reubenvalencia

[reubenvalencia]

“Where the hell are they?” After a long night of serving drinks to an increasingly rowdy weekend crowd, all Mira wants is to go home and change out of her work clothes and feed Baloo. Untying the apron she’d left on without thought, she throws it with little regard through the driver’s side window, and glares at the five stacks of pizza-filled boxes untouched in the back seat. This isn’t even her shift, but their newest bartender Ivy had pleaded to get the afternoon off, and Mira had owed the redhead a shift since February. Also, as someone who would do anything dangerous on a simple dare, this seemed an easy task with five hundred dollars attached. Now, however, with the chilling sound of an owl in the distance and the daylight mostly faded? Perhaps she’d underthought not asking someone to come along.

Another ten minutes past, a phone call to the bar to confirm the customer didn’t call about their order, and a text to the group chat to confirm this isn’t some sort of prank, Mira kicks off from where she leans on the car and sets out into the night towards what appears to be little more than an over-sized shack in the distance. She’s halfway there, stomping through the dead grass when a large branch snaps behind her.

“Hello?” The lack of response leaves her with a long sigh. The door to the building is wide open, so whoever’s lurking in the darkness is clearly this rich asshole of a customer.  “Look, I’m not in the mood, okay? The Lyrids are out, and I have far better plans for the evening than delivering your pizzas.” No response. “Are you fucking serious?” She storms over to the shed door, hand sliding into her pocket for her phone. Her next insult about not being afraid to kick their ass catches in her throat when she reaches the door. It is not the hanging by one hinge that leaves her pulse increasing tenfold, but the large claw marks on the interior of the door.

A life long abandoned and no longer missed, the Diaz family were renowned for their hunting of supernatural creatures. She’d spent a year at the Academy, too many years before that being forced to memorize the vulnerabilities of vampires and werewolves, being berated if she didn’t awake at sunrise each weekend to practice combat with a stake, and yet... What good is the knowledge of identifying a creature and its weaknesses when she is alone and unarmed? She still drank vervain-infused drinks once a week, but it wasn’t like she kept silver bullets in her car to not be able to explain to her friends.

Leaves crunching echo in the distance, too close. This time, a chill runs down her spine as Mira tries to text “help, wolf”.

It’s wishful thinking, as it would take far too long for any of them to get to her, and she’s unsure any of her friends are proficient at battling a werewolf, and there is no more warning than a low growl before the werewolf in question charges. She barely manages to duck out of the way of its lunge, and as it barrels into the shed, she slams the nearly broken door on it and takes off sprinting.

It’s too dark now to see the direction of the car, and this time when Mira tries with shaking hands to call her friends, it isn’t to ask for help, but to say... what? Too many words bubble up as the wolf breaks out of the shed. Would she tell Elya that her softness was like coming up for air in a life where she was only allowed sharp, jagged edges? That a simple plant was the first time in over a decade Mira wished she could belong somewhere long enough to learn to what it was like to have a home? This time when it charges at her again, she’s armed with one of the fallen branches, swinging with all her weight. The phone is already abandoned as the wolf stumbles from the hit, and Mira only glimpses the screen brightening with a returning call. The creature’s angry now, ripping the branch from her grip with his maws and snapping it in half. Fear racks her brain, pollutes her common sense, and she dives for the phone, as if it is a lifeline disguised.

Would she thank Mylene for being the sibling she’d never had? For finding her that day in an abandoned street and deciding they’d fight the world together? Or for giving Mira a chance at a normal life?

It’s this thought, and the shocked acknowledgement that her scraped palms are healing before her eyes, that reminds Mira of her flames. When the wolf swipes at her, she manages enough concentration to catch her hand aflame, burning its right paw before crackling out. Its anger is unforgiving, slamming her hard with its body into a tree just out of reach of the phone, and Mira’s scream as claws dig into her skin echoes across the forest. Had she traded away her powers to live a human life, only for this sudden end?

Her skin is struggling to repair itself when gnashing teeth catch on the necklace she hasn’t removed since her birthday, and as she watches with disoriented vision as the wolf shakes its head, sending the miniature Nike flying out of her line of sight, she tries to stand with renewed effort, tries to kick at its canines.

If she survived for even one more moment with Lucian, what would she confess? That since she’d almost lost him six months ago, she’d had the unfortunate realization that he’d gone from worst annoyance to someone she’d be devastated to lose? That waking up in his arms a month ago was like being home at last, and that she’d had to flee from her own plan’s horrific backfiring? That chasing him would be dangerous and foolish and most likely unwanted, but in another life where she could afford to be selfish, she’d choose him without hesitation?

When claws shred through leather and pierce her heart, an action too final for her body to recover from, her last thoughts are still frozen in the comfort of a pair of familiar blue eyes.

[reubenvalencia]

Most of this year has been a vicious cycle of Jasper feeling like a disappointment to someone, trying too hard to prove he doesn’t care, getting drunk enough that he forgets said thing he actually does care about, and making another disastrous mistake. Currently, he’s somewhere between the disappointment and proving he doesn’t care phases, posting what is most likely his seventh Instagram story in the past few hours of him at this nightclub, as if that will make his night more interesting. He sighs, tapping the messenger app and ready to cave, typing a text invitation out to a friend when a woman nearly crashes into him as she recovers from being knocked over on her way from the dance floor.  “Shit, I’m so sorry, I’m a disaster tonight,” she says, lips pursing into a frown. His gaze wanders from her lips to the white dress clinging to her body, to the smile she tries to hide as she tracks this action. He sets the phone down, the exact distraction he needs having nearly fallen into his lap. “I’ve never complained about a beautiful woman falling from the heavens. You see, I’m a bit of a disaster tonight, too. Maybe it was fate. Care to join me?”  “I don’t believe in fate, or bad pick-up lines, so you’ll have to do better than that,” she informs him as she slides into the booth across from him, and he nearly chokes on his scotch from laughter.  “I do like a challenge,” he muses with a grin. “You want to tell me about your disaster?”  “Truthfully? This guy is sort of ruining my life, and I thought... I should find a way to get over it.”  “Ah, well, consider me at your services.” He holds out a hand. “Jasper Dubois. I think you’ve come to the perfect person to help with that little problem.”  She is the one to grin this time, blunt bangs nearly covering her eyes as she leans onto the table. Normally, bob cuts aren’t a turn-on for him, but there’s something almost other-worldly attractive about the way her heavily lined eyes nearly glow in the dim lighting when she says, “You know, I think you’re right.” 

Three dances and twice as many shots later, and he's having such a good time that he forgets that feeling of loneliness that pestered him earlier, focused on winning this new challenge. As she -- Izzy, he’s learned -- reaches for their next round of drinks, his lips brush her ear as he whispers, “Do you want to get out of here?” She nearly drops the glasses, but appears to recover from her surprise quickly, handing him his glass and moving just out of his reach. “I hardly know you and you want to take me home?”  “Is that all that’s stopping you?” he teases, “Because I can be an open book, ask me anything you want.” 

She steps closer again, as if he’s finally managed to pique her interest. “Anything?”  “For you? Anything.” A line he’s used on plenty of women, and it works like a charm on her, too. She taps her lips with her fingers, as if considering what to actually ask.  “Hm... What is... Okay, what is your most embarrassing moment?”  “Not even any easy question off the bat?” he retorts, only earning a mischievous smile.  Maybe it’s the alcohol, but he doesn’t think before admitting, “I accidentally married my friend in Vegas last month.” A loud laugh escapes her in between sips of her cocktail. “You did what? You’d better not have a spouse who’d kill you for being here.”  “Don’t worry, we already got divorced or annulled, whatever the official terms are. I couldn’t let my dad find out.”  “What would happen if your dad found out?” she asks, voice soft with concern. He likes this, that she’s easy to talk to.  “I don’t want to find out. I suppose you don’t need to ask my worst fear next, then,” Jasper admits with a laugh. “What about you? Is that guy going to be mad if you spend a night with me?” Izzy pauses, as if considering for a moment whether she should be here, but eventually offers a coy smile. “I can think of a few people who would tell me this is one of my worst ideas, actually, but I like bad ideas. Next question. How about ... worst thing you’ve ever done?”

He swallows, because the full moon comes to mind immediately, but what answer can he give this human girl that won’t ruin his chances with her? “...This is a trick question, isn’t it? Is it the pick-up lines?” She smirks, leaning close enough that he’s too focused on her lips to think clearly. “Dig deeper. What keeps you awake at night?”  “I hate to inform you that I get a solid eight hours of sleep each night, can’t risk my beauty sleep,” he teases. Her smile falls and her stare is intense enough that he’s certain she’s about to kiss him, but she only murmurs what sounds like a “that must be nice for you” before she leans back again.  “Final question. Most prized possession?”  “Am I passing so far?”  “I guess we’ll see,” she quips.  “Is it too materialistic to say my BMW?” 

She offers him a dramatic sigh. “It just might be.”  Jasper chuckles. “Even if I say that I bought it with my father the only day he said he was proud of me, and I remember that whenever I drive her? Or is that too much of a cliche? She also rides like a dream.”  This time, Izzy smiles as if he’s finally said something right. “What if I only say yes if I get to ride in this magical BMW of yours?” 

Victory at last, he thinks with a triumphant smile. Most women fall for the luxury cars, too. “That’s a deal I’m more than willing to make. She’s in the parking lot, if you want to see her.”  “I’d love that, just --” She glances at her phone and swears. “Can I call my roommate from your phone? Mine’s out of battery and I don’t want her to think I died.” Without hesitation, he hands over his cellphone, and she heads outside with it. Jasper pays for both their tabs, and admires a blonde dancing for an entire song before Izzy finally returns, brows furrowed and amusement gone. He stands, mild concern growing. “Is everything alright?”�� “I -- no, my roommate... she’s been trying to reach me for over an hour because she locked herself out of the house, so in a tragic turn of events, I’m going to need a raincheck.” 

This does sound like a typical excuse to cancel, but the forced smile on her face as he opens the door for her to exit the nightclub has Jasper convinced she's actually upset at not getting to spend a night with him. He pulls out a business card and pen to write his cell number on the back of it. “I look forward to our raincheck. What are my chances at a good night kiss to hold me over?” 

She hands back his phone at last, and holds up the business card between her fingers as she backs away towards the parking lot. “Slim to none. Don’t worry, Dubois, I’ll think of some more spectacular ways to make sure you don’t forget me.” 

He smiles to himself, sure tonight was still a success for his upcoming weekend plans. Still, as he opens his phone, he can’t help but wonder why there aren’t any new recent outgoing calls. 

[reubenvalencia]

🗲—  MARLENE MCKINNON : CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT  2 / ∞                 M O O D B O A R D

P.S. SEND ME AN ASK “ MARLENE/DORCAS/NARCISSA + (YOUR MUSE) ” AND I’LL MAKE A MOODBOARD.  

[reubenvalencia]

★·.·´¯`·.·★ 𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔥𝔬𝔪𝔢: 𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔢 𝔪𝔠𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔫 ★·.·´¯`·.·★

She’d been mid-conversation in the Great Hall, catching up on all she’d missed in her House during her time in the Hospital Wing when her owl had landed on her shoulder. The rigid handwriting had been recognizable immediately, and Marlene excused herself as she always did when her mother had bothered to write. 

A smug look played on her lips as she carefully opened the envelope and unraveled the letter. Her mother had always been excessively demanding of her expectations for Marlene since… since Marcus, but it would be a nice change to see her mother be concerned about her for once in her life.  ‘ Dear daughter, I’ve nearly lost my marbles in worry. ’ ? ‘ Dearest Marlene, I’m so sorry I trashed half your wardrobe last summer, please forgive me. ’ ?

Unfortunately, the content of the letter was far from what she’d expected… 

“ Dearest Marlene, 

I have been informed about the unfortunate occurrence over the holiday at Hogwarts. I am certain you are well aware of your position as the only remaining heir to the McKinnon family and hope that you will choose to be more cautious in the future. 

Rumors are circulating that you and the other student were targeted due to your blood status. I long to say that this comes as a surprise, but considering your less than satisfactory choice in company with either mudbloods or blood traitors over your years at Hogwarts, you have identified yourself as one of them. 

Short of sending you a howler ( which I strongly considered, mind you ), I am uncertain of how else to force you to understand. You may have no concern for the future of this family, but I have spent my entire life erasing my great grand-mother’s mistakes. If you searched for an actual eligible suitor, my grandchildren will be Purebloods. Do you not think Marcus would have led the McKinnons to greatness ?  Is it too much to ask of you to do the same ? Or do you want your offspring to suffer worse fates than being poisoned ? 

You turn seventeen next month, Marlene, and you must make the choice to stop being irresponsible and begin thinking of your future. You will not ruin this family. This is my last warning before I interfere myself. 

Sincerely, 

Mother. ”

[reubenvalencia]

★·.·´¯`·.·★ 𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔬𝔪𝔢: 𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔢 𝔪𝔠𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔫 ★·.·´¯`·.·★

Only a few days to her seventeenth birthday, with yet another mysterious incident landing someone in the Hospital Wing, and her brother’s face a recurring nightmare, does Marlene McKinnon find the courage to put quill to parchment. 

Dearest mother, 

Please forgive my delayed response. Since your owl, I have been seriously considering my suitors. Which one did I want ? I hear Rodolphus Lestrange is spoken for. What a shame. There’s always Stefan Nott or Valerius Mulciber or Regulus Black, but are any of them good enough for the last McKinnon ? Doubtful. By your logic, I’m practically a national treasure. Thank you, truly, for the vote of confidence. 

Anyway, you are absolutely right. Marcus would be more than willing to leave anyone or anything and marry the worst Slytherin you could find. I bet he could have landed Bellatrix Lestrange. They would have had some gorgeous, devil children you’d be proud to call Purebloods. I also bet he would have been miserable. 

You’re probably about to have an aneurysm over my safety and well-being, but you ought to have realized by now I don’t like anything that comes easy. That includes some safe life where I erase our family’s ‘ mistakes ’. Truthfully, I bet I would loved my great grand parents. Why ? Do you want to know who my favorite people are ? Mary MacDonald, Lily Evans, have you heard of them ? Probably not, they’re not in the Sacred Twenty-Eight, because they’re Muggleborns. But I’d rather a lifetime of memories with them and those ‘filthy blood traitors’ than the pricks whose parents you’re undoubtedly writing. 

Maybe I’ll go for a Muggle instead. Or maybe I’ll get a nice flat and adopt a cat. I haven’t the slightest idea what my future will be like yet, but I do know one thing: I will be the only one deciding it. Not you, not any boy, but me. From the bottom of my heart, truly, fuck your plans for my life. 

Please don’t expect me home for the holidays. 

Warmest regards, 

Marlene 

[reubenvalencia]

**OH! Is that ANA DE ARMAS? No that’s actually MARLENE MCKINNON. The SEVENTEEN year old GRYFFINDOR is currently in her SIXTH YEAR. I’ve heard that the HALF-BLOOD can be ACERBIC and IMPETUOUS, but also VALIANT and RESOLUTE. If they had a theme song it’d be THUNDER by IMAGINE DRAGONS. 

marlene eleanor mckinnon is the youngest of two children, born to a pureblood ravenclaw and an overly ambitious half-blood slytherin

as a little girl, she was groomed to be a princess. her brother would be the star quidditch player, the cursebreaker, the auror, whatever he dreamed, and marlene was to get good grades and marry a nice pure-blood boy. 

despite envying her brother, he was her best friend. she went everywhere with him, hung on his every word. he told her of wanting to be in gryffindor, and she’d laughed at him, telling him they’d both be slytherins or their mother would murder them 

he was three years older, and despite their little talks, followed their mother devoutly and when he hat-stalled for gryffindor and slytherin, he chose slytherin. the summer she left for hogwarts, her rule following brother died in a muggle accident.  she couldn’t process it, how he’d gone 15 years without ever once living for himself, and the princess began to   c r a c k. 

marlene packed her bags, and didn’t look back as she was sorted and ushered off into the cheering crimson crowds of GRYFFINDOR. 

she is utterly terrified of not l i v i n g, but instead of creating her own happiness, often makes decisions simply to be daring, because her mother wouldn’t approve, because her brother would, etc. etc. she plays so many parts that it’s difficult for anyone to know what’s hiding beneath her skin. 

although she may only know how to show it with a biting tongue or roll of her eyes, marlene sees the gryffindors as her true family, and would go to war for any of them. 

very contradictory wardrobe of leather and lace: sometimes she looks like a leader of a biker girl gang, sometimes such a large t-shirt that you’re wondering if she’s wearing shorts, sometimes dresses that don’t leave you wondering anything. 

chaotic good/neutral, so esfp it hurts, 8w7, personification of a thunderstorm 

member of care of magical creatures club and the hogwarts newspaper, can see herself becoming a brilliant writer for the daily prophet after hogwarts, if she could only manage to pay attention in class long enough to make it there. 

her pinterest

[reubenvalencia]

[reubenvalencia]

@reubenvalencia

[reubenvalencia]

helloxofaith2:

It’s nice to be a Slytherin.

[reubenvalencia]

Ghosts talking to us all the time — but we think their voices are our own thoughts.

David Foster Wallace (via thequotejournals)

[reubenvalencia]

AVI

Avi had been all over camp, not wanting to miss any of the activities. She loved how camp always made a celebration out of the smallest things, even if she normally didn’t care much about Valentine’s day. In her opinion, you should love your loved ones 24/7, the whole year long. But sure, if she got to go on a gondola around the lake, she’d take it. 

She was actually on her way to do just that, thinking about how she couldn’t wait for the fireworks later that night, when suddenly the world seemed to shift. Suddenly her surroundings changed drastically, and Avi looked around her disorientated. Instead of beautiful nature and campers roaming around, there was now tons of shiny marble and no once except… she turned around swiftly as someone behind her started shouting aggressively. Avi vaguely remembered seeing him around camp sometime, though they’d never talked before. “I don’t know?” she replied, soft of annoyed at his attitude, but mostly by the fact that she had no idea where she was. Before the attack she’d never been an anxious person, but now that she’d experienced all of that carnage.. she felt anxiety settle in her gut and hoped the other could fight if things went bad, since she was pretty much useless herself

From the corner of her eye she caught movement, turning her head and spotting.. a young girl? Maybe another demi god that she had never seen before? It made her wonder how many others were here right now. “Uhm… maybe we should ask her what’s going on?” she suggested, pointing towards the girl as she stepped closer to the boy.

His words had not been directed at anyone in particular, causing him to jerk his head in a motion slightly resembling a crazed maniac as he looked for its source. Reuben had never been one to bother with getting to know many people at camp. Hades, he barely even knew his own ‘siblings’. Unfortunately, this leads him to be left even more confused as he looks over the redheaded girl before him. He really only knows one redhead at camp, and this one is certainly not the daughter of Aphrodite he always seems to run into. “ Are you.... a child of Morpheus or Hypnos ? ” he asks slowly, voice thick with accusation. Maybe she didn’t know what they were doing here, but she looked to be younger than him, at least. The girl must have lost control of her abilities and dragged him along into her crazy ass dream. There was no other explanation he could fathom at this point. 

Still, a dream didn’t mean that he or this mystery girl were safe. He takes a protective step forward, blocking the girl’s path to the “ -- look, that is not a girl. ” okay, whatever it was resembled a girl, but... “ at least, not a human girl. look at her HAIR. ” with a very unsubtle nod towards the other (was she a nymph ? had this girl dragged a nymph into her dream too ? ), he continues, “ Her hair is made of fucking clouds. ”

[reubenvalencia]

@raena-andromedus

[reubenvalencia]

I won’t glorify or romanticize heartbreak, for me it was a kind of death and I was forced to keep living.

Warsan Shire (via thelovejournals)

[reubenvalencia]

inner reuben: you’re one of the most magnificent beings I've ever laid eyes on and I barely even know you but I’ve somehow memorized the melody that is your laughter and I can already tell that sharp tongue of yours will drive me mad and i’m horrified that i’m thrilled about it when I have to exercise all my will power to not approach you

outer reuben: “ eh you’re not horrible to look at. ” 

@skyesinworth

[reubenvalencia]

SKYE

“You’re not so bad.” Skye took the bottle again and drank a bit, smirking as she glanced at him. “Like what I said, I’d tell you but I’d have to kill you,” she said with a small chuckle.

“ You’re not terrible yourself, ” he retorted, then nodded towards the bottle as he brushed the sand of his jeans and clumsily stood up. “ You can keep it, consider it my gift to you. ” Perhaps a more sober Reuben wouldn’t be as selfless as to give up part of his liquor supply, but he was slowly coming to the realization that if he stuck around much longer, he’d start sharing more than she needed to know about today. “ I should sleep before Chiron bans me from the dessert for giving alcohol to minors. So long, beautiful. May we both remain mysterious and un-killed by the other. ”

[reubenvalencia]

Marcos Diaz in 1.03 ‘eXodus’

[reubenvalencia]

@avimelrose

When it comes to least favorite days of the year, the fourteenth of February easily makes Reuben’s top three. The son of Thanatos is already scarcely seen around camp during its regular hours, but today he hasn’t dared leave his cabin, careful to avoid every single aspect of the so-called holiday, from the kissing booths to the heart shaped candy to the starry-eyed campers bustling around. He feels physically sick, and it isn’t like he can explain his aversion to today, so fleeing seemed the best case scenario. He’s been doing it plenty since the Eidolons, anyway, so it shouldn’t cause alarm.

Reuben made it successfully halfway through the day, but the growl of his stomach dared him to not skip another meal. He’d already eaten all the granola bars he’d stashed away, and after a few moments of grumbling, stood to sneak his way towards the pavilion. However, the moment he stepped outside, the world seemed to shift underneath him, soft grass transforming into marble palace floors. “ What in Hades is going on ? ” he growls, hand drifting to his.... his sword is gone ? “ Where am I ? ” he shouts at the empty courtyard. Had he become possessed again ?