbvh i feel fully satisfied with their narrative in canon in such a way it brings me inner peace...but if i think long enough, i'm sure i'll come up with some kinda au for them i'd be interested in.

whew!! what one am i *most* excited for? pervy me rly wants the alice/cindy idea, sensible me would be excited to write the 1978 sequel where cindy's the next killer. in an ideal world where i already knew more abt errday life in the 60s and didn't have a guaranteed 10+ hrs of research before proceeding, i'd be most excited abt writing ruby lane's possession. but at present the sheer amnt of research that would take me when i've already got much other work and the tory + max werewolf fic a perfect but demanding undertaking, like...oof. i can't rn.

[annaadamsauthor713]

What We Do in the Shadows Movie Review

Opening Thoughts

I am so excited to get to return to doing Movie Reviews! I wanted to start off with my most favorite vampire movie of all time; What We Do in the Shadows. This movie is, in my humble opinion, the overall best vampire movie ever made, and I will fill this post with my arguments for this.

Watching Thoughts (Spoiler Alert!)

Such detailed sets and costumes. Lots of love with into this. The first reason this is the overall best vampire movie is because so many different types of vampires are represented, meaning it doesn’t matter what kind of vampires you like, there’s a character in there for every vampire fan. Relate-able. I also have an extreme aversion to dishes. ‘Vampires don’t do Dishes’ is a new motto of mine. Vlad is definitely the most quotable vampire. So many hilarious lines like ‘I was known as Vladislav the Poker.’ I LOVE the opening music in this. Another great thing I love about this movie is the human emotion these vampires seem to explode with. Ah yes, gotta have the sweet vampire x human love story for those romance lovers. Perfectly punctuated with an awkward trumpet. Something that people like to try to hide is the fact that vampires are awkward. By removing all humor, most vampire movies come off as waaaay too hoity-toity. This movie doesn’t take itself so seriously that they can’t make us laugh and enjoy the story they are telling us. They also make fun of the trope that vampirism makes you immediately a hunk or babe. A Trope which I think is a damaging thing. It keeps vampires boring and gate-kept. Where’s my cleft lip vampires? My midget vampires? Vampires with acne scars? Vampires who aren’t the hottest hottie hot who ever hotted hot? What We Do in the Shadows doesn’t have a glass ceiling saying who can and can’ be a part of the hellish legions. I would like a more in-depth look into the media of this universe. If they can find a vampire feeding on a man in the street, what is daily life for humans like there other than needing door-men to keep vampires out of the bar? Why are humans still in town? Does the vampire hunter that comes in later get paid? Is that is day job? And is Anne Rice a vampire in this universe? (Jackie named her daughter Akasha so we have to assume Anne Rice was still famous but was she still human?????) Ah, pedo hunter. That is one of the jobs I would love to have if I was a vampire. Clean up those streets! How does Jackie’s hubby feel about his wife having a master? Viago is a wonderful vampire but I find his method of finding prey to be the creepiest of the flat-mates. He reminds me of the boys who would pretend to like you while they orchestrated how to get you in bed. Every moment had a motive, and no matter what you said about your wants or needs, he’s going to take what he wants. Especially in modern times, vampires are a way to hide our sexuality in fiction, and the manipulative undertones of the romantic vampire did not escape my notice. Peter moves so smoothly through the window all I can imagine is him being pushed on a skateboard to get that silhouette. Which makes me laugh every time. The dinner scene is my favorite. Absolutely hilarious notes on virginity, mispronunciation of spaghetti, a great and blatant theft from the Lost Boys, and some really great special effects. By far the funniest scene in the movie. Not to mention, it runs into the best dance sequence of all time lol. Deacon and I would be best buds. As you may end up noticing in my novels, I am HERE for vampire turning scenes. I love how different it is for every story and even every vampire. Such a personal and extreme experience. I love it. When I was a kid I loved the idea that vampires can fly, but now that I am an adult I can only accept it if vampirism is a magical infection, not a scientific one. Luckily, these vampires can do all kinds of magic tricks so it’s fine and doesn’t bother me. Stew tickles me pink. He’s so confused. What would a modern vampire story be without the dance club? Sad and without dancing, that’s what. What is the point of living forever if you don’t truly enjoy the arts? I like the idea that the arts move vampires differently than people because it is the only way they can truly connect to humans, and their eternal lives allow them to have deeper layers of emotions that are stroked by artistic immersion. We even get a little vampires vs werewolf action for those who like that enemy dynamic (even though vampires and werewolves are rooted in the exact same myths, let them keep imagining this fight. Says a lot about the nature of humans to fight the self.) If a lion can be friends with a gazelle when not starving, so can a vampire be friends with a person, and I am here for it. Go Stew. Deacon and Nick are so similar in the root of who they are. Deacon is jealous of Nick and Nick is jealous of Stew. Deacon is just older and more careful. I would be a terrible vampire. People already grow up too fast around me while I sit in my house in dark rooms lol. My human pets would die left and right while I just kinda lost sense of time. Enter the other reason this movie is so good. Up until now it has been very funny with a few moments of gore and questionable morality. But now we get to see some sadness, which no vampire movie should be without. This movie balances humor with some gut wrenching scenes, like here where Nick can’t eat his favorite food anymore. They take a funny puking scene and make it sad and relate-able. The romance of vampires is stripped in this movie and they are shown for us for what they truly are or can be if we just let them; complex, strange, sat monsters that can hold our secret human feelings. Vampires help us explore humanity, sexuality, and mortality. They are our fears and our desires. They are us. Death is what all vampires truly embody. Our fear of death and the inevitability of it. Our desire to live forever no matter the cost, and the horrid truth that no matter how long you live, the sun will find you one day. The head blur was a good and simple trick to simulate turning a head 180 degrees. Even the vampires reacting to a house visit from the police is relate-able. ‘You will not notice anything out of the ordinary,’ she said under her breath, scooting the bong under the couch with her foot. They are very good at softening very sad scenes with humor, and toning down funny scenes with sadness, another thing many vampire movies struggle to do. I would have loved a little promo pamphlet of Wellington Vampire Laws. I would have read that shit out of that. We all have our Beasts, lol. I love that the ball is held in just some rental hall like a regular ol wedding or something. Not in a cemetery or an old gothic hall. Nope, there’s finger sandwiches and banners. I wish they would have touched on the fact that they treat witches as inhuman? I wanna know more. Again, vampires embody our fear of death, which includes our fear of age. It is inevitable, that as you age, you will outlive your friends, or they will outlive you. No one escapes without losing someone. Vampires allow us to face and figure out that fear a little bit (hopefully) before it happens to us and our loved ones. Loss is universal. No vampire movie could contend for overall best without exploring loss and how it deeply effects our lives. And we can’t feel loss without first feeling love. Loss and love are at the heart of what a vampire needs to touch our hearts. Without it they are just monsters. But a perfect movie wouldn’t end on a sour or somber note, in my opinion, and What We Do in the Shadows delivers a lovely and light-hearted wrap-up to the best vampire movie ever made.  

Closing Thoughts

It doesn’t matter what kind of vampire fan you are, whether you’re an Anne Rice fan, only like pre-1900’s vamps, a fan of the vamp vs wolf stories, or a twi-hard, you have something for you in this movie. If you like romance, or the chase, or drama, or comedy, you have something for you here. If you like theater art or music, this movie has lots of special effects, acting tricks, and amazing music. It explores deep themes while never losing the pace of humor. It has adult jokes but not so many you couldn’t show it to your mom. And the credits aren’t boring, filled with more scenes and great jams. Leave a comment, reblog, or send me an ask and tell me; what do you think is overall the best vampire movie ever made. Do you agree with me or do you have something else in mind?

[kristenbeeapples]

Fic idea: Kristen Applebees trying to be a good big sister after leaving her family

Allison you absolutely READ my MIND. Thank you for giving me an excuse to finally put all my (many, many) thoughts about Kristen and her siblings onto paper. Under a read more because this spun wildly out of my control!

***

“Ready?” Fig asks.

Kristen blows a loose strand of her out of her face, pockets her crystal, and nods. “Ready.”

Fig takes her hand and squeezes it, and then they appear with a burst of fire in her younger brothers’ bedroom. Adaine steps out of nothingness next to them a moment later.

“Kristen!” Cork yells, and leaps off the bed into her arms.

“Hey, buddy,” Kristen says, smiling. He smells like he hasn’t had a bath yet, he’s spilt something sticky down his t-shirt and he’s drooling a little, but she does not care one bit. She squeezes him tightly. A second later there’s another thump as Bricker runs up and hugs her from behind. With difficulty, she extracts an arm from underneath Cork so she can hug him too.

They start chattering excitedly, I missed you and Guess what I did at school today and Mom and Dad said – but Kristen interrupts, putting her finger to her lips. “We have to be quiet, okay? We don’t want Mom and Dad to hear.”

They both nod, their faces determined. It’s very, very cute.

Helio – no, not Helio, Yes – she’s missed them.

“Alright, Cork, you go with Adaine, Bricker go with Fig,” Kristen says, lifting Cork down off her hip next to Adaine. “I’m going to go get Bucky.”

“Okay,” Bricker says, and darts over to Fig.

“Hey, kid,” Fig says. “Let’s do this!”

“Yeah!” he says.

Fig holds her hand up, and Bricker jumps to give her a high-five. They both vanish.

Cork has suddenly gone shy, and hides behind Kristen’s legs. He’s met Adaine before – all her brothers have met the Bad Kids, after a weekend towing them along on investigations when she was meant to be babysitting – but it’s been a while, and it dawns on her that the last time was probably the night of prom when the house was attacked. She crouches down and gives him another hug.

“It’s okay,” she says. “Adaine’s cool. She won’t hurt you, promise.”

Adaine, who’s been hovering to the side a little awkwardly, kneels down beside them too. “Here,” she says, and hands over Boggy to Cork. “This is Boggy the Froggy. He helps me when I’m scared. Can you look after him for me?”

Cork takes Boggy, his eyes wide. “Coooooool,” he breathes.

Kristen presses a kiss onto the top of his head. “Go with Adaine and Boggy, I’ll be there in a minute, okay?”

Cork nods, focused on Boggy’s big eyes, and takes Adaine’s hand. Kristen mouths a thank you to Adaine as she misty-steps away, and then stands and sneaks out into the hallway.

Bucky’s room lies at the end of the hallway beyond the stairs, and as she creeps past, she can hear her parent’s voices from the floor below. Kristen freezes, heart rate picking up. She thought she would be okay coming here, but now all she can think about is angry voices, axes thrust in her face, get that out of our house -

A door creaks open, and Bucky pokes his head out. “Kristen?” he whispers.

Kristen steadies her breathing, using one of the tricks Adaine taught her. “Hey,” she whispers back. “Ready to go?”

He nods, shutting the door quietly, and gives her a hug. He’s so tall now, she thinks, but doesn’t say it out loud because she knows it will annoy him. Instead she takes out the Sword of Shadows, on loan from Riz, and misty-steps outside after the others.

Cork and Bricker are happily playing with Boggy on the street, but both stop and rush back over to her when she appears, so that all her brothers are gathered in her arms for the first time in months. The Applebees siblings, she thinks, and grins over the top of their heads at Adaine and Fig.

“Alright,” she says, as they break apart. “Who wants ice-cream?”

***

It’s early evening on a Saturday, so Basrar’s is fairly busy, but since he owes Adaine a favour they manage to get them two booths next to each other. She and Fig take one, and Kristen sits with her brothers in the other. She buys them as much ice-cream as she can with the last of the money she’s been saving from her old allowance, and tells them all about how the Bad Kids slayed a dragon and saved the day (the PG version, of course, and she neglects to tell them she died again.) They listen in awe as she tells the story, oooh-ing and aah-ing in the appropriate places, and then ask her lots of questions about what it was like being inside a dragon, delighting in the grossness she describes.

In return, she asks them about their lives, school and church and home, all the mundanity she’s missed, and listens contentedly as they all start talking at once. Possibly, this much sugar was a mistake, but Kristen doesn’t care. They’re here, they’re together, and that’s what matters.

As Bucky regales a story about his class trip to Bastion City, Kristen begins anxiously checking her crystal. She ignores the frantic calls from her parents (she’s sent them a text, it’s fine), and scrolls through her messages with Tracker. She said she’d be here at half seven, and it’s nearly eight – where is she? Did she bail? Does she not want to be Kristen’s girlfriend anymore?

Just as she’s about to ask her brothers to wait a sec and call her, Tracker appears at their booth. “Hi,” she says, with a nervous smile.

“Hey!” Kristen shuffles over awkwardly – Cork decided halfway through his ice cream that he wanted to sit on her lap and hasn’t moved since – so she can sit down. “Guys, this is my… friend, Tracker. Tracker, this is Bucky, Bricker and Cork.” She looks at each of her brothers, pointedly. “Say hi, and be nice, okay?”

“Hi!” they all say in unison. 

There’s a pause for a moment, all of them a bit unsure in front of a new person. Tracker, too, doesn’t seem to know what to do; when Kristen asked her to come, she admitted she hadn’t been around a lot of kids.

“Tracker’s a werewolf,” Kristen blurts out to break the silence before she can stop herself.

Tracker raises her eyebrows, and Kristen mouths sorry, but the boys all light up at once.

“How loudly can you howl?” Bricker asks.

“Can you transform right now?” Bucky says, excited.

“Do you bite people?” Cork asks, worriedly.

Tracker laughs at that last one. “Okay so – pretty loud, I could but I won’t because I don’t want to scare anybody, and no, I don’t bite, I promise.”

Cork sighs, relieved, and leans back into Kristen, whilst Bucky and Bricker look like they’re gearing up to ask more questions.

“Guys, don’t be rude,” Kristen says, vainly.

Tracker smiles at them in a way that makes Kristen melt. “No, it’s okay. Come on, what do you want to know?”

Her brothers spend the next ten minutes grilling Tracker about lycanthropy before Tracker starts telling them funny stories about her and Jawbone. Kristen can’t keep a dopey grin off her face as she watches all her brothers fall as in love with Tracker as she’s found herself falling in the past couple of weeks, and she thinks: this is what family should feel like.

When there’s a lull in the conversation, Tracker says, “I’ll be back in a bit, I’m going to go say hi to Adaine and Fig.” She stands, giving Kristen a thumbs up like they’d rehearsed, and goes to sit with the others in the booth behind them.

“So, do you guys like Tracker?” she asks, pulling Cork closer to disguise the shaking of her hands.

There’s a chorus of enthusiastic yeahs. “She’s awesome,” Bricker says fervently.

“She is.” Kristen takes a deep breath. “How would you feel,” she says, “If I told you Tracker is my girlfriend?”

Cork doesn’t seem to be listening, licking the remainder of his ice cream from his bowl, but the older two both look solemn as they process the information.

“Like, how cousin Nick has a girlfriend?” Bricker says.

Kristen nods. “Yeah, just like that.”

“But you’re a girl,” Bucky says, slowly. “And so is Tracker.”

“Yeah, we’re both girls.” Kristen says. 

“Does that mean you’re gay?” Bricker asks.

Saying it still feels a little like a confession, an admission of guilt, but she’s trying not to think of it like that. She’s trying to be proud.

She lifts her chin up, looks them directly in the eyes, and says, “Yeah, I am.”

Bucky narrows his eyes. “Mom and Dad and Pastor Amelia say that’s bad.”

Kristen’s heart sinks, though she keeps her expression neutral. She had known this was coming, had practised with Tracker to prepare, but it still aches.  “Yeah, they do,” she says. “A lot of people think that. But a lot of people, like me, and Tracker, and my friends, think it’s actually a good thing. What do you think?”

Both of them consider this. “Well,” Bucky says, eventually. “Tracker’s cool. And you’re, like, fine. So I guess it’s okay.”

“Rude,” Kristen says, but she’s smiling. They don’t hate her. They don’t hate her. There’s still hope for the Applebees. “But, thank you. And you know, if you guys have any questions about this stuff, about me being gay, or religion, or literally anything at all, you can always, always, come and ask me, okay?”

Bucky and Bricker both nod. Cork, who’s wriggled off her lap to play with the sugar packets on the counter, looks up and says, “Does that mean you guys kiss and stuff?”

Kristen grins mischievously. “We do. A lot.”

“Ewww!”

“Gross!”

“Bleugh.”

***

On the way home, Fig and Tracker race ahead with Cork and Bricker on their backs, Adaine misty-stepping ahead of them to judge the winner. It’s a warm summer evening, the setting sun bathing the neighbourhood in honey-coloured light, and a cool breeze carries her friends’ and brothers’ laughter down the street towards her. Kristen walks slowly with Bucky, swinging his hand up and down like she used to when they were younger, and thinks about how lucky she is. Her family is not broken: she is building it up again, better and stronger this time. Things are going to be okay.

As they round the corner onto the Applebees’ road, Bucky says, “You’re not coming home this time, are you?”

Kristen looks down at him, surprised. He’s a smart kid, but she forgets, sometimes. In her head he’s still just her little brother, running around causing chaos and annoying her when she’s supposed to be praying. “No,” she says. “I don’t think so.”

He nods. “I thought so. Mom and Dad wouldn’t say, but I could tell.”

“How are –” She bites her lip. “Are things okay, at home?”

Bucky shrugs. “They were better when you were here.”

“I know,” Kristen says, pushing down the guilt that overwhelms her. “I’m sorry, Buck. If I could stay, I would, but Mom and Dad are… they don’t want me around, anymore.”

“Because you have a girlfriend?” Bucky says.

“A bit because of that. A bit because of some other stuff.” Kristen says. “But even though I’m not at home anymore, I’m still your big sister, okay? If Mom and Dad ever say or do anything that upsets you or Bricker or Cork, you call me on your crystal, and no matter where I am I promise I’ll come get you.”

“Okay,” Bucky says, and squeezes her hand. She squeezes it back, and they carry on walking.

Outside the Applebees’ house, Kristen gathers her brothers to say goodbye, taking a sleepy Cork from Tracker’s arms.

“Did you guys have fun?” Kristen says, as they walk up the driveway.

Bricker nods energetically, still hopped up on sugar. “Yeah! Can we do this again?”

“Absolutely,” Kristen says, smiling. “Just don’t tell Mom and Dad where we went, okay? It’ll be our secret.”

“Okay,” Bucky says, “We pinky-promise.”

The four of them put their little fingers together, and Kristen laughs. “I love you,” she says, hugging them one by one. “I’ll see you soon.”

There’s a chorus of goodbyes as Kristen lets them go and bolts back down the driveway before her parents answer the door.

“Don’t go!” she hears Cork say from behind her as the door opens, and though her heart breaks she doesn’t look back.

She runs back to the others. “We gotta go,” she says, panicked, her parent’s yells echoing behind her.

Fig nods, grabs Kristen and dashes away on her skateboard, Adaine and Tracker chasing after them. She manages to keep the tears from falling for a bit, but by the time they’re safely back at Strongtower Luxury Apartments, she’s fully sobbing down Fig’s back. Tracker pulls her off the skateboard into a tight-armed hug, and Fig and Adaine pile on too, until they’re all in a wet, sweaty pile of limbs. She cries and cries and cries, feeling joyful and sad and terribly old all at once.

“Kristen,” Fig says, breaking away as she starts to catch her breath. “I gotta say, your little brothers are awesome. I’m gonna to teach Bricker to play bass the next time we do this.”

“You’d do this again?” Kristen says, blowing her nose on a tissue Adaine silently produces from her jacket.

“Yeah, of course, dude!” Fig slings an arm around Kristen’s shoulders. “I don’t have siblings, this is my one chance to spread anarchy to the next generation.”

Kristen laughs, wiping away her tears. “Oh, god.”

Adaine hands her another tissue. “As someone with an absolutely terrible big sister,” she says quietly, “I think you’re doing great. They love you so much.”

“Fuck, Adaine,” Kristen whines, sniffling. “I just stopped crying.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to – ” Adaine starts, hands flapping anxiously.

“No, I didn’t mean it, you don’t have to apologise,” Kristen says, taking her hand and squeezing it. “Thank you. Really.”

Adaine and Fig hug her again, and then head upstairs with a knowing glance, leaving Kristen alone with her girlfriend. The word still feels new and lovely, and she gets a little burst of happiness every time she says it. My girlfriend. My girlfriend.

Tracker loops her arms around Kristen and pulls her in close. “I really like your family,” she says softly.

Kristen gives her a watery smile. “I think they really like you, too.”

Tracker kisses her, and the sadness doesn’t go away, but it feels a little lighter. “You’ll see them again soon,” she says.

“Yeah,” Kristen says, and it’s a vow. “I will.”

[malereader-inserts]

Twist of Fate

Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Remus Lupin & Son!Reader Summary: Remus hates himself a lot, at least you have enough love for the both of you. Word Count: 2,217 Request: “not to be that person but please can you write some more angsty Remus x son!reader fics because I love that man so much and your writing is just. yes. like imagine how he'd react to finding out his son is being bullied, or how he'd react to his son almost dying, or maybe his son running away because of life is too much. the amount of ideas I have is insane sorry hhh, have a nice day though !! excuse my awkward ass rant !! - an awkward fanboy” A/n: Bold is the request I picked, might do the others idk yet, keep them coming bby I love Remus content. anyway, so I dial the ANGST to like off the scale. Research has been done here: 

Bite = Werewolf, Scratches = Scars that never heal nor fade but still human.

There was a funny feeling in your stomach.

It was brewing ever since Harry and Hermione dragged you in to follow your other best friend into the Whomping Willow. You tried to push it to the side as you and Hermione walk out the Whomping Willow behind your dad and what you all thought was Scabbers.

“Sorry about the words I said about your dad,” Hermione whispers to you as you wave her off, “I can understand why you’re very protective over him.”

“He’s all I have left, Hermione,” You say, you could tell the way your dad was angled when he was walking, he was listening in to the conversation no matter how much Hermione talks in hush tones, “Naturally, anyone would be protective.”

“Perhaps, but you are protective of your dad and admire him at the same time, most of the time children can’t be both.”

“To you,” You responded, coming out of the Whomping Willow and inhaling the fresh air, “I didn’t realise how stuffy that place was.”

“I can’t believe Harry attacked a teacher,”

“Hermione, you set Snape’s cloak on fire in our first year,” You reminded her as you and she stood around Ron, who was whimpering on the floor.

“And you accidentally misfired your spell last year in duelling club and hit Snape,” Hermione retaliated.

“No wonder Snape hates us so much,” Ron calls out from the floor, as you ruffled his hair.

You glanced over to your dad, who was snarling at his old friend. You look over to Harry and Sirius, who was looking at the dimly lit castle of the school. You looked at Hermione who was trying to calm Ron, who was busy freaking out that he was keeping a man as a pet.

“Ron, don’t make me hit you!” Hermione threatened as you snorted, “You didn’t know!”

“Yes, yes, you’re right...” Ron nods as You lifted him up from the ground to let him rest on the rock, “(Y/n)?”

“Yes, Ron?” You asked as you watched him in amused as he was still silently freaking out, “What’s the matter?”

“Harry-!” Hermione shouted behind you.

You let go of Ron’s arm to turn around to see what she was shouting about. Her arm stretched out and her finger pointing at the sky. One by one, all of you looked to the night sky to see the clouds parting and a full moon emerging.

Your eyes widen when you could hear your dad breathing turned into a wolf life pant.

“Dad!” You shouted as Sirius lunges forward to grip your dad.

Harry runs to you, Hermione picking up Ron and tugging you to huddle with them. You never really saw your dad shift into a werewolf hen you live with him, in fact, the doors of the cottage you lived with had three locks to make sure if his werewolf figure comes back to the house, he would struggle to hatch off three locks.

Not to mention, all three locks were placed with magical enchantments so therefore when you were just a small boy, you wouldn’t end up like how he became. You always hated seeing your dad ill after the full moon, learning to cook for you and your dad at such a young age and also tend to wounds. 

Remus was embarrassed at times because it should be him looking after you and yet here you were, a small young boy, looking after his only family left. But, now you were older, bigger, stronger and nevertheless smarter. 

“Remus, old friend... did you take your potion tonight?” Sirius asked, desperation withing his tone. Your dad, twitching, shakes his head.  “Run. All of you. Now!”   

But none of them does, transfixed, watching as bristles poke through Remus’ skin. You watched in horror as you could see that your dad was in immense pain. You weren’t scared, you were concern about your dad.

Black steps forward and wraps his arms around his friend, presses his mouth to his ear, “You know the man you truly are, Remus. This flesh is only flesh.” pounding Lupin's chest in desperation, crying for his best friend, “This heart is where you truly live, this heart! Here!”

Your dad drops his wand as Peter leaps to grab it only for Harry to aim his wand at Pettigrew.

“No!” Harry exclaimed as you snapped your head towards the rat foe, “Expelliarmus!”

Your dad’s wand flies from Pettigrew’s hand. Peter freezes before smirking at the group of you, your eyes widening, ripping from Hermione’s grip to leap onto the betrayer only to fall flat away from your friends as Peter turns into a rat.

You shuffled through the grass to grab your dad’s wand, as you looked up to see his bones growing larger, you gasped as you slowly stood up, you were a few meters away from your friends, but a big enough gap to know that it would be impossible to reach your friends.

A howl pierces the air and with a shrug, the werewolf was your dad once stood tosses Sirius into the air and stares at you. Green familiar eyes looking at you, almost sensing familiarity within your face.

“Dad?” You called out.

“(Y/n)!” Ron whispers loudly to you, trying to not attract any attention of the beast that was slowly itching itself towards you.

“Dad, please, it’s me - your son.”

With a howl, you jumped back only for the werewolf to slash the right of your collar down to your lowest rib and nicking your knee, to stop you from running away.

“(Y/n)!” Harry calls out, frantically, calling for his best friend.

You crash down to the floor, not having enough strength to pick yourself back up. You lie on your back, writhing in the pain of the claws that strike upon you and was above the werewolf’s head as it strikes again, from left to right of your torso. Barring its teeth to you as it was ready to chomp on you.

“Professor!” Hermione calls out.

“Hermione!” Ron whimpers pathetically, “What are you doing?”

“Saving our best friend,” Hermione hisses as the werewolf turns its head towards the noise and stepping away from you, “Professor?”

The werewolf leaves you, bleeding and gasping for air, struggling to stay awake. The werewolf starts to creep up to trio as Snape emerges from the Whomping Willow.

“There you are!”

The werewolf growls, Snape spinning on his heels to shield your friends, as the werewolf was about to strike down another scratch. Sirius emerge in his black dog form. The two fights, drawing it away from were you were suffocating as Harry breaks free from Snape.

Hermione, despite wanting to go after Harry, rushes to your side. Slowly blinking as you choke on the blood in your mouth. You were going dizzy as Snape came into the field of your blurry vision.

“(Y/n)?”

Hermione calls out, it sounded distanced away, you tried to grab her hand with one hand as the other hand clutches your father’s wand, as you lose your consciousness.

Harry looks over your sleeping form.

He and Hermione had returned from their time travelling experience as Ron was trying to find a position to be comfortable. You were unevenly breathing, wheezing would escape your lips.

You were wrapped up and bandaged up, most of the top half of your body, were wrapped with bandages now stained with blood. Wrapped perfectly, from your shoulder to around your torso. Your knee that as nicked slightly was also bandaged up.

“We better get some sleep, Harry,” Hermione says, ensuring that Ron was in fact asleep.

Harry looks down at you, you were having difficulty sleeping and he heard from Ron and Hermione about the chaos that Madam Pomfrey was displaying as she was desperately doing anything to keep you alive.

“He’ll be alright, yes?” Harry asked.

“Madam Pomfrey would not allow any student to die, not when it is preventable. (Y/n) is in good hands, he’ll be okay.”

“But, these are werewolf scratches, Hermione, they can’t be healed. They are forever on him.” Harry says softly, noticing how you were clutching your dad’s wand - Hermione says that even unconscious you wouldn’t let go of the wand.

“Yes, his recovery will be different, long and slow,” Hermione nods, placing a hand on her best friend, “(Y/n) will heal, even if they don’t seal or fade, he’ll recover.”

Harry nods, standing up, making his way toward to door with Hermione to get to bed. When the next day had arrived, you were the first to be awake, on the bright morning of 5 am.

Pomfrey tended to you as best as she could, as she was limited with your case. You were still wheezing, there was a pain when you breath and sharp daggers piercing you as you move.

“Can I see dad today?” You asked, hopeful, knowing full well that rumours had started and rumours would have reached him.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Poppy says, dabbing your sweat away and helping you sit up so you can consume as much food you can take, “Rumours have started, deary, some involving you.”

“They’re not rumours if they’re true.”

“Yes, I know,” Poppy nods, “But, news spread quickly about you and your father.”

“I just want to see him, I promise I will be back, just an hour.”

Poppy looks at you, you were fiddling with your dad’s wand. Bringing up a bucket when you start coughing blood incase you start throwing up blood, you were truly struggling to breathe but you were very determined to see your dad.

“Okay, when it strikes eight, I want you to eat as much as you can and drink what I tell you. You won’t be going to any lessons unless I dismiss you,” Pomfrey says as you softly smile and nod.

Hours went past, you slowly regaining your strength as you slowly ate food. When it strikes eight in the morning, Pomfrey carefully places a rather oversize red sweater and hands you a walking stick for your knee.

“I can help you if need be,”

“It’s okay, it’s only down the hallway and some stairs,” You say, clutching your dad’s wand in hand as you bite through the sharp pain.

Poppy nods, allowing you to leave for a bit, you took your time to get to the DADA classroom, noticing it was empty as you slowly make your way up the stairs and to the office, where you can see your dad standing, his back faced towards the entrance of the door you stood.

“Looking for this?” You asked softly, watching him turn around to spot you holding his wand, “Peter almost stole it.”

Remus nodded, watching you slowly approach his desk and hand his wand. Remus stares at you, placing his wand on the desk as he manoeuvres around the desk to stand next to you. You looked at him with questioning eyes as he placed his hands on your cheek.

“Rumours are true,” He says softly, “I did attack you.”

“Dad-”

“No,” Remus recoils his hands away from you as he could see the bloody bandages peaking through the oversize red sweater, “I attacked you. I heard the rumours and-”

“Snape is quick with his silver tongue, dad,” You say but Remus was ignoring you.

“You almost died, what if you did die? I would have killed you,” Remus stressed out, stepping away from you, shutting his eyes as he runs his hand through his hair, “I would’ve killed you, my son, I’m a monster.”

With that, you let go of the walking stick and lunged into your dad with a hug. Ignoring the pain as you gripped your dad tightly, shutting your eyes tight like a child afraid of what was under his bed. Remus looks down at you surprised, slowly realising what has happened he lowers his arms down to embrace you. 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” You mumbled but with his heighten hearing he could hear you, sobbing, “You’re not a monster, you’re my dad.”

“Okay, okay,” Remus kissing your hair, burying his face withing your tangle mess, “I’m sorry for saying that.”

He could hear your quiet tears, they were soft but weren’t as intense, soon you were coughing. This caused you to pull back to cover your mouth. Remus rubs your back as he lets you lean on his desk, him leaning on the desk next to you. 

“Think you deserve this,” Remus says pulling out chocolate from his jacket.

“It’ll make you feel better,” You both say in unison, a grin forming on your lips as you take the bar.

Remus chuckles as you, putting a hand on your shoulder to rub it, then pulling you to his side. 

“The moral of the story is that you can’t get rid of me so easily,” You jokes, mouth stuffed with chocolate as Remus barked out a laughter.

“Plan foiled again!” Remus joked back.

“Love you, Dad,” You mumbled into the bar of dairy goodness, “Whether you want it or not, that’s not for you to decide.”

“Trust me, my boy,” Remus kisses your temple, “I’d take all your love to see you live another day.”

“Don’t worry then, I have a lot of love for you.”

[dingoat]

HEY. I wanna know more about this alternative universe plot! Can you summarize what it is, what's going on it, and specifically who these ~tortured love birds~ are?? Only if that's fun for you. I'm curious!!

HEY MY DAWG

So the whole thing is really the brainchild of @askshivanulegacy who as far as I can tell has a PhD in Angst Narratives majoring in Sci Fi and Magic, and had concocted an alternate Star Wars universe where the Empire’s Ministry of Intelligence (aka the bad guy spy club) developed a procedure that effectively turns their top agents into werebeasts, all the better to serve the Empire and go about their evil spying business. In this universe, their main OC - one Cipher Agent Omega Blakk - is thus a werefox, specialising in stealth operations, loyal to his cause to a painful degree.

NOW, we’d chatted OOC back and forth for a while because hey, I guess at some point it became obvious that I like werewolves and star wars too (who knew, weird right?), and through a bit of silly back-and-forth we let our main characters get to know one another in the ‘canon’ universe. Eventually I sent a single fateful writing prompt one fine October day, from which a little drabble was born. And we loved it, and decided to keep going with it, and it… kept going, and going, and backstory kept getting filled in and possible futures kept getting screamed about, and now we’re in so deep and loving every minute of it hahaha.

So that’s where it came from OOC! Narrative wise, holy heck, I could go on forever, but I’ll try to be brief for everyone’s sake. Actually I’m gonna stick the rest behind a READ MORE because I get the feeling my attempt at brief isn’t going to be very brief at all!

So Blakk is a loyal Imperial werefox spy, and my girl Ahuska is a werewolf. SHE was afflicted with her condition some time earlier, being stolen away as part of a secret Imperial military project that basically turned civilians into sleeper soldiers/Jedi killers. They have their memory messed with so that they don’t remember a thing about their time as animals, and the full moon is their trigger. So every now and again she’d be ‘placed somewhere by work’, not realising that at night she’d go off on a murderous rampage after being strategically positioned to take down a target, and then return to life as usual none the wiser. But the project messed up baaad and was shut down, with all subjects terminated; except Ahuska, who was rescued by ex-Agent Nines (one of @humanrevolt‘s characters, written by me in this au with blessings!) in the nick of time. She lived and traveled with Nines, who revealed her condition to her but not all the details; Ahuska felt obligated to stay with her, with the promise that Nines would help resolve her memory issues and let her gain control, meanwhile Nines had the security of a monster wolf who could help her with her own agenda. (At one point Ahuska met one of Nines’ old comrades and started crushing hard, oh no.)

Fast forward to the drabble written above that started this whole mess; one night, transformed, the werewolf meets the werefox. Blakk has had a malfunction with his cybernetic implant that controls his shapeshifts and winds up stuck as a fox with an injured leg; Ahuska protects him as a wolf and then wakes the next morning as a Bothan. He knows exactly what she is, she thinks she has a cute wounded fox to tend to. Things are adorable and awkward and innocent, then bit by bit things are revealed and shared and miscommunicated. Blakk accidentally leads Imperial soldiers to Ahuska and her crew; there’s a showdown after which he’s re-captured, now known to them as an Imperial Agent, and she feels horribly betrayed and confused. Nines tries to torture him for information and at first Ahuska is ordered to help but then her werewolf half takes over (knowing instinctively that what they’re doing is wrong), and she turns on her crew. She’s eventually subdued (gassed!), Nines tortures Blakk further (with Ahuska shut away this time) and he manages to antagonise her enough that she slips up, he makes a run for it, and takes Ahuska hostage into an escape pod to make his getaway.

THEN THERE’S A LOT MORE ANGST and mistrust and hating one another while they stumble through a swamp with one set of clothes between them. But every time one storms off, the other eventually comes to find them, and bit by bit they work through their differences and misgivings and realise neither ever actually wanted to hurt the other. Shaky trust starts to build again, but Blakk’s injured arm (between being caught in a trap, having shapeshifting malfunctions, and being flat out tortured) develops a hideous infection and he becomes deathly ill. Still miles from any settlement, Ahuska finds herself hopelessly worried and desperate to help him and without having a clue what she’s doing, manages to connect to him and heal him through the Force, and without realising it they develop a Force-bond. By the time they make their way out of the swamp, they trust one another, and matter to one another, and their eventual parting to resume their totally incompatible lives is heartbreaking.

When Nines wants to continue her persuit of the fox-Agent who is clearly her new nemesis, but Ahuska tries to stop her and insist that he won’t hurt them, Nines is livid and kinda loses it, thinking she’s being controlled somehow. Ahuska realises she can’t stay with Nines any more if she wants to maintain any sort of personal freedom, and makes her escape.

Blakk, meanwhile, has been reassigned to a new handler, (as his previous Watcher had been killed in the original altercation courtesy of the Dice Gods). I had the dubious honour of creating the New Watcher who rapidly evolved from a generic Imperial Bad Guy into a truly terrible, absolutely nasty piece of work, a manipulative control freak with depraved appetites and horribly unconventional training methods.

At this point, Ahuska and Blakk can only see one another when they dream, through their Force Bond, and those sequences are beautiful and magical and full of love (which they’ve finally admitted to one another) and hope (mostly, maybe some nightmares and seeping in of waking-world problems), where they’re exploring their feelings and one another and even what it means to trust and know their animal selves. Problem is, while Ahuska, very in tune with the Force (if unknowing), can remember everything that happens in their dreams, using them as fuel to push on through a world that is suddenly otherwise huge and lonely and dangerous, Blakk’s Force connection is broken and stunted and he doesn’t remember a thing once he wakes. He’s developing a relationship that he spends more than half his life unaware of, and in his waking life he’s being slowly but surely molded into Watcher Five’s perfect, obedient, unquestioningly loyal little fox-Agent-pet.

SO AS YOU CAN IMAGINE there is an AWFUL LOT of terrible times and amazing times in store, and honestly all that up there doesn’t even come close to touching on everything that’s been going on and fleshing out the world around them. I did my best to just whittle it down to enough basics to given an idea of just what exactly our poor characters have been through, and I hope it’s not too rambling ahaha. I’m sure it’s more than you needed to know but I will ALWAYS WELCOME MORE QUESTIONS as I’m sure will @askshivanulegacy (yo feel free to elaborate on any points here, I mean I haven’t even given Thirteen a look in 8) ) so ahhhhh yes. Ahh. I’m also NOT GONNA PROOF READ THIS so sorry if it’s awkward as hell to read I’M TIRED XD XD

It is specatcular fun and I’m so glad we decided to just run with it!

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

A bit of Bullshit Defense AU today! But also if you have not read all 14 available chapters of @runningwolf62‘s fic Dirty Paws yet, go do that and I will be here when you return, because this fic heavily, heavily leans on the Wolf and Roddy Cinematic Universe.

----

Nick and Edgey are still talking about the homework but Larry is bored of it and he’s done as much as he’s gonna do by now. He wanders off into the kitchen to see what snacks the Edgeworths have and he is still there when he hears the front door open and close and Franzy comes in the kitchen. She gently sets her bag down on one of the kitchen chairs, shooting a look of disgust down at Larry’s bag which has spilled contents all over the floor. Hey, he was going to clean that up! Before Mr Edgeworth gets home, at least!

“Hey Franzy,” he says, and her head snaps up like she didn’t realize he was there, and an expression of fury contorts her entire face and she snatches up something out of her bag and storms across the kitchen to begin smacking Larry in the shoulder with it. “Ow! Hey! Hey!”

Even with the commotion neither of the other two come out to rescue him which Larry thinks is real cruel of them. “Larry Butz!” Franzy shouts. “Where is the next book! Where is it!” In between her assaults, he manages to wrench her weapon from her hands and sees it’s the third Warrior Cats book that he lent her yesterday. “You can’t leave me hanging like this!”

“Wh - you finished it already? I gave it to you yesterday!”

“Where is the next book, Larry Butz!”

“It’s at home! I don’t have it!”

“Graystripe left!” she shrieks. “ThunderClan doesn’t trust him! But RiverClan probably won’t either when he goes! I need to know what happens next!”

“I’ll bring it over tomorrow!” He’s getting beaten to heck by his best friend’s baby sister because of these cat books. What a day.

“I want to read it now! I want to know what happens with Graystripe’s loyalties!”

“I don’t have it now!” Seriously, neither Edgey or Nick is coming to make sure neither of them are bleeding? Rude. “But I do have something else you can read if you want more Warrior Cats!” She stares doubtfully at him, and at the book he’s lifted way over his head so that she can’t get it back and start smacking him with it again. “It’s not got Graystripe but I think you might still be interested.”

He stuffs his book back in his back and grabs one of his notebooks off the floor. “Your school notes, Larry Butz?” Franzy huffs. “I don’t want those.”

“It’s not my notes.” Wow, she thinks he takes notes and doesn’t just sneak peaks at Edgey’s and Nick’s? “It’s a story I’m writing. It’s about other Warrior Cats, ones I’ve made up myself, but they’ve still got Clans and a Warrior Code and stuff.”

She accepts the notebook, still looking wary but a little excited. “And cats with divided loyalties?”

“You really like the ‘forbidden lovers’ thing, huh?”

“It’s not about the romance!” she protests. “I like the - the…” Whatever it is, if she’s not just trying to cover up for the fact that she does like the romance, she doesn’t figure out how to put to words, and she just lets out a short frustrated yell and opens the front cover of the notebook. “Is this story finished? Or are you going to leave me hanging again.”

“It’s not done, no--”

She smacks him with his notebook and then storms off, but she’s already engrossed in the first page and nearly hits the wall as she leaves.

-

“--and then the rumor from the preview of the book is that Bramblestar has rabies.”

“Rabies?” Franzy repeats with a laugh. “You know,” she adds a moment later, thoughtfully, “that seems like a plot that they could have used sooner. Has anyone actually had rabies before?”

“I don’t believe so? Maybe because it’s supposedly supposed to be set in England.” But he’s never even nominally given a location to his fic, so, yeah, that would be a good plot. Maybe he should use that. Although most of his readers would know that’s a plot he’s stealing from fan theories. “I haven’t really read any of the recent books though. This is all what I’m hearing from--”

“--this internet friend of yours, yes,” Franzy interrupts. “The wolfman who likes cats.”

“Yeah.” The one and only. 

Franzy rests her chin on her hand. “So you still haven’t told Misty why you draw cats all the time.”

“It’s not exactly been a priority these past couple weeks, no.”

“I meant any time before that, you still did not tell Elise.” 

“What, that I initially found her book and then reached out to her because I stumbled across it in the children’s section of the bookstore when I was there picking up a book about talking cats because my wolfman internet friend told me that they’d actually put out a decent book for once?”

“Well, when you put it that way it sounds ridiculous.”

-

Franziska picks at the edge of her nail, listening as Agent Lang finishes his conversation with one of his agents. He stares at his phone a moment longer when he brings it down from his ear. Franziska glances over at the screen. 

“I did not expect you would like cats.” It’s not even a picture of a cat, like he has a cat at home. It’s some cute art of a cat. Like something Larry would draw.

“Didn’t expect you to like small talk, Ms Prosecutor.”

Franziska leans against the wall. “I do not. But if we are stuck together by this smuggling ring investigation then we may as well know who we are working with.”

“I know who I’m working with,” Lang snarls. “Prosecutor von Karma. I know all about your father.”

“Yes, Gregory Edgeworth. He’s a remarkable defense attorney, wouldn’t you agree?” Lang’s face hardens. “Agent Shi-Long Lang, blood and names are not the only things that make a family - or a ‘pack’, if you wish to use your silly analogies.”

“Probably should’ve told that to Mr Ernest Amano before he called you up for help on basis of having been friends with your father.”

“Many people try to call me up on basis of having known Manfred von Karma. I like to help them, arrest and prosecute them if needed, and let them know, unequivocally, that I am not what they think my blood and name would make me be.”

-

“Hey, so uh, Franzy, I’ve got a weird thing to tell you.”

Franziska rubs her eyes, yawns, takes a moment to adjust to the fact that it is mid-afternoon and she just woke up and Larry was passed out on her couch because he’d stuck around the embassy waiting for her to be able to give him a ride and also said that he figured that Miles and Gregory wouldn’t forgive him if he just fucked off and abandoned her in the middle of that messy aftermath, but he’d also been asleep in a corner when she found him so she’s not sure how much that was a motivator. Not enough to keep him awake. “Weirder than the fact that you became a stage-show actor?”

“Hey, my savings were getting low, and while Misty’s still recovering I figured I should go out and have a job for a bit - anyway, um, so. Agent Lang.”

“What of the wolfman? I asked him to give me a call once he was out of surgery.” He’d laughed at her concern. She snapped at him, oh forgive her for being concerned about someone who was shot and had to get the bullet removed. 

“Yeah, he’s, uh - so, funny story, you know my internet friend, the WolfDragon guy?”

Franziska thinks about the cat picture that she asked Lang about. That she thought Larry could have drawn. “Larry Butz, tell me that you are joking with me right now--”

“No and also I’d said I’d pick him up at the hospital but I don’t have a car but you do and--”

-

“So are all the characters in your fanfic based on real people, or just some of them?” Lang asks. The three of them have tucked themselves into a booth of a little diner, a B-movie werewolf on crutches, an artist in sweatpants and uncombed hair, and Franziska, who had also been too tired to wear any more than casual clothes and got heckled by Lang for how hilariously different she looks out of her professional wardrobe. 

Larry slurps his coffee. “Yeah, honestly, most of them are based on people we know. If you meet them you’ll probably be able to guess pretty easily.”

“Ha, I bet. Dead ringer on Ms Viperpaw von Edgeworth here. Half-clan kit trying to figure out where she fits in between her blood relations and the people she’s grown up with?”

Franziska sips her tea loudly. Disconcerting, having someone know all about her because he read the fanfiction that she is a cat in. “You had better give me my warrior name soon,” she tells Larry.

[we-built-the-shadows-here]

it’s Snape’s birthday and I’ve been sitting on this for a bit so here is a new fic to close out my fic recs of 2018, and I’m just gonna throw chapter 1 up here on its own!

LD50 (ao3) (ffn)

January 3 1981: Belladonna

Knockturn Alley is full of furtive movement and mutterings even though it is thirty minutes until the newly-imposed curfew and bitterly cold. It is the first Saturday in 1981, and the street has well-hidden inlets and outlets; the people flow through like a river. No one wants to catch the ire of the Aurors who are, even now, certainly watching. Most of the legal transactions still have the sly movements of the illicit; most of the illicit transactions have the easy grace of a carefree conversation. Everyone’s head is covered in hats, scarves, hoods both to stave off the cold and to disguise identity.

That's how Severus hides: hood pulled high, collar turned up against the chill, stubbled chin and telltale nose hidden behind a lumpy wool scarf. It’s cold enough to warrant it. He’s looking at a fogged window at an assortment of cursed books, watching one drag itself to and fro past the others--the one that shakes, the one bound in human skin, the one whose gently shifting cover pattern could hypnotize if you weren’t careful.

The books are a pretense; his real focus is the reflection in the window of the people as they move up and down the street. He straightens when he sees his target: a bright yellow scarf, catching the dim streetlamps in the snowy gloom, strolling slowly down the alley. He jerks his head as the yellow scarf walks past, tugging his own collar tighter, making sure the tiny brass star pin--his own marker for his partner, nicked from a pawn shop--is exposed. He turns, and they fall in stride, looking straight ahead.

“You’re late,” Severus mutters.

“You’ll wait if you need it,” he drawls. “For your little haemophiliac customer, you said? Sad story.” He sounds as if he’s heard about a dozen of them today and gives credence to none. “It’s five galleons, now. Do you have the money?”

“Yes,” Severus huffs, the word making a puff of mist in the cold air. He had hoped for a discount, with the whole cloth tragedy of a sick child woven in, but clearly struck out. Perhaps the man was raising his prices to charge for the lie, as well.

What they are doing is not precisely illegal , which is why the item is not delivered by one and the payment taken by another to thwart law enforcement. But this transaction is also not entirely above-board. Were a Ministry official to inquire after it, certainly no tax would be paid, and Severus knows for a fact that the brewer would not be certified. There are a number of reasons not to be certified, though; one could be unable to find a Master to apprentice to, or one could be a registered werewolf or vampire or half-breed of some description, or one could simply lack the galleons.

Even galleons themselves are muffled where Severus holds them between his fingers, and the flagon of potion is swaddled in dirty canvas. They pass hand to hand with ease, and Severus takes the vial easily even though nerves have his fingers shaking. He’s bought ingredients from the black market like this, but never a finished potion before, and it feels less like a transaction between fellow professionals and more fully illegal, which means more frightening, with the Aurors permitted to attack with Unforgivables first and interrogate later.

But there’s more he’s supposed to get, more than just the vial. “Your supplier--” he starts.

But his companion has already turned to go into a dimly lit shop door. The shopkeeper greets the man with a thin smile and the door shuts behind them both, and Severus fights the urge to look after, to look around at all. Looking around is worse than walking alone, but his heart is still pounding. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slow, through his teeth, so it doesn’t make a huge puff of steam; it was clumsy to ask like that, clumsy to pry so openly at the supply chain when he’d only just won the dealer’s trust enough to sell. He has to keep his gait even, step by step, soles slipping on the icy cobblestones. Well, half of Dumbledore’s task was to get blood replentisher. He has blood replentisher. The other half--meet with his new contact and begin some kind of work with them in person--will be more painless. It has to be.

Near the end of the alley he slips into a doorway and, spine rigid with the effort it takes to not glance backwards, he disapparates.

The designated place Dumbledore had indicated is not so far as it might be; he makes two stopovers before coming to rest along the foggy, moonlit street. He walks five long blocks, takes two  left turns, and crosses a street to ensure he isn't being followed despite the fact that there is no body in the darkness trailing him, no footsteps in his ear to betray a follower. It helps calm him, and it is perhaps the only spycraft that he'd managed to think of on his own that wasn’t entirely lifted from a pulp novel. His heels are muffled on the sidewalk by snow and charm, and his dark cloak sucks in the light. He feels like a shadow, and is comforted by the thought.

The dingy, dim muggle lane with its dirty shutters and spindly trees comes to an end and there, in the dimmest corner, is the address he was given. One light is on in an upstairs room. Up the stairs to the door, and Severus pauses at the threshold, tugs his hood closer to his cheeks, and knocks.

The door opens of its own accord. Charmed, it must be. Or a trap. He could walk away. It would be safer. Severus thinks of the light upstairs. They must have heard. Might have opened the door using their own wand. It could be an Auror ambush, or a Death Eater ambush, or an Order ambush from those who embraced the more brutal methods Dumbledore claimed to not endorse.

Severus has scrounged in the dirt for as much information as he could for Dumbledore for over a year: it was, all of it, thin, barely sufficient, little of it actionable. Then, on new year’s eve, an owl carrying Dumbledore’s sprawling script: Acquire a blood replentisher potion and meet your new contact, I have an assignment uniquely suited to your skills. This is your opportunity to gain my trust-- and the date, time, and location, this anonymous, run-down home. He had barely managed to find someone who would sell him the blood replentisher in time for the meeting.

Severus decides that he wants Dumbledore’s trust. It’s the only hope he has of surviving this. He strides across the threshold and shuts the door behind him, throwing the bolt.

Warm light is pouring down the stairs in shattered shapes, carved by a banister, but no light is on in the first room, a parlor with an arm-chair and a fireplace. Dimly through a doorway he can make out a kitchen. He waits to hear someone call or speak, but no one does. When no one appears, he whispers, “Hominem revelio.”

His senses expend for a swooping moment and--yes, someone is upstairs in the lit room. He begins slowly moving toward the stair. A floorboard creaks beneath him and he pauses, briefly.

Someone is humming. The tune is half-familiar, half-remembered, something from the Muggle radio from a long time ago.

Two more steps. Only one room is illuminated, the one he saw from the street, half a bookcase and a desk visible behind the banister. No person. Two more steps, and still nothing. Three more, and he’s at the landing. Four more--

A door with no light behind him flies open and there’s a wand stuck in the back of his neck. “Don’t try anything,” a woman’s voice demands. “Were you followed?”

Snape's head turns slowly. Something very odd is happening in his gut. The seller’s voice had been an intentional cipher, but this one, that voice is-- “Do I know you?”

She scoffs, then. “I said, were you followed?”

“I wasn’t followed,” he says. He could shoot a hex over his shoulder, could sweep her legs out from beneath her, could run. But this is about trust. “I have what Dumbledore asked of me.”

“All right.” The pressure comes off the back of his neck. “You can turn around.”

He very nearly doesn’t want to. He stares for a single, flat moment into the opposite room, lit so well, and curses himself for being tricked, for having a secret, for defecting to Dumbledore, for being so damn predictable.

Then he turns.

There she is: red hair, green eyes, anger, and the reason Dumbledore hadn't told him the name of the handler who would meet him. “You,” he says, pushing all the loathing he has for himself into his tone. ���Dumbledore didn't say--”

“Dumbledore didn't say because you wouldn't have come,” Lily Potter says. “Frankly I wouldn't have believed it myself if you weren't standing here.”

He had begged--on his fucking knees in front of the old man--for her life, this exact woman’s life, almost a year ago. Dumbledore had taken the defection and assigned it a price: information. He had paid it, over and over again, through a Protean charmed quill and through the Auror Bones and, very rarely, Dumbledore himself. Too much obvious, direct contact was dangerous to Severus himself. Dumbledore cared at least that much for his life.

He had wondered, briefly, if it was meant to be an Auror sting to lock him up. While gray market potioneering could lose his certification if it happened too many times, it wouldn’t put him in Azkaban, it wasn’t really any more illegal than the woman selling homemade pasties by the train station, and Dumbledore had far worse against him.

Far worse that was now standing before him. Severus spits on the floor at her feet.

Lily wrinkles her nose and glared down at the little wet patch on the carpet, then returns to glaring at his face. “Are you done?”

“I'm not working with you,” he says hotly.

“Fine,” Lily says. “I told Dumbledore you we're better suited to Azkaban anyway, when he gave me this assignment. Glad to know I'm right.”

The idea that she didn’t want to work with him-- that she had been assigned when all of this had been to protect her--and her prophecied son and her dreadful husband--that she might be right -- “Is that what you think,” he hisses, stepping closer.  He has grown since the last time they had stood so close together. He has also learned many things, learned to use his voice better than just to shout, learned to imply violence instead of just reach for the blunt tool first when anger flared, learned to be quick and smart and keep a level head in a fight, which maybe this was shaping up to become. He could look down his long nose at her, eyes narrowed in disdain, thinking you’re nothing to me and make it plain on his face without saying a word. He keeps his tone just barely level through sheer force of will. “You know what I am, then. Perhaps you should think twice before threatening me.”

Her wand must be up her sleeve, the way her finger twitches, as if considering bringing it to her hand. “I don’t think you’re going to hurt me,” she says, voice tight but even.

“The Dark Lord has murdered mothers before, witch.”

“I know he has. I don’t think you are going to hurt me.” Her eyes are fixed on his, even, open, brow knitting back together, but not in anger--in frustration, as if he were being particularly dense. She pushes past him, toward the light. “Come on. Let’s sit in the study. Don’t touch anything. This is the house of a Muggle on holiday so I’d ask you not to make me stage a break-in for him.”

He could leave. He could leave, right now, throw the swaddled potion down a sewer grate, disapparate, go home, get blind stinking drunk and go to sleep on the couch. He could do it right now and likely wouldn’t even suffer for it. Dumbledore wasn’t the kind to punish, not the way the Dark Lord is.

He follows her into the study. She takes the seat at the desk. There is a fat floral armchair that Severus would rather set on fire than sit in, so he stays standing.

“Our assignment,” he says, with all the disdain he can muster.

“Yes. Right.” She pulls a piece of thumbed parchment out of her pocket and sets it on the desk.“You’ve got your Mastery and certification, you’re probably brewing, right?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “There is an artificial shortage in medicinal potions ingredients, Ministry’s throttling imports and increasing hunting down home-herbologists growing ingredients. And there’s an all-time low of potions masters.” Her eyes go narrow and sharp, as if daring him to say anything about why she isn’t one--the marriage, the baby, her blood status and the fact that most potions masters would hesitate even in peacetime to take on a mudblood.

Severus is glaring at the window, at his own reflection and hers. He flicks his fingers at Lily as if he doesn’t care, gesturing in a loop. “Get on with it.”

Her hand on the desk becomes a momentary fist, but then she goes on. “The biggest pinch is blood-replentisher. Even St Mungo's is feeling pinched on that one. The only place that can reliably stock medical potions is the black market and the prices--”

“You owe me five galleons, by the way,” he interrupts.

“Five?” She looks shocked. “Last week the going rate was three.”

“I suppose they aren’t giving me the new customer discount that they offer to Order members,” Severus says bitterly.

“Not to slimy bastards like you, anyway,” she retorts.

He moves to the door. “Tell Dumbledore--”

“Oh, hell, sit down Sev.” She passes a hand across her brow. “I’m sorry, all right. That was uncalled for. You did what we asked.” And then she starts digging in her pocket. “I don’t think I have five. I only brought what I needed. I’ve got a few quid--”

“It’s fine,” he says harshly from the doorway. He can’t exactly afford all five of the galleons but he’s not about to beg for two. There is enough rice in the cupboard, he won’t starve.

She produces three coins and places them in a neat little stack on the desk, as if asking him to come back in. He does. They’re warm to the touch when his hand covers them--the warmth of her body, he realizes uncomfortably. He inspects one. It’s so bright, it must be fresh from the bank, but the mint date is 1716.

Potter gold, then, minted and then put in a bank. That, too, he swallows, and shoves the gold into his pocket. He can feel her watching him and tries not to allow the ugly flush that he knows is creeping up his stubbled neck to reach his cheeks.

“Anyway,” she says, clearing her throat and reverting her gaze to the well-thumbed note. “Fully half the potions the Order managed to source have turned up tampered with or outright poisoned. And they were poisoned really well, even I had trouble when I went through our stores.”

That is interesting. Some Death Eaters had died of tampered black market potions, and they suffered the same difficulties the Order had. Detecting the tampering was a feat in itself, Severus knew firsthand. “And you want me to inspect further? Follow up your work?”

“No,” she says. “Dumbledore wants us to trace the tampering back to their source. Figure out who’s doing it, and why. Maybe even stop them, if we can.”

“I would sooner suggest you stop taking medical potions,” he snaps, rattled by the ambition of the task--and the word us. Himself and her, working together; not the occasional report, but real work.  Low risk spy work compared to the passing of information that he had already done--that would get him killed, this could be played off--but still valuable or he wouldn't be doing it. But then again, he had never been a spy before. His forearm itches, at that thought. He doesn’t reach for it.

“People are dying, Severus,” she says, deadly serious. “We can’t trust anything but charms and you know well as I do that potions are better for the worst of it. People are dying and will keep dying and you and I are the best brewers the Order has. This is our assignment. Do you accept it or do I have to tell Dumbledore that I’m working alone?”

He resents that. It’s not as if he had a choice regardless. “Your first sample, then,” he says stiffly, dropping the cloth-wrapped vial before her on the desk.  “I take it you will require more?”

[emphasis-all-mine]

Paper Skin Trivia/Headcanons

Well, here’s my (abbreviated) Paper Skin headcanon/trivia lists for the main characters. Let me know if you have any questions or want me to expand any more?

Lance

Cuban and Spanish, raised by his Mom and Grandma, came to US when he was 4.

06/21 ETA: Born a werewolf, as were his brothers and sister (werewolf bloodlines in this AU are Matrilineal and he's descended of only wolfmothers, more on that soooooon).

Refers to Cindy as Mama Garrett and Henry by his first name because he is still a little detached (was raised without his dad present in Cuba so it feels weird)

Loves to climb trees and go up high, instinctively longs to climb mountains.

Didn't do that great at school so he decided to put off college and wound up becoming a jack-of-all-trades and a self-taught chef.

Cooking helps him remember his mother, makes him feel closer to her.

Is a cat person, doesn't like dogs and especially hates coyotes and jackals instinctively. (Will try to maul a jackal on sight. Coyotes just get angry growls.)

LOVES cats of all kinds. Will befriend mountain lions during full moon much to their surprise, or break into a zoo and make nice with all the big cats if left unattended.

Okay so one time when he was a teenager he got into the Bronx Zoo and first tried to chill with the leopards/black panther in the jungle exhibit but it was closed, then he tried to go see the snow leopards & the tigers but couldn't get into their enclosures. Somehow figured out how to get to the Lions.

He mauled a rare deer and dragged it into the Lion enclosure to present to them and become an honorary member of the pride. 

The Garretts and some other members of their pack had to break in and drag him away

The Lions were not happy that they lost their new pack member but got over it.

Whenever he visits the zoo as a guest you could SWEAR they recognize him and call out to him.

When he's a wolf he prefers deer or other hoofed mammals and second favorite is rodents. (Ends up eating birds just because of his natural tree-climbing instincts. Also he knows Hunk likes them so he brings him pigeons and quails.)

All time favorite thing he's eaten as a wolf was a Moose that he caught for Keith (will explain in a future chapter) with a very lost and confused Caribou as a runner up.

Least favorite is crow or birds of prey but he gets short-sighted when he's wolfy and sometimes just hunts for the thrill of it. He's taken down a red-tailed hawk and an Eagle owl.

Favorite music: Shakira (prefers her ¿Dónde Están Los Ladrones?-era stuff), Gorillaz, TV on the Radio, Robyn, Rihanna

Keith

Was brought into the Shirogane clan at around age 12/13.

Identifies as Asian-American since his Dad was part Korean but does not know where his mom came from. Assumes she was of a mixed background as well.

His dad was sired by Akira Kogane, who was of Chinese and Japanese descent so he wonders if that filters down with vampire progeny?

Speaks very little Japanese, enough to answer Shiro if he uses a well-known phrase but not enough to converse

Has a recurring nightmare where tree branches start growing out of his throat and choke him

Really wants a motorcycle but will settle for a car of his own. Doesn't want Shiro to buy it, he's saving his own money.

He's actually a very good driver and Shiro will let him drive his vehicles.

Studied outside of school with help from coven members that were teachers as also some help from Pidge and the Holts so he was able to get his GED at 19

Very glad he has Umbra for a pet because she is very good at helping him figure out the time of day based on her behavior and feeding habits (yes he forgets that his phone will tell him the time and weather conditions because he is so used to living completely indoors)

Has a bug-out room in the apartment he shares with Lance. It's much bigger than the closet corner and has room for some emergency supplies and he's put up some corkboards on the walls.

Prefers type O blood and tries to avoid AB because it's like OJ with pulp (there's too much extra antigens in it). Loves pork blood when it's Lance's recipe.

Favorite music: Dolly Parton, The Cure, MCR, Siouxsie & the Banshees and PJ Harvey

Hunk

Born a werewolf, mostly Grey wolf but there's some Asian/Japanese wolf ancestry

Full name is Tsuyoshi Garrett (born Tsuyoshi Seido but had it legally changed when Henry Garrett adopted him)

His mom is Cynthia Tsukiyama-Garrett, and birth father is Tsutomo "Tommy" Seido

He considers Henry Garrett his Dad, hence why he took his last name instead of going by Seido or changing it to Tsukiyama

Henry gave Hunk his nickname after his half-brothers teased him about being a "runt"

Was great at school and did some undergrad at Hunter, then left to go to culinary school.

He finished culinary school and worked at his Mom's bar while trying to figure out if he really wanted to work in a fancy restaurant that wouldn't give him time away for full moon stuff

First time he met Shay he choked on his own spit because his mouth went dry and he nearly passed out

Second time was a better impression, his little sisters both caught the flu and were in wolf-form and was finally able to be his sweet charming self because he was so focused on his sisters' well-being that he forgot to freak out that the pretty veterinarian was smiling at him.

Had a full blown panic attack when he cooked for Shay without knowing she was a vegetarian and inadvertently won her heart with how caring and concerned he was.

Is practicing making Kushari because Shay's family is Egyptian and he wants to impress them. He already makes fantastic hummus.

His preferred food as a wolf is any kind of fowl (sparrow, chicken, turkey, etc.) Secretly loves peacock, but resists the urge to break back into St. John the Divine's Cathedral to snarf one up.

Least favorite food as a wolf is any kind of seafood or fish. Loves them as a human but finds them too bony and briny when wolfed-out.

Favorite music: Matt and Kim, LCD Soundsystem, Beck, The Hold Steady, Broken Social Scene

Pidge

Irish-Italian, her parents are very lapsed Catholics

Currently in High School and will end up at Columbia after timeskip

Needs to study an animal before trying to shift. Often pictures or online video is enough but really does prefer to be up close and personal so she can nail any vocalizations that the audio distorts or doesn't quite catch.

Her dad has a mastery of most animal forms and also can do inanimate objects. Pidge will work on that next. It takes a lot of concentration and holding her breath 

Keith is her favorite because he'll support her delinquency (he doesn't realize it) and she likes helping him figure societal conventions out. They talk or visit at least once a week if not more.

Pidge would make Keith do her homework as a way of home-schooling him (and it also reinforced whatever she was learning, meaning she'd ace every subject and test), it dropped off after Keith got his GED and started working. Schoolwork still is rather easy for her after so many years of teaching herself good study habits by tutoring Keith.

Shiro being ageless is a stable presence in her life, but she thinks of him as more of her brother's friend or like an eccentric uncle

(Pidge has many eccentric uncles and aunts due to her family being half fae descendants, and half metahumans)

Her favorite food is pancakes. Least favorite is eggplant.

Favorite music: Zoë Keating, Tricky, Portishead, Massive Attack, Modest Mouse 

Allura

Was introduced to the underground supernatural community of NYC by her godfather, Coran.

Born and raised in London. Westbourne Gardens area.

Came to the US on student visa and goes to grad school for biochem. Phlebotomy is a way for her to make money and help out Shiro, as Coran's family has known of his for years

No, she doesn't know why Coran has that accent even though he's lived in Brooklyn for as long as she knows

Her pet "mice" are actually Degus. She likes carrying them around in her pockets or purse, they are very well-behaved.

She's never going to bring them NEAR Lance because she knows how much he loves eating fuzzy little rodents

Her favorite food is Candy Floss, least favorite is tomatoes.

Favorite music: Nina Simone, Lana Del Rey, anything Stevie Nicks has done, Ms. Dynamite and Kylie Minogue

Shiro

Names all his businesses after vampire things because he believes in hiding in plain sight (Shuten-dōji was the yokai/vampire that turned him)

Didn't return to his hometown after being turned into a vampire. Was too ashamed and scared he would hurt them. His neighbors and friends assumed he died in the Great Tenmei famine.

Despite his issues with aging, he's tried dying his hair but it looks awful so he just leaves the white streak

Was a very good horseback rider in his youth. Joined the military and was a skilled fighter.

It took a while for him to adjust to motor vehicles. He hit Hunk's grandmother with his car, (but that's how he found the Tsukiyama pack so it worked out and she was fine.)

First cat was named Bobō, a calico. Current cat is Kikō, a tabby.

Prefers type B blood but will settle for O or AB. Type A makes him sneeze after he eats.

Not really a music fan, prefers quiet. He really liked jazz when he first heard it so he sometimes puts on very old, worn-out LPs.

He answers to Takashi or Shiro. Shi-kun or Shi-chan to friends that use his honorifics, later Shiro-kun or Shiro-chan, when he took the nickname referring to the white streak in his hair.

He still has a bad habit of not responding if people address him by Shirogane alone.

(Because "Shirogane-san" was his twin's preferred name)

[ladypepperofdavenshire-archives]

The sound of turning pages welcomed Haddock back to consciousness. 

He was lying in a bed, a very comfortable bed.  He wearily opened eyes that felt like they had been glued shut.  The room was a familiar one.  So they had made it to the hunting lodge after all.  Orange autumn light was fading away through the window, striking dust moats that lazily floated through the air as dusk descended.  A few small candles provided meagre illumination in the mahogany-tinted room.  He couldn’t see who else was in there with him.  Slowly, so not as to disturb whoever was reading, he moved his arm to probe his chest for the wound.  His fingers rubbed across a bandaged tender spot, causing him to make a pained noise in the back of his throat.  The reader set the book down and hustled over to his bedside with a swish of fabric.  Miss Marlowe’s face fell into the candle’s halo of light.  Haddock had expected to see no one else’s face but hers.  The thought made him curious, but he dismissed it.

             “You’re awake,” she said with a smile and an overwhelming sense of relief.  She looked like she hadn’t slept.

   “You’re not supposed to be here,” he croaked.  Working his dormant tongue caused him to taste old blood in his throat.  He made a face.  Miss Marlowe poured him a glass of water from a jug on the nightstand and administered it to him like he was a small child.  He would have taken the glass from her if his arms didn’t feel like lead.

             “I told my family that your mother wanted me to spend a month at the Estate, and I told your mother that I had to leave town for a family tragedy,” Miss Marlowe said simply, placing the glass back on the stand.  Haddock leaned his head against the pillow and closed his eyes.  

             “Lies within lies will only get you into more trouble.”

“You’re one to talk,” Miss Marlowe replied with a sniff.  Haddock was too drained and weak to engage in a verbal battle right now.  The sounds of a swishing dress drew away from the bed.

   This was followed by the sound of a chair being dragged to the bed and subsequently occupied.  Nails thrumming on a book cover.

             “I made a deal with Evans after he pulled that bullet out of you.  I told him that we could take turns looking after you so that he wouldn’t be worn ragged.  He quite liked the idea, which is why he helped me to fabricate the stories sent to my family and your mother.  He’s resting right now—he stayed up most of yesterday as your personal nursemaid.  You should thank him when he returns, Mr. Haddock.  You owe him your life.”

             Haddock almost said, “It’s not the first time,” but held his tongue.  Miss Marlowe was putting on an air of indifference to hide the worry she was unconsciously projecting.  He didn’t need to alarm her about his past injuries.  Instead, he asked:

             “How long have I been, um…?”

“You’ve been delirious for two days, talking nonsense when you’ve been intelligible enough to string together words…”

             The thrumming stopped.

“Do you want me to tell you what you said?” she queried, a smile in her voice. “Oh, I’ll just tell you anyways.  For one, the way you called my name incessantly shed some light on your true feelings about me—"

   Haddock’s eyes popped open as he snapped his head in Miss Marlowe’s direction.  Miss Marlowe laughed.

             “I’m only teasing you, Mr. Haddock!”

Haddock glared at her.  It was a half-hearted glare that fell away into an easy smile.  Miss Marlow’s laughing subsided.  She quirked a brow at him.

   “Is there something on my face, Mr. Haddock?”

“What?”

             “You’re staring, and it’s making me feel very self-conscious.”

Haddock twisted his head back so that he was looking up at the ceiling once more.

             “No—no.  Your face is…fine.  It’s fine.”

He needed to change the subject quickly or he’d start finding it difficult to talk to her.

             “What happened to Sir Drexel?” he asked.

“You nicked him in the arm and he cried like a baby.”

             Haddock snorted.

“No, really.  What happened to him?”

             “I just told you, but if you’re referring to what he did afterwards, he holed himself up in his townhouse and hasn’t left it since.  He’s recovering, like you.”

   “He’s licking his wounds and plotting,” Haddock said flatly. “If I had just aimed a few more inches to the right…”

   Haddock counted knotholes in the beam over his head, thinking.

“What day is it, Miss Marlowe?”

“Saturday, but you slept through most of it.”

             “The next full moon is this Friday,” Haddock mused.

“What are you thinking?” Miss Marlowe asked suspiciously.  Haddock turned his head to look her full in the face.

             “He’s injured but not too grievously that he wouldn’t pass up a chance to go hunting during a full moon…He wouldn’t expect someone to be hunting him—”               “And that’s going to be you, is it?  Mr. Haddock, I hope you realize you lost a significant amount of blood in your previous attempt at murdering each other.  You need to be resting, not thinking about going for a second round,” she said authoritatively. “I’d like to see you try to get up and walk around after lying about like a cor—”

             Miss Marlowe bit her lip.  Lying about like a corpse?  She shifted in her seat to hide her discomfort.

   “The werewolf constitution helps the healing,” Haddock said.  That was half true. “And I’ll actually be the bait.  Evans will be lying downwind to shoot him with a silver bullet.”

             “But you’re still fighting him.”

“Yes—”

   “Is Evans privy of his role in your scheme?”

“Not yet—”

             “Is this how you treat your friends, Mr. Haddock?  Volunteering them for possibly-fatal exploits?”

             Haddock turned his head, facing the window.  That was a low blow.  The sun sank lower, bathing the room in blue shadows.  Haddock heard a chorus of crickets begin chirruping from beneath the windowsill.

             “Do you know how to shoot a pistol, Miss Marlowe?” he asked.

“Excuse me?”

             “Do you know how to shoot a pistol?”

“…No.”

             “I’ll teach you.”

Miss Marlowe ruffled visibly.

   “I—you can’t just—how dare you assume—!  You’re an idiot if you think you can attempt two fights in a row!” she snapped, and got up and crossed to the window before Haddock could respond.  Haddock’s thoughts fell inward.  He began to see how much the duel and him getting shot had thoroughly rattled Miss Marlowe.  There was a sort of hysterical edge to her that he hadn’t seen before, one that felt if she was pushed too far, she would be liable to completely break down.  An uncomfortable, sickly sensation susurrated in Haddock’s chest.  Guilt.  He’d ignored her pleadings and strong repulsion towards the duel just so that he could feel the satisfaction of dropping Sir Drexel.  The ghostly image of Florence fluttered forth from the back of his mind where he’d locked away his deep regrets.  No, not again.  He barricaded her away.

             “Miss Marlowe?”

The woman turned so that the sinking sunlight limned her in a white glow, throwing her face in complete shadow.

             “Yes?” Wary.

“Sir Drexel’s comeuppance can wait.”

             The silhouette shifted.

“Are you being sincere, Mr. Haddock?”

             “Quite.”

There was a brief pause.

   “It’s nice to know you’re being sensible for once.”

[peter-pan-hoe]

Pan’s Pet pt3

Reader is a omega werewolf (teenwolf style) and being young and pack-less, she is taken to Neverland by the shadow. But things aren’t much better than home.

Warnings: none

masterlist

part 2

I stayed in my cage for about half an hour, gnawing at my cuff before I decided to go check out the fire the lost boys were at.

Upon accepting that the cuff wasn’t going to come off I crawled out of my cage and walked off in the same direction the boys always come and go from.

A few minutes of aimless walking and i began hearing laughter and voices, as well as smell smoke. I was only a few meters from the edge of their camp.

The fact that I had to be so close to smell or hear this place made me tear up a little.

I pushed my way through some bushes as I wiped the tears away with my sleeve.

All the boys stopped talking or dancing. They all stared at me in shock. A few reached for their weapons, some backed up. Felix and a few of the bigger ones had their weapons draw and they were ready to charge me.

   “Calm down boys,” I heard Pan’s voice but I couldn’t see him. “That’s enough,”

   “But the mutt is out of it’s cage,” Felix said with a sneer.

   “I said enough!” Pan shouted. I found where his voice was coming from. 

He stood from where he was sitting on a log on the other side of the fire. The flames obscured my view of him a little.

   “I let her out,” he said calmly with a few complaints and questions from a number of boys.

He walked around the fire so i could see him properly and held out a cup of something. 

   “Come drink with us,” he said.

I slowly walked passed a few boys so I could get to Pan and accept the drink. It smelled of black current juice and some kind of alcohol. Rum?

   “Two things,” I started. “One, Where did you get the booze? And two, I can’t get drunk,”

   “We nicked it from pirates that visit every now and then,” he said settling back down on the log by the fire. “And your powers are blocked by my cuff so yes you can,”

I sat down next to him, sensing a few disgruntled stares but I ignored them. I looked at him sideways, still not trusting him. 

   “Why are you only now being nice to me?” I asked quietly. “It’s been over an entire moon cycle and you never once even hinted at caring so forgive me if i don’t believe you,”

   “Like I said before,” he paused to take a sip of his drink. “I look after all these lost boys. You don’t have to trust me just yet, it’s okay,”

   “Do I have to stay in my cage?” I asked carefully.

   “No that’s why I let you out,” he looked at me confused.

   “I mean like when I sleep and stuff,” I put my cup on the ground by my feet, not trusting the contents. “Can I make a tent or something?”

   “You already have one,” he said plainly, picking up my cup and drinking from it. 

   “What?” I eyed him questioningly.

   “I made one for you just a minute ago,” He gestured to a tent a small distance from the others, hidden slightly by trees and bushes.

   “How did you do that so fast?” I asked.

   “Magic, duh,” he nudged my shoulder with his making me flinch away.

   “Sorry,” he said. “I got too comfortable,”

   “It just surprised me, that’s all,” I shook my head at his apology. “Is that tent really for me?”

he nodded, then stood and gestured for me to follow him.

He lead me to the tent which was a lot bigger once closer. I would definitely be able to stand upright inside.

Something didn’t feel right.

   “Why do all this if you’ve kept me locked in a cage for a month and a half?” I looked at him sideways.

   “I understand you’re cautious,” he lit the lantern that was hanging from the wooden door frame. “What can I do to show you I’m trust worthy?”

I held up my cuffed wrist. “Take this off for starters,”

He looked hesitant, but stepped forward and took hold of my hand, examining the teeth marks in the cuff.

   “I see you already tried that,” he chuckled lightly. “I don’t keep it on to make you vulnerable, I keep it on so the boys feel safer. They know you’re more powerful than they are,”

   “I’m not going to hurt a bunch of children,” I said quietly. “What i did to those hunters was half self preservation half loss of control due to the moon. I have control when the moon isn’t full,”

He looked at me like he was considering it.

   “Just please take it off,” I begged. “I don’t like feeling like this. Felix terrifies me and unless i have my power I can’t defend against him. You can put the cuff back on during the full moon, just please, please, take it off,”

Pan was quiet for a long time. but then he nodded.

He waved his hand over my wrist and the cuff disappeared.

Almost straight away my eyes shifted.

I gasped and stumbled back a little as my power rushed through me.

   “Are you okay?” he asked carefully, holding his hand out as if ready to catch me if i fell.

   “I’ve missed this,” I felt a smile creeping up on my face. “Where can I get that drink?”

Pan and I sat by the fire, laughing and drinking for a while, constantly getting odd looks from the boys.

After maybe an hour, one of the boys, maybe 15 came up to us and asked if he could ask me some questions.

   “What kind of questions?” I asked in return.

   “Just stuff about you and your powers,” he sat down on the ground in front of me. “Can I or not?”

   “You can ask but depending on the question I might not answer,” I shrugged. “But first whats your name?”

   “This is Alfie,” Pan said.

   “Thanks but I asked him,” I smiled at Alfie. “What are your questions?”

   “Well the first one is what actually are you?” he said very quickly.

   “No one told you?” I looked at Pan, confused and surprised. “I’m a werewolf,”

   “Oh cool,” he looked excited. 

What a little nerd. I laughed to myself.

   “Can I see your teeth?” he leant forward a little as he asked quietly.

   “Uhm,” I was a little surprised by this. I just decided to be honest. “Maybe some day. But I haven’t fully shifted in over a month so I want to give it a bit of time. Is that okay?”

   “Yeah I guess,” he looked disappointed. “Is there anything you can do that is okay?”

I looked at Pan and he nodded, encouraging me.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I felt them shift from (y/e/c) to their bright blue as I opened them and looked at Alfie.

He gave a small gasp but smiled like a kid with a science project. He wasn’t scared. He was curious.

   “THAT IS AWESOME!” he shouted, startling a number of lost boys, including myself.

   “Aha thanks,” I laughed. I looked around at the boys nervously and the all averted their gazes.

   “Alright,” Pan suddenly stood up. “Time for bed everyone,”

A few grumbles were heard from the boys but they all trudged off towards their tents and little huts.

I also stood and headed to my own tent after saying goodnight to Alfie and watching him jog away to his hut.

   “You didn’t end up looking inside your tent, did you?” Pan asked.

   “Nah not yet,” I shook my head. “Is there anything fancy in there I should be aware of? Chains, traps, monkshood?”

   “Monkshood?” he repeated, tilting his head to the side questioningly.

   “Don’t worry it’s just a flower I don’t like,” I chuckled at my own little joke, slightly thankful he didn’t know what I was talking about.

   “Uhm alright then…” he sighed with a slight laugh at the end. “There’s no traps or anything, unless Felix has decided to sabotage the place I made for you. Which I doubt he would unless he wants to add to his scar collection,”

I looked at him in surprise. “You gave him that scar?”

   “He pissed me off,” he shrugged.

   “Remind me not to do that then,” I mumbled.

   “Anyway I should show you around your tent,” he tugged aside the door flap and ushered me inside.

It was a lot more roomy than I was expecting. As I had assumed, it was plenty tall enough for me to stand up straight inside. The fabric that made the tent was a deep red. Against the far wall was a floor level cot-type bed made up of a mattress surrounded by a wooden frame and a pile of pillows and blankets stacked neatly at the foot. Next to the bed was a chest of draws sporting a lantern. There were only 2 drawers and they were only a foot wide but I didn’t have anything to put in them so I guess I was good for storage. There was about 4ft of space in the middle of the room and another lantern hung from the middle framework.

   “Do you like it?” Pan’s voice came from behind me, he sounded nervous.

   “It’s nice,” I said quietly. “Cosy,”

   “You’re allowed to say if you don’t like it,” he stepped beside me so he could see my face. “I can whip up something else if you’d prefer,”

   “It’s nice and cosy,” I turned to him and smiled reassuringly. “I like it,”

   “Okay, well… good,” he nodded to himself. “Sleep well Y/N,”

He left my tent quietly and I listened to him walk away until I heard the door of his tree house creak closed.

I tuned in to the other sounds around the camp and heard a few boys murmuring things, some were sleeping quietly, some were snoring.

I grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around myself as the cold night air was harsh when away from the fire, and I went and sat outside on the ground by the opening to my tent. Simply listening to the island.

In my head I listed of the pros and cons of today.

Pros: I was free of my cage, Pan seemed genuinely trust worthy and the stars were bright on Neverland with no light pollution.

Cons: Felix was terrifying, I am to nervous to fully shift since I’m a month and a bit out of practice, no way to connect to the internet.

Oh well. The pros out weight the cons.

Living here would be interesting.

NEXT CHAPTER

[terranempire]

The Mummy SUCKS

So, Universal is trying to relaunch their classic movie monsters. For the third time in recent years. I get it. There has been success with them in the past, and even some of the more recent iterations did well and were good (which is not the same thing). Brendan Fraser’s films were good and made money (forgetting the abomination that was the third film). “Dracula Untold” was really good but made no money. But this version of “The Mummy” is a trainwreck. I’ll save the biggest and worst problem for the very end but let’s break it down a little, shall we? SPOILERS BELOW

The movie has really uneven pacing, and is very repetitive. It starts with a scene set in the 1100s in England, which really puts you in mind of Egypt and mummies, right? Some Knights Templar are burying one of their own with a shiny red gem. The gem will come in later. A lot. After that brief foray it jumps to the present, where that same location is being rediscovered when they are cutting a new line for the underground. Still no Egypt, still no mummies. Then we finally get the set up for our titular mummy, an Egyptian princess named Ahmanet. It’s the usual story - raised to rule until Daddy managed to get himself a son and now she’s out of a throne, so she turns to evil and kills them all, and gets “mummified alive” for her trouble (which really just means put in a sarcophagus and nothing else). This is all in the trailer. When she gets captured she is mid-ritual to bring the Egyptian god of death, Set, into the world via sacrificing her apparently quite willing boyfriend. Ahmanet is played by the excellent Sofia Boutella, who I love, but the movie really doesn’t let her do a lot. On to our “hero” Nick - Tom Cruise - who is a frontline recon soldier in modern day Iraq who uses his scouting position to steal artifacts and sell them on the black market before Daesh comes in and destroys all that stuff anyway, clearing up any evidence of his wrongdoing for him. It’s a good scam, until he and his wise-cracking, scaredy-pants parter Vail - Jake Johnson - wind up having to call in an airstrike to get away from some insurgents while 100 miles from where they are supposed to be. The airstrike unearths Ahmanet’s tomb/prison (also in the trailer). Tom has found this location by stealing a map sent to a one night stand archaeologist, Jenny - Annabelle Wallis - who shows up on the site at the same time as the military, or possibly with them. It’s not clear. Either way she browbeats them into retrieving the sarcophagus before the insurgents can return and break everything. She’s meant to be strong, I suppose, but she just comes across as a bit of a bitch, which isn’t unreasonable given the circumstances but makes it almost impossible to root for the inevitable “romance”. In the tomb Vail gets bitten by a spider (which is referred to as not being “poisonous” instead of venemous, and it clearly is since he has visible marks of some kind of toxin all over his face shortly thereafter which no one notices). Then comes the set-piece featured in the trailer of the plane disaster. Vail dies from the spider bite and is taken over by Ahmanet’s power. Plane crash follows, with Nick saving Jenny by getting her in a parachute and off the plane, and then dying with the rest of the passengers. The moment stays on him, stuck on the edge of the hole torn in the side of the plane, which the audience can see the ground rushing up through. It’s arguably the best moment of the film because you really feel the futility and sense of impending death and it goes on longer than you would think. Shortly thereafter he wakes up in the morgue, fully intact but seeing the rapidly decomposing ghost of Vail. It’s very “American Werewolf in Paris”, and Vail repeatedly pops up for the rest of the film, trying to convince Nick that they are cursed and filling him in on some of what Ahmanet has planned for him. The tone is very consistent with Jake Johnson’s other work (New Girl, “Let’s Be Cops”, “Jurassic World”) and it sticks out like a sore thumb in this film. It’s just a little too much to be an effective comedic balance to the horror/action elements. The plan is that since her original boyfriend died before she could complete the ritual and put Set in his body Ahmanet has now chosen Nick to be that vessel. Vail wants Nick to give in and take part in the ritual because it is not something he thinks they can fight, or even should. Nick is obviously less keen. Ahmanet is now out and about, sucking the life out of nearby cops and paramedics investigating the crash site, and returning to “life” in the process. It was done better in the Brendan Fraser version of “The Mummy” - Imhotep was scarier and felt far more powerful than Ahmanet does. The limitation of needing to suck down the life force from only the people who were there when his tomb was opened also gave him an oppressive momentum that Ahmanet’s opportunistic kills do not have. Her reanimated victims are also seriously shitty monsters - they flail and squelch and chase but they don’t feel dangerous or kill literally anyone. Again, the Fraser version is vastly superior here - the secondary mummies are dangerous and will fuck you up. Nick and Jenny are at a pub, and this is where some of the best Nick moments happen. She’s asking him how he survived without a scratch and he basically is just getting hammered and shrugging. He’s not a particularly heroic hero - he’s kind of a dick, in it for number one, doesn’t really know or care what’s going on. I liked that about him, but not enough for me to want him to win. Vail’s gross ass shows up again and does his ‘we’re cursed’ thing some more. Ahmanet and some CGI rats freak Nick out with a vision. Nick and Jenny go to the crash site, pulling off at the church where Ahmanet has set up shop. He’s drawn to her, and there is some interesting temptation going on there. Given that she is the only character in the whole movie with any draw, I was honestly well sold on her. Give in, Nick. Be her eternal boytoy. It’s an offer I’d take up. But Nick freaks out when she pulls her magic knife to shiv a god into his body, and she freaks out when she realises her magic knife is broken. The gem half got buried with the Knight Templar in the opening scene. She only has the blade and it doesn’t work without both. Nick and Jenny run away. Shitty CGI mummies try ineffectually to stop them. Nick drives right back to Ahmanet, because she’s in his head, drawing him to her. I liked that. Right as she’s about to fuck him up and kill Jenny, Jenny’s people show up and tranq dart everyone, bringing them all back to their super-secret lair. The dude who has been giving the voiceover background on Ahmanet the whole time is there - Henry Jeckyll (as played by Russell Crowe). His people investigate, contain, and eradicate evil, and Ahmanet is the oldest thing they’ve come up against. We see some nice bits and pieces indicating where Universal plans to go with future “Dark Universe” films - including a vampire skull. He goes over Ahmanet’s backstory again for Nick’s sake, showing the audience the scenes of her killing her family and getting stopped mid-boyfriend sacrifice again. As I said, weirdly repetitive. Jekyll wants to dissect her (for science!) and even Jenny is like, “That’s kind of fucked up.” He also wants to put the magic knife back together and sacrifice Nick to let Set in, and then somehow kill Set. It’s a bad plan, and both Nick and Jenny are like, “Um, pass.” Jekyll then Hyde’s the fuck out, and Hyde tries to talk Nick into becoming Set and evilling together like pals. Nick manages to get him his Jekyll-juice and knocks him out. He and Jenny escape. Ahmanet, using magic spiders for mind-control purposes, also escapes. The spider thing was weird to me. Why not just use scarabs? She’s a fucking mummy. Apparently scarabs are reserved for Arnold Vosloo. ANYWAYS, Jekyll’s people have unearthed the gem half of the magic knife, so Nick & Jenny (and sometimes Vail’s creepy ghost), and Ahmanet, and Jekyll’s people all go for it. Ahmanet reanimates the Knights Templar to kill the Jekyll-people at the crypt while she breaks every window in London (except those on the cars used by Jekyll’s people) to create a sandstorm with her face in it. It is in the trailer. Again, the Fraser films did it better. Ahmanet catches up to Nick & Jenny after she gets the gem and puts her knife together, dragging Jenny into the flooded part of the Knights’ tomb and drowning her. Some of this is also in the trailer. Seriously the whole fucking movie is in the trailer. Nick tries and fails to save her. So, it’s just him and Ahmanet. She’s offering immortality and the power of life over death AND herself as his queen. Like, bro, that’s a great fucking deal. If you don’t take it I WILL. Ahmanet and I can be immortal death goddesses and lovers and you can cry on that dead blonde girl you fucked that one time who believed “somewhere deep inside” that you’re not a douche, despite the ample evidence you personally provided her to the contrary. So Ahmanet kicks Nick around for a little while, trying to get him to say yes to the whole get-sacrificed-and-become-a-god thing even though at no point was it even implied that consent is required, so if you want him that much girl just stab him, and he’s like no, no, no, I don’t want to, it’s not me, it’s you. They tussle and Nick steals the magic knife, and Ahmanet’s like, wtf, thief! And Nick smashes the stone of the knife on the ground, cracking but not destroying it. She tries to convince him once more to join her instead of breaking it, so he just goes “fuck it” and stabs himself to become Set’s vessel. Ahmanet is freaked out and cautious when Set/Nick gets double irises like her (which btw is a stupid fucking design choice), but then he flashes back to blondie telling him she thinks he’s a good man deep inside, and then comes the oh-so-obvious fight against the darkness within bullshit and Nick single-irises again and sucks the life out of Ahmanet, leaving her a mummy once more. He then screams at Jenny’s dead ass not to be dead anymore, so she gets up and he’s all hiding in the shadows, “don’t look at me, I’m a monster, I wish we had more time together (even though neither of us actually likes the other all that much and we only knew each other for a couple of days)”, blah blah. Anyway, he dips and then Jenny and Jekyll talk about how maybe it’s better because sometimes you need monsters to fight monsters, but who know if the evil in him will prevail, etc., blah blah. It intercuts with Nick in the desert somewhere, with his hand pointlessly wrapped reminiscent of a mummy, and Vail is with him. Vail casually thanks him for making him not dead anymore (which did not happen on screen and sticks out like wtf are you talking about? Do you even know how to movie?). And that’s it. Tom Cruise is The fucking Mummy. Tom Cruise. Tom definitely-not-Egyptian, not-even-African-like-Sofia-Boutella-and-Arnold-Vosloo Cruise is The Mummy. That is how Universal decided to reboot their monster franchise. What the ever-loving fuck? What moron greenlit this shit, seriously? Did they honestly think people were going to say, you know who would make a great Mummy? Tom Cruise. You know: Maverick. Ethan Hunt. Jerry Maguire. Motherfucking Lestat. He’s The Mummy.  And that is some bullshit.

[kristie-rp]

If you could not die, that’d be great

Original by @cassandra-rp / @coloredinsanity

The scythe gleams silver, moving entirely on its own: it has launched itself through the air, evading the chaos its master is currently suffering. December, the owner and master, has been launched after it, the strike from the creature she has hunted causing it. The scythe has become caught in a branch, and she catches herself on it, breaking her fall. Her own momentum is enough to swing her back towards the monster, weapon in hand.

“Thanks, Raquelle,” she mutters, an aside to her scythe. It only gleams in answer, not daring to provide any greater distraction as the master sprints towards her target.

December has vampirism in a manner that makes her purer than most, granting advantages turned individuals such as Syrus cannot dream of. She has enhanced speed and resilience, and her senses can rival the most perceptive beasts; there’s a spiffy intelligent name for it, known by Intella but not December. Apparently, it is a trait that has been lost in the last few centuries. The veins and bloodlines of anything at all are visible under her gaze, and the beating hearts around her are completely unique. She can count the number of people in a room and pick their locations based entirely on subtle differences in the beats of their hearts. It makes her a brilliant fighter, granting her unique insight into weaknesses and effective targets.

The beast she is fighting also has a spiffy long-ass name, one Paimon and Intella will no doubt use at the drop of a hat. December does not know it, and does not care enough to try to rectify that. She knows it is dangerous, and she knows it needs to die; that is all she needs.

It is possible that this is why she gets along so well with Rikku, compared to most other people. She is presented with a creature and sees it as a demonic monster, one with no intelligence aside from an urge to kill, eat, and hunt for flesh. She is presented with one such monster, and she decides it needs to die.

She has already injured it, and badly. One more good blow, and it will die: she has it lined up as she jumps again, slicing the back with her scythe. She doesn’t expect the spikes in its’ back to separate and launch at her, several impaling her, and shards of those that miss – exploding against the trees – embedding into her skin. It’s instantly painful and she can feel it burning, and it tells her exactly what it is, and that she has made a mistake in assuming it is bone.

It’s not bone. It drives her to the ground in response to the pain, to her hands and knees, already a mess. But in her defence – why would she assume some random monster has adamantium spines?

Raquelle withdraws from the scythe to check on December, who she considers both her owner and a friend. She touches her back as gently as she knows how, touch feather light, and assesses her condition. The wounds are bad, fatal to most, but December – predictably – refuses to let it show, drawing herself upright. Two of the largest spikes are embedded in her stomach, but December refuses to acknowledge them, drawing her phone before she is forced to double over again.

The phone is caught before it hits the ground by Raquelle. She knows exactly what to do: it’s moments like these that she’s glad her master made the decision to hire a lackey. December had been reasonable enough to tell Asher where she was going before disappearing into the woods, and he is not far, lurking nearby in case he is needed. Raquelle tells him to hurry up, because there’s nothing else to say.

December has a stubborn streak several miles wide. It is this that allows her to hold herself together when they reach the hospital, because she does not want to catch attention: she covers herself with a heavy jacket that hides her wounds. She is walked into the hospital by Asher, leaning heavily on his arm. Raquelle is forced to stay outside, because they cannot bring the scythe into the hospital, and because she is bound to it. She trusts Asher to get her master to where she needs to go, because Asher helped Charlie all those years ago, and knows better than most which buttons to press to take the elevator to the basement. He does not comment on the fact that December’s jacket is doing nothing at all to hide the blood trail.

The drips catch the gaze of a passing doctor. Garrett hadn’t noticed the woman, distracted with signing off something for the receptionist before he starts his lunch break. It is as he looks up from the papers that he sees it, crimson against the sterile white floor, and clearly leaving a trail. He follows it with idle curiosity, glimpsing the source of the trail as the elevator doors shut.

He’s instantly struck by her. She’s beautiful, of course, but it’s not just that. There’s something else, something entrancing, and clearly she’s not entirely human. She will be going to see the expert in the ‘secret hospital’, he guesses. He decides he needs to find out what is happening, and learn who she is. “Page me if anyone needs me, but I’m on break,” he tells the receptionist with a warm smile, ignoring her blush to head to the stairs. He takes them cautiously but quickly, two at a time as he heads down to the ‘hidden’ hospital that Vincent maintains.

She has no idea that she is being followed when Asher helps her collapse onto an examination table. She passes out immediately, blood loss and pain becoming too much for her. Asher rolls his eyes as he makes sure she is laying on her back; Vincent looks up. It is the  body hitting the table that caught his attention, not the elevator chiming or the footsteps: his book is too interesting for anything less than an emergency to distract him.

His eyes are disinterested as they pass over Asher, and he completely ignores whatever words of concern are falling from the lackey’s lips. Vincent has long since forgotten human emotions and concern, dismissing them as a waste of time. He turns his attention to December as the familiar scent reaches him. His steps are near silent as he approaches, adjusting the coat to examine the wound. The adamantium spikes are immediately revealed, and he contemplates them. “Well. That’s rather unfortunate.”

He shoos Asher out of the way and reaches for a pair of scissors in the same gesture, intent on removing the bloody blouse. The scent of a werewolf – woody, warm, and dog – assaults him as the door swings, and he glances up as he sets the scissors aside. Garrett has been brought by curiosity, it seems, and his fellow doctor notes that he is entirely focused on the woman on the table. Vincent’s lips twist into the vaguest hint of a grin, which he quickly hides as he adjusts his glasses, turning to his collection of medications and ingredients. “Vampire, adamantium spikes imbedded.”

“Adamantium?” Garrett asks. He’s still learning, but from what he has been taught by Vincent and the remains he has been allowed to examine and autopsy, he is under the impression that vampires should be dead from a wound that severe, at least when made with adamantium. “Shouldn’t she already be dead?”

“You have been paying attention,” Vincent notes with some approval. “The answer is yes. Why do you think she’s not yet?” He has selected a particular liquid, a potion from his stores, by now, and pours it to neutralize the metal as Garrett considers. Neutralizing it will both prevent it from doing further damage to December, and from doing anything to harm him as he operates. Garrett is good, but he does not trust the werewolf to do what needs doing if Vincent harms himself.

“You said – before, you said something about pureblood vampires. If that causes it – is she like that?”

Vincent nots and directs Garrett to hold her and prevent her from moving, waiting until he obeys. The two are surprisingly in sync, considering how averse Vincent is to working with others. Garrett trails a hand along her arm and it sends a shiver reverberating throughout his body, something incredibly familiar in it. It feels, he thinks, like a memory – but that cuts out as he has to focus, ready to restrain her more as Vincent removes the spikes.

One is ripped away, and she tenses in response. Her body twists as if that will help her to escape the pain, and Garrett’s expression twitches in sympathy. He watches as the wound begins to heal, muscle and fat and skin slowly returning. Vincent applies some more of the liquid to speed the healing process, watching to ensure it completes. He repeats for the second large spike and gaping hole, before moving on to carefully picking the smaller shards from her torso, arms and face.

Vincent has an unfortunate tendency to be ‘quirky’. This is the nice way of saying it: the fact is, he is erratic and unpredictable. Garrett has, sadly, gotten used to this, having to make a choice between adapting and leaving. Given the number of fascinating discoveries Vincent has enabled, he’s been willing to adapt. When his unpredictability kicks in and Vincent reaches for Garrett’s wrist, Garrett allows it with a sigh. He flinches when Vincent nicks his wrist with the scalpel, ignoring all training and hazardous substance warnings they’ve been through, and guides Garrett’s wrist to December’s lips.

Asher is a completely viable alternative, but he doesn’t protest either, alternating between watching quietly and texting updates to Raquelle. In reality, Vincent probably has hundreds of spare bags of blood in the fridge down here, pillaged from haematology. Unfortunately for Garrett, they live in this reality, where Vincent puts his amusement above all else. And this? This is going to be amusing.

“Is it really okay for her to drink from me?” Garrett asks uncertainly, wide eyed and not entirely expecting an answer. She’s a vampire, after all, and he’s a werewolf.

He doesn’t get an answer, which is fine, because December’s eyes shoot open the instant she tastes blood on her tongue. She shoots upright and clutches at the hand that feeds her, instinctively careful. She does not want to damage it, after all; she knows better than that.

For a moment, she is convinced this is a dream. After all, she isn’t Paimon. She isn’t blessed. It doesn’t seem to matter how many years she searches for: the fact is, the love of her life has lived once, and has been gone ever since.

But – as soon as her vision focuses – her breath catches in her throat. Her eyes are stinging with tears as she focuses intently on Garrett. “I – it’s you,” she stammers quietly, stunned.

Garrett frowns at her, because  he doesn’t even know her name, but he’s looking at her the same way he looked at April when she landed in his custody. It’s the look of someone with a loved one returned, even if they’re sure they’ve never met them in this life. He glances up at Vincent and at Asher, who he knows from his own semi-regular visits to the room, but both of them are watching him expectantly, and showing no sign that this is unusual. Asher is definitely smirking.

“Sure, it’s me,” he says at last, shrugging. He can play along.

The smile she gives him in response to that is almost worth the confusion.

[fanficshiddles]

Owned By A Ghost, Chapter 21

Tracey woke up with the worst hangover she’d had in a long time. Loki felt sorry for her and brought her breakfast in bed as well as plenty of water.

He held her in his arms as she drank all the water, starting to feel better near instantly.

‘Ugh. I’m never drinking again.’ Tracey groaned as she hid her face into Loki’s chest.

‘Hmm, where have I heard that before?’ Loki chuckled and lightly tickled her neck with his fingers, making her giggle.

'Ok, ok… Maybe just for a few days at least.’

'You were a funny drunk last night. Not to mention also very horny too.’ Loki grinned.

'Oh god... Oh my god. You were a werewolf!’ Tracey gasped as she suddenly remembered the previous night’s adventures.

'And you loved every second of it.’ Loki chuckled.

'It was… Weird and so so wrong. But… So good.’ She blushed.

Loki trailed his fingers over her red cheeks and chuckled. He kissed her forehead and then pulled her in close to him again as they lay down.

'If you enjoyed it, then there’s nothing wrong with it.’ Loki said and Tracey agreed. 

‘I was fired from my job yesterday. So was Marissa. There was drugs found in our lockers. But we have no idea how they got there. It must be a mistake, but we weren’t given a chance to defend ourselves. I don’t know what i’m going to do now. I can’t afford not to be working.’ Tracey said to Loki as she tried to hold herself together. 

‘It will be ok, darling. I’m sure something will come along.’ Loki assured her as he kissed the top of her head. 

‘It’s not exactly a big town though. There’s hardly much job opportunities here. And the chance of word spreading around about why we were fired is quite likely. Everyone in this town is a gossip.’ 

‘What happened to your attitude from last night, what was it you said again? Oh yes, fuck them we will find something else. Is what you told me.’ Loki said as he held her chin upwards.

Tracey sighed and punched at his chest playfully. 

‘You know as well as I do that I was really drunk last night and clearly not thinking properly. I did allow a werewolf to fuck me after all.’ Tracey grumbled.

‘Correction, you tempted a werewolf to fuck you.’ Loki corrected her with a smirk and Tracey just rolled her eyes at him.

‘If I don’t get another job, like straight away, then Granddad and I are going to lose the house. Then I don’t know what we will do.’ 

‘You will move in here, with me.’ Loki said firmly as he sat up and cupped her face in his large hands.

‘What? Really? I… I don’t know.’ Tracey stuttered.

‘Yes. I am sure. You’re my girl and I will not just watch you end up on the street, silly. This is your home as well now. You don’t have to worry.’ Loki smiled and kissed her.

‘But what about my Granddad? He can’t live here as well… Can he?’ 

Loki didn’t say anything for a second, as he was thinking. But then he responded.

‘No, he can’t. He will ask too many questions about me and honestly, I’d rather not have him in my home. He is abusive to you, darling. You really need to contact a care home or some sort of rehab center. He needs it.’ Loki spoke softly, in hope of getting through to her.

But no matter how many conversations the pair had had about Tracey’s Granddad she still refused to get him help. He was all she had left as family and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. 

'But I don’t know if I could live without my Granddad. What if he goes into some home and something happens to him? I wouldn’t be there for him.’ Tracey said with shaky breath.

'Tracey, I can’t lose you. You mean the world to me and if you stick with your Granddad you are going to end up homeless or god knows where. I need you, Tracey. Please. Consider getting help for your Granddad. I beg you. He is more of a danger to himself and others while he is going around, drunk.’ Loki said pleadingly as he held her hands in his.

Tracey looked into his eyes and could see he looked genuinely scared of losing her. He looked like a young lost boy in that moment.

'I… I’ll think about it.’ Tracey sighed as she hugged into his chest, hiding her face against him.

'Thank you, my darling. I only want what’s best for you. I will help you every single step of the way, I promise. Everything I do is for you.’ Loki said in an assuring manner as he kissed the top of her head.

They spent most of the morning in bed together. Tracey avoided more conversation about her Granddad, distracting Loki with sex instead. Which Loki didn’t complain about.

He did complain, however, when she went to go home for a while. She wanted to print off her CV and have a browse online for some jobs. She had promised Loki that she would be back in an hour or so, so he decided to leave her to it.

But that wasn’t the case.

It was starting to get dark and she wasn’t back, Loki started to get worried. So he decided to go and look for her. Because he was so connected to Tracey, it was easy for him to tune into her and find where she was.

He wasn’t overly pleased to find that she was in the local butchers having an interview for a job. It wasn’t something she wanted to do, working there, but she needed money so was happy to take anything in the meantime.

Loki didn’t alert Tracey to the fact that he was there. As he had told her he was just going to wait at home for her return.

Tracey was in the middle of the interview when the power cut out, confusing both her and the owner of the butchers. He went briefly away to try and sort out the power. But it wasn’t long before it came back on.

‘Sorry about that, Tracey. Now let me just have a look at the review your previous employer gave you.’ He said as he turned to his computer and opened up the email.

Even though drugs were found in her locker, her previous employer said she wouldn’t mention it in her review for her. Which Tracey was really grateful for. But she was a bit confused when the man’s face turned serious and he glanced to Tracey with uncertainty, then back to the screen on front of him.

‘Right, that’s all I need for now. I will be in touch.’ He gave her a half hearted smile and shook her hand.

‘Oh. Ok. Thank you for your time.’ Tracey smiled as she got up to leave.

But she felt a sinking feeling inside her, as she knew it wasn’t good news. She couldn’t help but wonder what he read on the review that made him turn so cold all of a sudden. Unless her previous employer decided to change her mind and tell the truth about why she left her job.

Tracey sighed as she stepped outside the butchers into the cold night. It was nearly dark now and she shivered as she wrapped her jacket around her more.

She started to make her way back to Loki’s. She kept looking over her shoulder, uncertainty filled her mind as she kept thinking about Steven and Nick. The murderer could still be out there after all, she thought.

A chill ran down her spine so she quickened her pace to Loki’s mansion. It didn’t take her too long to get there. When she got inside she found Loki there, pacing back and fore on front of her.

He lunged towards her and grabbed her into a tight hug. She hugged him back, albeit a bit confused at his actions.

‘Loki?’ She asked as she looked up at him.

‘I was so worried. It’s dark and you were still out there. I told you to make sure you were back here before dark. Anything could have happened to you.’ Loki said firmly as he held her upper arms in his hands, his eyes watering with worry.

‘I… I’m sorry. I just lost track of time a bit. I didn’t mean to worry you.’ Tracey said, shocked with how he was acting.

She felt warmed with how worried he had been over her. But that also made her feel a little bad, as she had originally said to him that she would be back long before dark.

‘Don’t do it again, Tracey. I don’t know what I would do without you. You are my whole world.’ Loki said softly as he cupped her cheek with his hand.

She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. Then she reached up and covered his hand with her own.

‘I’m sorry, I won’t do it again... I love you.’ She smiled and opened her eyes to look up at her ghost boyfriend.

‘I love you too, darling. How did the job hunting go? Did you find anything worth applying for?’ Loki asked as he reached down and took her hand.

He led her through to the living room as they spoke.

‘Not really. There was a job going at the butchers, I managed to get an interview straight away as I called them up. It went well, until he looked at the review my last boss gave me. I don’t know what she wrote, but it couldn’t have been good. He said he would just call me, but I doubt he actually will. So I will just have to keep looking.’ Tracey sighed.

‘You don’t have to work, you know.’ Loki suggested as he pulled her down onto his lap when they got to the sofa.

‘What do you mean? Of course I do!’

‘You can live with me, you know this. I can easily provide for you.’ Loki said as he slid his hand underneath her top and he slowly trailed his fingers lightly all across her back, making her tremble.

‘I know you can. But my Granddad. You know this.’ Tracey said as she rested her head into the crook of his neck.

‘And we discussed this. He needs more serious help. We both know that you know deep down it’s the right thing to do.’ Loki mumbled into her hair.

‘I know… But I can’t not work for the rest of my life. I will go crazy, I need to find something.’

‘I will keep you plenty busy here. Think about it, you can have a life of luxury. Swimming every day in the pool, go for walks, draw, paint, read, write, anything you want. And of course all the sex you could ever desire.’ Loki growled.

‘It does sound appealing, but I can’t just do that all the time.’ Tracey squeaked as Loki’s hand slid down into her jeans and he cupped her bum with his large hand.

‘You could if you really wanted to.’ Loki chuckled. ‘Anyway, back to the point at hand. What are you going to do with your Granddad? If you don’t make a decision now and stick to it, you will just continue to be stuck in a rut, darling.’ Loki said as he squeezed her ass for a bit, then removed his hand from her jeans. Which Tracey was secretly disappointed at.

‘I… I don’t know. I will wait and see if I can get another job first. I can’t just, abandon him.’ Tracey sighed.

Loki gritted his teeth but kept his cool. He just so desperately wanted Tracey to move in with him. So he could have her, all to himself.