#Also wolf wood is so nice to draw he is so aesthetic

[zorcha]

My friend convinced me to post it

[thewineabout]

It’s for the birds!

This is my @stetersecretsanta 2019 gift for @spookubee I hope you like it and that it checks some of your boxes!!

    Find it on A03

Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski G for General!

Peter glares the entire time his neighbors are moving in, peeking through his front curtains at the shouting and the obnoxious laughter. There’s two of them, they look like fresh out of college babies, and the prospect of house parties and late night car door slamming is enough that Peter already hates them.

This neighborhood wasn’t for infants, it was refined, small houses and quiet people that had no interest in each other’s business. No one put up obnoxious decorations for Halloween or Christmas. The wildest thing on the block was Mrs. Fieldsburg’s floral painted mailbox.

Trucks, vans, and cars, a stream of people, clearly friends helping with the move, show up all day. Peter complains to his succulents and uses it as an excuse not to get any of his work done.

After all, how could he focus on ripping apart manuscripts fairly if he was already in such a bad mood? And Cora had been clear he needed to ease off or they weren’t going to have any authors left for him to criticize.

Instead, he finds a reason to work on his front yard and keeps an eye on the new nuisances.

He learns their names are Scott and Stiles, based on the yelling, and it’s the first place they’ve ever rented together. The one with floppy hair, Scott, keeps shouting about their first yard, and their first real mailbox, and their first stove. The last bit has Peter squinting a little behind his sunglasses.

The Stiles one doesn’t shout as much, but his laughter is loud and impossible to ignore. Peter doesn’t hate the sound but maybe that’s just because when he finally gets to see Stiles’ make it, he notices how stunning he is. A mile of pale skin, a plush mouth and an enchanting abandon when he’s got his head tipped back and his hand clutching over his belly as he cackles.

“Hey,” Peter hears from his left, beyond the fence as he’s watering the flower box hanging under his living room window. “We just moved in, obviously,” Stiles is calling and he’s got himself leaned on the little white fence that separates their yards. “I’m Stiles and that-” there’s a pause and then Stiles is whipping his head around to point out Scott who is putting out a chair on their porch. “That’s Scott.”

Peter pauses, having released the trigger on his garden sprayer, and looks first over Stiles and then up at Scott who is currently fussing with the positioning of the small matching table for the chair.

“You’ve got a killer yard, maybe you could give us some tips, we want to get some planting done. We’re supposed to maintain the front and back as part of our neighborhood agreement, but man, neither of us have ever kept a plant alive, you know?” Stiles is still chatting, fingers fidgeting on the edge of the fence and his weight shifting. He doesn’t look nervous, but Peter can practically taste his energy, his heartbeat quick. The excitement of the move, probably.

“Peter Hale,” he offers with a gesture of his hand. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Peter finishes watering his flower box and then starts walking with the hose, coiling it as he goes around his arm. “But, if you’d like, I could give you a few tips once you’re settled in.”

“Serious? That’d be awesome, yeah, maybe you could show me what you did with yours? I can kinda see it from our back porch but you’ve got that big tree,” Stiles makes a vertical gesture to indicate the tree and puts a hand in front of it flat and side ways to show their fence. As if Peter doesn’t know exactly what he’s talking about.

“The last owner of your house agreed to maintain the branches that hang over your side,” Peter says as he walks a bit closer, nearly at the side of his house, and drops the hose where it belongs before he’s approaching the fence.

“The privacy it offers has been a selling feature,” Peter smirks a bit and then settles against his fence with a propped hip. The thing is only waist high, more a divider and a quaint aesthetic than a real barrier.

Stiles nods at him and leans over more, hands on the edge of the fence and his foot coming up between the posts to rest on the connecting wood. The toe of his ked officially in Peter’s yard.

“Yeah he warned us not to go chopping branches down willy-nilly,” Stiles says and looks over at Peter. His gaze seems to pause and wander; Peter smirks under the attention.

A scuffle from the porch draws Peter’s to look over to Scott scraping the furniture across the boards as he repositions it.

When he looks back, he lets his gaze drag down Stiles’ neck and over the tee shirt and thin plaid he’s wearing. There’s smudges of dirt and paint on him, his clothes and his arms where the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows; forearms barely tanned with an obvious cord of muscle and a dusting of dark freckles.

Looking back up Peter smirks, Stiles’ eyes have rounded out and he’s staring before he twitches himself away from the fence and rubs his hands off on his shirt front. If he wasn’t turning pink at the collar Peter would think he was offended.

“I should finish up, we really want to get the furniture set up today,” Stiles’ hands come up and he’s waving them, fingers tight and spread and held in front of his chest. “It was nice to meet you, Peter, I - we should talk again. About the yards. Gardening.” He’s backed up and Peter watches him get to the stone path that leads to his porch.

“Feel free to stop by,” Peter calls after him with a deeper smirk and a last look before he’s turning and walking across his grass to his porch. He pauses at his front door to look over and catches Stiles peeking back at him before the blush becomes noticeable on fair cheeks and he darts into his house.

Maybe they won’t be the worst neighbors after all.

=====

 Peter sees a lot of Stiles in the few weeks after he moves in. Never for very long. It’s often a wave across the fence. Occasionally it’s a quick chat about local eateries or places to buy organic pumpkin seed butter.

Stiles grins at him when they, by absolute chance, go outside to collect their mail at the same time each morning. It’s neighborly, friendly, Stiles is loud and charming but always on his side of the fence.

He crosses it on a Tuesday morning and when Peter answers his short rapid burst of knocking. Stiles is holding a bag of gourmet bird seed with a mild pink crawling up his jawline and his feet shifting on the porch wood.

“You were telling me about the bird feeders in your backyard, and I thought, you know, I never brought over baking or something. Scott’s mom said we were supposed to bring something around to the neighbors but everyone else around here…” Stiles’ face pulls down and he shrugs one shoulder.

“Keeps to themselves?” Peter suggests with a smirk, as if he hadn’t spent his years on this block ignoring every other neighbor he’s had.

Stiles nods vigorously and switches the plastic sack of bird food over to his other arm so he can gesture with his right hand. “We tried, you know. We were going to do the loop, and the house with the ugly puke green trim accused us of trying to give them,” his eyebrows dip and his voice lowers, “brownie-brownies.”

Peter snorts and leans into his door frame, more fascinated by the way Stiles moves when he’s agitated than the story. The house with the ugly puke green trim also turns their lights off on Halloween so Peter isn’t that surprised.

“As if people are going around giving that shit away for free,” Stiles snorts back at him and then he’s hoisting up the bag at Peter who has to take it or let it hang awkwardly in his door frame.

“My birds will be delighted,” Peter says as he looks down at the bag, a heavy mix of nuts and seeds and corn. It’s not the fine blend he usually fills his feeders with, but he appreciates the gesture, perhaps his birds will as well.

“Yeah? Good,” Stiles smiles, the edges soft, it’s disarming.

“Did you want to see the garden?” Peter asks suddenly, brows up as he hoists the seed back to his hip.There’s a sharp uptick in Stiles’ heartbeat, it’s loud and flattering; Peter can’t help the way his teeth peek out when he grins at him and then gestures out the door.

“Yeah, I mean, I’d love to,” Stiles chimes and he’s fussing with his hoodie pocket, tangling his fingers with something he’s stored inside. He glances behind him and then takes a step back with a sharp chirp of alarm when Peter is stepping out of his house and he nearly doesn’t get out of the way in time.

Peter pauses to watch him, bending to hook his finger in the heel of each of his shoes to slide his feet fully into them. “Come on around back,” he says as he breezes by down the steps and around the side of the house. The sound of a rabbity heartbeat behind him curling something hot in the wolf’s belly.

Stiles follows him down the cobblestone path through the gate to his backyard, leaving it swung open after himself as he’s lead into the garden. He freezes up behind Peter for a moment and his chin angles up as he looks thoughtfully around himself.

“This is really nice,” Stiles gestures wide with both hands before they’re back in his pocket and he’s looking up at the tree that borders their shared fence. “That’s a nice tree.”

Peter turns to look at him, brows pitched at the stilted tone before he sees that Stiles means it. He’s looking up at the tree with something like adoration before his gaze trips around and he’s admiring the rest of the yard.

There’s lilies, sage, and salvia hedging the house. It’s green and lush and spotted with a bird feeder on either side with a fountain in among the penstemon. Peter takes pride in his yard. His raspberry bushes tucked against the far fence, and the raised garden bed with an ornamental rock wall at the back, his hand laid circular patio area with seating and a bbq.

“Dude this is - our yard looks like shit,” Stiles gushes as he’s ducking to touch some of the greenery and then watching as Peter goes to take a nearly empty bird feeder down and fill it with his gifted bird food. “This is an oasis,” his hand flails but he’s moved to pet the bark of the tulip tree. “Literally,” he points to the water fountain that’s trickling quietly in an imitation of a waterfall.

“Thank you,” Peter tries not to sound like he’s preening, but he’s preening, mouth turned up and his shoulders a little more rolled back as he comes down off the low garden wall, having set the bird feeder back on it’s designated tree branch. “I spend a lot of time outside.”

“So do I but I’m struggling to keep the grass alive,” Stiles whines, his hand up and in his hair as he looks around and not so subtly smiles at the bird feeder.

“Maybe I could lend you a hand,” Peter offers as he goes to put the bird seed in his locked storage bin, checking the seal with his finger once he’s closed it again. “Before you kill a dozen plants attempting it yourself.”

There’s a pause for an indignant gasp that’s as fake as Stiles’ scowl, his scent warm and sweet, with a strong dash of hazelnuts. Though, Stiles’ always smells like hazelnuts, even from across the fence.Hazelnuts and something peculiar that he can’t quite place yet.

“I’m going to let that go because I could actually use the help,” Stiles says as he wrinkles his nose up in a way that makes Peter’s chest swoop like it hasn’t in years.

=====

 They start work on Stiles’ backyard six days later.

Peter comes for a tour with a disdainful scowl for the dead daisies (how does anyone kill a daisy?) and yellow grass but he leaves Stiles with a list of supplies and suggested plants and they make a date to get things started.

The next few weeks Peter spends his late afternoons split between going across the fence to help Stiles figure out mulch and planting, and arguing with a squirrel that’s recently showed up to raid his bird feeders.

The new seed must have attracted him in. He’s the first rodent that’s dared step foot in Peter’s yard since last year when Derek got drunk at a BBQ and pissed on the tulip tree.

Apparently, this squirrel has no fear of apex predators and is determined to chase away the birds with his ear piercing chirping and the way he stuffs his face with bird food before he’s scampering down the fence.

It becomes a thing.

Peter chases off the squirrel and the squirrel climbs to a branch in the tree he feels safe in and yells down at the wolf. Sometimes Peter catches the squirrel in the bird feeder. Sometimes he catches the obnoxious rodent sunning himself on the garden wall; tail curled over his back and all of his tiny limbs splayed out on the warm stone.

It shouldn’t be so annoying but it was strange to feel laughed at and spited by an animal so far down from him on the food chain. He moves the feeders and hangs them away from the tree branches, on poles instead, and watches the squirrel watching him as he does it.

“You’ll have to find somewhere else to mooch,” he tells the rodent with an irritable growl in his voice. The squirrel whips his tail at him, squawks, and disappears over the fence.

                                                         ======

 “It’s starting to look pretty good,” Stiles says a month into their garden work as he sips on a bottle of beer in a brand Peter can’t stand, but has accepted anyway. It tastes like college and urine.

“It is,” Peter agrees. They’ve both got mud under their nails and sweat sticking their shirts to skin. “Still a ways to go, it’ll take some effort to get the bushes in.”

Stiles nods, and rubs the condensation of his bottle across his forehead with a sharp exhale. “But, that’ll be sweet. Free blueberries? Awesome.”

“Don’t expect them to produce much,” Peter warns, again, because he sees how Stiles eyes up the raspberries when he visits his yard. And those bushes are years old and tenacious.

“Worth it.” Stiles nudges his sunglasses better onto his nose along with a smearing of wet dirt. “Hey, and these,” he reaches down from where he’s sitting in his camping chair and rapped his knuckles against the garden knee pads Peter had lent him, “freaking awesome.”

Peter shakes his head mildly and sips his beer, lips pursed as he swallows. “I told you,” he starts and is cut off by Stiles making a throaty noise and waving a hand at him.

“I know-” Stiles’ tongue catches between his teeth when he smiles and he reaches over to clumsily clink his bottle against Peter’s. “Thanks for doing this.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Peter tips his head to look over and offer a returned cheers though it’s not quite as over enthusiastic. Their bottles linger together for a moment, because Peter’s distracted by the moles near Stiles’ mouth and Stiles has frozen solid staring right back.

 =====

 The squirrel figures out a way to climb up the bird feeders within a week. The tiny monster sits and chirps at Peter whenever the wolf comes out to catch him. It feels like laughter.

“If I wasn’t so suburban, I’d eat you,” Peter speaks to the squirrel as he goes to start his watering routine. The squirrel barks at him but doesn’t bolt away, just continues to pick out what he likes out of Peter’s bird food with tiny paws.

Peter works down the other fence, “I suppose, until I get rid of you, I could call you something.”

There’s a distinct rhythmic scratch as the squirrel climbs the fence and runs along the top, landing himself on a tall post near Peter. He takes out a mouthful of seeds and starts working through them. Littering shells as he goes.

“Irritating rat?” Peter asks, and the squirrel thumps at him, tiny back feet stomping and his tail wagging, “no? Fine.” There’s a pause as he looks up to the squirrel, realizes he’s talking to a squirrel, and scowls. It’s the first time they’ve been this close, just a few feet of space between them.

Peter doesn’t know anything about squirrels, they’re rodents, they’re annoying, but he couldn’t identify the type. This one is red and glossy in the late evening sunlight.

“I still want you out of my bird feeders,” he scolds quietly, in a huff, turning the sprayer over the raspberry bushes. “Little Red.”

There’s quiet chattering, it doesn’t sound agitated and when Peter looks up the squirrel is leaning forward over its front paws to sniff in his direction.

“Now, get out of my yard,” Peter shoos, turning the sprayer on to mist and puffing it a few times in the fluffy rat’s direction.

The squirrel yells at him but darts out of the way down the fence where he continues to bark, and then disappears.

Good.

Peter buys squirrel baffles the next day and clips the cones under his feeders.

 =====

 “So, it’s you,” Peter accuses when Stiles’ comes over for dinner after they’ve finally finished tilling and mulching his under window garden space.

Stiles freezes up, eyes turning over to him and his hand paused on its way to his mouth. A handful of hazelnuts visible between his fingers. Peter could smell them when he’d walked in.

“What?” Stiles asks, his voice sounds a little squeaky.

“I keep finding hazelnuts around my yard,” Peter says as he looks over at Stiles and purses his lips.

It was an understatement. He found hazelnuts in his patio furniture, tucked under seat cushions and in the folds of the table umbrella. In the flower pots he kept on the back steps. A few memorable ones on his windowsills.

Stiles glances at his handful of nuts and slowly goes to put them into his pocket. They make a little curve in the hoodie material. “Oh, I-” his tone is quiet, he smells strange and embarrassed.

“I was wondering who was leaving them out for little Red,” Peter continues, quirking his lips and a brow at his dinner guest as he moves the lasagna out from the oven and on to a pot holder. The entire kitchen smells like hot cheese and garlic. “I have a yard squirrel,” Peter elaborates as he snaps off his oven mitts and goes to pour two glasses of Chianti.

“Oh- oh,” Stiles deflates rapidly a hand on his chest which he then flicks out to flap at Peter. “Dude, yeah, I guess that’s me.” He comes around the kitchen island and starts poking into cupboards until he finds plates, bringing down a pair of them.

Peter brings the glasses to his dining table a few feet away and sets them down at opposite place mats. When he turns around Stiles has snagged a knife off the magnetic strip above the coffee maker and is using it on the garlic bread he’s taken out of the warming drawer.

It’s familiar, in that they’ve eaten together plenty of times, though usually it’s light meals sitting around one of their yards. Sandwiches, occasionally a bbq’d burger, casual food and beer. But it’s new to sit down at an indoor table and Peter refuses to be nervous about that.

“Oh my god, it smells so good,” Stiles moans as he’s sampling a piece of bread and then sliding the row of cut pieces onto the cutting board a little nicer. He rolls the foil on the loaf to keep the heat in and then brings the bread to the table. “This is fancy,” he says, shifting his weight and resting a hand on the back of a chair.

“Fancier than frozen pizza and poptarts,” Peter agrees with a snide little tilt to his nose but a warm smile a moment later.

Stiles sticks his tongue out, and then barks a laugh as he scrubs over his hair. “We do actually cook like real adults,” he points out and then takes a seat when Peter sets the lasagna down on a trivet on the table with a knife and a skinny spatula. “You, know, sometimes.”

Peter hums an ‘uh-huh’ of total belief and then takes his own seat after he uses the dimmer switch to take the lighting down to something a little more intimate.They’re not groping in the dark for their forks but it’s not the stark brightness of a friendly meal. The warm glow makes Stiles’ eyes look golden.

“So this is good wine,” Stiles says when he’s sipped his and made a face he can’t hide against the side of the crystal glass.

“It’s better with the sauce,” Peter promises but he’s smirking anyway, reaching over to cut out a few squares from the lasagna and carefully using the spatula to set one onto his own plate. He lifts up a second, holding it carefully as he waits for Stiles to lift his plate up next.

“Thanks,” Stiles says and he shifts in his seat as he brings his food down in front of him and picks up a fork. “I- don’t think anyone’s ever cooked me a whole meal before,” he’s laughing but his neck is turning pink at the edge of his hoodie. “I mean someone like-” he gestures between them.

Peter doesn’t know if he means a friend or something else but he nods anyway.

“You helped,” Peter offers, picking up a piece of garlic bread and setting it on his plate so it’ll absorb some of the oozing sauce.

“Oh yeah, I cut some bread-” Stiles rolls his eyes and his mouth goes tight before he’s skewering his fork in Peter’s direction. “You’re making fun of me.”

Peter nods, mouth curling as he stretches his leg out to bump his socked toes into Stiles’ shin under the table. The leg under his toes jerks and Stiles is kicking him right back before his heel drops back to the floor, and if his toes stay pressed against the arch of Peter’s foot well... he’s not going to say anything about it.

“How was work?” Peter asks, not because he really cares about the woes of the city archives, but because Stiles loves his job.

There’s a pause, while Stiles moans through his first bite of food and startles Peter into fumbling his fork before he starts talking. “Oh man, today was amazing. I came across a death certificate from like a hundred years ago and it said death by wolf in the post office. And I was like, okay what?” He waves his fork around and his brows steeple. “A wolf in the post office?”

Peter raises a brow and makes a circular motion with his bread before he takes a bite out of it.

“So it turns out half the town thought the postmaster was a werewolf and the other half swore he kept one as a pet.” Stiles is grinning like a cat and leaning over the table. “Werewolves,” he repeats but his eyes are sharp enough it makes Peter pause to look at him.

“Fascinating,” Peter says as he reaches for his wine, he swirls it, just for something to look down at before he takes a sip.

Stiles reaches for his own in mirror though he chugs half the glass before he sets it down and wipes his lower lip with his thumb. “Yeah, the kicker is that he actually might have just had a big dog.”

Peter coughs into his wrist and shakes his head when Stiles hand darts out to hover at him. When he catches his breath he laughs and there’s an answering cackle from across the table before they go back to eating.

Stiles keeps talking at him, about how a man in the 70s who tried to elect his pet duck for Sheriff, and how a cult once passed through. He talks through the rest of the meal and Peter listens.

They chat through packing away the leftovers and through the dishes. Stiles only seems to run out of words when they’ve settled on the sofa. Refilled wine glasses in hand, a sparse foot of leather cushion between them; Stiles fiddles with his hoodie sleeves and darts glances over at Peter.

“Thank you for joining me,” Peter says as he leans into his arm rest and studies Stiles’ profile. His heartbeat is so fast, it always seems fast, but now it’s sprinting.

Stiles fingers blanche against his wine glass before he tosses it back and sets it on the low coffee table. “Thank you for having me,” he pauses and swallows, “for dinner,” his hands fidget and wave, “I mean having me over for dinner.”

Peter exhales slowly and sets his own half filled glass down before he’s leaning back and putting an arm across the back of the sofa. “I enjoy our time together,” he murmurs and pauses to reach a hand out and set it on Stiles’ knee. “I hope we can do it again?”

The house is too quiet for a moment as Stiles breath spikes, the sweet spice in his scent rising like steam and then he’s nodding and dropping cool fingers over Peter’s hand.

“I’d really like that,” Stiles squeezes his fingers against Peter’s before he’s wiggling them under and then they’re holding hands.

It should seem childish, but Peter’s stomach does a nervous flop anyway. He glances down at their shared grip as it migrates to sitting on the cushion between them. Stiles’ fingers are long and pale, his own broader and tanned. He draws his thumb slowly across Stiles’ knuckles once and then again, sweeping as they sit in the quiet.

Later, when Stiles leaves it’s with a nervous parting hug that lingers in the doorway. The neighbors would be scandalized. Peter’s delighted, and he draws in a handful of red hoodie to press a light kiss against Stiles’ temple.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Peter whispers and Stiles rubs at his pink cheeks on the walk back across the yard to his own house.

 =====

 In the following week, Peter finds tiny bright red paw prints along his garden wall with half an abandoned raspberry, a pile of hazelnuts tucked into the crook of his tree branches, and the squirrel baffle on the ground under the bird feeder with very precise chew marks through the clasp.

This tiny creature is besting him. Outsmarting him. Peter’s fuming as he takes the broken plastic baffle out of his garden and he returns to the internet to find something else to dissuade his little Red.

When he tells Stiles about it the next time they’re working in his yard, he laughs, loud and bright, with a sort of mischief that Peter doesn’t understand but wants to taste.

“Maybe he just likes you,” Stiles says over his shoulder at Peter who is sitting on the porch on a camping chair lazily sipping his weak piss water beer.

The new shed they picked out together had been delivered, tucked neatly to the side of the yard. Stiles is sorting out his garden supplies into the fresh shelves with a focused energy Peter’s never seen before.

It’s almost hard to watch. Stiles ducks in and out of the shed seemingly at random, holding a single item at a time to pick a place for. He’s got sheers in his hands now, and a thoughtful look on his face before he zips in to put them upright in a blueberry themed tool caddy Peter had gifted to him.

“I think he’s mocking me,” Peter complains, resting his cheek against his beer bottle, and watching Stiles march a bag of fertilizer, and then a rake, and then a hose attachment, and then a different bag of fertilizer in. “Not afraid of me at all.”

Stiles peeks out of the shed at him and squints, his sunglasses tucked into the front of his obscure tee shirt with a reference Peter doesn’t understand enough to even ask about.

“Do you really want to be scary to a squirrel? Is that really important to you?” Stiles is grinning, the sharp toothed kind that means he’s really delighted.

When he says it so bluntly, Peter does sort of wonder why he’s fighting with a rodent, but he rolls a lazy shrug anyway and grins right back. “Yes, it is.”

The raspberry Stiles blows echoes through the shed and so does the following giggle. Peter rolls his eyes and goes back to watching him pick items at random to store away. He wonders how anyone could tolerate being so chaotic, his own shed was meticulous.

When Stiles is done he’s petting the door of his shed with a satisfied smile and his scent is curling into something spicy and pleased.

“Come see,” Stiles says shyly, tapping his fingers on the shed door as he steps away from it with a gesture.

Peter imagines strewn tools and hides a wince before he climbs off the porch to look. His hand settles lightly on the small of Stiles’ back as he nears. Stiles is warm through his shirt, and he leans a bit into the touch before he looks over and reaches up to hook his elbow up on Peter’s shoulder.

“This is organized,” Peter says blankly after a moment of staring, everything is neatly clumped by use or season, it’s a showroom quality shed. Call Home and Garden. The body under his hand bristles up and Stiles scowls over at him.

“Wow,” Stiles snips, stepping away and back to the deck to the pile of hazelnuts he left on the railing. “I’m totally organized. I’m an excellent organizer.” He looks indignant and chews like it.

The strange smell, Peter has yet to place, intensifies. Musky almost, but clean, and frustrating. Peter braces his hands up in a placating gesture as he looks up at Stiles’ waspish expression.

“Yes, clearly,” he says and comes up to join him on the porch. “I didn’t mean to offend,” Peter can’t help but quirk his brows up because it’s a picky response and he finds it just a little funny.

“You’re very organized, lamb, you did a very nice job of the shed,” he coos it a bit, and goes to tug Stiles closer by his shirt front, soothing the crease between his brows with a warm thumb.

Stiles cracks a moment later, rolling his eyes and grumbling as he reaches around and gives Peter a proper hug; cheek on his shoulder before he’s pulled back to pluck up a few hazelnuts.

“Shut up,” Stiles pinches his side and then goes to pop himself up to sit on the railing.

Peter doesn’t understand his desire to perch himself up five feet in the air and goes back to sit in his camping chair.

“We’re almost done for the season,” Peter drinks more of his beer before he abandons it into the attached vinyl cup holder and turns his head to survey the yard. Everything that could be managed was just about done. There’s a pang in his chest as he thinks about losing his time with Stiles.

The bang of rubber sole against wood draws Peter’s attention back up to Stiles who is raising a brow at him, one leg brought up with him so he can rest his arms around a knee.

“You’ll help me with up keep though,” Stiles says, first like he’s testing it and then more firmly, “you wouldn’t want me to kill everything.”

“You’re right, I can’t leave you totally unsupervised.” It really would be a crime to have all this work undone.

Stiles shifts on his perch, “yeah. My garden guide.” His front teeth peek out when he smiles.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Peter agrees with a long look before he’s flinching away from a hazelnut Stiles chucks at his face.

 =====

 Four and a half months after Stiles moved in next door and subsequently into his life, they’ve got his yard completely sorted; complete with his own bird feeder and a bird bath with spitting frogs that Peter had set up as a surprise after a trip they’d taken to the gardening store.

Personally, he hated it, but Stiles had adored the stupid thing. He’d named the frogs before he’d seen the price tag and squawked.

They don’t talk about what they are or what they aren’t, and Peter’s alright with that. He’s persistent, he has no qualms against a long courtship.

The only remaining problem is the damn squirrel. Little Red comes by routinely to steal bird food and cache food around. He’s got a nest in Peter’s tree. He chitters when Peter’s working in the garden and scampers off whenever the wolf gets a little too annoyed with him.

Short of actually eating the thing, Peter doesn’t know what else to do, and he’s begrudgingly a little fond of the animal. Not that it stops him from going out in the middle of the night and greasing up his bird feeder poles.

It might not be ethical but the decoy owl Peter had bought had been knocked over and stuffed with hazelnuts and bird food, so really, the little rat deserved it. Peter would not be mocked by an afternoon snack.

He’s not sure it’ll work, considering the apparent intelligence of his backyard pest but sure enough, while Peter’s having his morning coffee on the porch he watches little Red dart across the fence.

The squirrel leaps down and shimmies around the base of the feeder before with a solid jump he grabs for the metal pole and slides around it to fall a half a foot away on the other side. Stunned and bobbling back up to his paws.

Peter has to cover an ear against the explosive chattering that follows as the angry slicked down ball of fur rushes off the garden wall and across the patio stones.

He makes it to the porch before Peter even processes that he’s being charged by a squirrel and thinks to take a step back from the barking creature. It hops up the porch railing and in a blink the oiled fur is replaced by a dark brown cowlick and pinched up features.

“That is not fair. That was mean. I could have broken my neck,” Stiles rants at him, with one hand instinctively cupped over his naked groin and the other gesticulating angrily into Peter’s face.

“Stiles-” Peter starts, blinking slowly at Stiles’ face before the opportunist in him looks down to take in the rest. “Stiles, you’re naked in my yard.”

The words don’t seem to click before Stiles flushes a dark red and looks down at himself and then backwards at the neighbor's fences and then he’s darting forward to let himself into Peter’s house.

“Look I thought, you know, it was fun, I liked - I told you I liked your yard. I bought you bird food! I bought you my favorite bird food!” Stiles is using a kitchen hand towel to hold over himself as he grumbles accusingly. “I thought you were joking about not liking - me?”

Peter chews his lips a moment, holds up a hand, and Stiles falls silent after a few breaths.

“You’re a weresquirrel?”

“You’re a werewolf.” Stiles shrugs at him and then he pauses. “Oh my god you didn’t know! I totally thought you figured it out? Like months ago?”

That shocks Peter enough that he has to set down his coffee mug and raise a hand to rub at his brow. “I’m a werewolf?”

Stiles nods at him as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world and then he’s reaching over into a jar of hazelnuts Peter started keeping around for him weeks ago.

“Dude you made a cache in your house for me, I totally thought you knew.” Stiles raises his handful of hazelnuts before the palmful goes into his mouth.

“How did you know about me?” Peter demands trying to recall anything that could have outed him.

There’s a gentle hum from Stiles who waves his hand a bit and swallows. “Dude, relax, I’ve got like a super enhanced sense of you know, predators and danger, and things that could eat me. I’ve known since you introduced yourself.”

They’re quiet for a few moments before Peter sighs, rolls his shoulders, and moves to get down a second coffee mug. “Black, two sugars, sweetheart?” He speaks as he’s already pouring.

Stiles grins at him from across the kitchen and nods before he’s approaching and goes to slide under Peter’s shirt to grip his waist. He hadn’t quite gotten all of the oil off on the towel so it’s a little slick, but he squeezes enough that Peter gets the point and turns around.

“You’re not mad, right?” Stiles asks, nose wrinkled up and his mouth turned down as he studies Peter. Twitching his weight from foot to foot.

It would be silly to be mad, a little embarrassed maybe, but hanging on to that would be pointless. Especially when he’s got Stiles nearly pressed against him like this.

Peter lifts a hand and lets it rest on Stiles’ shoulder, slowly dragging it along his skin until he can cradle the nape of his fragile little neck and pull him in gently. It’s been months that he’s wanted to do this but they’d been dancing around it, playing cat and mouse-- so to speak.

“I’m furious, little Red” Peter breathes with an obvious eye roll before Stiles rushes forward to close the gap.

He tastes like hazelnuts and smells like olive oil and it’s perfect.

[judehayward]

lady gaga voice slowly fadin in: ju-Das juda-ah-ah… this depressed goblin bastard is honestly my fav male muse like i dnt typically stick w male muses tht long i struggle bt................. i’ve played him the longest of them all n always seem to return to him. jst cnt stay away. way 2 attached to this absurd little man. it’s nai btw!!!! (josefine on the main). launches right in to jude’s intro without further adieu..... (u can also find his playlist here) 🧙‍🎨

「douglas booth & cis-male」⇾ hayward , jude, the senior radcliffe student’s records show that he is a pisces and 23 years old. he is studying ART, living in moris and can be protective, laidback, nonsensical & apathetic. when i see him i am reminded of wearing a faded smiley face sticker on your forehead while receiving a serious lecture, saying “fuck off” to inanimate objects, lead marbles instead of eyes. ⇽「nai & 23 & gmt & she/her.」

he pinterest:

me in the voice of a card magician performing on the street: round up round up pick a pinterest any pinterest!

ta-da it’s aesthetics:

lead marbles instead of eyes, a stolen hearse careening down the wrong lane, wearing a faded smiley face sticker on your forehead while receiving a serious lecture, bags under the eyes that are so big they could pack enough clothes for a three week vacation, a cigarette wobbling from your bottom lip as you squint against the sunlight, passing out on a stranger’s rooftop, placing sunglasses over the eyes of a biology lab skeleton, gangling around the place like shaggy minus his scooby snacks, saying “fuck off” to inanimate objects

about tha Bitch:

born in sheffield in england, bt they went back and forth between there n san fran a lot

jude was an unhappy accident. his parents never rly used protection bc they were super Liberal n Au Naturel n believed in the pull out method bc… they were maniacs. bt then the ONE time they used a condom in an effort to b safety conscious it broke n hence…. jude was born

they just kind of ran w it bc they had such a passionate relationship tht they were like What The Hell…. may as well! itll be fine we’ll learn to be good parents n love him like normal ppl do

spoiler alert: tht didn’t work out

they were ok to him like they weren’t fully Bad bt they just found him to be a massive burden n hindrance to their plans. pretty absent n irresponsible. they literally….. had sex all day every day n acted like a pair of teenagers. it ws a super weird environment for a kid to grow up in bc he literally had no role models or… guidance or…. anything rly. occasionally they’d joke around w him or pretend they properly knew what grade he was going into but for the most part they just Didn’t Care the way parents shd. they lost his birth certificate n dnt remember what they put as his middle name so he’s jst kind of like hmmmm............. n gives himself a diff one every time ppl ask. past variations hv included: jude pauly hayward, jude maureen hayward, jude van winkle hayward. says all of these w a very straight face

despite this he does hv some nice memories w them. usually he definitely sees them fr holidays. frm being rly young their christmas tradition hs been to get a bunch of chinese food like a Banquet Feast n spend all day smoking n drinking into the early hours. perhaps not the healthiest or most responsible bt 😔 jude rly likes it it’s kind of the one time of yr he feels he has a proper family

they r both suuuuper into the arts. rly good sculptors bt they paint too n they actually own a successful gallery in sheffield n san fran

(trauma tw) as a result he grew up around a lot of creative n sometimes pretentious ppl. the friends of his parents were more present in his life than his ACTUAL parents bc they were always jetting off to diff countries to scout out new pieces fr their galleries n just have a gd time in beautiful places without…. the annoyance tht ws being responsible n looking after someone. tbh some of his parents friends were rly damaging too bt….i won’t go into that just yet. it doesn’t rly…need properly explaining bc jude never talks abt it anyway n it….is rather triggering so i’ll jst….leav it for now tbh. basically they just were Not Nice n jude had a lot of bad memories he keeps repressed bt he also??? has some gd ones..... it was a strange environment bt he’s a survivor

(death n grief tw) he hd to do community service bc he kind of… hd a bit of a breakdown before the funeral of his elderly neighbour who bsically raised him bc her kids rly didnt care abt her they jst wanted her inheritance?? so he… stole the hearse w her casket still in it n ws jst like… drivin around the place sort of… tryin nt to cry…..KJJFHSFKJGHKFG i mean. it isnt funny its actually sad bt :/ in a very bizarre n jude way. he gt caught n taken in fr questioning bt her son kind of realised hw… broken up abt her death jude ws n had a heart n didnt press charges. regardless he stil hd to do community service bc it ws like taken seriously even tho it ws his first proper offence. doin it rly exhausted n depressed him so when he wsnt doin tht he ws just hibernatin in his room……. this ws like 4 months ago nw............ just some fun lore fr u all

bc of how he ws raised he has a p cultured taste. he luvs classic lit n p much anything artsy. he can play piano 2 n sometimes gets rly high n thinks he’s mozart level gd at composing he’s jst going fking wild on the keys in a trance...... i mean he’s gd bt… chill

he’s rly sarcastic n so deadpan like he’ll say smthn completely ridiculous bt he’ll say it w his whole chest so sincere.... it’s rly hard to tell when he’s joking or serious honestly. has an overflowing secret sketchbook n if he cares abt someone he’ll probably secretly draw them. does NOT share these drawings w the person he hates being openly sentimental. at heart he is jst a very Sad Boy w lots of repressed issues like depression genuinely just does NAT giv him a single break bt he plasters over this w wise cracks n never discusses his emotions ever. he’s actually p decent or at least tries to b. he’s kind of like tht bit in superbad where michael cera gets rly drunk n makes a toast to women like tht energy...........

he has rly bad insomnia so he like never sleeps idk how he’s Alive straight up. please go to bed sir............. he always has rly sleepy eyes n rubs them tiredly mid conversation. he smokes a lot of weed to try n compensate fr this n make him tired bt he still struggles a lot

ANYWAY that aside he’s at radcliffe doing art, focusing on fine art like painting is............... the thing he luvs most...... his style is kind of.......... taking normal things n painting w surreal colours.... he likes A LOT of colour in his paintings which is kind of a stark contrast to his personality bc his world’s so.... washed out n grey............ lovs art n philosophy n literature n photography n music.... 

ummMMMMmm honestly idk i’m blankin on what else to say. ull find him smoking weed reading an american classic or gnawing at his thumbnail n getting charcoal smudges on all his clothes. wandering the streets in plaid pj bottoms n dr martens eating frm a cereal box without care in the world. he’s p broody n scruffy n he’s mostly here fr a laidback time....... doesn’t rly like when ppl take themselves too seriously........ likes strange ppl thinks the world is mde richer by them n likes when ppl can jst bounce back jokes at him without being like erm. u dont make sense mate. bc frankly he can come up w some strange stuff sometimes.............. talking to him cn b like navigating a dark n bendy road without a flashlight....... 

(drugs tw) once did shrooms n woke up naked in the woods curled up in a pile of leaves. to this day he recounts this as his werewolf transformation. hs no idea hw he ended up there n when ppl r like are u not. concerned jude. tht is so strange? he jst shrugs like.............. dunno....................... suppose i’m jst a werewolf upon occasion. so casual abt it. jst truly does Not care abt most things at all..... almost to the point tht it’s concerning (sometimes way past the point tht it’s concerning too :/)

this is the desc on an aesthetic i mde of his style once n sums it up well!! ‘additionally: too many pairs of trousers, a hideous amount of white t-shirts all somewhat stained with charcoal, a jumper so thinly knit it almost looks sheer, chipped teale nail varnish, a cream corduroy jacket with a cigarette hole singed onto the cuff, vintage wiry reading glasses he almost never wears, a freshly rolled cigarette behind his ear, a thrifted t-shirt with a warped bart simpson wearing a stethoscope with the caption ‘bard knwos cardiology’ and two crops hacked that way with kitchen scissors that he sometimes wears to paint.‘

EXPERT at rolling spliffs like jst. mkes them so precise n neat....... it’s his super power. his fav thing to smoke frm is banana flavour papers.................... linking 2 this he’s like. bad w emotions bt he does try..... once his friend (maggie) ws sad so he brought her a spliff wrapped in grape flavoured paper bc it’s her fav fruit n jst like. wordlessly gave it to her. it’s the thought tht counts.....

PLOTS!!!!!

plays bass in a band which cld b a fun connection to get together??? i picture the music being like surf rock type like........... mac demarco...... bt he also luvs elliott smith n glass animals n the cure n metronomy n neutral milk hotel n talking heads n radiohead n mazzy star n wolf alice...................... idk jst like.... within tht ballpark i suppose i imagine it being................

mayb ppl he shares classes w?????? i’d like someone tht does a similar course n they hang out tgether when it comes to trips fr the module to museums or exhibits or wtever................ they both stand in front of paintings analysing it rly wrong n saying stuff like hmmmmmmmmm....... i do declare i see a, uh..... large phallus protruding from the centre of this image...... moves something in me.......... n some elderly person looking at it besides them is like Ergh. sickened n disgraced. leaves w a brow severely furrowed

someone he smokes w on the moris rooftop late at night when he cnt sleep??? mayb they’re up n cnt sleep either fr whtever reason n it’s become an unspoken kind of ritual where they always clamber out n find each other there n jst wordlessly keep them company

jude is kind of like. protective almost to a fault sometimes........... mayb some guy he’s punched......................... if they hurt someone he cares abt........... typically it wld hv been a girl he ws kind of like. affected by his first relationship bc she had a bad home situation n ever since jst wnts..... to Protect it’s kind of like an automatic instinct ingrained in him nw 😔 all sounds very noble n well bt sometimes it cn b a bit of an escalation i wnt lie

perhaps a few hook-ups??? jude doesn’t tend to sleep w ppl he rly knows bc he just..... likes it to b an impersonal thing doesn’t like getting attached fr various reasons so mayb they only kno each other via this OR mayb he bent his rules a bit..... cld either work seamlessly or hv added drama if one side hs mre feelings or whtever

currently living in moris w 2 roommates bt i’d love some neighbours perhaps..... mayb someone tht lives directly nxt door to his room n is like ://// bc he plays music loud n weeds always drifting frm his window n mking their room smell if theirs is open too................. or mayb they get on..... mayb there’s a rly mean seagull tht lands on a branch n poos on pedestrians n they both commentate on it frm their windows like david attenborough...... they’re like he’s at it again. they’ve named him n everything

HONESTLY anything if u have an idea hmu i’d love 2 hear it.......... rubs my hands tgether in excitement to plot up a storm w u all

[juni-ravenhall]

writings about juni as an oc

30 questions about Juni (with unnecessarily long answers), from this SSO OC asks posts except i just filled it all out in one go. i want to try developing her into a more detailed character just for fun so this seemed like the best way to start! i hadn’t decided anything about her besides “non-binary and pan” until starting to fill this out hahah, i just tapped into my jorvegian feels and went along with what felt right.

this is already stated on my “about” page but, to be clear, Juni is some kinda persona/OC thingy and not “me”, while having some traits and details inspired by my real self. (you can definitely get to know about me by reading this, but, it’s not me me.)

BASIC CHARACTER INFO (remember her details are not mine!) Name: Juni Ravenhall Age: around 18-20 i guess, don’t wanna make her too old to fit with the other characters in the story. Gender: non-binary / genderfluid?, but more or less OK with her female body, and she’s fine with any pronouns. Sexuality: panromantic pansexual.

1. What is their home stable in-game? Why?

South Hoof Peninsula (headcanon:ing that there is a home stable there, obviously) because it’s her home. While travelling she makes use of stables and accomodations anywhere, so some people know her in the places she stays over a lot (Valedale, Moorland, others).

2. Where do they actually live in Jorvik?

Her home is on South Hoof, although she doesn’t stay there for long periods of time anymore with all the travelling and adventures going on. She was born in Valedale, but was taken to South Hoof as a small child. (My headcanon is that there’s a few more people living on the peninsula than what’s shown in-game.) It’s worth noting she’s an orphan (or is she...?! *dun dun dun*) so she grew up without a biological family. (btw, that’s not just to be dramatic... I’m from an abusive home and parents mean nothing to me, so I wouldn’t be able to relate to her as much if I gave her some kind of normal, caring parents, I don’t know that stuff. I’d much rather she has no parents / doesn’t know her parents, than that she has to grow up with awful ones.)

3. Who is their favorite NPC?

Hmm, I would make up some OCs for her proper personal story, but out of the NPCs that exist..... (these are not all my favourites, just some of them that I think works well for her story.) - She knows everyone at South Hoof to some degree since she grew up there, I think she’s especially close with Jonas as a parent-figure of sorts, and of course, Madison. She helps the hermit and is on good terms with him. When Hugh moved there, she started making friends with him, I imagine they’ll get close as Juni really cares about animal rescue. - She's fairly close to Conrad, mix of mentor, friend and parent-figure. (He’s taught her more than what’s shown in canon, and she visits him anytime she’s staying in Moorland.) - She likes helping Agnetha and Björn with their garden projects so they have a friendly relation, though casual. It’s the kind of thing where she’ll stay over and help them for a few days, and at the end of the day they have cozy outdoor dinners outside the house, watching the sunset view from the cliff and smelling the roses. They probably get some great fresh food from around Silverglade. - I think she's somewhat friends with Ed at Wolf Hell Inn (or stays over and sees what crazy stuff he’s up to often enough). - She definitely likes Rania and like going out for rides with her, whether there’s a special cause or not. I forget the name of that crazy ranger girl... but she likes her and Alonso too. - She likes hanging out with Mario, and they’ll have picnics on the mountain or on top of the observatory after she’s been helping him out, watching the stars together (platonically). - She’s a wary friend of the Bobcats and Justin, like, they could be friends (since she’s at Moorland often enough) but they aren’t quite. I think she gets along with Josh (pole bending guy). - I was going to write about the soul riders and druids... but I think in my made-up headcanon, Juni's situation and role in the soul rider team would be different. I’ll have to think more about it.

4. Who is their Soul Steed? What breed are they? Do they have any markings or look different in some way from the in-game appearance you could give them?

Winterborn, a Jorvik Warmblood stallion (here’s his tag on my blog). He’s a brave and loving companion, thoughtful sometimes, a bit silly and spoiled sometimes. His bond with Juni is very strong. He probably does look a bit different in my headcanon but I’d have to draw/edit it to make a decision, so let’s leave that in the air for now...

5. What is their favorite location? (Ex, Hollow Woods, Greendale, Silverglade Manor Library) Why?

- South Hoof, as her adopted home, and because of the ancient and “wild and free” energy it has. She feels relaxed and at home there, and somehow connected to the magic of the land (even before she learns about magic). - Valedale and the surrounding areas like Hollow Woods, where she feels a nagging sense of nostalgia and belonging, a tingling mysterious feeling (similar but not the same as what she feels on South Hoof). She loves the flowers, buildings and nature there. - Moorland Forge, for Conrad. - Agnetha and Björn’s gardens. - Wolf Hell Inn, she likes it there and (as mentioned) she likes seeing what weird stuff Ed is up to. - Dino Valley, she loves the winter, the solitude, and the challenge of survival (she’s an adventurer after all). - Crescent Moon Village, just for how cozy it is, and the Mirror Marshes, for its beauty. There’s a lot of spots around New Hillcrest and Epona she likes in general too. - Goldenhills Valley, she loves the autumn colours and the ruins, and takes an interest in the witchcraft that she sees, starting to wonder what’s good and bad magic. - Cape West, a cute little village to visit now and then. - Jarlaheim, as a place to hang out and shop / rest, after a day of helping out with farm chores around the area. - Greendale, where it seems like faeries might pop out if you’re quiet enough. - Ydris’ circus, because she can’t help but get curious about it. (I love circus / fairground aesthetics personally... I’m one of those people who’s always loved clowns and everyone else is like “what?! clowns are creepy man!”) - Mistfall and Firgrove are places she likes both for the nature and buildings, but she doesn’t tend to stay there long. - The Observatory, and other spots high up with great views, like the shortcut between Firgrove and Valedale, and the secret path up the mountain in Firgrove, too. - Aideen’s Plaza in Jorvik City, a cozy and fun place when you need a break from the countryside, especially if there’s an event / festival / market going on. - Pandoria? -- there’s certainly something about it...

6. Who’s their favorite horse? Why?

I’m going to say Juni doesn’t own any other horse than Winterborn, at least at this time. (Obviously I have lots in-game but for this OC story it doesn’t really make sense, so let’s say the rest aren’t canon, haha. Maybe they’re horses she’ll own later in life.)

7. What are their powers? Are they stronger with one Circle over any of the others?

Hmm... I dunno, I have to think more about this one. I probably want to draw some pictures to figure out more about her relation to magic and Pandoria and all that.

8. What’s their usual style? Any favorite tack sets or color themes for them?

She likes all colours and likes putting together new outfits and tack sets of various styles, but some particular favourite colours are red and purple, and overall her style tends to be bold and graphic rather than soft or gentle. She can do soft and gentle too though, when she feels like it!

9. Thoughts about Jorvik City? How do they feel about Rania’s petition for a horse-friendly Jorvik City?

She likes it there (especially Aideen’s Plaza as mentioned), but definitely thinks that there’s such a thing as “too much city” and has to retreat to nature after some time there. A horse-friendly city would be nice, as Winterborn would probably really enjoy getting spoiled with treats at the Plaza on a warm evening, getting petted by nice strangers.

10. Thoughts about Justin? (I’m sorry, I’m curious, he shows up so much)

She pities him in a kind way, thinks he’s sensitive and immature. She wouldn’t mind being friends with him once he starts growing as a person. She also likes lasagna, so they could organise a lasagna party together with the Bobcats sometime.

11. How do they feel about the magical horse race at the circus? Did they enjoy being a horse?

While she doesn’t like how Ydris treats people, she thought it was really interesting and insane, and had a lot of thoughts about what magic is / what magic can do after starting to come into contact with all its different types (Pi, Ydris, the soul riders and druids, etc etc). Maybe being able to turn into a horse at will and gallop around with Winterborn would be really cool!

12. Do they trust the Druids? Or how do they feel about them?

Once she starts getting to know about them, she trusts them as soon as she knows Conrad is involved with them, because she trusts him. Of course she doesn’t trust them 100%, due to all the weird stuff that goes on, but she trusts that they have good intentions even if it doesn’t always come out right, or maybe the right people aren’t in charge.

13. Least favorite NPC?

That’s a tough one... let’s just say she doesn’t like when people use or abuse others. However, she believes that anyone can change and become a better person, it’s just exceptionally hard for some people (and nobody is entitled to forgiveness). (Honestly it’s just difficult because I’m an open-minded person and I appreciate villainous *fictional* characters for their roles in a story, just as well as I appreciate the heroes and background characters. I don’t see a point in being pissy about fictional villains, they’re just part of a story, and in fiction everyone has a chance at bettering themselves. Plus, the victims of their actions are all fictional... nobody really got hurt. I wouldn’t think IRL people like Tr*mp is going to change for the better, plus even if he did he’s caused a lot of people a lot of harm, so IRL is another thing. but I can accept any character’s change and redemption in fiction because... it’s fiction, a fantasy.)

14. How do they make their money?

Before travelling she made them by doing odd jobs around South Hoof, now she does odd jobs around Jorvik. Often she’ll take a trade and do work for food and someplace to stay for the night instead of getting paid. She sells things she’s found and things she’s made now and then (having some skills in crafts).

15. How many horses do they own?

Same answer as before, as an OC she only owns Winterborn (right now).

16. How many pets do they have? What kind? What are their names?

I don’t think I want her to have any at this time, I might change my mind later. She loves the farm animals and the wild horses on South Hoof, of course, and helps take care of other people’s pets when needed. (I love my baby seal in the game though.)

17. How do they feel about the Soul Riders? Do they trust them? Feel like an outsider? Are they closer to some over the others?

I’ll have to decide on her role in the story and relating to the soul riders before I can answer that, so I’ll leave that for now. I don’t think she’s very close with any of them, if anything it’d be a somewhat good relation with Linda and Alex, I think.

18. Do they believe something mystical, magical, or otherwise strange really exists in Dino Valley? How did they feel about the leaving of the Kallter and the roar/scream/screech in the Valley?

There’s absolutely something strange about it, and her heart beats at the idea of more adventures there. The Kallters must have had a reason to leave.

19. Thoughts about Jorvik Wild Horses?

I think for headcanon OC story purposes, Jorvik Wild Horses and Starbreeds are probably the same thing? Just like, I’d go with that there’s a one type of magic horses with Jorvegian magic (or Pandorian) flowing through them, but then they can look different from each other. In the headcanon there wouldn’t be random Jorvik Wilds running around or anything, it’d be super special rare stuff like the Starbreeds are.

20. Do you think they are a Wild Whisperer? Or are they just bonded with their Soul Steed?

I’m not sure, leaning towards that she’s mostly just bonded with Winterborn. Maybe she has some level of whispering abilities but it’s definitely not one of her strongest skills.

21. What’s their favorite Jorvegian holiday or celebration?

All holidays, any excuse to celebrate, although she prefers peaceful and homely celebrations over parties or high-tempo events. Life is precious, so she celebrates every day to some degree (like I mentioned... sunset picnics, enjoying nature).

22. What do they think or feel about Pandoria? Have they or do they visit outside of the quests (using the rifts)? If they have or still do, why?

I think at the time I would place Juni’s story, she’s only starting to learn about Pandoria and is still confused and thoughtful about the different types and uses of magic. So what she’s going to think of Pandoria and what she’ll do about it would be something to figure out.

23. How has their visit(s) to Pandoria affected them? Do they have scars? Has it affected any of their life views?

See above. But also, since I want to explore Juni’s relation to magic, I’ll say I think the magic (or something else about Pandoria) might start to eat at her, and maybe she starts losing herself a bit the deeper she gets into those thoughts and the magic itself. (Hint... I think it’ll have to do with being an orphan and feeling alone and depressed.)

24. Would they ever consider working for Dark Core or believing their side?

No, I can’t imagine she would unless there was some very specific reason.

25. What or who is Garnok to them? A dark presence? A squid-like monster? A child with a ridiculously complicated jumping course (fuckin @’s Lizzy)?

I love Lizzy’s course lol, but maybe Garnok did have a hand in it... Anyway, I don’t think Juni knows anywhere near enough to have an understanding of Garnok at this point, so it’s just some vague thing the druids aren’t describing enough.

26. Do they ever go to the Disco? If they don’t, would they ever consider going? What would it take to make them go?

She goes sometimes, but she quickly gets tired of both dancing and socialising in crowds and has to wind down afterwards, maybe just sitting down at the disco balcony to look at the ocean, or heading down to the beach to lie down and rest. The evening ride back to her home on South Hoof (or to a place to stay in Moorland if the ferry stopped running) is a moment of winding-down, too.

27. Disco or Moorland Beach party?

The beach party is probably a little more chill, which suits her.

28. Are they interested in helping with archaeology or fishing?

She likes trying to do archaeology, and finds ancient (or just old) things really interesting, but she’s not necessarily the best at it. It’s something she does from time to time, or when someone asks for help. Fishing is something she’d only do when hanging out with someone else.

29. How do they feel about Igor, the waiter/manager of the Dino Valley cafe, and whom seemed interested in your horse for… “culinary reasons?”

She hopes he was joking, and appreciates his efforts in starting up the café since the Dino Valley crew is so small, and everyone needs each others’ help to survive and explore there.

30. Do they like the perpetual winter of Dino Valley or the perpetual autumn/fall of Goldenhills Valley, or is it strange to them? Do they prefer one over the other, or neither?

She likes them both, but she’s curious about what they’d look like if the seasons did change.

[player-slayer]

Coffee Runs: Death House {all notes}

First and foremost, before any talk of the spare alterations + additions I made to Curse of Strahd’s intro adventure, it needs to be said that the wisdom gleaned from slyflourish, DragnaCarta1, MandyMod, and starwalkerstudios was invaluable! If you’re thinking of running the adventure, give their guides + recommendations a look! Especially if, like me, you decide to take this TPK Factory for a spin on your first time!

Part I — Entering the Svalich Woods I started my players out as 2nd-level passengers on a merchant caravan, describing some weeks of banal travel and dreary weather before giving them a bit of breathing room to introduce their characters and do a bit of rp. They went to sleep, safe in their bedrolls beside a warm fire, and awoke surrounded by dense fog, their belongings strewn haphazardly about the clearing. A few investigation checks, some constitution saving throws (which they all made, the bastards), and a bird collapsing from the sky in exhaustion later, and they figured pretty quickly that: A. They had been moved in the night somehow and B. This fog sucks. and so were quickly on their way. None of my players pitched that they wanted to keep watch, though if they had my intention was just to let them watch the fog roll in over them and describe a sense of nausea and dizziness wash over them that they couldn’t place (as they were plane-shifted). I may have also given them the chance to spot a wolf staring them down as the fog creeped in out of the treeline. I had a lot of new/inexperienced players, so I didn’t want to take their weapons + belongings at this point, though one of my players did decide at character creation that his halfling paladin had a pony mount name Courage. Courage I had no problem taking from him. This is a horror game motherfucker, you think I’m just going to let you keep your adorable pony named Courage?

Part II — The Death House Most of the house I ran as written.

My alterations to how I ran Rose + Thorn can be found here.

I removed the broom of animated attack (though my group skipped that room regardless) and combined a few rooms for the sake of streamlining the possible avenues of exploration + limiting dead-ends.

As with others, I made the nursemaid a roleplaying encounter rather than combat, describing her as beautiful if plainly-dressed, with a tired, solemn expression. When the players first entered the room, I described her as standing with her back to them, seeming to be a normal, solid figure at first, though as their light source fell over her described a translucent quality and eerie blue-white haze to her form. I named her Ludmila and gave her mixed human and elven features, and played her as being very affectionate toward Rose + Thorn. 

I also added two possible entrances to the attic: I moved the secret stairs behind the mirror into the master bedroom and changed the path up in the nursemaid’s suite to a simple attic hatch, since that made more sense to me in terms of how Gustav + Elisabeth would have organized their home. Why would the hired help get the cool fancy secret passageway?

The biggest changes I made to house was the secret room in the library, detailed here.

Part III — Death House Dungeon As with the upper floors, I removed/combined a few rooms and alcoves for purposes of simplifying, plausibility, and/or aesthetic preference, but not many.

I scaled back the encounters a bunch, some to more success than others:

Ghouls :: I only threw two ghouls at my party, and even with one of the players beginning the encounter at 1hp they handily beat them. A combination of lucky dice rolls on their saving throws, judicious use of disengage and med kits by the rogue, and the paladin’s protection fighting-style in the small hallway went far for them. In hindsight, I think I was pulling my punches a little too much (not imposing penalties for all trying to fight crammed into the same little area—we had a map and minis up for reference at the request of one of the players but at this time I was not utilizing it for grid-based combat, which I think was a mistake), but we were short on time that night anyway and the fight was still fun and dramatic, so I’m not kicking myself too much about it.

Ghast :: I only included one ghast, the remaining form of Elisabeth Durst. My players missed her, but had they entered the room, I intended to describe her appropriately horrifying in look and scent, largely avoiding feminine adjectives or immediate give-aways as to who this used to be, but to draw attention to the fact that the creature was standing over an end-table, staring down blankly at the surface before being alerted to their presence. After the fight, if they inspected the table, they would have seen the key to rose and thorn’s room, the implication being that even in her undead, purifying state, some base instinct or remnant of Elisabeth still remembered her children and still wanted them to be okay, even if she was unable to act on or form coherent thought around that base feeling.

Shadows :: Again not wanting to overwhelm new/rusty players, I went with three shadows for the encounter in the Darklord Shrine, since they had just finished a long rest and were feeling nice and flush with hit points and spell slots again. If they had wandered in after the ghoul fight, I likely would have scaled the encounter back to only two shadows. This was another encounter they avoided though!

Part IV — One Must Die I love this beat in the adventure! Its so tense!

I tried to describe everything as eerie and upsetting as possible in the hopes that the party would nervously stick together for safety and all end up on altar at the same time. Unfortunately our cleric was YOLO af and ran up onto it ahead of the party, and as soon as the chanting began she noped tf off of there and triggered the fight, so the party never had the chance to consider what they should do. So it goes!

That said, the fight itself was really cool. I ran a reskin of MandyMod’s flesh mound, which I called the Shambling Cradle, and took a good minute to describe the bits of sinewy tissue and lurching amalgam of animal and humanoid remains writhing up out of the irony water for maximum atmosphere.

It was an overall very dramatic and cool fight. A combination of unlucky dice rolls and forgetfulness of the Lay On Hands feature led our paladin to be killed, but it actually resulted in one of the most surprisingly poignant beats of the story. He was a fledgling paladin of the goddess of sacrifice and bravery, and after struggling against his own fearfulness of the things he’d seen in this house, overcame that fear and did the most damage of anyone in the party to the creature before being killed in the same fashion as his matron.

I had named our game Death With Dignity on sort of a whim to avoid cluing the players in right off the bat that the house was evil, but after the game our cleric’s player pointed out that he had earned our game that title.

Part V — Escape After the shambling cradle was destroyed, I narrated a brief moment of reprieve as the party caught their breath, taking a moment to highlight the paladin’s bravery and sacrifice, and reminding the party of the iconography of his matron, and how his form seemed to mirror it.

Then I told them the house and dungeon were caving in on them.

When this moment came, I kept everyone in initiative, having them all make dex saves at the top of each round to avoid bits of rock and wood hitting them as the structures crumbled all around them. I had a set number of rounds before everything collapsed, but the party managed to make it out in good time by exiting from the upstairs window via grappling hook. 

It was pretty dramatic and I think the players felt the exact amount of anxiety I was hoping for as they scrambled through the house, hauling the paladin’s lifeless body (and then the rogue’s unconscious one) with them, but I think if I ever run the adventure again I’ll opt to treat it as a 4e skill challenge instead.

As soon as they were out on the grass I described them turning to watch as the house caved in on itself, creaking and snapping before collapsing into its own pit. Then the sounds of birdsong, and the clearing of fog from the grasses and forests, but still very much in this strange new world.

And that was my run of Death House!

Overall I really loved this adventure as a one-shot, even if it might be a little meatgrinder-y as an intro adventure to a full campaign for my tastes. There was enough opportunity for roleplay for my rp-inclined players, a decent mystery for them to chew on, and lots of fun undead to squick everyone out with and make stupid gross noises for.

I think that this is a great adventure for new DMs looking to cut their teeth on something kind of intense and messed up, especially because I feel it taught me a lot about pacing and the action economy of 5e!

I look forward to hopefully running this adventure many more halloweens into the future!

[jpowssbcu]

Producer as a Storyteller

We were all assigned a story to read and break down. I was given Hansel and Gretel. This story in particular was about a poor woodcutter who had two children with his first wife. He then re-married and the second wife wanted rid of the children and to take them to the forest to abandon them. The dad finally agreed with the step-mom that they should leave the children in the forest. Hansel made a trail of pebbles which they followed the trail home. The step-mom took them back into the woods the next day, this time Hansel made a trail using bread crumbs. However, the crumbs had been eaten by birds and couldn’t find their way back. They found a house made of candy and they started to eat the candy as they were hungry. An old lady—a witch came out of the house and invited them and fed them all the food they wanted. She told Gretel her plans. The witch was forced to fetch the water to cook Hansel as Gretel wasn’t putting any weight on so the witch didn’t want to eat her. Gretel was made to test the oven temperature with intentions to trick the witch and to push the witch into the oven. The witch is now dead. Hansel, Gretel and their dad now live a rich happy life. The step-mom is no longer seen.

How it relates to the modern day:

·     A story that shows sibling love and loyalty

·     A family that have very little money, the children go out and find a way to support their family.

·     The step-mom is an example of step-parents in the modern day. Children typically hate when their parents split and remarry, there’s always an evil step-parent.

·     Child neglect

·     Stranger Danger

·     Kidnap

Morals of the story:

·     Protect and love – always protect each other.

·     Hard work

·     Intellect will make you rich

·     Be careful who you trust

·     Be smart to survive

We were given a chance to switch stories. I changed to The Cinderella Story.

Idea generating:

Fairy tale based on The Cinderella Story. A prince living in unfortunate circumstances. Has 2 evil step brothers. The Prince received a VIP invite to a ball from another Prince. He had a surprising visit from a Fairy Gayfather. The Fairy was sad that the Prince didn’t have any clothes to go to the ball in, so he promised to enchant the Prince’s garments on the night of the ball so that he had something to wear. However, magic wears off and there will be a curfew. The step-brothers found out about the ball and were jealous. They wanted to marry the other Prince. They found the invitation and locked the Prince in the basement so he couldn’t go. The step-brothers got ready and went instead. The Fair Gayfather arrived to save the night. Helped the Prince to escape and enchanted his garments. The curfew was set for 00:00. The princes danced all night and the young prince had to run before his garments changed back to the rags. He left his Gucci Glass Slipper behind. The other prince found it and searched for him for days. He found the Prince, they married and lived happily ever after.

I decided that this story wasn’t modern enough with the changes we have experienced over the past 10 years. So, I decided to do a digging deeper exercise.

https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/cahun-untitled-p79320

It seems like Cinderella and her prince had too much fun. Her garments and shoes are on the stairs, leading to the bedroom.

https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/althamer-self-portrait-as-a-businessman-t11913

An image of significant items a businessman uses every day.

Suit, tie, shoes, newspaper, phone, briefcase and passport.

https://www.itsnicethat.com/articles/frieze-london-masters-2017-round-up-art-051017

“Sex work: Feminist Art & Radical Politics” Curated by Alison M. Gingeras. “Focus on explicit sexual iconography combined with radical political agency”. Highlights include work from Penny Slinger, Richard Saltoun, Betty Tompkins and Dorothy Iannone, whose vivid paintings tell intricate stories in vivid colours.

Can you find any online articles and books that relate to your keywords?

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-45763/Youngsters-addicted-mobile-phones.html

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-3134575/Cinderella-dances-prince-loses-glass-slipper-stunning-film-tells-classic-fairy-tale-eyes.html

https://www.amazon.co.uk/iDisorder-Understanding-Obsession-Technology-Overcoming/dp/0230117570

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/14475327-significant-objects

Through exploring this digging deeper, I have found various links with my initial idea. I’m looking to change and simplify my current idea. I want to create a painting of a designer glass slipper or a glass iPhone with Cinderella influences.

I started to swatch some colours and using mediums such as Gloss Gel Medium and Iridescent Medium by Liquitex. I really think that the Iridescent Medium worked so well to achieve an almost glass finish which relates perfectly to the glass slipper from the Cinderella story.

Thinking more about modern technology.

Mobile Phones – Dating apps – tinder – New developed idea:

Cinderella is a dating app. A prince looking for his true love on Cinderella after dancing all night with a handsome prince at the ball.

Sculpture of a mobile phone with the ‘Cinderella App’.

Unfortunately, when making this… It broke in half and I had no time to fix this. So, I had to resort to making a painting of the app. Here’s what I came up with.

This project was too short for how creative I could have gotten. I would have loved to create at least an A1 painting with more of a storyline rather than having to think carefully about my time management. I did however enjoy practising with Liquitex mediums to achieve different paint outcomes.

To come to an end with this project, we were split up into groups of 6 to criticise each other’s work. The rules were that for 10 minutes the person who was getting their work reviewed, they couldn’t speak or answer questions – then after they had 5 minutes to talk about what their work was exactly about.

Oliver’s review:

We guessed his art work to be from the story Red Riding Hood. This drawing was out of composition and had too much white on the one side of the drawing. However, the use of text worked really well, “Don’t you trust me?” in the colour red. We assumed that the text was in red because the story is called Red Riding Hood, there’s actually a deeper meaning as to why this was the colour red (to be explained later). The rest of the drawing is in black and white which can be quite affective however, because the character is wearing a hoodie sweater, it would be cool to see if she’s wearing a red hooded sweater and to have the rest of the drawing in black and white. Because the character is on their phone having a conversation over text message, I felt that the text “Don’t you trust me?” should be a bubble coming from the mobile phone so it looks more of a texting conversation, rather than a caption of the image.

The actual meaning behind this was:

Phones are used too much and it’s an example of the dangers behind the screen. People aren’t educated enough about the dangers of the internet; catfishes, paedophiles and other dangerous things. Red Riding Hood believes she’s texting her nan, but is actually the wolf who wants her to come over. Red Riding Hood was being led to her nan’s home where she will be killed. The red text was to resemble Red Riding Hood, but mostly blood and about her being killed by the wolf.

In my opinion, I liked the idea of the work, but there were so many unfinished things about it which could be easily changed. The composition of the drawing could easily be changed by finishing some parts where the anatomy has been missed out, whether Oliver draws an outline, but not to completely polish the section, but to show an impression that Red Riding Hood’s waist is there. This would also add to the story by saying that It’s a metaphor of Red being killed and being erased from the world.

Amber’s Review:

Amber created a beautiful delicate acrylic painting which we thought was also Red Riding Hood. She really researched every detail in this painting as it was obvious to us that there were Celtic influences (the boarder around the painting and the clothing on the characters). We could easily guess that the location of the work was either Scotland or Ireland. The boarder around the painting also gave a tarot card aesthetic which was quite nice to see as I have been looking into tarot cards in some of my projects. When looking at her painting, the first thing I looked at and was mesmerised by is the bear in the clouds. It was really well done and captured the audience’s attention. I see bear as a spirit animal that lives in the clouds to protect the person who wears its amulet of protection.

She shown her inspiration of the piece so clearly:

·     Disney Brave

·     Celtic history

·     Protection and bravery

·     Strong warriors

I really liked the small details of this art work too, the image has a great composition and really nice textures: the hair, skin, clothing and the vegetation. There was great use of vanishing point too. The main wolf is being haunted but is still showing signs of strength and appeared to be the alpha.

The actual story and details:

Original story are Snow White and Rose Red.

Snow White and Rose Red are dangerous ruthless killers. Amber didn’t want to create perfectly groomed characters with the typical female stereotypes and wanted to create them into fierce characters. She explained how she searched into her own family history and her surname. It leads back to Ireland and she related this into her painting. Her family history ‘O’Sullivan’ where she found out that they had their own song, their own shield and family crest. The most interesting part is that they had an omen which is a bear: That’s why there’s a bear in the clouds. This shows hidden symbolism in her work which was nice to learn. She wanted the main wolf to be a boar because that was her family crest. She said that she didn’t paint a boar because she didn’t have any references to paint one. However, she could have found references on the internet which could have made this more relatable.

My work being reviewed:

·     Cinderella apparently feeling sorry for herself, so she resulted to Tinder at 04:08am to find a midnight hook up.

·     The time on the phone is because the prince is trying to find their date from the ball and didn’t take their phone number so they’re trying to find them on the dating app.

·     To express that people are so caught up with finding their own Prince Charming on the internet.

·     Photos are easily photoshopped.

·     Classical aesthetics

·     Clear inspiration

·     Clear definition between the hand and the phone.

·     Some proportions are a bit off.

·     The small details work great – the Iridescent Medium

·     Time was the enemy in this piece as it was evident that I didn’t have much time to do exactly what was planned.

·     A background to give a sense of environment

·     The marks in the back ground is rain?

The actual story/details:

Cinderella is a LGBTQ+ dating app where the user can find their own true love with people who have the same intentions. The Prince had left the ball without leaving his number with his date. His date (another Prince) was searching for his true love on the Cinderella dating app at the early hours of the morning.  The rain in the back ground is a metaphor to express that the Prince is sad that the other Prince didn’t leave his number.

Key features of this painting:

·     The glass slipper has replaced the super like, which the guys had mentioned was a really nice detail. Brings relevance from the story and the inspiration from Tinder.

·     The use of the Iridescent Medium which shows influences from the glass slipper.

·     The colour of the smartphone brings inspiration from Cinderella’s Ball Gown and Glass Slipper.

·     Why the Prince Charming on the app screen has a blurred looking face is because in today’s modern culture, people are using photoshop to make themselves look blemish free and beautiful.

I really enjoyed this project. However, it is sad that there was such a limited time frame which didn’t allow me to get into greater details with a painting. I would love to have made a much bigger painting – scenery and more story; experimenting with other paints such as oil paints and layering different paints – acrylic and oils.