#Writing the twins as predators and wanting to eat someone out of love is just so interesting and fun to me

[khunwriting]

[Insatiable Hunger]

Synopsis: Jade has a deep hunger that can't be sated until he gets his hands on you.

Genre: Dark romance

Notes: Cannibalism, body horror, book 3 & book 4 spoilers, GN! Yuu! Reader

Pairing: Jade Leech x Reader

Jade is very particular about his appearance. He portrays himself as a pleasant, soft-spoken student. Someone polite and courteous. A version of himself that lures the unsuspecting prey into hidden sharp claws and pharyngeal jaws. 

It’s been like this since he was a small elver. Floyd will act as the unpredictable and volatile eel, scaring off weaker merfolk into Jade’s more approachable arms until they realize he’s just as scary as his twin brother, if not worse. 

This notion doesn’t disappear once he enrolls to Night Raven College. Instead, it’s easier. Gone are his sharp claws used for gouging and scratching and gone is his tailfin that was perfect for wrapping around his victims and tightening till they beg for mercy. Now, they are replaced by filed down and rounded nails and two long legs that attribute to his towering height. 

However, there are some things that’s difficult for him to hide. For instance, his sharp teeth didn't completely go away upon his transition from sea to land. It’s a simple fix though. A closed smile will hide away the sharpened points and make him an affable student. 

The other thing—and one of his biggest gripes about being on land—was his insatiable appetite. Back in the Coral Sea, it was important to fill up for one’s survival. After all, you would never know when you’d have to fight for your own life. It was cold and dark in the sea, and if you weren’t careful, one could end up as pieces in someone’s gut. So it was accustomed to feast on straggling fish and pry open clams and scallops to sustain energy. 

Yet the landfolk have such skewed perceptions of eating. It was improper to gorge on large amounts of food or eat till you were overly full. It was considered gluttonous—a sin in the human eyes. The concept of it is incredibly amusing and aggravating. Why bother with niceties and just indulge in your desires? 

In the Coral Sea, it’s kill or be killed. Survival of the fittest. If you want something, then take it.

But no, Jade couldn’t. Instead, he’ll take far less than he would usually eat, a balance of meat, veggies, and carbs. He’ll consume his food, slowly and neatly, and do his best to ignore how his stomach rumbles for more.

After all, Jade must uphold his appearances. As much as he’d love to act like Floyd and be rash and reap the goods for himself, Jade also enjoys the thrill of playing the long game much more. Butter up the fools that are none the wiser. Get them on your side and have them swear fealty before ripping out their jugular with a bloody grin. 

The horrified expression on their faces makes the taste sweeter in the end.

Thus, he has no problem reigning in his twin and following Azul’s plans. The cephalopod never bored them before and he doesn’t seem to be doing it any time soon. 

So off he goes to classes, the courtyard, the library, the garden, or wherever he finds poor, unfortunate souls. A little whisper or perfumed, eloquent words is all that’s needed to coax them into Azul’s greedy tentacles. And it works. Perhaps a little too well because now there’s over 200 pitiful creatures with anemones standing before the three of them in Mostro Lounge. 

It seemed like it was going to be a rather fruitful feast, but then there’s something different. A distinct scent that intermingles with the rest of the meal. 

There stands the magicless human among the field of anemones. Though you don’t wear a colorful appendage on your head, the expression you wear is just as pathetic. You had mindlessly followed your witless friends into the jaws of a beast, and you scuttled away from the sight of fresh blood equally as quick.

How cute. 

The next time Jade saw you was with Floyd. His brother graced you with one of his lovable nicknames when the two of them stood over your lunch table. In that sing-song way he spoke, Floyd said you scurried backwards as if you’re afraid of being someone’s lunch, just like a tiny shrimp. And Jade could see the resemblance. 

You were a delicate little thing—Small and soft, and it looked terribly easy to tear into your skin and draw red. The way you curled into yourself when his gaze honed in on you was utterly endearing. It was like you were trying to make yourself as small as possible, like you weren’t going to make a tasty snack or satisfy the grumbling in his belly. 

And at that point, you would be correct in your assumption. You were easy prey, and that bored him. He hates being bored, you see. So, like a child with a lame toy, Jade brushed you off, threw you Azul’s way, and dusted his hands off the matter. That was that, or so he thought.

Because you did the most curious thing. You demanded that Azul release all students under contract. It was an audacious order from you, the little crustacean that trembled under his stare. Yet even as you shook where you stood, you scrawled your name on the scroll with furrowed brows and an oddly determined glint in your hues. 

And because you signed away your precious abode as collateral, the two eels had to follow you back to Ramshackle Dorm. They watched you pack away what little you had and promptly kicked you off the property. Jade was sure you would sprint away as soon as they basically shoved you out the door, but you dodged his expectations by spinning on your heels with a heated frown. 

“D-Don’t get too comfortable!” You had practically yelled into the night, clutching your small bag to your chest. Your attempt at a glare was feeble, more akin to a northern puffer staring back at him. “I’ll be back!” 

And with that, Jade’s unblinking eyes followed your stomping form as you faded away into the dark. Then and there did his opinion on you changed. You were something more interesting. Something still crude, but with some care and work? 

“Jade, ya got a weird smile on your face, like ya found something real good,” Floyd’s voice swayed in a similar manner as his mood swings did, breaking the eel-mer out of his thoughts. Jade craned his head to meet his brother’s eyes. Floyd’s eyes glowed vibrantly with a hungry glint. Despite his light-hearted tone, there was a blood-curdling grin stretched across Floyd’s lips, baring his teeth in the shoddy lighting. “It’s creepin’ me out. Whatcha thinkin’ bout?” 

“Oya, do I now? I apologize,” Jade replied easily, quickly hiding his aching fangs under his lips once more. He merely walked past his barely taller twin without a second glance, ignoring his brother’s stare. “I was just thinking about what we should have for dinner. Shall we go see what the prefect has in the kitchen?”

That was enough to earn a high-pitched whine from his twin, but Jade ignored it in favor of focusing on the uncomfortable feeling in his abdomen. It felt as if his body was gnawing on itself, stomach acid burning the lining of his walls in hopes of silencing his massive appetite. Though he will have to wait a bit longer. There’s still some work that needs to be done before he can feast. 

Jade believed you were a delicacy to be dressed and properly prepared. 

The first day you tried to go to the museum only solidified his feelings. You and your little group of friends blindly went to the Coral Sea without so much of a plan, and it showed. The surprise etched onto the party’s faces upon seeing their merforms was quite amusing.

Despite the lack of a proper plan, your party still charged at them. It was brash and quite sloppy, but that’s what the brothers anticipated anyways. They knew you weren’t going to get anywhere near the museum, but they might as well play with you to pass the time. 

At first, it was fun to sit on the sidelines, watching Floyd direct your friends’ magic in various directions. The way your faces contorted in frustration and panic was delightful, but, after a while, Jade found himself bored of being a spectator. 

Thus began the hunt.

Of course, Jade knew he was going to outswim every single land-person here—If he wasn’t able to, then Jade wasn’t worth his salt as a mer. So even if they were easy prey, there was still some enjoyment side-sweeping and tackling the rowdy bunch. The reactions he could elicit were entertaining, but yours was particularly sublime.

You were easy to catch, flailing so cutely in your wretched attempt of fleeing from Jade. It took no time for his tailfin to coil around your body, tightening and curling till your ribs creaked and shifted under the pressure. Jade had to hold back a chuckle as your expression twisted in pain. A raspy gasp oozed past your lips and you wiggled so deliciously underneath him. As simple as this little game of predator and prey was, a part of him had wished that you’d put up a better fight than this.

However, you had once again bypassed his expectations. You extended an arm out and dragged your nails across his face. You actually tried clawing at his face. Did it hurt? Absolutely not. Your rounded nails couldn’t scratch through his scales no matter how hard you tried, but the audacity to strike him back made his body flare in heat he had not felt before. 

With a surging hunger, Jade gripped your wrists in his webbed claws and hovered closely to your smaller form with blown out eyes. He would’ve loved to drag one of his talons along your throat and watch your crimson blood bead out just for him to lap it up. Just the thought of the copper splaying across his tongue sent shivers up his spine and he could only imagine how dizzyingly intoxicating the taste would be. 

His grin sharpened while you let out an adorable squeak. You kept shivering under his hold and continued to thrash in his grasp, only succeeding in stirring the predatory blood inside. Jade’s teeth ached with the urge to snap into your sinew, to break your fragile bones between his jaws, and to slurp your bone marrow till it’s clean. 

Before he could even consider the thought any longer, one of your stupid companions, a Heartslabyul card soldier with a spade painted on his face, decided to send a spell his way. Unfortunately, Floyd had been too preoccupied toying with the other three and Jade would rather he didn’t receive a blemish on his impeccable appearance. 

So he lets you go in order to dodge the attack. He watches you clumsily swim towards your friend with a frightened yelp and the freshman maneuvers in front of you, shielding you like a hero in an old fairytale. The view before Jade causes something inside of him to twinge in dismay, but it is overpowered by his hunger pangs.

He was starting to believe that only you would satisfy the void in his belly. 

Even so, you continued to be afraid of him for a long time after. After the events of Azul’s overblot, you were still skittish and jumped at the mere sight of him. On one hand, it pleased his hunter instincts. And on the other hand, it made it difficult to get closer to you. 

Jade had gradually approached you, acting as his normal placid self. With apologies on the tip of his tongue, he would offer to walk you to classes and extend chances of free food and drinks in compensation for “all the troubles they had given you” (though Azul did not need to know about the loss of income on these occasions).

But no matter how many attempts he made, you would never take him up on his proposals. You still leaned away from his taller form and made excuses to scurry away with those froshes at your hips. As much as that frustrated him to no end, Jade Leech was no quitter. He’ll bide his time and keep up his docile appearance as long as he needs to get his hands on you.

Then winter break rolled around, carrying with it Jamil Viper’s overblot and the perfect chance to strike. 

A couple days in, you had voluntarily approached him when you and Grim came crashing into their cafe. Granted, you were trying to run away from those Scarabian students, but it was a chance nonetheless. So with a keen grin and a grumbling stomach, Jade eagerly helped you with the help of his twin and housewarden to handle Scarabia’s business.

Perhaps it was due to the constant exposure to him or you noticed his vigilance to be at your side, but after the break you were more accepting of him. You took him up on his offers and even visited Mostro Lounge on occasions, happily chatting about yourself or inquiring about his own interests. In turn, Jade made sure to leave a fetching seashell or sweet-smelling flower when he served your drink. 

The times that you give him gifts in return truly made his desire for you twist into something bottomless. His hunger was festering, stirring deep inside him that was impossible to ignore. Jade knew he had to do something soon or else his starvation might eat away at his own body, but it wasn’t so easy. The mer knew he couldn’t put things together arbitrarily. You were a delicate matter, and everything must be perfect. 

And what better time to dwell on it than to check on his mushrooms? It took a long time for the hyphae to take root in the rotting log, and he might as well see how well his fungi were faring whilst he concocted a plan. Not to mention, it would be away from everyone—No Azul asking for assistance. No Floyd cooing in his ear. Just tranquility and solitude in the botanical garden; that was enough to put a pleasant step in his gait as he rounded the corner to his project. 

But he hadn’t anticipated seeing you there. 

You were squating in front of his mushrooms. Awe colored your soft features as you peered down at his project. Your eyes shimmered in the same way that sunlight reflected off the water, glittering like tiny jewels. Your lips parted just enough that Jade could see your dull, leveled teeth, reminding him of how you couldn’t tear through muscle and tissue as easily as him. 

The image of you made Jade’s heartbeats deafening. Any noise in the botanical garden was overpowered by the thuds beating in his eardrums. The rapid thumps of his heart pounded against his chest, showing no signs of slowing down. A part of him foolishly thought you must’ve heard it because you suddenly turned your head with a startled expression. It took you a second to recognize him, but when you did, your lips curled into a shy, small smile. 

Something inside Jade cracked. It only took a few strides to reach you, and there was nothing you could do as he grabbed you by the collar and drew you into a glutinous kiss. 

And now, everything was ruined. 

Jade didn’t want to devour you so messily or so hastily. He did plan to dress you up, plate you so elegantly with a matching table setting, and properly take his time with you. But you had to give him that giddy little smile and he couldn’t ignore his starvation any longer.

Easily, Jade finds himself tossing the expensive fork and knife to the side. His blazer and gloves are thrown over his shoulder and his pristine shirt sleeves are haphazardly bunched around his elbows. He doesn’t care about creasing the spotless tablecloth as he kneels on the table, crawling over your delectable body. Saliva pools at the bottom of his mouth while he leans down and sinks his teeth into your collar. He’ll pry open your torso with his elongated talons, shrugging off the strong urge to climb inside and rest within your warm body. 

No, he’ll gorge himself on your viscera instead, grabbing any entrails he can get his webbed hands on. Nothing can be wasted—No offal goes untouched. Copper fills the air and ichor is coating his body like a second skin, dripping down his bare arms and streaking against his once-white button up. His hair is tousled and speckled with red and his cheeks are flushed deeply, but he doesn’t notice. Or more so that he does, but can’t find himself to dwell on it. Not when there’s pretty pieces of you sitting in his belly, dissolving in his stomach acid and providing vital nutrients for him. 

Once everything has been consumed, Jade will reach in and take what he’s been truly craving all along.

Gingerly with pink-tinted eyes and a perverted grin will he finally cradle your heart in his hands. Never once blinking to watch the aortic work of art pulse weakly, blood pooling in his palms. And to finally indulge in his insatiable desire, Jade will lean in and press a loving kiss to your lifeline. Crimson will smear against his lips, but he does not mind. 

When Jade pulls back, he can’t help but feel impossibly smug about how your lips are prettily plump and have a sparkling shine to them. Your eyes don’t carry disgust in them and he can practically see in real time how your hues change into a rose color, reflecting his bloodstained form in your enamoured gaze.

Gone is his carefully crafted facade, now peeled away to reveal the satiated eel underneath, but that is not a bother anymore. 

For who cares about appearances when he finally has your heart all to himself.

[t6kioo]

entry no. 1

there’s something inherently grotesque about love. it’s not the soft, pastel-colored thing hallmark would have you believe. love is sharp teeth and bloodied hands. it’s hunger—actual, visceral hunger.

we “devour” each other with our eyes. we “consume” each other’s attention. we talk about “aching” for someone, about feeling “empty” without them. love songs croon about addiction and obsession, about needing someone like a junkie needs a fix. calvin harris and the disciples literally sang, “i want you to breathe me in, let me be your air.” love demands consumption, down to the bare bone.

the cultural shorthand is clear: desire is hunger. and hunger—real hunger—has always had a dark edge. maybe that’s why the cannibal keeps showing up in our stories about love. hannibal lecter and clarice starling’s hypnotic dance of intellect and temptation. armie hammer’s scandal that felt like the logical end point of his sexy, “aristocratic” image. netflix’s fresh, where sebastian stan plays a charming man who dates women only to harvest their flesh. and let’s not forget our beloved twilight—edward cullen, sparkling like a disco ball, warning bella, “you’re like my own personal brand of heroin.”

what is love if not the urge to consume? the desire to take someone so deeply into yourself that they become a part of you—biologically, spiritually, metaphorically. and what is heartbreak if not hunger pangs when that person is gone?

cannibalism makes an excellent metaphor because it’s all about boundaries—or the lack thereof. loving someone means letting them in, letting them get so close that the lines between you start to blur. but what happens when that intimacy turns dangerous? when the hunger isn’t mutual? when one person is the predator and the other is the prey?

jeffrey dahmer didn’t kill people because he hated them. he killed them because he couldn’t bear to be alone. he wanted to keep them close, permanently. it’s completely horrifying, yes, but also tragically relatable. anyone who’s stayed up all night rereading texts from an ex, anyone who’s memorized someone’s spotify playlists just to feel connected—congratulations, you’re already halfway to dahmer’s basement.

romeo and juliet, the classic tale of doomed romance, hinges on mutual destruction. they consume each other until there’s nothing left, literal poison sealing the deal. it’s the same story in wuthering heights. heathcliff doesn’t just love cathy; he wants to haunt her. when she dies, he famously cries out, “be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss where i cannot find you!” romantic? sure. but it’s also deeply unhinged.

maybe that’s why vampires, zombies, and other flesh-eaters keep showing up as metaphors for desire. they’re embodiments of hunger without limits, love without boundaries. they remind us that intimacy is inherently risky. to love someone is to hand them a knife and hope they don’t use it.

but the truth is, we want them to use it—just a little. we want the vulnerability, the ache, the bite. we want to be consumed. after all, what’s the alternative? to be alone? to keep your heart under glass, untouched and pristine? no one writes sonnets about that. no one makes movies about lovers who stay politely detached.

maybe cannibalism is the perfect metaphor for love. it’s a bit unsettling, sure, but so is the way we talk about relationships. soulmates. twin flames. two halves of a whole. it’s all just a pretty way of saying: i want you inside me. not just physically, but spiritually. i want to know you so deeply that the distinction between me and you dissolves.

and isn’t that a little terrifying? isn’t that what keeps us awake at night? the knowledge that love will either complete us—or consume us whole.

so eat your heart out. or let someone else do it. either way, bon appétit.

[runningw-thewolves]

Loki Devotional Ideas: Halloween Edition

(Do you seriously think our loveable God of “fuck around, find out”, “constant sugar high insanity” and “what’s the worst that could happen?” wouldn’t love a holiday about dressing up scary, watching scary movies, telling scary stories and pranking people?)

- Watch horror movies. Any will do! Slashers (e.g. Nightmare on Elm Street, Friday the 13th, Halloween), Splatter (e.g. Saw, Hostel, Hellraiser), Monster (e.g. American Werewolf in London, Dracula, Creature from the Black Lagoon), Sci-Fi (e.g. Alien, M3GAN, Predator), Psychological (e.g. The Woman in Black, The Ring, Silence of the Lambs), whatever floats your boat! (Yes, this does include kids horror.)

- Listen to spooky tunes. I don’t just mean Michael Jackson’s “Thriller”, Ray Parker Jr’s “Ghostbusters”, and so on; listen to the Silver Scream albums by Ice Nine Kills, “Halloweentown” by Dark Divine, fucking anything by Motionless in White or Rob Zombie. The spookier, the better!

- PRANKS! Give someone a quick scare, but remember to do clean up/soothing afterwards!

- Give Loki his own Halloween bucket and put some candy in it for him.

- Spooky tarot readings! Use tarot or oracle sets themed around horror in any way. I have an oracle set literally based on horror movies (and it has a card called “The Trickster” based on IT and it is 100% a Loki card. I’ll talk about it in detail another time.)

- If you have some sort of statue or digital representation of Loki, why not dress him up? You can even ask him if he’d like anything in particular.

- Decorate your house how YOU want to. Get out the lumbering, scary animatronics or stick to the kid friendly banners and plastic scene setters and lights. Whatever works for you!

- Indulge in whatever spooky delights you desire. Read that shitty CreepyPasta from 2009, read that Goosebumps story, watch Twilight, play old horror/scary Flash games, eat chocolate till you poop nothing but it, listen to zombie apocalypse ambience, play with your Monster High dolls, WHATEVER! JUST. INDULGE.

- Carve a pumpkin. Give Loki a pumpkin as well (sure he can’t physically carve it in our realm but you could always use your minds eye to translate what he carved as close as you can). Make pumpkin pie from the insides.

- Enjoy the autumn leaves falling, the nights growing longer, the full moon in the sky and all the hallmarks of the autumn season.

- Give out candy to trick r treaters. Laugh at their horrible jokes (convince them you genuinely found it funny), play along with their “tricks”, compliment their outfits. Loki loves kids, and you bet your ass he’d love them going home happy with not just candy but someone playing along with them!

- Draw horror art, write horror stories, create spooky music. Use the time to be spookily creative. And it doesn’t need to be groundbreaking - if you wanna make a Jeff the Killer rip-off, you go and you make that Jeff the Killer rip-off!

- For those who observe Samhain; include Loki in your celebration/tradition, even if only a small inclusion.

- Tell Loki a scary campfire story from your youth. Hell, if you wanna ask him to tell you one, go for it!

- Include his family if you can! Leave candy or toys for the twins, include wolves or snakes in your decorations for Fenrir and Jormungandr, make a foam tombstone dedicated to Hel and Garmr, make decorative potions themed around Angrboda and Sigyn. Whatever way you can think of to include them, it’s worth a shot!

- For pet owners; if your furry buddy is alright with it, dress them up or give them seasonal items! Not all animals (e.g. cats) like dressing up, so try for Halloween themed toys, bedding, enrichment and treats! Bonus points if you dress up your companion to resemble Fenrir, Jormungandr or Sleipnir.

- Get scented candles or incense that fits the season. Pumpkin, cinnamon, rain, apple - there’s plenty of options out there!

- If you do any Halloween baking, invite Loki or leave him some of your baked goods.

- Have a pumpkin spiced latte and OWN being a basic White bitch for five minutes. You enjoy every slurp of that pumpkin spiced latte like your life depends on it. Don’t matter if you are POC, disabled, LGBTQIA+, whatever else - if you wanna be a basic autumn White bitch for a minute, you go and be that basic autumn White bitch! (Bonus if you add whipped cream or anything else you like just for the Hell of it.)

- In summary; HAVE FUCKING FUN. Indulge yourself, play along with games and pranks, take in everything the season has to offer.

[yandere-sins]

Could I ask you for some general yandere headcanons for your three top favorite Haikyuu characters? Please and thank you!

*Cracks knuckles*

Alright, sit down and listen kids, Ivy’s going to tell you something wild now. (Thanks for asking, I love talking about it atm ;-;)

»»———————— ♡ ————————««       

The Miya Twins

♡  First of all, yes, both of them, at the same time. I love them equally, and they are my reason to read HQ!! in the first place. Honestly, their yandere idea is entirely inspired by the idea of the lovely @shorkbrian from the yandere discord server, but I am writing this idea right now, and I love it so much, I will forever hold on to it, don’t fight me

♡  They are together at all times, except if one of them goes to fetch groceries. They just like sitting around and watching you quietly. You are so amazing, so perfect, the way you read, or draw, or watch TV. They just don’t want to disturb you, but you are unnerved, of course, of their eyes always on you. They are predators, but god, can they wait for you. Stalking is half of the fun, right? If you come to them, they’ll hug and coo all over you, and four hands are praising and giving you affection, also four arms, four eyes, and two mouths, you are so damn lucky. Tough luck, however, with trying to play them against each other as they will never let that happen. No matter what they are doing, it’s a communal thing. Everyone sleeps, eats, brushes their teeth together. Punishments and love are spread equally over all participants, and there is no such thing as favoritism, the twin who gets too much attention eventually pushing you into the other’s lap for his turn

♡  Atsumu naturally is the bolder twin, and he likes going in to touch you, hug you, and tell you he loves you, and the longer he has to sit and restrain himself, the more he gets antsy. Full on, tapping his fingers, swaying back and forth nervously, as if you were a drug, he just has to consume. Only Osamu can hold his brother back, or he’d be all over you forever, keeping you in his lap as he lets you read to him, play with you, wrestle you and make out with you all the time. However, he’s also the one who gets pouty quickly, throws temper tantrums, and has violent outbursts if ignored for too long. Not consoling Atsumu also means you get on the bad side with his brother, and it’s up to you if you want the two brothers to fight or not, worsening your situation by the second since you are the one who will have to endure all that comes from arguments

♡  Osamu is much more comfortable to have around and a good watchdog for his brother. He cooks for you, buys the things you ask him for, and even if he gets a hug, he cuts it short, so you don’t get uncomfortable. But oh boy, do you not want to be on his wrong side. You simply don’t want to be ignored by him, or all hell will break loose. You can’t count on Atsumu taking care of you, who’d rather cuddle all day than feed you, and Osamu has more than once broken down the bathroom door after you refused to come out. He grew out of violence, but being ignored by him is like a death sentence. That time where he’s upset is also very cold since he pays the bills and lays in front of you at night. You don’t want to be pushed on his lap after Atsumu is done with you when he’s in a bad mood, or you will be treated worse than a doormat

Akaashi

♡  When you first meet Akaashi, he’s so pleasant and affable; it’s like a dream come true. He’s always helping, knows how to handle Bokuto’s mood swings, he seems just generally like a good guy, and there’s no reason not to hang out with him. That is until you suddenly realize that he’s been manipulating you all this time, making you lose contact with other people and isolate you, up to the point where you wonder if you actually ever knew him at all. While he seems to make significant upgrades in his life, you feel stuck the moment you moved in with him, and no one is believing you when you tell them that Akaashi must have completely brainwashed you. Sounds a little weird, don’t you agree? Maybe you agree, perhaps everyone is right, and you need help. Good that you have such a reliable boyfriend- oh ups, husband at your side. When did you marry again?

♡  Life is really, truly good. He supports you. He takes you out on dates still. You two consider expanding your household. Your family just shook their heads about your concern, but even now, you just don’t feel right, as if you went somewhere entirely wrong with your choices. And yet, when he grabs your hand over the dining table, telling you you look as beautiful as the day he met you, your heart melts. Surely, it’s not Akaashi’s fault. He loves you so much, after all. Enough to make sure that the unfortunate person that was in love with you and conveyed their feelings to your - back then - best friend Akaashi, never got the chance to take you away from him

Aone

♡  Having Aone lock onto you wasn’t planned, but you sure felt like he was a hero when he saved you from some dark figures on your way home. He didn’t say much, but he escorted you home, and you felt terrible, making him walk all the way back to his own home, so the next day, you made it all worse by buying him lunch. Poor, sweet Aone, he confused your politeness for interest in him, pondering all day about what to do to make sure you’d understand the feelings he had for you in return. It wasn’t an accident that he walked by when you were approached by someone shady. It also isn’t when he accompanies you home the next day. Or the day after, despite you not knowing he’s there. He’s so damn tall, and yet you still manage to miss him, and it frustrates him, as your attention should be on him, right? But he’s too awkward to come out with it straight

♡  He doesn’t like your friends, and he doesn’t like you being so distant all the time. You may laugh as he approaches you about these concerns he has, but you regret that laugh the next time you wake up in an unfamiliar room, only Aone being by your side. He’s wringing his hands nervously, and you think you see pearls of sweat on his forehead. Though the moment you wake up, he jumps to a stand and dashes off, leaving you behind, chained by your foot. If you don’t appreciate his worries and how much he cares about you, then you shouldn’t be out and running wild. Aone doesn’t want his heart to be broken, even if that means he has to break your will first. And that he can do, volleyball taught him as much

[vivithefolle]

Is there anyway you could share the entire livejournal essay about Hermione's reaction to Ron coming back in DH? The few paragraphs that you referred to in your recent answer sound extremely interesting.

[The “recent answer” that goes back to... last December. Oh my god I’m such an ass I left you hanging for so long I’m so sorry.]

Okay, okay, so here goes! KEEP IN MIND: I DIDN’T WRITE THIS. I FOUND THIS ON LIVEJOURNAL AND PICKED EVERYTHING THAT I LIKED ABOUT IT, AS WELL AS SOME COMMENTS THAT INTERESTED ME.

This “essay” was actually more of a “reading the books” thing with the person sharing their thoughts and ideas about it. The person was clearly a Snape fan, but they had sympathy for Ron too. I’ll try to formate it as accurately as I can remember it.

And now, here it is:

---

ORDER OF THE PHOENIX

[About Ron being made a prefect.] The essayist: It’s sad, but this probably is the first time Ron’s beaten Harry at something. And the last time.

A commenter: Ron's had a really difficult life, and this is the book that proved it for me. It made me a Ron fan. Just look at the interactions he has with Fred and George. This is commonplace. I know a lot of people don't like Ron, but just look at this book, this chapter especially. People have accused Ron of being lazy, unambitious, having no emotions, and being a big stupid boy. It's just not true. Look at how Fred and George needle him out of jealousy. Look at how they treat Percy. Imagine Ron having to grow up with two older brothers that will not hesitate to bother, torture and torment people that stand out or that get more attention than they do or that cross them. He saw it happening with Percy, so what's he going to learn? He'll learn to shut up unless he wants to have something happen to him. He'll learn that standing out positively is rewarded with cruelty. I can understand how Mrs. Weasley could not have fully protected him from those two. Not all the time, not while trying to also care for Ginny, keeping up with her other kids in school, and running the household. Worst of all, punishing F&G doesn't seem to do anything. Those two just don't care/they crave the attention, negative or positive. The best thing she could've done would be to give them no attention, but that's so against her nature that unfortunately she just fed the monsters. No emotions? Is it really difficult to understand that sensitivity wouldn't be encouraged in young Ron? He's got these two bullies that only want a reaction out of him. If he cries, it'll only encourage them. Any reaction is encouraging to them, but he has to go with anger. It's a survival thing- puff yourself up, make yourself look bigger than you are so the predator messes with you a little less. Look at the pride Ron's showing in his badge. The desire to do well is there. He likes the good feeling that comes with it, but he's been hard-wired since birth that it's better to be "middle of the pack". In later chapters, I know you'll have to point out the way the power makes Ron behave, so I just want to start on the defence now. It's all Ron knows. It's all he's been taught. It's a huge character flaw, but it's what makes him so human. Rowling did develop this in the book, but only accidentally. We're never going to get a good look at Ron's psychology except through these hints because it's, as usual, All About Harry. Ron's flawed, but I hope we remember that he has a reason why he's got those flaws. It doesn't excuse him, but it really explains him. So yeah... that's why I defend Ron.

...

“I’m not Percy,’ he finished defiantly.”

The essayist: Mmmm-hm. Ron feels nervous at the thought of his good fortune inspiring anger in someone and what's his first defence? "I'm not Percy"? Man, the evidence that the Twins' psychological torment has left lasting scars on Ron could not have been more obvious if he'd shielded himself and said "Please don't jinx me, Fred! ... I mean Harry. ... Shit, what'd I say?"

...

“Excellent,”  said  Ron,  with  a  kind  of  groan  of  longing,  and  he  seized the nearest plate of chops and began piling them onto his plate, watched wistfully by Nearly Headless Nick. “What  were  you  saying  before  the  Sorting?”  Hermione  asked  the  ghost. “About the hat giving warnings?” “Oh  yes,”  said  Nick,  who  seemed  glad  of  a  reason  to  turn  away  from  Ron,  who  was  now  eating  roast  potatoes  with  almost  indecent  enthusiasm.

The essayist: Ron’s not being very restrained with his eating, is he?

The commenter: I don't know if it's accidental or not, but this is one of those moments that I love, one of the tellings of Ron's home life via his behavior. In this scenario, he's totally a kitten who just got adopted to a house where he's the only cat. He's at a table with food, so his instinct is to eat as fast as he can or his siblings will yoink it. It doesn't help that there are many other people around, encouraging the "get the good stuff fast or you'll have to sate yourself on bread or whatever nobody wants". Ron is so much more human than Harry! How can Harry not be showing any signs of his "horrendous abuse" for eleven years? Well... I guess he sort of does when he buys all that stuff in his first year. And I guess Ron has to go back home every summer where it gets reinforced. But Harry goes back every summer, too... what the hell?

...

“What’s going on?” Ron  had  appeared  in  the  doorway.  His  wide  eyes  traveled  from  Harry,  who  was  kneeling  on  his  bed  with  his  wand  pointing  at  Seamus, to Seamus, who was standing there with his fists raised. “He’s having a go at my mother!” Seamus yelled. “What?” said Ron. “Harry wouldn’t do that — we met your mother, we liked her. . .” “That’s  before  she  started  believing  every  word  the  stinking  Daily  Prophet writes about me!” said Harry at the top of his voice. “Oh,”  said  Ron,  comprehension  dawning  across  his  freckled  face.  “Oh . . . right.” “You know what?” said Seamus heatedly, casting Harry a venomous look.  “He’s  right,  I  don’t  want  to  share  a  dormitory  with  him  anymore, he’s a madman.” “That’s out of order, Seamus,” said Ron, whose ears were starting to glow red, always a danger sign. “Out of order, am I?” shouted Seamus, who in contrast with Ron ‘was  turning  paler.  “You  believe  all  the  rubbish  he’s  come  out  with  about You-Know-Who, do you, you reckon he’s telling the truth?” “Yeah, I do!” said Ron angrily. “Then you’re mad too,” said Seamus in disgust. “Yeah?  Well  unfortunately  for  you,  pal,  I’m  also  a  prefect!”  said  Ron,  jabbing  himself  in  the  chest  with  a  finger.  “So  unless  you  want  detention, watch your mouth!”

The essayist: Note how Ron’s first reaction is to side with Harry.

The commenter: Not surprising because of the best friends thing (some might argue) but I say it's not surprising considering how Hermione and Ron were treating Harry like a ticking time bomb. Survival!

...

“Hello, Harry!” It was Cho Chang and what was more, she was on her own again. This was most unusual: Cho was almost always surrounded by a gang of giggling girls; Harry remembered the agony of trying to get her by herself to ask her to the Yule Ball. “Hi,” said Harry, feeling his face grow hot. At least you’re not covered  in Stinksap this time, he told himself. Cho seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “You got that stuff off, then?” “Yeah,”  said  Harry,  trying  to  grin  as  though  the  memory  of  their  last meeting was funny as opposed to mortifying. “So did you . . . er . . . have a good summer?” The moment he had said this he wished he hadn’t: Cedric had been Cho’s boyfriend and the memory of his death must have affected her holiday  almost  as  badly  as  it  had  affected  Harry’s.  .  . Something  seemed  to  tauten  in  her  face,  but  she  said,  “Oh,  it  was  all  right,  you  know. . .” “Is  that  a  Tornados  badge?”  Ron  demanded  suddenly,  pointing  at  the front of Cho’s robes, to which a sky-blue badge emblazoned with a double gold T was pinned. “You don’t support them, do you?” “Yeah, I do,” said Cho. “Have  you  always  supported  them,  or  just  since  they  started  winning the league?” said Ron, in what Harry considered an unnecessarily accusatory tone of voice. “I’ve supported them since I was six,” said Cho coolly. “Anyway . . . see you, Harry.” She  walked  away.  Hermione  waited  until  Cho  was  halfway  across  the courtyard before rounding on Ron. “You are so tactless!”

The essayist: So Harry meets Cho, makes a complete faux pas and reminds her of her dead boyfriend. Ron quickly steers the conversation away onto something more happy, i.e., Quidditch, before Cho can get too upset. Nevertheless, Ron is apparently the insensitive jerk around here, not Harry.

[If this reminds you of something, then yes, I absolutely took what the essayist was saying and elaborated on it. I confess, I am a dirty thief.]

...

“Well, I suppose he could’ve played better,” Harry muttered, “but it was only the first training session, like you said. . .” Neither Harry nor Ron seemed to make much headway with their homework  that  night.  Harry  knew  Ron  was  too  preoccupied  with  how  badly  he  had  performed  at  Quidditch  practice  and  he  himself  was having difficulty in getting the chant of “Gryffindor are losers” out of his head. [...] And so they worked on while the sky outside the windows became steadily darker; slowly, the crowd in the common room began to thin again. �� At   half-past   eleven,   Hermione   wandered   over   to   them,   yawning. “Nearly done?” “No,” said Ron shortly. “Jupiter’s  biggest  moon  is  Ganymede,  not  Callisto,”  she  said,  pointing over Ron’s shoulder at a line in his Astronomy essay, “and it’s Io that’s got the volcanos.” “Thanks,” snarled Ron, scratching out the offending sentences.

The essayist: So Ron’s getting basic facts wrong in his essays.

The commenter: This is going to look so contrived, but I genuinely believe it, and maybe after these reviews, your standards for contrived have dropped enough for me to pass the bar :3 But... he's not putting in any effort. His ego can't take another beating at the moment (even punching bags have limits). Imagine it- after the Quidditch humiliation with his friend the Star Athlete (when he really was trying) he tries to distract himself by doing school work 1. which he isn't very good at anyway, 2. with the Star Athlete of Academics/Slytherin Spectator Crowd best friend Hermione there 3. with Hermione there to set it right anyway (it sounds as if Hermione isn’t so much correcting their essays as writing them herself). If he tries his best at this and then fails at that, Ron probably would start to consider suicide. It's self-preservation at this point to put in zero effort. This kind of fail is literally "I'm not trying because I have given up."

...

She  wrenched  her  bag  open;  Harry  thought  she  was  about  to  put  her books away, but instead she pulled out two misshapen woolly objects,  placed  them  carefully  on  a  table  by  the  fireplace,  covered  them  with  a  few  screwed-up  bits  of  parchment  and  a  broken  quill,  and  stood back to admire the effect. “What  in  the  name  of  Merlin  are  you  doing?”  said  Ron,  watching  her as though fearful for her sanity. “They’re  hats  for  house-elves,”  she  said  briskly,  now  stuffing  her  books  back  into  her  bag.  “I  did  them  over  the  summer.  I’m  a  really  slow  knitter  without  magic,  but  now  I’m  back  at  school  I  should  be  able to make lots more.” “You’re leaving out hats for the house-elves?” said Ron slowly. “And you’re covering them up with rubbish first?” “Yes,” said Hermione defiantly, swinging her bag onto her back. “That’s not on,” said Ron angrily. “You’re trying to trick them into picking  up  the  hats.  You’re  setting  them  free  when  they  might  not  want to be free.” “Of  course  they  want  to  be  free!”  said  Hermione  at  once,  though  her face was turning pink. “Don’t you dare touch those hats, Ron!” She left. Ron waited until she had disappeared through the door to the girls’ dormitories, then cleared the rubbish off the woolly hats. They  should  at  least  see  what  they’re  picking  up,”  he  said  firmly.  “Anyway  .  .  .”  He  rolled  up  the  parchment  on  which  he  had  written  the title of Snape’s essay. “There’s no point trying to finish this now, I can’t  do  it  without  Hermione,  I  haven’t  got  a  clue  what  you’re  supposed to do with moonstones, have you?”

The essayist: This doesn’t seem like a particularly open-minded and enquiring position to take, although I suppose that Hermione’s open-mindedness has always been something of an informed attribute.

The commenter: This trope among fans has got me riled up beyond belief because they use the "Hermione's word is gospel" thing to make unfair assumptions about other characters: Ron's "emotional range of a teaspoon" thing comes to mind, and right after that, Lavender supposedly being silly about believing Trelawney about her dead pet (Hermione never considered that maybe the thing Lavender was dreading was bad news from home or bad news about her pet). Regarding house elves: This is one case where the fans ought to have seen that Hermione was being very thoughtless as far as strategy. Ron has lived all his life up until this point thinking that there was no problem with house elves and she literally expects to be able to just tell him "it's wrong" and he's supposed to change instantly? Talk about your cultural insensitivity. In this case, maybe Ron knows better than you do, Hermione? You didn't even know about house elves until you were at least twelve (but more likely, she didn't know until this year). She must understand the concept of "he doesn't know it's wrong". That was how she defended Crookshanks when he was chasing Scabbers. ... Hey, Hermione thinks Ron's smarter than her cat. That's something, I guess.

...

The commenter: Competition is seriously the worst thing in the world for Ron. He's got wa-a-ay too much baggage. Do well so they'll love you. Do well so they'll notice you. If they notice you, you'll get praised. And tormented by Fred and George. Then if you fuck up, you'll have let everyone down. My brothers never let anyone down. That's the standard. Oh God, I can't live up to that. Which do I want to chose- being ignored or scorned? I could do well. Then I'll be good enough to be called "just like them"! JFC, when's it ever going to be "Good like Ron"? Chess. Literally everyone else has one thing they shine in, even Neville with his Botany and Dean with his art (and... and I'm going to ignore the fact that Hermione and Luna are the only two I can think of with non-appearance based special stuff... someone please help me out? I guess Tonks' doesn't really count as a shallow one because it makes her a master of disguise...)

...

HALF-BLOOD PRINCE

...

Ron gagged on a large piece of kipper. Hermione spared him one look of disdain before turning back to Harry.

The essayist: “Hermione spared [Ron] one look of disdain before turning back to Harry” pretty much sums up her relationships within the trio. It’s no wonder Ron’s so insecure and keeps worrying that she really fancies Harry.

...

“And you’ve been through all that persecution from the Ministry when they were trying to make out you were unstable and a liar. You can still see the marks on the back of your hand where that evil woman made you write with your own blood, but you stuck to your story anyway...”  “You  can  still  see  where  those  brains  got  hold  of  me  in  the  Ministry,  look,”  said  Ron,  shaking  back his sleeves.  “And  it  doesn’t  hurt  that  you’ve  grown  about  a  foot  over  the  summer  either,”  Hermione  finished, ignoring Ron.  “I’m tall,” said Ron inconsequentially.

The essayist: Ron’s so adorably pathetic here, the way he’s obviously feeling inferior to Harry and being ignored by his so-called friends. *hugs Ron*

...

When they left the Gryffindor table five minutes later to head down to the Quidditch pitch, they passed  Lavender  Brown  and  Parvati  Patil.  Remembering  what  Hermione  had  said  about  the  Patil  twins’  parents  wanting  them  to  leave  Hogwarts,  Harry  was  unsurprised  to  see  that  the  two  best  friends were whispering together, looking distressed. What did surprise him was that when Ron drew level with them, Parvati suddenly nudged Lavender, who looked around and gave Ron a wide smile. Ron blinked at her, then returned the smile uncertainly. His walk instantly became something more like a strut. Harry resisted the temptation to laugh, remembering that Ron had refrained from doing so  after  Malfoy  had  broken  Harry’s  nose;  Hermione,  however,  looked  cold  and  distant  all  the  way  down  to  the  stadium  through  the  cool,  misty  drizzle,  and  departed  to  find  a  place  in  the  stands  without wishing Ron good luck. 

The essayist: Hermione keeps belittling Ron and doing him down, and reacts quite strongly when he even so much hints at losing interest in her and showing attention to another woman. Can we say “abusive relationship”, anybody?

...

“Harry! Ginny!” Hermione was hurrying toward them, very pink-faced and wearing a cloak, hat, and gloves. “I got back a couple of hours ago, I've just been down to visit Hagrid and Buck--I mean Witherwings,” she said breathlessly. “Did you have a good Christmas?” “Yeah,” said Ron at once, “pretty eventful, Rufus Scrim—” “I've got something for you, Harry,” said Hermione, neither looking at Ron nor giving any sign that she had heard him. “Oh, hang on--password. Abstinence.”

The essayist: Wow, Hermione’s just being so childish here, ignoring Ron when he’s talking directly to her. Incidentally, Ron’s speaking to her like a normal friend, it’s Hermione who’s doing the blanking. Still, I’m sure this argument is all Ron’s fault for daring to go out with another girl. Hermione is totally blameless.

[Just in case: the essayist is being sarcastic, they’re pointing out the double standard of the HP fandom blaming Hermione’s immature behaviour on Ron.]

...

DEATHLY HALLOWS

...

“I think you’re right,” she told him. “It’s just a morality tale, it’s obvious which gift is best, which one you’d choose—” The three of them spoke at the same time; Hermione said, “the Cloak,” Ron said, “the wand,” and Harry said, “the stone.” They looked at each other, half surprised, half amused. “You’re supposed to say the Cloak,” Ron told Hermione, “but you wouldn’t need to be invisible if you had the wand. An unbeatable wand, Hermione, come on!” “We’ve already got an Invisibility Cloak,” said Harry. “And it’s helped us rather a lot, in case you hadn’t noticed!” said Hermione. “Whereas the wand would be bound to attract trouble—” “Only if you shouted about it,” argued Ron. “Only if you were prat enough to go dancing around, waving it over your head, and singing, ‘I’ve got an unbeatable wand, come and have a go if you think you’re good enough.’ As long as you kept your trap shut—” “Yes, but could you keep your trap shut?” said Hermione, looking skeptical. “You know, the only true thing he said to us was that there have been stories about extra-powerful wands for hundreds of years.” “There have?” asked Harry. Hermione looked exasperated: the expression was so endearingly familiar that Harry and Ron grinned at each other.

The commenter (?): Actually, I thought that Ron was proving the errors in the story. Because he’s right. The eldest brother didn’t die because the Elder Wand had corrupted him (like the One Ring). He died because he was an idiot. He died because he randomly decided to start blabbing about his new toy.

“You talk about wands like they’ve got feelings,” said Harry, “like they canthink for themselves.” “The wand chooses the wizard,” said Ollivander. “That much has always been clear to those of us who have studied wandlore.” “A person can still use a wand that hasn’t chosen them, though?” asked Harry. “Oh yes, if you are any wizard at all you will be able to channel your magic through almost any instrument. The best results, however, must always come where there is the strongest affinity between wizard and wand. These connections are complex. An initial attraction, and then a mutual quest for experience, the wand learning from the wizard, the wizard from the wand.”

The essayist: Harry’s wand has to think for and protect him because he’s too stupid and incompetent to think for and protect himself! Ollivander’s the expert, and he just admitted it. He said any halfway decent wizard can perform magic with almost any wand. The reason Harry could only work with the holly wand is because of the phoenix feather core it shares with Voldemort’s wand. That is, it wasn’t Harry doing the magic with Harry’s wand! It was the Voldemort soul piece! Once Harry was forced to use wands that didn’t have that core, the soul piece couldn’t do the work for Harry any more. He was forced to rely on his own magical powers and competence, which are clearly minimal. This is proven by his inability to do effective magic with any other wand. It’s also proven by an incident from Philosopher’s Stone. Remember when Harry was being chased by bullies and inexplicably found himself on top of the shed roof? That was the soul piece allowing him to fly like Voldy. Lily could slow her descent from a height, as if she had an invisible parachute, but that is not the same as flying, and we have no evidence she could fly. Only Voldemort and Snape fly without assistance! The evidence is overwhelming that I am right. How many spells can Harry do effectively? Expelliarmus, Expecto Patronum, Protego--that’s it. Even as a young adult, he is incapable of doing the basic healing or cleaning spells a young child should have down pat before going to Hogwarts. Of course, we’re told the Patronus spell is difficult and advanced, but who told us that? Remus Lupin, friend of Harry’s father, sycophant, and notorious liar, particularly when it comes to flattering Harry. Recall Lupin also said Snape didn’t like James because Snape was envious of Potter Sr.’s Quidditch prowess, and we know that was a lie. Given this evidence, anything Lupin says that cannot be confirmed by an independent source, especially regarding the Potters, should be dismissed out of hand. True, Hermione has trouble with the Patronus spell, and she’s super-competent. Doesn’t that prove it’s a very difficult spell? Not at all. To take an example from a different field, Beethoven was a virtuoso organist, the greatest pianist of his day, one of the greatest pianists in history, and probably the greatest improvisational musician ever. But he was only a decent violinist. Everybody has areas of weakness, no matter how good they are overall. In addition, Hermione is very gullible where authority figures are concerned. If a teacher tells her, “The Patronus is a very difficult, advanced spell that many people can’t ever master,” she’ll believe that, which may create a self-fulfilling prophecy. A couple of years ago, another DTCL member and I facetiously suggested Harry was less intelligent than his wand. We didn’t know we were right. It rarely happens, but this is an occasion when I would have preferred to be wrong.

...

If only there was a way of getting a better wand... And desire for the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, unbeatable, invincible, swal-lowed him once more... They packed up the tent next morning and moved on through a dreary shower of rain. The downpour pursued them to the coast, where they pitched the tent that night, and persisted through the whole week, through sodden landscapes that Harry found bleak and depressing. He could think only of the Deathly Hallows. It was as though a flame had been lit inside him that nothing, not Hermione’s flat disbelief nor Ron’s persistent doubts, could extinguish. And yet the fiercer the longing for the Hallows burned inside him, the less joyful it made him. He blamed Ron and Hermione: Their determined indifference was as bad as the relentless rain for dampening his spirits, but neither could erode his certainty, which remained absolute. Harry’s belief in and longing for the Hallows consumed him so much that he felt isolated from the other two and their obsession with the Horcruxes. [...] As the weeks crept on, Harry could not help but notice, even through his new self-absorption, that Ron seemed to be taking charge. Perhaps because he was determined to make up for having walked out on them, perhaps because Harry’s descent into listlessness galvanized his dormant leadership qualities, Ron was the one now encouraging and exhorting the other two into action. [...] But not until March did luck favor Ron at last.

The essayist: MARCH! That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. The first fifteen pages of this chapter cover three months, and during that entire time, Harry Potter does nothing, nothing, but sit on his ass fantasizing about the Elder Wand and trying to connect with his Voldie-soul mate. Oh, wait. He also tries to open the snitch so he can get the stone out of it. (Nothing gay about that, either.) I wish he’d succeed in that, too. Maybe he’d swallow the stone, and it would end up in his scrotum. He sure needs something that works down there. Harry doesn’t have the right to bail out on his society like this. He can’t have it both ways. He can’t have the adulation that goes with being Mr. Boy-Who-Lived-Chosen-One-Wizarding-World-Savior and abdicate the responsibilities that go along with those titles and that adulation. Look at what happens in this chapter: Harry becomes obsessed with finding and uniting the Hallows, so much so that he withdraws from his friends, bails out on the job his idol Dumbledore gave him, and spends all his time brooding and trying to connect with the Dull Lord. In other words, he acts clinically depressed. Ron and Hermione were exposed to the same information Harry was, but they didn’t become obsessed/depressed. Ron was mildly interested in the Super-Wand, but not enough to distract him from the Horcrux hunt. Hermione dismissed the whole DH story as nonsense and continued following Dumbestbore’s orders. So why weren’t they tempted?

...

The essayist: Harry opens the locket using Parseltongue--interesting that this never occurred to him before now--and two ghostly figures emerge. They’re Voldie-versions of Harry and Hermione, and they articulate Ron’s worst fears: “Least loved, always, by the mother who craved a daughter...Least loved, now, by the girl who prefers your friend...Second best, always, eternally overshadowed...” I’ll say it again: When you’re right, you’re right. The evidence is overwhelming that Molly Weasley treated Ron the worst of all her children. And if Rowling doesn’t want us to ship HP/HG, she needs to quit throwing them together and making them leaders, with Ron either in the background or absent entirely. JKR obviously wants us to automatically dismiss certain statements just because they’re made by “bad guys” such as Voldemort and Rita Skeeter. There are two problems with this: (1) The “lies” make perfect sense, far more sense than what we’re supposed to believe. (2) Even pathological liars sometimes tell the truth, typically when it won’t hurt their own interests to do so. For those of us who live in what cartoonist Garry Trudeau calls “the reality-based community,” the evidence is what matters, not what we’re told by authority figures. Those of us in the higher stages of spiritual development are funny that way.

...

The essayist: Well, whose fault is that, Ms. Rowling? You’re the one who’s spent the last four books making Ron dumber and dumber, depriving him of any meaningful activity, while you shoved Harry and Hermione into increasingly dominant roles.

The commenter: Are we supposed to look down on Ron now so that we can condemn him for leaving Harry and Hermione? Because if so, then that’s just unfair. Every time Ron tries to come up with an idea, Hermione criticizes him or shoots him down. And the twins have done a fine job of intimidating Ron into remaining mediocre and modest so that he doesn’t remind them of Percy, so what is he supposed to do? How is he supposed to come up with ideas when he’s surrounded by people who basically tell him to shut up and sit down?

The essayist: Just then, Hermione comes out of the tent with cups of tea, with tears running down her face and looking terrified her “friend” is going to curse her with her own wand.

The commenter: So, Hermione will snarl at Ron all day long, but cower in fear when Harry gets mad. Is she projecting herself onto Harry and assuming that just because *she’s* quick to hex people who anger her (Ron, Marietta, etc.), Harry will do the same to her?

The essayist: The evidence is overwhelming that Molly Weasley treated Ron the worst of all her children.

The commenter: And blatantly showed favoritism to Harry while snarling at Ron in the same breath. Of course, Horcrux!Tom doesn’t bring that up, because JKR would have to admit that there might be something wrong with Molly favoring Harry the way she does. The essayist: Hermione acts so crazy Harry has to put a protection charm between her and Ron.

The commenter: Yeah…sorry, it’s not “slapstick” anymore when somebody actually has to stop her from hitting Ron. When Harry feels that the situation is dangerous enough that his intervention is necessary. That’s not funny. That’s a true-crime episode. What gets me is that Hermione's tantrum lasts for days. It goes on for several pages into the next chapter. She doesn't start acting normal again until she comes up with the idea of visiting Xeno Lovegood. The essayist: Hermione tells Ron she still hasn’t ruled out attacking him with birds again.

The commenter: *flatly* So, all of the fans who cooed about how “great” it was for Hermione to show “girl power” by sending Ron to the hospital wing in HBP or breezily dismissed the scene as just tired teenage melodrama? Can put a sock in it. Hermione has clearly learned nothing, JKR clearly feels that that scene was funny, and at no point are we supposed to think that Hermione is an abuser. Even though, if the genders were reversed, fans would be calling for Ron’s head on a platter if he dared lay a finger on Hermione. No. This isn’t funny. This isn’t charming. Hermione hurt Ron so badly in HBP that he had to go to the hospital wing. And she tried to repeat the damage she caused here. Is she going to attack him with birds again after they get married? Is she going to do it in front of their children? Will it be “cute” and “funny” then? No, if a man is an abusive monster for losing his temper and trying to hurt his girlfriend, then Hermione is an abusive monster for losing her temper and trying to hurt her boyfriend. Not only did Hermione land Ron in the infirmary with the first attack, but she wants to do it again at a time when they are on the run. She will NOT be able to take an injured Ron to Hogwarts infirmary, nor to St. Mungos. In other words - she intends for him to remain injured and stick with them while camping, or else he must apparate away while injured, risking another splinching so he could be healed.

...

The essayist: Ron and Harry go back to the tent, and Harry fades into the background so as not to interfere with the lovers’ reunion. That’s a mistake. After Harry wakes Hermione, she shows her delight at Ron’s return by--attacking him? She punches him over a dozen times while yelling at him and screaming for her wand from Harry. Remember last chapter, when I talked about how immature Hermione is? Here’s your proof.

[The essayist quotes an article that I haven’t been able to find, but paraphrased: it speaks of a father who came to pick up his 4 y/o daughter from daycare, a little later than usual, and the daughter reacted by punching and hitting her father, upset at his being late. Additional read:  “The parents must know that physical aggression is a common yet natural problem faced by toddlers.”]

The essayist: So there you have it: Hermione Granger, know-it-all supergirl, is so immature she acts like a preschool child when the boyfriend she’s been missing finally returns. I’m not suggesting she has a father-daughter relationship with Ron; this kind of anger is found in other relationships, too. What I am saying is that her way of expressing her anger is appropriate for a very young child. While adults may certainly feel this kind of anger and desire to hit when reunited with a loved one under similar circumstances, they don’t act it out. That restraint is what separates adults from children. Hermione acts so crazy Harry has to put a protection charm between her and Ron. I frankly found her behavior so out of control as to suggest mental instability. She engages in two full pages of histrionics before throwing herself into a chair, sitting so tensely I’m surprised the circulation isn’t cut off to her arms and legs. She remains in a bratty snit until the end of the chapter, which is another six pages.  Hermione is still pouting the next morning. I’m wondering if her real problem is not that Ron left, but that she didn’t. Is she angry at him because he had the guts to admit they were blowing it and take a time out, while she just kept trailing along after Harry like a lost house elf? I think she’s definitely mad because she’s always controlled Ron and their relationship. How dare he assert his independence of her! Who does he think he is? Her equal? In an AU, maybe. This is called the Potterverse after all, not the Ronverse.  Hermione’s having a bad month. First Ron runs out on them; then she saves Harry’s life, but he’s an ungrateful jerk about it; then Harry asserts his independence; then Ron comes back but doesn’t grovel sufficiently for her taste. All this mistreatment is going to give her the idea she’s just a normal character and not an Author’s Darling.   While Ron was gone, he was captured by bad guys called Snatchers, who are bounty hunters for Voldemort. In getting away, he got a spare wand, which he gives to Harry. Of course, it doesn’t work as well as Harry’s “real” wand, so Harry’s still in a snit about that, and with Hermione in a snit, too, they’re a cheerful bunch. Honestly, I don’t know why Ron puts up with these two. The Hs are so spoiled and self-centered, they deserve each other, but I don’t think this is what HP/HG shippers mean when they proclaim the two as an OTP. Sane, normal Ron doesn’t deserve either one of them. Run, Ron! Run while you still can!

...

The essayist: As an interesting aside, ròn is the Celtic word for seal. In Druid lore, seals represent love, longing, and dilemma. No more appropriate totem animal could be imagined for this boy whose sense of selfhood is undermined by his longing for love from a rejecting mother and inadequate father, and who, like the selchie wives of folklore, is faced with the impossible choice of being who he truly is and being rejected, or denying the best part of himself to gain love. Ron’s intelligence and independence threaten his insecure wife (and best friend), just as the selchie’s identity as a seal-woman threatens her human husband; Ron imprisons himself by hiding who he is so the Hs can feel smart and in charge, just as the selchie’s human husband imprisons his wife by hiding her sealskin in a trunk.

[tory-ben-hi-shelton]

my favourite quotes from exposure

Multiple sets of handcuffs appeared and were applied. Bailiffs began peeling off the dog-pile like layers of an onion. And there, at the bottom of the scrum, was Kit. He was panting like a marathoner, arms still wrapping the Gamemaster's legs in a death grip. He'd clearly been the first to react.

"Oh, man!" Shelton had both hands on his dome. He seemed winded, despite not having moved during the attack. "Things just got real in here."

"Sorry I froze in there, Tor." Shelton frowned as he shirt wiped his glasses. "Not exactly my 'One Shining Moment', huh?" I waved off his apology. I knew Shelton hated how skittish he could be.

I try to hide the eruptions, but the guys can always tell. They do their best to support me even though it makes them uncomfortable. It's very sweet, but teenage boys make lousy grief counsellors.

The previous semester, Ben had been in half our classes, too, despite being a junior. Obviously, he was no longer around. Sometimes it felt like a limb was missing.

"Jason might be there," Courtney chirped. "He likes you."

"Oh." Not a brilliant response. "Yeah, maybe. I might have a thing, though."

Wonderful. Good job, good effort, Tory.

Behind me, I heard Hi fake coughing to cover his snickers

"I should be a secret agent." Hi blew on his fingernails, then buffed them on his lapel. "Or a magician. Maybe both. Someone write that down."

My hands shot for the Ray-Bans, but Ben caught my fingers mid-flight.

"It's not nice to grab," he said calmly.

"I can't handle all this tension," Shelton moaned. "Too much fighting."

Hi nodded, watching Ben dissapear down a side street. "We need to work on our conflict management. Maybe attend a seminar."

"Make your own?" Hi shifted to look at my face. "Victoria Grace, have you been holding out on me?"

"Tell me everything."

"You're not gonna be happy," Hi warned. "Don't kill the messenger."

"Or his good-looking buddy," Shelton added.

"On Saturday Ben and I drove to John's Islands to see Skyfall."

"You did?" Hi said sharply. "Thanks for the invite, jerks."

Shelton raised his palms. "You were at temple. We're suppose to wait around? Plus, you've seen that movie like five times."

"You still could've asked," Hi grumbled. "I don't—"

"Guys!" I clapped my hands once. "The story, please."

"So many gentleman admirers," Hi mused. "Must be tough, being a heartbreaker."

"Zip it. Unless you wanna see a leg-breaker too."

Ella adopted a mock serious tone. "Will you bodyguards consent?"

I giggled. "If Shelton and Hi are my bodyguards, I don't like my chances. And yes."

"See this?" Ben glanced at the mirror and pointed to his chin. "This is my 'couldn't care less' face."

"Boys?" I stood and faced them. "Something to share?"

"It was a secret." Hi aimed a kick at Shelton, who dodged easily. "Ben made us swear not to tell."

I crossed my arms. Waited.

"Tell Kit we're cutting a music video," Hi suggested as we walked. "Something real gangster, so we need to smash-cut our dance routines. Lay down some visuals. We could offer to let him freestyle rap over the second verse."

"Come on, Sambo!" Hi winked. "Live a little. What are we going to do, rob the place?"

The guard crossed his arms. "Wink at me again, Hiram, and I'll throw you to the wolfpack."

"Did I not mention that?" My brain was truly deep fried. "We went together."

"Oh." Hi and Shelton at once. Ben looked away.

"Hey, wait." I leaned closer to the screen. "You guys wouldn't have wanted to go. I took Ella so I wouldn't be paraded around like Whitney's toy poodle." No one spoke. Nonplussed, I decided to change the subject.

I glowered at Ben from the backseat. I'd given Hi shotgun, having sensed this argument was inevitable. I didn't want to be close. The urge to slap might become overpowering.

"Why don't we use our friendly words?" Hi suggested. "Let's take five, and everyone can say something we like about each other. I'll start. Shelton you're super at—"

"Shut up, Hi!" Ben and I shouted, the first thing we'd agreed upon all morning.

"Must be hell to keep the pH balance correct. I know how it is. I owned a goldfish once."

"Once?" Shelton asked.

"It died. Almost immediately."

"Nice work."

"It's a cultural thing," Hi was saying. "I think you're being insensitive."

Hines snorted. "Do you want me to cuff you?"

"Kinda."

"A minute alone, Tory. I'd like a quick chat."

Ben shot forward. "You can stick chat right up—"

Hi waved at me from across the yard, waiting for his mother to arrive. Apparently he'd body-blocked the first cops to chase me through the house. The police were none too pleased. I owe you one, Hi. You bought me enough time.

Entering the Virals chat room, I found all three boys present.

Uh oh.

They'd met there ahead of time, before alerting me. To discuss me.

I glanced up to see Shelton holding latex gloves. Hi had the ziplocks. Ben handed me a cotton swab and stopper. "Anything else?"

Despite the circumstances, I smiled.

Ruth popped her son on the back of the head. "Mind your manners, Hiram."

"Why does everyone do that?" Hi muttered. "And that was child abuse. In front of the police, I might add."

He looked away. The harbour breeze ruffled his silky black hair. My hand found his, almost by its own volition.

I couldn't be mad at Ben anymore. It was like being mad at my left arm. And right then, I needed my arm back.

A smile quirked on my father's lips. "And you, Mr. Blue? Ready for a good ol'-fashioned backyard barbecue? My daughter will be there."

Ben's uneasy smile was his only response.

Ben reached up from where he was lying with his eyes closed. Smacked Hi's dome.

Hi rubbed his head. "I'm getting pretty tired of that move."

"Then quit being a dope." Ben's lids remained shut.

"Hey, sure. No problem. I just need to—"

Hi lunged for Ben, intending a flying body slam. Ben caught Hi in midair and tossed him downhill in one quick motion. Hi tumbled, rolled, and dropped over the berm of the sand.

"That was dumb." Hi informed the blue sky.

Ben started talking about Wando High. I countered with news of Bolton. Before long, we'd exchanged stories, catching up on the last five months of each other's lives. I hadn't realized how much I missed Ben. How badly I wanted him back at Bolton.

He was right, of course. I was keeping several secrets from Ben. Like how comfortable it felt to be alone with him. How much I'd missed his reassuring presence. His quiet strength.

Ben removed his shoes, plunged both feet into the lapping salt waters Then he leaned back against a post, sighing contently. The little-boy maneuver brought a smile to my face.

"You're staying out here?" Shelton asked. "Alone?"

"No big deal. I don't want Kit to see what I'm up to."

"I don't like it," Ben said. Behind him, Hi looked uneasy.

"No one knows this place exists." I pointed to the other room. "And there's an 85 pound predator in there that loves me. I'll be fine."

...

"Text me when you get home." Ben requested. "Please don't forget."

I hid a smile. "Will do. Bye, guys."

I sat forward at the table. "Okay, so ... like, don't freak out."

That got their attention.

"About?" Ben took the seat across from me, next to Hiram.

"There was an incident last night." Oh so calm. "I'm perfectly okay, but on the way hone someone attacked me on the beach."

"What?!" Three stunned voices.

"That's why you didn't text," Ben muttered.

Ben shook his head in wonderment. "Incredible. It's nice having a genius around."

"It's only genius if it works." But I flushed at the compliment.

I squeezed Ben's shoulder. "Who's the genius now?"

He snorted, looked away.

"You let her go alone?" Ben scolded, slowly working his way down to where Hi was beached. "That defeats the whole purpose!"

"I'm aware of that, Benjamin." Hi tried slinging a leg onto the riverbank, but it flopped back into the rolling current. "But she'd figured out you sent her away from the mine on purpose. You try telling Tory what to do when she's pissed."

"I'll pass."

"How's the leg, detective? Or did my wolfdog bite you in the ass, instead?"

"Hey, at least it's not your birthday. Worst one ever, by the way."

His fist came up. I dapped it with mine.

"For Tory," Shelton said.

"For Tory." All jokes shelved.

Coop was rolling in the leaves, pinning someone beneath his massive bulk.

Ben dove on the tangle with a voice-cracking whoop.

I was no longer alone. The Virals had found me. Ben was beaming, unable to hide his relief. He turned quickly, wiping his glowing eyes. Shelton darted forward and crushed me with a hug. Coop was dancing and bucking, his tail wagging so hard he had trouble keeping balance. My boys. My heroes.

"Do you confronted the twins alone, without waiting for us?" Ben couldn't keep the anger from his voice. "After making us promise not to do anything like that?"

"We can discuss my impulsiveness another time—"

"Oh, we will." Ben assured me.

I ejected the spent clip from the HK45, slammed the new one into place, then worked the slide to chamber a round. Then I held the weapon loosely at my side, barrel pointed toward the ground.

"I'm terrified of you right now," Hi said wide-eyed. "And in love. Take me shooting with your aunt Tempe next time."

"Take the SUV and go. I'll stay with Ella and handle the fallout."

"Out of your mind." Ben said immediately.

"We could drive away without anybody knowing."

"I'm not leaving Tory to face this alone," Ben insisted. "Get serious!"

I spoke softly. "The cops will eat you alive, Benjamin Blue. You have to go."

Ben tensed, ready to argue.

"Detective Hawfield died. This is going to get serious. It's way too much heat for you. Please be sensible."

Ben hesitated. Then his shoulders slumped.

"Maybe you're right." Deep breath. "But you're taking away the other possibility, too."

"I don't understand." I glanced over my shoulder at the approaching vehicle. "What other possibility?"

He smiled wanly. "Ben Blue, The Hero. That kinda would've been nice."

I paused, at a loss for words. My heart broke for him.

"But that's okay." Ben dug keys from his pocket. "After all, we're Virals, not heroes. And that's fine. Plus, I'm not really the hero type."

He turned to leave.

Impulsively, I grabbed Ben's arm. Pulled him close. Smashed my lips against his. The kiss only lasted a second, but also an eternity. Then I stepped back an shoved Ben towards the Explorer.

"Of course you're the type." I was grateful the darkness hid my blushes. "Now go."

Ben stared, stricken, thunderstruck. Hi and Shelton watched, wide-eyed with shock.

"Weirdest birthday ever," Hi whispered.

"Corcoran will survive," Ben commented sourly. "He always does. We crack the case, he gets to be the hero."

My head whipped to Ben. Was that bitterness?

I saw no trace. Ben was smiling, relaxed for the first time in days. Maybe months.

As my father strode away, Shelton and Hi both unleashed dramatic yawns.

"Welp." Hi stretch his arms over his head. "I'd better go check on various things that aren't right here. You coming, Shelton?"

"Oh you know it." Hiding a smile. "Stuff to do. No time to waste."

I descended two steps.

Stopped.

Shot back up.

Wrapped Ben in a bone-crushing hug.

Startled, it took him a moment before he hugged me back.

"He didn't say anything to me," Hi repeated. "And if Shelton were sick, I'd be the first to hear about it. At length."

"So what's the plan?" Ben asked.

"Go inside. Look around. Improvise."

"Brilliant." Hi stroked his chin. "Quick question: Is having no plan the same as having a terrible plan, or are those different categories?"

[purpleandgreen13]

Stardew Valley Inktober 2021

Inspired by @buttonso 's SDV Inktober list, I'm writing a one shot every day for October. I have done 4 already (the fifth will be later today) but thought I would post them here too.

October 1st Junimo

Inspired by the Star Trek original series 'The Trouble with Tribbles'

Dammit Lewis, I’m a doctor not a vet.” Grumbled Doctor Harvey at his clinic where he, Marnie and Mayor Lewis are stood looking the five tiny figures laying in a large cardboard box on the examination table. They are covered in scratches and making distressed cooing noises.

“Please Dr Harvey?” Pleads Marnie, her eyes filling with tears, “I found them in the barn, the cows didn’t mean to rough them up, they were just curious.”

“What are you doing with these creatures anyway Marnie? Junimo’s import to Ferngill is strictly controlled.” Doctor Harvey peers over his glasses.

Marnie looks shifty all of a sudden and Mayor Lewis shuffles uncomfortably, “Lewis got me a special license!” Marnie protests a little too loudly, “We’re breeding them as pets. Look how cute they are! People are going to love them!”

“You are aware of their other reputation?” Harvey asks, “They’re prodigious breeders. They can have up to seven litters a week and they’re banned in some places. In the wild they have plenty of predators but in domestic situations you can easily get overrun."

“Please Doc. We can make it worth your while.” Lewis wheedles.

“Lewis. I don’t want your money, except for the medical bills. I don’t like seeing any creature in pain. Leave them with me, I’ll make sure they’re well looked after and I’ll patch up their wounds, give them a course of antibiotics and they should be right as rain in about four days.”

“Thank you so very, very much, Doctor Harvey.” Marnie gushes with relief as she clutches Harvey’s hand. Harvey frowns. This is very much against his better judgement, but the animals need care and he WAS the closest thing this town had to a vet, he supposed.

Once Marnie and Lewis left, Harvey lifted the blanket covering the box.

“Oh Yoba.” He muttered quickly lowering the blanket again. Already the junimos, which he had to grudgingly admit were cute, were In flagrante delicto, busy at work in the cardboard box creating the next generation of apple-like creatures.

Harvey mused that the small animals were getting more action than most people in the valley, including him.

He fetched his medical equipment and carefully lifted each Junimo out of the box, whenever one was free from its activities. Each one squeaked in protest as Harvey checked it over, applied antiseptics to cuts and grazes, then administered antibiotic in a small pipette to each of the five Junimos. They’d need a few days care, but they were mostly badly shaken up. They would all be fine, he was confident.

He supposed he should separate them into males and females, but honestly, Harvey had absolutely no way of telling them apart, so he left the blanket on the box after giving them some guinea pig food provided by Abigail and a bowl of water, and retired for the night.

Maru was first in the clinic the next morning and when Harvey entered the reception area, still a little bleary-eyed from sleep, she looked furious.

“What- what’s up Maru?” Harvey asked nervously.

“Why are you keeping so many animals in such a tiny space Doc? It’s downright cruel!”

“What are you talking about?”

There are almost 50 Junimos squished into a cardboard box in the hospital section! I can’t believe you left them like that? You do know it’s illegal to keep them without a license?” “Fif-FIFTY? Harvey suddenly felt a bit faint. “There were only 5 yesterday!”

Well, there’s about 50 of them now. We’ll need to find them better housing.”

After searching through the clinic for boxes big enough to house 50 Junimos, Maru makes a decision, that Harvey mutely agrees with.

They let the Junimos loose in the hospital wing of the clinic, leaving them food and water. At the end of the day locking the door behind him, Harvey couldn’t help but feel he’d made a terrible mistake.

‘Junimos reach sexual maturity within 24 hours of birth’, he read in one of his encyclopaedias, ‘as beings who derive their bright coat colouring from magic in the air around them, they live relatively short lives and breed as much as they can to ensure survival of the species. The magic that sustains them, makes them attractive to female junimos also kills them. Their twin purposes in life are to procreate and eat.’

In the morning there were more than 500 Junimos on the hospital wing. Maru could barely open the door and then could not close it. There were junimos everywhere, in the pharmacy cupboards, under every chair in the waiting room. Maru found two in the drawer of the till.

Harvey was going spare. His beautiful clean, sterile clinic had turned into a zoo. He coped as well as he could, but that evening, he called Lewis in a panic. His first attempt to pick up his phone he picked up a Junimo instead, he swept 7 of them off his chair in his office. Several of them piled on his warm lap once he sat down. There were several of them sleeping on the examination table. The noise of Junimo mating was cacophonous.

“Hello!” He bellowed into the phone when Mayor Lewis picked up. “LEWIS! It’s Harvey here! You’re going to have to do something about these Junimos! There’s hundreds of them!” “Sorry Doc! I can’t hear you! Are you having a party? I will come and pick up those Junimos from you on Friday! You said 4 days for the antibiotics to work didn’t you? I’ll see you then!” and with that the line goes dead.

Harvey has had enough. He wades through the Junimos lining the stairs to his apartment, grabs his jacket from the hook behind the door, empties the pockets of Junimos that have settled there, and makes his way gingerly out of the clinic and to the saloon. He stays far later than he should and he dreams in junimos the entire night.

Wednesday is hell. Exponential Junimo growth means that every surface is covered with squeaking, breeding and pooping animals with no regard for Harvey’s cleaning routines. He opens his kitchen cupboard for his coffee mug and is rewarded by e seemingly never-ending shower of small apple like creatures bouncing off his head and scurrying away. He tries to count them but here are far too many. That night he goes hungry because there is not a crumb of food in the house. When he climbs into his bed, he is surrounded by the creatures, cocooned in a kind of living Junimo blanket. The sleeping creatures start snoring. By itself a junimo snoring is a sweet sound, like sighing, but by the thousand, the noise is deafening.

When Maru arrives on Thursday morning, Doctor Harvey is a broken man. She pushes the door of the clinic open with some difficulty, the sheer weight of the creatures holding back the door.

Harvey is seated behind the counter, asleep, head in arms, dishevelled and unshaven. Junimos on his lap, his shoulders, in every one of his pockets. The squeaking and chirruping is so loud that Maru has to cover her ears as she approaches the sleeping man covered in the apple creatures.

“Doc!” She shouts above the row. “Doc!”

Harvey jolts awake. The junimos on his lap fall off, but are replaced with many more, jostling for a place on the doctor’s warm knees.

“I’ve brought someone who might help!”

Through the mounds of apple shaped bodies Harvey can just about make out a large cowboy hat and a purple beard. He scoffed to himself, the crazy guy from the tower? What was he going do here? Set traps? Give them all contraceptives. (Harvey had already considered it, but he calculated that the cost would be more than he made in a year).

With some difficulty the self-proclaimed wizard moved to the wall of the waiting room and in chalk drew a large circle with undecipherable symbols within its parameters. He yelled one word “Quiet!” Which made Harvey and Maru both jump. Surprisingly, the Junimos still and there is peace in the clinic for the first time in days.

He grinned at the medical staff, “Couldn’t hear myself think in here.”

Harvey has to keep himself from rolling his eyes when the wizard gets out a wand. Seriously? He’s muttering something that Harvey can’t quite catch and is sure is gibberish. He almost wants to laugh when the man turns around and makes an extravagant gesture with his arm. Harvey takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes, feeling overwhelmingly tired. When he opens his eyes again, the Junimos are gone.

He blinks. Not a single Junimo remains.

The place is a mess however. Chairs are overturned, the plants have all been eaten. Magazines shredded. Harvey dared not look at the damage in his neat pharmacy and sterile hospital room.

“Where did they go?” He stammers, his entire belief system shaken.

The Wizard smiles enigmatically, “Somewhere I think they should be.” With a dramatic swirl of his cape, he exits, leaving Harvey and Maru to clean up the mess. Harvey thinks he can smell sulphur, but blames his overtired fevered brain.

**~~**~~**

In the Mayoral Manor, Lewis is doing his weekly book work for the town finances. A little bit off the top here and a little added to his own bank account. No-one ever asks to check the books. The amounts would not be missed.

There is a flash and suddenly Lewis is surrounded by small apple shaped creatures. They’re everywhere. A heaving mass of Junimos covers the floor and already some of the creatures are getting into his food cupboards, locust-like they start to methodically eat everything they come across.

Over in the clinic, broom in hand, Harvey swears he can hear screaming coming from Lewis’s house.

[a-prekliatyvlk]

                Pack Festivities: Imbolic, Ostara, Beltane                                                            —————————-

So I wanted to write a little bit about the pack celebrating holidays. Since they follow more Pagan traditional holidays they do a lot of celebrating through out the year. Honestly the pack just loves an excuse to throw parties. They LOVE inviting other supernaturals to such parties.

                                                                 Imbolic

Imbolic is one of the first holidays they celebrate. This one isn’t as big as other ones (Beltane) but it’s just the sabbat making the midpoint between Yule and Oastara. This isn’t a small gathering, they make food, lamb mostly and deer, decorate the house with white flowers, evergreen and leave out berries such as black berries for people to eat. Everything is flavored with Baisl, bay, lavender and rosemary to honor the sabbat.

The attire consists of Brown, Green, Pink, Red, White and Yellow.  Most of the pack opts for White since of course that is their pack color. They send out invitation’s, (with a wax seal and all!) to the people who are coming. If they know of people who don’t have a steady address they just remind them of the date (around February 4th) when the party is.

At the end of the dinner they all gather in a clearing by the pack house. It’s surrounded by Birch and Evergreen trees and they light off a big bon fire. (this is of course done by Iyrna) And they sit and talk amongst themselves. Some times they dance if someone decides to break out music. Other times they just snuggle on the seating in front of the fire, enjoying the feeling of the fire and the hint’s of spring starting to come. Sometimes the fire goes well into the night and they end up falling asleep. In the morning, Artem makes breakfast and everyone goes about their way. Its more to reconnect to each other than anything else, pay homage to winter starting to fade.

                                                          Ostara

Ostara is a family holiday from were the pack is concerned. They use this holiday, the spring equinox celebration of equal day and night along with rebirth and fertility of spring to reconnect with their family. While this party also has a invitation, it’s mostly to family. They don’t really invite anyone who hasn’t been to the house more than a couple times. They take this time to plant a garden as a family, everyone planting different kinds of flowers. Often times people bring baskets full of food and or flowers to the home, sometimes people also bring catches, lambs rabbits and hares for Artem to cook with. This party is an ALL DAY thing. It doesn’t go into night like other parties but this one is meant for family.

The attire for this consists of Pastels, Gold, Light Green and yellow, Pale pink and robins egg blue. Often times the males will wear pale pink colors and gold. The women yellow, green and blue. EVERYONES hair is decorated in flowers. I am talking beards, braided hair. Even people who have short hair will have a flower crown on their head. Katia braids the womens hair in something like this with flowers. The idea is that there is enough hair flowing to allow the flowers to drift out at the end of the night if needed. Artem braids the mens hair (those who have hair long enough to do so) in something like this. Often times he shaves the sides of their heads as well. Their braids are always tight and the flowers a lot of times stay through out the night much to some peoples dismay.

The night ends after the sunsets. Often times if there is someone who needs to be inducted into the pack it happens then so to strengthen the familia bonds that the pack his. Honestly this party is one of the most chill that the pack has. Its meant to be enjoying the weather along with family. The twins take this hella seriously and mates are not permitted to be gross during this time. And are not allowed to sneak away. They spend the day together being a family.

                                                           Beltane

Beltane is the party of the year for the wolves. This one is the celebration of fertility and love. Most of the time if a wolf in the pack is going to find a mate. It is going to be during this party. This party is planned for month’s between Katia, Artem and the pack. The invitations are sent out WEEKS in advanced. Often times the Ostara invitation and Beltane will come together. ANYONE who is supernatural is allowed to attend no matter if they know the pack or not. This makes security a bit higher during the party seeing as they might have people who disrupt the party but Katia and Artem do tell people that they will not tolerate any shit (plus with Loni showing up no one dares fuck with the happiness of the party)

Attire for this party consists of Green, Bright spring colors such as blues, purples, yellows and reds. The men of course braid their hair much like this, but often times wear antlers with flowers wrapped around the front. This is to symbolize rutting and the finding of a mate. The women often wear a braid such as this, (almost like a wedding braid) and have flowers covering the braid. All outfits are meant to show skin, skimpy and revealing is sorta the name of the game during this party after all you are finding a mate or reconnecting with your mate.

Dinner is normally served first, cattle and rabbit are the only meat and they serve alot of things with honey coating or dipped in honey. They generally drink a honey mead with dinner. So that after they can dance. Everyone gets a partner, no one is allowed to take the partner you are dancing with away until the end of the dance. Its provocative and used to make sure you are going to be a good match at the end of the night. Its a predator and prey type of dance, meant to get the juices flower between each mate. Once the dance is over another group goes, changing mates, sometimes people can dance with up too three or four people until they find the right match.

The dance generally ends when night falls, the pairs stand in front of the forest line and the males are blind folded (if it’s a same sex relationship, one volunteers to be blind folded. Nine times out of ten its the wolf) They are given a piece of cloth with their partners smell on it, a game of hide and seek. The hiders go into the woods and wait, after 5 minutes the seekers come and find them. What happens when they are found is up to the couple. Some spend the night in the woods (sex) and sometimes the other’s go back to the main house to spend the night together. This is the one night of the year where Artem and Katia allows it okay to have sex in the woods. The woods is big enough that most couples never happen upon each other or someone else. Most of the time the wolf has a one track mind of getting that person.

Generally in the morning Artem will have made food for everyone and the couples come back, if the night is good they might have the mate bite and then there is a wedding to be planned. Other times people just go their separate ways and never talk. It depends on the couple. Often times it lands a mate seeing as that’s the point of the party. Its a hellish night to clean up from but Artem and Katia likes seeing the happy couples from he party.

PSA: PLEASE KEEP IN MIND THIS IS MY LORE AND TAKING FROM DIFFERENT PLACES TO CREATE MY OWN. MY LORE MAY NOT BE THE SAME AS OTHER MUN’S AND THEIR LORE. PLEASE KEEP THIS IN MIND!!!!!

[concealeddarkness13]

Skylar and Holt Story Powerpoint!

Here it is! This one’s a long one! Here and here are more info on this story! I hope you enjoy it! I think I’m going to start writing this story today or tomorrow! Tagging: @ratracechronicler​, @nightskywriter​, and @merigreenleaf​!

[Image Description: a title page titled: Skylar and Holt Story!

AKA: My story that has too many protagonists already. End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: Overview

A different planet from Earth

A lot of different magical species

Humans don’t have magic

The villain is out for revenge against everyone by planning on killing thousands of people in order to bring her family back after they were murdered for no reason. End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: The Species

First is one of the species with elemental magic; an individual can have fire, water, earth, or wind magic, and when they use their magic, the markings on their skin glow with the color of the element

The Markers (name for right now): each individual in the species receives a unique Mark on their sixteenth birthday, and when they put the Mark on someone else, they can teleport to that person, talk to that person telepathically, and they can control that person (but they can only control one person at a time)

Mosaics: they’re based on dragonflies; they have iridescent, skin and large compound eyes; they also have dragonfly wings; they are reclusive; they have Charming magic where they can make a person feel comfortable and happy around them, then they take the person and bring them to their city, where they keep them as pets and feed on them without killing them. End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: The Species (continued)

Dream Eaters: they eat people’s dreams (either the dreams from sleeping or dreams as in goals), and if they eat a person’s goal dream, that person does not have that goal anymore; they can make people experience their goal dreams; they have a washed-out appearance, and their hair floats without wind

The time species: they are a predator species that eats animals; they can touch a person and stop their time, make their time go slower, or make their time go faster; they have pointed teeth and slit pupil for night vision

The storage species: they are a prey species; they can store one object or person in an extra-dimensional space; they have slit pupils for night vision, and they can change their skin and hair color to help them blend in with their surroundings

The dragon species: this last species also has elemental magic; the element they can use at a certain time depends on the emotion that they’re feeling, and their features become more dragon-like the stronger the emotion they feel; even normally, they have scales and dragon wings. End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: Characters

A lot of protagonists

And I’ll also talk about two antagonists

Probably way too many characters, but I don’t care. End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: Skylar

A human who actually has magic

Non-binary

They have magic of probability: they can change the probability of something happening, but if it isn’t very probable for it to normally happen or it affects a person’s mind, the magic will take too much strength away; also, there’s a cool-down period that depends on how powerful the magic had been

Chaos incarnate

One of their college professors offered them extra credit if they would pretend to be a villain up against a hero; they totally agreed even though they didn’t need extra credit

Learning computer programming; also a good hacker

They will not cook to save their life

Is in love with Holt but does not know it

Whenever Holt comes over to their apartment, they get a notification through the cameras they hacked, and they grab their cat and sit in their spinny chair, so that when Holt comes in, they can turn around, petting their cat and say: I’ve been expecting you

Will snark anyone

If asked why the attract so many characters in this story, they’d just say with a smirk: I can’t help that I’m a snack. End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: Holt

Another human who actually has magic

Asexual

His magic allows him to pull an object from a different reality and use it; it takes a lot more strength to pull out an object that is more specialized; he also has a cool-down period

Serious and earnest

One of his college professors offered him extra credit if he pretended to be a hero against a villain (Skylar), and he agreed because he wanted to get all the help he could

History major

He takes too many classes, so that’s why he’s so stressed

When he’s stressed, he cooks, so he comes over to Skylar’s apartment to give them actual good food

Very observant. End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: Tory and Trish

Twins who have the elemental magic

Tory wears reds and has red hair, but he has water magic

Trish wears blues and has blue hair, but she has fire magic

Tory is calm, quiet, and calculating

Trish is chaotic, loud, and loves fighting

They go to the same college as Skylar and Holt, and they help them out against the antagonist who comes to their city. End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: Akari

She is a Marker

Sweet and kind and only ever uses her Mark to keep track of the ones she loves

Her brother is the antagonist that comes to the city (don’t know much about him), and she tries to talk him out of being a bad guy, but when that doesn’t happen, she joins Skylar and Holt in fighting against her brother. End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: Zenith

He is a human

He was captured by the main antagonist (Ciri), and a hundred Markers put their Marks on him so that he could be controlled no matter what (Ciri had that done for all of the people she captured)

He was able to escape, and he found a tattoo artist that put tattoos all over his body to break up the Marks so he can’t be controlled

He’s serious and angry

He understandably isn’t very fond of Markers

Very dryly snarky

Joins Skylar and Holt to help them get away from Ciri because he wants to keep anything away from her that she really wants

Bitter and petty like that. End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: Novea

She’s a human, but she has special magic

She can sew any Marker’s Mark into a piece of clothing, and whoever wears that piece of clothing can be controlled by the Marker

She was kind of forced to join Ciri because of her magic

She meets Skylar when Akari’s brother comes to the city, and she decides to help them out and join them

Quiet, low self esteem, but awesome

She can make awesome clothes, and that’s her passion; she doesn’t like her magic. End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: Tash

Mosaic

Actually an antagonist, but has no ties to the main antagonist

Uses they/them pronouns (I don’t know enough about Mosaic’s view of gender to say that they’re non-binary)

Comes to Skylar and Holt’s city, and they’re so entertained by Skylar’s snark, even against Akari’s brother, so they want to take Skylar back to their city

Pretty darn creepy

Does not understand the concept of personal space

Will follow the group around to try and “convince” Skylar to come with them. End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: Kisi

Other POV character (Skylar and Holt are probably the others)

She has a mother who is part of the elemental magic species, and a human father

She has wind magic, but it’s hard for her

Persistent, stubborn, kind

She works for the group who’s fighting against Ciri, but she realizes that they’re shady, so she learns more about their shadiness and then fights against them. End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: Ryn

Part of the dragon species

Has been friends with Kisi since they were kids

Has excellent control over his emotions, but if someone hurts his friends or even threatens his friends, he will immediately start turning into a dragon from the strong anger he would feel

Chill other than that

Keeps Kisi from doing anything really impetuous. End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: Kyria

Time Species

She’s part of Kisi’s friends

Practical and calculating

Sometimes she’ll make a dark joke and then grin with her sharp teeth. End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: Nezzi

Storage Species

More bubbly than Kyria

She’s known Kyria since they were both toddlers

Loves changing her appearance every so often by changing her hair color and skin color. End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: Nyx

Dream Eater

He was part of the main antagonists group

He realized that this was awful

He escaped and got to the people fighting against the main antagonist

They didn’t listen to him and just planned on killing him

At least until Kisi came along

Serious, lowkey depressed

Wants to atone for what he’s done. End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: Ciri

Dream Eater 

Main antagonist

When she was a child (a really long time ago, Dream Eaters age differently), her whole family was murdered before her eyes

She is determined to bring her family back after she learned of a magical object that can gran your dearest wish for the price of thousands of lives

She decides that’s a good price to pay

With so many people fighting against her, she will use anyone she can for her goals

Well, except for her spouse and child; she will not let them get hurt

It’s a loving relationship, and they support her. End Description]

[archiveddvrpg]

Congratulations, KYLIE! You’ve been accepted for the role of RICHARD III. Admin Cas: You put it best, Kylie—Ronan is a Machiavel through and through, but he’s also far more than that. He’s known suffering, more intimately than most, yet rather than allow it to shape him, wear him down, he sharpened it into a weapon. Yet again, you captured everything critical to Ronan’s character, from his scorn and ambition to his insatiability, his pride, his precision. Your writing itself is just enchanting to read, and we’re so thrilled that you’ve returned to us. We cannot wait to have you grace our dashes with your deliciously scheming and delightfully avid Ronan once more! Please review the CHECKLIST and send your account in within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Kylie

Age | 26

Preferred Pronouns | She / Her

Activity Level | 5-6. I like to be on at least once every day, and manage some type of content.

Timezone | MST

How did you find the rp?  | i missed it :)

Current/Past RP Accounts | ronanivarsson.tumblr.com

IN CHARACTER

Character | Richard III, Ronan Ivarsson

What drew you to this character? |

ableism tw

there is something that will always be intriguing about the machinations of a machiavel, that will always be attractive, always be intriguing, which is what first drew me to ronan. however, i think it’s difficult, and dangerous, to label him as simply a manipulator, a prince in search of power and a throne–to me, he’s far deeper, far more layered than that. from the moment he was born, life put ronan ivarsson in a position to know nothing apart from weakness–he was born a pawn for his parents to play against one another, only for his father to stroll past the room where the board sat, to overturn the table and cast the pieces to the floor. he would remain forever trapped in the ivarsson villa, unwanted and loathed, never strong enough to fight for himself, to run from the horrible cesspool that made him, that twisted the hearts of the people that lived there–he should have been no better than the monster that frankenstein abandoned, the wife that wailed and gnashed, locked in the attic of the victorian manor house, a creature doomed to shadows for the whole of his life.

but ronan refused that life–and that’s the endlessly fascinating thing about him. he is a machiavel that should have never come into being, that tore the pages from the book and cut out only the passages that were useful to him. god reached down to him and showed him the path, the divine right of kings, and ronan, with his halting steps, with the black and poisonous blood that runs through his veins, walks it with precision, with the intent to wrestle the crown from the hand of the divine himself.

ronan took his emptiness and weaponized it, refused the shadows and instead forged them by his own hands into a kind of armor–look upon that which you would scorn, he says as he strides through verona a kind of caesar, a kind of richard, a lurching colossus, and kneel. i love that about him, but the thing that really got me in the end, is that he cannot successfully hide the weaknesses which still plague him–he ignored machiavelli’s greatest advice, that to be feared would better serve the prince than to be loved. he fell in love, with a beautiful mystery of a man. he still feels his pulse race when the cameras all come to train on his face, when he has every citizen of verona eating like lambs out of the palm of his hand. he looks at the only surviving gallo twin, and he feels something gentle curl around the corners of his mouth like perfumed smoke. he is cold, but he is not yet corpse.

it remains to be seen if that will be his downfall, in a place that so easily tears the heart from the chest cavity, if it takes a man or a monster to wear the crown, when the battles are finished.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

KINGS IT MAKES GODS, AND MEANER CREATURES KINGS

So far the path to the Montagues has been messy and bloody for Ronan, has left a trail of bodies behind him. Since he is now nothing more than a soldier, where such behavior, such wanton ambition won’t be tolerated, I want to see how he adapts his methods. Will he continue to kill whoever stands in his way, because such is the divine right every king should possess? Or will he learn to temper himself, to hide such business in the shadows? In the same vein, I would love to explore how much he’s capable of tolerating such a thing being asked of him–how long will it be before he bites the hand that feeds him? Until his patience for following orders starts to wear thin, and the divinity that guides him becomes impatient, insatiable?

A WORD THAT COWARDS USE

Love is an indulgence that Ronan knows he should cast aside, and yet he finds himself locked in a kind of constant craving. It’s the one thing in his life he’s never been able to buy for himself, never been able to take from the hands of someone else–so how does a man who so easily casts aside life’s gentler aspects, learn such an art? Is it part of his need for validation, for recognition from the public that would so easily cast him aside and speak vitriol towards him if he were anyone else? Or is it something deeper, something that would actually salve some of the wounds he’s carried his entire life? So far, he’s only known it as mistake, a wound that despite being stitched closed continues to hemorrhage blood–but then he looks at a man like Santino Gallo, and sees the potential for something that almost feels gentle. If such a thing were to make itself available to him, would he open himself up to it? Or would he make the decision once and for all to remove the cursed organ that beats in his chest?

EVERY TALE CONDEMNS ME FOR VILLAIN

Ronan holds no particular loyalty to the Montagues–he could have easily bent the knee to Cosimo Capulet, had the man approached him first. The Montagues are simply a means to an end, and I could see him being willing to sell them out if the right prize were offered to him. I want to see him be treacherous, silver tongued, the consummate politician, and flirt with the temptation of easy success. Would his pride keep him from taking such a way to a promotion, to an accolade? Would he really be willing to betray those few who he deems worthy enough for his time or glance? I could also see it working in the reverse–that perhaps he could use his talents to win recruits or information for the Montagues.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Of course! It’s probably what he deserves!

IN DEPTH

Please choose between the interview or the para sample (or both, if you like!)

ONE.

It begins with a question, posed by a handsome mouth, sealed with fingertips that come to gently lift the hem of ronan’s shirt, to curl themselves around the curve of ronan’s hipbone.

“Tell me your favorite place, in all of Verona, and take me there right now.”

He grins, like a knife slowly being pulled from its soft leather sheath–all glint and sharp edge. He wraps his fingers around the young man’s neck, digs his nails into the short hairs there, until he gets a hiss that could either indicate pleasure, or pain, for his efforts. He coos, clicks his tongue and placates his plaything with the tender caress of lips against well muscled shoulder, neck. The young man makes another noise, something guttural and unprompted from the back of his throat, and ronan laughs.

It’s almost too easy–like digging his fingers into the scruff of a wild cat, expecting teeth and claws, only to have it purr in response. He contemplates disposing of him then and there with a clean cut across the throat that bares for him–but to leave empty handed, simply because there was no challenge in it, no cunning required, would surely be wasteful, return him to a state of excruciating boredom and restlessness.

So he hums in mock thoughtfulness, sinks his teeth into skin and licks over his mark, before he speaks. “As beautiful as you would look, pressed up against the brick of the arena, all of the blood and bravado of a gladiator roaring through you, I hardly see the need to travel so far away. Perhaps the library, would be a better location for such things as you desire?”

There it is, he thinks to himself, as the muscle pressed up against him comes to fall still for no more than a fraction of a second. All of the confirmation he needs, so unwittingly given. He hopes the rest of the Montague stock aren’t so impossibly dimwitted, or easily swayed by the promise of a more carnal method of persuasion. Where would the fun in that be?

He takes squared off chin in hand and kisses the soldato one last time, before the blood spills onto Ronan’s chest and subsequently the ground underneath his feet. He becomes the first of them to kneel.

TWO.

Lucien rolls off of the top of him, and Ronan immediately feels the muscles in his hands twitch, send the command to his shoulders to reach out, keep the seemingly endless expanse of pale skin from ever travelling where he cannot touch. Unfortunately for the memory of meat and tendon that has never properly obeyed his command anyway, ronan shuts the notion down in favor of watching–it’s all he feels he can do, when it comes to the man who now leans against the railing of the yacht. Watch, in the hopes that an answer of some sort may reveal itself–or perhaps even the question, that Ronan knows he should ask and yet cannot find the language to form. Strange, to be so willingly robbed of his best weapon.

He suspects Lucien is aware of where Ronan’s eyes come to rest, most of the time, and chooses not to comment. Perhaps he even enjoys it–being caught but not captured in the jaws of the predator, having the power to command him to wait, to stay until he is willing to give. If Ronan were to be honest with himself, in a way that has never been his policy, he would have to admit that he enjoys it as well–being compelled, by force of nothing more than want, wrapped in the candy coating of desire and attraction.

The man turns, and the breeze rustles his dark hair across his forehead. his eyes are hidden behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses, but Ronan can imagine the familiar spark of heat, of mischief, that flickers there like a matchstick flame. “You live like this every day, Councilman?” He drawls, one corner of his mouth drawn up into a smirk.

Ronan grins and leans his head back with a pleased sigh, crooks a finger to indicate that Lucien should come close again, should let Ronan show him just how decadent things can truly get, and shrugs one shoulder casually. “Occasionally there is work involved, but given the right incentive i’d be willing to throw the whole thing away. Perhaps you have an offer you’d like to make towards that end, Doctor?”

He doesn’t open his eyes when the deck chair bends with the weight of another, when lips are pressed against his own. He just slides his hands down each delicate rib bone, digs his fingers into flesh already marked with purple and blue blossoms that Ronan had planted there the night before, and tries to communicate without ever speaking, that this is only the beginning for the two of them. That when he’s finished with the work, he’ll ravish this man on a throne made of gold, decorated with jewels and the head of any who would dare oppose them.

THREE.

His sponsor is a weak-willed man, that reminds Ronan far too much of his own father–or at the very least, the passing glimpses and vitriol laced stories of his father that had fallen carelessly from his mother’s lips, after one too many glasses of wine. He comes upon ronan walking through the hallways of the library, wraps an arm around his shoulders as if to prove he is unafraid of touching a thing so malformed, so clearly repulsive to the eyes of others, and he smiles. “You have done well so far, Ronan.” he says, personably, as such men who would describe themselves as such always are. “Tell me, no big mistakes to report of? I won’t hold them against you too harshly–there is always room to grow, to learn, in a business such as this.”

He resists the urge to speak through gritted teeth that he is in the middle of running for office, and not some schoolboy in need of guidance and direction–instead his eyes catch on the silver band that sits, gleaming as the day it was put there, on his left hand. “I don’t believe in mistakes, signore.” He says, more quietly than he had intended. He bites down hard on his bottom lip, before schooling his expression into something more neutral, that feels less to him like exposing an open wound to the particles of a dust storm. “I make choices, and I live with their consequences–for better, or for worse.”

FOUR.

He stabs the man a month later, sinks his blade into the heart up to the hilt.

Someone Ronan thinks might be the capobastone comes to stand next to him, after the news of the dead Montague being found on the steps of the cathedral begins to circulate, and rests a hand on his shoulder. He resolutely does not think about breaking the bones in each of his fingers, one by one, for such a presumption. “You’ve handled yourself admirably, in the wake of such a personal blow.” He says, with an exhale of breath that causes the skin on Ronan’s neck to crawl. “It is the most difficult thing asked of us, to continue to live after another is gone.”

Ronan bites down hard on his bottom lip, by all appearances to staunch the overwhelming feelings of grief that must clearly threaten to spill forth from him, but in reality to stifle the laugh that threatens to give him away at such a ridiculous statement. He forces a slight tremble in his hands, as he brings them to scrub at the back of his eyes. “He taught me so much in such a short time–made me a better soldato.” A sharp inhale, shake of his head. “It is hard to believe, that I will never get the chance to thank him for such a kindness.”

The man nods his head in understanding, and squeezes, despite the pain that radiates all the way to the tips of Ronan’s fingers. He clenches his teeth. “We have watched you, the work you have done. And while it has at times been sloppy, and reckless, Don Montague believes that in the wake of Richard’s unfortunate demise, you should step up to take his place.”

He can taste it, in the back of his throat then. Blood, mixed with saliva, something distinctly more honeyed. Divinity, in all of its raw form–he half expects to open his mouth and see it spool out before him like ribbon, blinding everyone else in the room, rendering them nothing more than ash for him to step over as he walks towards the crown, the throne, the destiny that has been planned for him since he was nothing more than a young boy. He touches the hand on his shoulder and half expects it to be pulled away and burned. “I would be honored, signore, to serve the Don in such a way.”

FIVE.

“Tell me councilman,” the reporter shouts from the crowd, phone recorder thrust into the air like some sort of trophy or other holy object. “What are your thoughts concerning the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?”

He shakes his head, schools his face into an expression that is solemn, serious–the grim line of an Alexander or a Caesar, his heart bleeding into the streets of the city he has built, for the people who populate it and offer him devotions for their continued success and survival. “I think there will be no winners, in this conflict. And that whoever remains standing, will prove himself to be the more cruel, the more bloodthirsty, the more willing to do unspeakable acts in order to secure his own power–an honor i do not wish on even my worst enemy.”

And why would he? It is an honor he wishes for himself alone.

Extras: N/A

[saezutte]

yuletide letter 2020

Dear Yuletide Writer, 

Oh, hello again. I didn’t see you there.

This year, I have transcended earthly desires and struggled to find any fandoms to request. I want nothing. I wish my cat was nominated as a Yuletide fandom so we could all write stories about her life. 

Nonetheless, I have some small requests!!!! I believe you can make me happy in ways I’ve never been happy before. I trust you. Happy end of 2020, the cursed year, I hope you are blessed with rest. 

My AO3: saezutte

My public twitter: juncassis

My tumblr: here but I do not use tumblr much anymore, sorry.

Do Not Wants

[note: I have no actual triggers, nothing you can write for me will make me any more depressed or anxious than I already am]

Death (of major/important/beloved characters)

Suicide attempts, self-harm

Rape (outright; OK with dub con, manipulation, noncon short of violent-rape-for-violence-only)

Eating disorders, body shaming

Angst without a happy ending, really too much angst at all

Established relationship

Cheating

Actual Unrequited Feelings

Pregnancy (the actual process; breeding kink is fine)

Scat or watersports

Hard BDSM or any kink complicated enough that the characters would have to discuss it ahead of time

Homophobia as a plot device

Excessive attention to identity or politics, sometimes known as “issue fic”

Note on AUs: I am ok with the usual popular AU tropes but I do not want them combined, e.g. A/B/O is fine and coffeeshop is fine, but I don’t want an omega barista getting his scent all over the lattes he makes for some alpha lawyer who comes in every morning. (Ridiculous example, but you get the point.) For AU/modern settings of fandoms with magic, I often like it when the magic is still there in the AU setting. I also like AUs which maintain the general outlines of the character’s relationships, like if the characters are childhood friends in canon, I like to keep that intact.

General preferences:

I am a pretty basic bitch when it comes to fanfic: I like it when two clueless boys pine for each other through some shenanigans and then lock eyes/lips/dicks.

If you fed a neural net every fanfic written in Stargate Atlantis fandom between 2005 and 2010, the result would probably be some nonsense I’d enjoy.

I love many tropes. Tropes! Bed-sharing. Sharing an umbrella. WASHING EACH OTHER’S HAIR? Confessions where they are having an argument and then one of them yells “Because I love you!”

I love situations where characters are forced to spend time in close proximity and find themselves with feelings.

I love fakeness: fake dating, fake marriage, arranged marriage, marriage of convenience, fake lust induced by sex pollen or heats, aliens make them have sex, whatever.

I love porn, if you want to just write me some quick porn, that’s great. I do prefer (per the established relationship DNW above) that it be first time or get together porn. I know that can make it hard to just write porn, but I don’t need much to be convinced of sex.

Nirvana in Fire (TV)

Requested characters: Mei Changsu, Xiao Jingyan

Note: I also love Lin Chen so if you want to write some MCS/LC or LC/Fei Liu or LC/MCS/JINGYAN OT3??? go for it. I am also a Nihuang/Xia Dong shipper so if you want to put that in… somehow… my gay little heart would be happy. I also like Nihuang/MCS/XJY or MNH/MCS + MCS/XJY but I’d like the focus on the men in that case!

I watched this show because someone recommended this show to me as, like, Chinese Game of Thrones but good. I think it’s genuinely one of the best TV shows I’ve ever seen. I love plots and revenge and good people doing bad things for justice. Even the ending is good for me though obviously it left me unsatisfied on several points.

I am deeply into sickly doomed genius MCS and every time he got even more deeply ill, I fell deeper in love. Every time he coughs up blood, my heart would race. I love his terrible schemes and stupid self-sacrificing choices. I find watching this show very soothing because I knew he would always come out on top in his schemes. I trust him. I love handsome clueless Jingyan and how he’s just so good (it’s terrible.) I love his mom and how much he cares for her. I love him but he is useless, he needs his Xiao Shu and I need fanfic to restore him to him.

Note: So my limited research on this says that male/male sex practices were accepted and well-known in this time period in history, so I really don’t want them thinking “oh no what are these weird gay feelings.” There are other barriers to them being together, like a ruler or official being overly attached to one person was considered very bad. I am also a big supporter of the socially-approved polygamy of this time period, so I don’t need Jingyan to refuse to sleep with his wife or something out of loyalty to MCS—he has to do it! Or all their plans are ruined! And he can enjoy spending time with her or the concubines without affecting his feelings for MCS—you could explore that complexity in fic if you like.Prompts:

Mei Changsu isn’t dead, he’s hiding again, Jingyan searches for him

They start having sex during the series, the ending is averted [somehow]

Post-canon, MCS is alive and Jingyan hides him in the palace with his consort/concubines to keep him on as an advisor without anyone objecting

omega verse where MCS was an alpha before he “died" but an omega after he came back.

AU where male/male marriage is customary (maybe aristocratic men are expected to have one male and one female consort?) and so MCS decides the best way to influence and help Jingyan in the capital is by becoming his wife or one of his concubines

anything just get them together and happy.

Tokyo Babylon 

Characters: Subaru, Seishiro

I read Tokyo Babylon as a child and I imprinted on it deeply, now I love politics, ghosts, stalking, age differences, magic. Within the CLAMP canon, I love TB for its episodic focus on smaller stories, the commentary on contemporary society, and Seishiro being an outright creep. I love onmyojutsu and exorcism and Subaru’s innocence getting ruined. I love the city of Tokyo (where I currently live! but do not be intimidated, I don’t know the city well because we’ve been in quarantine most of the time I’ve been here and won’t judge you for details.) I’m open to fics that comply with X canon or not.

With Seishiro/Subaru: It’s bad but I love that predator/prey dynamic where the predator ends up being hopelessly entranced/obsessed/in love with the prey. My read was always that Seishiro lost the bet and couldn’t admit it—he’s just, you know, killing twins to avoid dealing with his feelings! Relatable! (?!?!) Subaru, I love particularly in his evolution from innocent to adult in love to betrayed. I’d prefer post-TB fic to during-TB fic (so Subaru knows Seishiro’s deal and loves him anyway.) I am also a fan of Hokuto and you should feel free to bring her back to life to troll if you desire.

Prompts:

AU or reincarnation plot where they are Heian period rival onmyoji

Because this is such a heavily place-based series, if you are a writer who likes to play with details of real life locations, I’d be interested in versions of different “Babylons” if you have an idea for it.

Tragic first times post-TB lol

Seishiro is a virgin the first time they have sex

I’d probably love some fucked up dub con for this, however you want to play it

Honestly, do whatever you want as long as you don’t fuck me over like CLAMP did.  

プリティーリズム | Pretty Rhythm

Characters: Hiro, Koji

Pretty Rhythm came to me at a weird time in my life. I lived in a house of spiders in Yokohama and did nothing for eight weeks. King of Prism cheer screening transformed my life and I didn’t even know what it was. Then I got weirdly deep into Rainbow Live and the Pretty Rhythm franchise overall. I am a scientist of prism theory. Idk why I like it, it’s just wholesome and crazy and there are penguins and DJ Koo. I love every TRF song because I’m a 90s gay at heart. It’s truly the end point of all media development. The prism world represents the fearsome power of virtual/digital+real hybrid life. Yes, I know I’ve lost my mind. I went to one of the real Prism Stone stores, the one in Harajuku.

Hiro Hayami: one time a fujoshi asked me to describe what types of anime boys I like and the first type I listed was “prince but bad” and my example was Hiro. Hiro is the crazy gay stalker disaster of my heart. He overcomes great hardship to achieve his dreams and foolishly falls in love along the way and he does everything wrong and Koji keeps leaving him. The moment when Hiro is crowned King of Prism in Pride the Hero was one of the top ten moments of my life. I made friends who don’t even know Japanese watch the movie unsubtitled with me on my birthday.

With Koji, I’m a bit guilty of “I want to give the character I love the most the character he loves the most” so I do like him less (it would be impossible to like him equal to how much I love Hiro). But he has many good points that make him perfect, like how he also sucks underneath his chill exterior. I love to see him go apeshit.

I also love everyone else in Rainbow Live, no exceptions. I love all the girls. If you do write the girls, I would prefer they not be paired with the OTR boys. I would prefer they be paired with each other, any combo is good.

Prompts:

this is the sort of pairing where I love fic where they split up and then 15 years later meet again as washed up has-beens but there’s still time for them to find each other

Canon-compliant companion piece showing the “background” of them getting together romantically over the course of the series.

AU where Koji is a prism world fairy sent to inspire Hiro but Hiro is kind of a mess

dirty, dirty porn… let Hiro get fucked

I have a lot of doujinshi with multiple copies of Hiro (a la the Mugen Hug jump) but I’d like something where Hiro gets overwhelmed by many Kojis

They start fake dating as a publicity stunt and have to keep doing it… especially good if it starts when Koji is at max hating Hiro level

Ring Fit Adventure 

Characters: Dragaux, Ring

Keeping this one simple: I like to be encouraged to exercise by a storyline and a trainer that never mentions weight loss, lol. The world is fun and pretty and I love that buff dragon.

AND THEN THE PAIRING. I’m sure Nintendo has some market research that told them a certain subset of users are very motivated by enemies who seemed to once be lovers or best friends. I am that user.

What is up with these two? They were so in love! Now Dragaux is a horrible swole bro (not in a good bro way) and Ring is training me instead? I can’t compete with their love. It’s the only time the game makes me feel inadequate.

You can keep Dragaux and Ring as dragon/ring-like as you like. Obviously I’m down with dragon fucking but you can also make him a human fucker too. I play with Ring on the masculine voice setting for maximum BL vibes as I exercise, but, you know, it’s a ring, I don’t think it has gender. Feel free to incorporate the player or other random characters too.

Prompts:

AU where Dragaux and Ring owned a gym together and Dragaux sold out to a big chain of gyms

What happened between them when Dragaux was still captured, pre-game? Bondage… literally??

Ring is always bossing me to train, but I’m really doing all the work. Why doesn’t he fight Dragaux on his own for once?? (because the sexual tension is too powerful.)

Tragic flashback to their dramatic break-up ending with their present day reconciliation.

Player/Dragaux/Ring threesome??? I’ve unlocked the sexercises???

With all fandoms, you are free to disregard the prompts and do your own thing. If you’re not sure about me, you can probably dm seriesera on twitter, she knows what I’m into. 

Well, I suppose that’s all for now. Please stalk me online to get more details on my bullshit. I hope you have a nice time.

Best,

Caitlin 

[justauthoring]

No Reason To (4/50)

Prompt: “And I guess… when it comes down to it, I trust you.”

It has come to my attention that by adding links to my posts, it stops that post from being seen in the tags tagged. So, sadly, I will no longer be able to tag previous parts of NRT on new chapters. BUT all part can be found easily on my “No Reason To Series MasterList!”

A/N: I am absolutely blown away from the positive feedback i’ve received. It both baffles me and makes me really happy - so thank you all so, so, so much! You’re sweet and supportive comments only inspire me to write more frequently, so please, keep at it and i’ll keep being consistent!

Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. As usual, I hope you all enjoyed!

AGAIN, remember if you’d like me to continue this series, just leave a little comment or an ask letting me know. I will NOT continue the series if no one wants me to.

Please don’t plagiarize my work - I spend a lot of my time writing, copying and pasting destroys that. If you want to repost my work. please ask first - but even then I might say no.

Pairing: Stiles x McCall!Reader

Based off of: Teen Wolf 01x06 and 01x07

Tag List: @potterheadbbc - @sunsetblake - @mythicalamphitrite - @loverofwaytoomanythings618 - @creamychickenuggets - @mnk - @gazebros- @colie87 - @quilliamfears - @quellum - @pessimisticbullshite - @desired-love-@thinkwritexpress-official - @kaylinfayezink - @maiabiovillage - @tr1chst3r - @arkcangel - @quirkytwinkles - @thegirlwhoimagined - @noones-girl1980 - @illumminated - @fairchild345 - @all-will-be-well-love - @animemes-trash - @starryrevelations - @literallyhelpme - @theskytraveler - @jinandtion1c - @ilovemymoose - @bibliophilesquared - @stilessarcasmqueen - @mersuperwholocked-lowlife - @newtsshelbys - @wyattgoleft - @pancakefancake - @saturno-in-the-night - @pizzamelon7384 - @riskregretting If you’d like to be tagged, just let me know! Any in italics are those Tumblr won’t let me tag!

The sound of murmured talking woke you from your sleep. Blinking, you picked your head up from your pillow, turning it to the left to glance at the clock. It was half past midnight.

What the hell was Scott doing at half past midnight?

You attempted to ignore it, but after everything that’s happened the past few days, not to mention that you’ve barely seen your brother in those past few days, you find it hard to ignore. Your dick of a brother never actually even asked if you were okay after what happened with Jackson in the video store. You wondered if he ever actually would.

“Ugh,” you groan, pushing yourself up and onto your feet with a frown. You quietly open up your bedroom door, careful not to wake up your mother given that she has an early shift in the morning, instead of an late shift, and creep past her bedroom. Though, you can’t help but peek into her bedroom a little, smiling softly to yourself at her sleeping peacefully.

You wonder, in that moment, how she’d react if she knew what Scott was.

Shaking your head, you turn back towards your brothers bedroom, taking the last few steps over to it. You debate on just opening the door, but realize it’s probably better if you knock. So, raising your hand, you do just that, calling out a quiet; “Scott?” in question.

There’s a moment of scuffling before Scott is whisper-yelling back; “busy!”

Your brows furrowed, lips tightening into a straight line. “What the...” You mumble, grabbing a hold of the door knob. “Come on, Scott. I know I heard you-” 

The moment you open the door even just a little, a weight is pushed against it, shutting once more. You blink, lips parted in surprise as you glance up at the door, as if imagining you can see right through it and glare at Scott. “Scott?”

“Not the time, Y/N,” he calls back, his voice gruff.

A deeper, almost recognizable voice responds before you even have the chance to; “is that your sister?”

Eyes narrowing in confusion, you hear Scott shush the man before speaking back at you; “just... just go, Y/N. I’ll see you in the morning.”

You open your mouth to argue, but pause, letting go of the door knob and taking a few steps back. You wait, knowing Scott is listening to make sure you’ve left, hoping that if he just doesn’t care that much, you’ll be able to listen in.

“Just let her in,” the deeper voice says again. Your eyes widen, finally able to recognize the voice - that’s Derek. “It’s not like she doesn’t know who-”

“Shh,” Scott snaps again, “she’s still there.”

Frowning, you shake your head, turning around and heading off back into the direction of your bed. Still, you can’t help but wonder what Derek is doing in Scott’s bedroom, and what else Scott is hiding from you.

-

“The what of who?”

“The beast of Gevaudan,” Allison replies, leaning forward in her seat to turn and look at both you and Lydia. You barely pick up your own head in response, picking at your food distractedly. “Listen. ‘A quadruped wolf-like monster, prowling the Auvergne and south Dordorgne areas of France during the year 1764 and 1767.”

“La Bete killed over a hundred people. Becoming so infamous that the King Louie the fifteenth sent one of his best hunters to try and kill it’.”

“Boring,” Lydia response, shaking her head at Allison.

She only continues; “’Even the church eventually declared the monster a messenger of Satan.’”

“Hmm,” Lydia pauses in thought, “still boring.”

“‘Cryptozoologists believe may have been a subspecies of hoofed predator, possibly a mesonychid.”

“‘Slipping into a coma’ bored.”

“’While others believe it was a powerful sorcerer who could shape-shift into a man-eating monster,’“

“Gotta admit,” you speak up, meeting Lydia’s eyes. “It’s kinda of boring. Does any of this have anything to do with your family?” 

“This,” Allison nods, turning back to her book. “‘It is believed that La Bete was finally trapped and killed by a renown hunter who claimed his wife and four children were the first to fall pray to the creature.’“

“And what does that have to do with your family?” You repeat, raising a brow.

Allison’s laughs lightly, blinking up at you; “his name was Argent.”

“Your ancestors killed a big wolf,” Lydia dismisses, shaking her head; “so what?”

“Not just a big wolf,” Allison corrects. Looking down at her book, she flips through a page, before turning it around towards you and Lydia. “Take a look at this picture,” she says, pointing at said photo. Following her lead, you glance at it, trying to understand what she’s getting at. “What does it look like to you guys?”

Leaning forward, you feel your heart race somewhat when you see the same red eyes that you saw that night with Jackson. They’re staring back at you just like they had that night, and the fork in your hand drops with a shaky breath, your eyes widening. It feels like you’ve been staring into that same image for days, stuck in your mind, and it isn’t until Allison sets a hand on your arm do you snap out of your stupor.

You blink, rubbing at your eyes in distress as Lydia answers. “It looks... like a big... wolf.” What you don’t know though, is she was just as scared of the image as you, just in a different way. At least you know, in a realistic sense, what that is. And what that thing was that night at the DVD store. All Lydia is that it’s a werewolf, and up until a few days ago, she probably thought they never existed.

Sending the two of you one last smile, Lydia stands up, picking up her tray, obviously done with the conversation; “see you in history.”

Allison turns into the bench, facing you. She sets down her book, flipping through a few more pages as silence falls over the two of you. As the two of you just sit there, you start picking at your food once again, not really finding the appetite within you to eat it.

You get lost in your thoughts. Thinking back to everything that’s happened, and trying to pinpoint when everything went so wrong.

But what’s really on your mind is last night and why Scott shut you out like that. He’s been doing that a lot recently, and it’s not the first time you and him have been out of tune in a twin sense. It just feels different this time. Feels like he doesn’t trust you enough, or have enough faith in you to tell you everything. And the worst part is Stiles is doing the exact same thing.

“Y/N?”

Blinking, you look up from your food, meeting Allison’s eyes once again; “hmm?”

Her lips curve downwards, a frown befalling her features. “Is everything okay?” Her voice is soft, concerned and for some reason, it takes everything within you not to just spill out the truth. You know you can’t for Scott’s sake. But, oh God, do you want to...

Just to have someone to talk to about it all, that isn’t Scott or Stiles. 

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing thickly. “Yeah, i’m fine.”

“Really?” She questions, raising a brow. “That’s the second time you’ve zoned out. Not to mention you haven’t even taken a bite out of your food. What’s on your mind?”

You hate it, but you can’t help but glance behind yourself, meeting Scott’s eyes from afar. He’s hid some of his face behind a world history book, but you’re still able to meet his eyes. 

Sighing, you turn back to Allison; “just a little tired.”

Allison seems unsure and suspicious, obviously not missing the way you glanced Stiles and Scott’s way, but not wanting to push the issue, she shrugs. “If you’re sure.”

Just as you’re about to reply, you are interrupted by Stiles saying; “uh-huh. Oh, yeah,” causing you to turn around in confusion. It catches Allison’s attention as well, and you both watch as Stiles hastily stands up, grabbing his books off the table, as well as the book in Scott’s hands and his backpack.

Making a last minute decision, you follow Stiles lead, standing up yourself and racing after him. You miss the panic that falls over Scott’s face, or the way Allison is calling for his name, too preoccupied with Stiles.

“Stiles!” You call, “wait up!”

He listens, surprisingly, this time, turning to face you. His face softens somewhat at the sight of you, and the moment you reach him, you’re reminded of the awkward tension from the last time the two of you spoke.

Pushing that aside, you plaster a smile on your lips, meeting his gaze. “Where are you going?”

“Uh, actually,” Stiles blinks, looking around the hallway. Your heart falls when you realize he’s about to come up with an excuse.

“Okay, you know what? Never-mind.” Holding up your hands, you shaking your head up at Stiles, taking a few steps backwards. Just as you’re about to turn your back on him and head off though, Stiles grabs a hold of your wrist, halting your movements.

“I’m sorry,” he shakes his head. “I’m about to try and teach Scott how to control his powers before Derek’s able to. We’re about to go to the lacrosse field.”

A genuine smile falls on your lips, “i’ll come.”

-

“What is Y/N doing here?”

“Y/N is here to help you,” you answer for Stiles, sending your brother a cold smile. “And she’s not leaving.”

Scott blinks at you, glancing at Stiles who only shrugs, before meeting your eyes again. He opens his lips to argue, but one look at your face and he knows now isn’t the time.

Once that’s dealt with, Stiles butts in; “okay,” he nods, setting down the duffel bag and lacrosse stick onto one of the benches of the bleachers. Taking a seat himself, he reaches into the bag, pulling something out; “now... put this on.”

Handing it over to Scott, said boy hesitantly grabs a hold of it. “Isn’t this one of the heart rate monitors for the track team?”

“Yeah,” Stiles nods, “I borrowed it.”

You take a step forward, taking a seat next to Stiles and in front of Scott, setting your hands in your lap. Turning to Stiles, you send him a pitiful smile; “stole it.”

“Temporarily misappropriated,” Stiles corrects, before turning his attention back on Scott. “Coach uses it to monitor his heart rate with his phone while he jogs, and you’re gonna wear it for the rest of the day.”

“Isn’t that coaches phone?” Scott asks, brows furrowed.

“That, I stole.”

Shaking your head, you can’t but ask; “why?”

“All right, well, your heart rate goes up when you go wolf, right?” Stiles asks, to which Scott confirms. “When you’re playing lacrosse, when you’re with Allison, whenever you get angry. Maybe learning to control it is tied to learning to control your heart rate.” 

Woah, you think, that’s actually pretty good.

“Like the Incredible Hulk,” Scott smiles.

“Kinda like the Incredible Hulk, yeah.”

“No,” Scott mumbles, “i’m like the Incredible Hulk.”

“Just shut up and put the strap on,” you grumble, shaking your head.

-

“This isn’t exactly how I wanted to spend my free period,” Scott mumbles, glancing behind his shoulder with his hands tied behind his back. You can’t help but laugh a little, biting your lip as Stiles only ignores him, picking up the duffel bag and backing away from Scott.

“All right,” Stiles calls, “you ready?”

“No,” Scott sighs.

“Remember,” you call, raising your voice as you grin widely. You are definitely enjoying this. “Don’t get angry!”

Stiles drops the duffel bag next to you, leaning down to turn on the heart rate app that coach uses.

“I’m starting to think this was a really bad idea,” Scott mumbles to himself, staring at the two of you worried. Stiles doesn’t seem to really care as he picks up the lacrosse stick, scooping one of the balls he’d place before him into the net and swinging his arm back. With aim you didn’t even know the boy had, he manages to hit Scott directly in the stomach, groaning loudly.

Stiles giggles to himself, repeating the process again and landing a hit on Scott’s chest. He sends him stumbling back, another loud groan leaving his lips. Without even giving him time to collect himself, Stiles does it again, throwing it a little bit harder this time.

“Okay,” Scott huffs, “that one... kind of hurt.”

“Quiet,” Stiles dismisses. “Remember, you’re suppose to be thinking about your heart rate, okay? Thinking about staying calm.”

Scott nods, bouncing on his feet; “staying calm. Staying totally calm. There’s not balls flying at my fac-”

You let out a chuckle, holding your hands by your lips as Stiles manages to hit Scott right on the cheek. Stiles turns to you then, a wide grin on his face, extending the lacrosse stick over to you; “wanna hit?”

“I’d love one,” you grin, stepping forward and taking the lacrosse stick out of Stiles hands. Scooping the ball into the net, you grin up at Scott who groans loudly once again.

“Really?” He whines, “you too, Y/N?”

You don’t reply, only shake your head before swinging your arm back and hitting him directly in the shoulder. He stumbles back, losing his footing as Stiles turns to you, high-fiving you.

You do it once more, hitting Scott at the top of the head, before shaking your head with a soft chuckle. “I better hand it back to you before I really hurt him,” you mumble to Stiles, sending him a grin.

Taking the lacrosse stick from you, Stiles wastes no time in continuing.

“Oh!” Scott cries, “son of a bitch!”

“You know what?” Stiles calls aloud, “I think my aim is actually improving.”

“I’d agree,” you laugh, smirking.

“Wonder why,” Scott snaps, and in response you hear the heart rate beep in response.

“Hey, hey,” you call, “don’t get angry.”

“I’m not getting angry.”

A few hard hits later, you can tell Scott’s starting to get increasingly annoyed and you imagine, sore.

“Stop,” he calls, but Stiles doesn’t listen. “Just wait. Wait, just hold on.”

The last hit sends to Scott to his knees, and your eyes widen when he never picks up his head. It’s then that you notice the phone beeping loudly and increasingly fast, causing you and Stiles to crouch down and look at it. Sure enough, Scott’s heart is racing madly.

“Scott?” Stiles calls, voice soft with hesitancy.

You flinch when Scott rips the duct tape holding his wrists together, gripping the grass beneath him. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, and you feel your own heart increase in panic.

Then, after a terrifying moment later, Scott’s heart begins to slow down.

Glancing over at Stiles, you both silently agree to head over to Scott, creeping forward. Stiles extends his hand forward, setting it on Scott’s shoulder before said boy rolls over. 

“Scott,” you whisper, “you started to change.”

“My anger,” he breathes, “but it was more than that. It was like, the angrier I got, the stronger I felt.”

“So, it is anger, then. Derek’s right.”

Letting out a heavy exhale, Scott shakes his head; “I can’t be around Allison.”

“Just because she makes you happy?” You question, confused.

“No, because she makes me weak.”

-

A sudden pounding on your door pulled your attention away from your homework. Blinking, you glanced up from your position at the kitchen table, turning your head around to glance at the front door. It was a little past ten o’clock. Who the hell was here at ten’o’clock?

The knocking only continued, growing a tad bit more urgent the more you left it.

Sighing, you pushed yourself up to your feet, heading to the front door. “I’ll get it!” You called, Melissa replying with an ‘okay’ in response. Continuing your way over to the front door, you unlocked it with another sigh before pulling open the door. You’re not sure what you expected, but Allison and Jackson definitely wasn’t it.

“Hello?” You mumble, raising a brow.

“Hey,” Allison smiles, leaning in past Jackson. Although she’s smiling, you can tell there’s something behind the lids of her eyes. “Is Scott here?”

“Shouldn’t he be on a date with you?” You question, cocking your hip out.

“Precisely why we are here,” Jackson speaks up, rolling his eyes. “He isn’t home?”

“Nope,” you shake your head, shrugging, “haven’t seen him since school.”

Allison is about to reply before her phone going off interrupts her. She sends both you and Jackson a confused glance, before pulling it out of her back pocket and switching it on. You turn to Jackson as you wait, somewhat unsure of what to do.

Then, Allison’s sliding her phone back into her pocket and turning to Jackson; “we’re going to the school.”

“Wait,” Jackson blinks, shaking his head. “Why?”

“Come on,” she urges, ignoring Jackson’s question, before turning to you. “You too, Y/N.”

You hesitate a moment, glancing back in the direction of your homework before looking back at your two friends before you. Shrugging, you lean over to the coat hook, grabbing your jacket; “anything’s better than homework.”

A short drive later, and you’re at the school.

You wait for Jackson to step out, pulling the seat forward so Allison, then you, can crawl out of the back seat. The moment you’re on your feet, you turn to the school, raising a brow.

“What’re we doing here anyway?” Jackson asks, shoulders dropping with defeat.

Glancing down at her phone, Allison pauses a moment before flipping her phone screen to you and Jackson. “All I got was this.” Leaning forward, you read the text Scott apparently sent to Allison.

Meet me at the school. URGENT.

Furrowing your brows, you lean back, glancing up at the school once more. That seems a bit odd.

“They lock the doors at night, you know?” Lydia reminds, glancing up at the three of you through the drivers window.

“That ones open,” Allison calls, pointing forward before stepping past you and Jackson and heading over. You glance at Jackson one final time, before the two of you follow after Allison.

“You don’t need me to state the obvious, right?” Jackson questions, halting Allison as she turns around to look at the both of you. You can’t help but bite your lips at his words, glancing at the opened door in worry.

“That it looks like they broke into the school?” Allison responds, shaking her head. “No, pretty obvious.”

“Want me to come with you?” Jackson offers, and you turn to him in confusion. That was oddly chivalrous. Jackson was nice to a very few selected people. Somehow you managed to fall into that category, and up until now, you thought Allison hadn’t been apart of it.

Shaking her head, Allison crosses her arm over her chest. “Mm, it’s okay.”

“Well, i’m coming with you,” you butt in, stepping past Allison to head up the stairs. You hear Jackson call after Allison, and choosing to ignore him, you continue to make your way up the steps and over to the opened entrance, crossing your arms over your chest in nervousness.

“Y/N.”

Jumping a little, you spin your head around, setting a hand against your chest. “Jesus,” you breathe, sending Allison a small smile. “You scared me half to death.”

Flashing the light onto her face, Allison laughs; “boo.”

Shaking your head, you snatch the flashlight from her hands, walking through the door. “Let’s go.”

-

“It’s cold in here,” you whisper, tensing up in the arms.

Allison mumbles in agreement, continuing to look around the pool in concern. You can’t help but do the same. You have no idea exactly what happened here or why Scott and you’re guessing Stiles are here, and you can’t even begin to think why. But you know it has to do with something supernatural. And along with you being concerned with their safety, you can’t help but worry what you just walked into.

The both of you jump once Allison’s phones ring, you nearly dropping the flashlight in response.

“Answer it,” you urge after a moment of Allison just staring at it.

“It’s Lydia.”

You nod, turning around to continuing looking around as she starts speaking. 

“Hello,” you hear her respond. “Yeah, we can’t seem to find them.” Another moment of silence. “Okay, give us a second and we’ll be there.”

Turning to you, Allison nods; “we have to head back in a minute.”

“Sounds good,” you smile.

The two of you are once again interrupted by the sound of Allison’s phone ringing. If you were confused before, you are absolutely baffled now. Turning to Allison, you raise your brow, silently asking who it is.

“Stiles,” she mumbles, brows furrowing.

“What?”

Answering her phone, Allison presses her phone against her ear; “Stiles?”

You don’t hear what he says in response, but a moment later Allison replies; “we’re in the school looking for you, why weren’t you at my place?”

Once again, you don’t know what is said in response, but you take the few short steps over to Allison, curious.

“With Y/N on the first floor.”

Allison’s eyes widen and she glances around herself; “the swimming pools.”

Allison grabs a hold of your wrist, causing you to look up at her concern. “Okay, okay,” she replies, “we’re coming.” Suddenly, you’re being pulled forward by the wrist, nearly stumbling over your own feet.

“Wait, where are we going!”

-

“Why did you come? What are you doing here?”

Blinking, you slow to a stop next to Allison, glancing at both Stiles and Scott in bafflement.

“Because you asked me to.”

Scott’s face scrunches up in confusion; “I asked you to?”

“You texted her,” you mumble, shrugging your shoulders.

Both Scott and Stiles reel over to you; “and you. What are you doing here, Y/N?”

“Allison came to our house searching for you,” you explain, narrowing your eyes. “Then you texted her. Obviously, I came along.”

“Okay,” Stiles suddenly speaks, holding up his hands by his head. “What text?”

Turning to Allison, you patiently wait for her to pull up the text message on her phone before flipping it around for Scott and Stiles to see. You feel your heart drop though when Scott glances up at the two of you, lips parted.

“Why do I get the feeling you didn’t send this message?” 

“Because I didn’t.”

“Did you drive here?” Stiles asks, stepping forward.

“Jackson did,” you shrug.

Scott steps back in panic, turning to Stiles in alarm; “Jackson’s here too?”

“And Lydia,” Allison adds, raising her voice. “What’s going on? Who sent this text?” As Allison speaks, her phone starts ringing once again, causing her to trail with her words, answering it. “Where are you?”

As soon as Allison finishes speaking, the sound of a door opening quickly echoes. You spin around, meeting Lydia and Jackson’s gaze. Rushing over to you, Lydia shoves her phone into her purse, breathing out; “finally. Can we go now?”

You nod, falling by Stiles side.

A second later, a loud thud echoes from over your heads. Without thinking, you shuffle closer to Stiles, feeling your heart rate start to pick up.

You’re not sure what’s happening, all you know that it’s bad. But then, Scott’s turning his head to face you all, and his eyes are wide with panic. Then,

“Run!”

You don’t dare glance behind yourself, nearly stumbling over your feet as the six of you start sprinting forwards. Whatever it is, you can tell that it isn’t human by the loud thuds and inhuman growls that leave the creatures lips. You make sure not to leave Stiles side, feeling your entire body tense with panic.

The lot of you burst through a set of doors, and the moment you’re all through, Scott wastes no time shutting and locking them behind you. 

Feeling your heart pound against your chest, your breath rapid and uneven, you pace inside the classroom, fists clenched in distress.

“Help me get this in front of the door,” you hear Scott bellow to Jackson, referring to the teachers desk.

“Wait, no,” Stiles calls, bringing your attention on him. “Not here.”

“Scott,” Allison cries, “what was that?”

“What came out of the ceiling!”

“Will you just help me?” Scott screams in response, voice raw.

You hesitate, focused on Stiles who is desperately trying to get everyone to listen to him. “Guys... Can we just wait a second? You guys, listen to me, w-- Can we wait a second? Guys? Stiles talking.”

No one but you listens as the four of them continue to barricade the door to the extreme.

“Hello!” You call, shaking your head in distress. “Guys! Listen!”

They fail to listen to you either, and turning to Stiles, you hear him huff before taking a step forward; “hello!”

The four of them snap to the two of you, Stiles’s shoulders falling in defeat. “Okay, nice work.” He huffs, “really beautiful job, everyone. Now, what should we do about the twenty foot wall of windows?” And to add to his point, Stiles side steps, gesturing to said windows.

Rubbing your hands against your face, you sigh; “idiots...”

“Can someone please explain to me what is going on?” Allison cries, latching onto Scott’s arm. “Because i’m freaking out here. And I would like to know why.” Scott only stares back at her in response, lips parting in uncertainty. “Scott?”

He only rips his arm from her gasp, stepping forward before slumping against one of the desks.

Shaking your head, you pace on the spot. This is so not the time to be keeping secrets Allison, if the group of three completely freaked out and scared people, and you, are anything to go by. And yet, both Stiles and Scott refrain from giving the four of you any answers.

Scott just remains silent, and with a groan of frustration, you turn to Stiles. “Is anyone going to answer us? Because i’d really like to know what’s going on myself.”

Stiles looks at you, body still, before he takes a deep breath, stepping forward. “Somebody killed the janitor.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “the janitors dead.”

Allison attempts at a smile, hoping it’s all some sort of sick joke. “What is he talking about? Is this a joke?”

“Wha-,” Jackson stammers, “who killed him?”

“Non, no, no, no. This was supposed to be over,” Lydia panics, eyes wide with fear. “The mountain li-”

“Don’t you get it,” Jackson interrupts. “There wasn’t a mountain lion.”

“Who was it?” You screeched, “what does he want?”

Fumbling, Allison’s whispers; “what’s happening?”

All the while, Scott keeps his back turned to the five of you, silent. A bout of anger floods your entire being at his lack of response. Can’t he ever just answer you? Tell you something?

“Scott!”

“I-I don’t know,” Scott stammers, finally answering and turning around to face you all. “I-I just... If we go out there, he’s... he’s gonna kill us.”

“Us?” Lydia screeches, “he’s gonna kills us?”

“Who?” Allison repeats, turning to Stiles when she knows Scott won’t answer her. “Who is it?”

Stiles only turns to Scott, seemingly waiting for him to answer. During the moment of silence, you inch closer to Stiles, touching his arm in an attempt to get an answer out of him. He only keeps his eyes trained on Scott, willing him to answer the question he apparently doesn’t have answers for.

“Derek,” Scott suddenly calls, “it’s Derek Hale.”

What?

“Derek killed the janitor?”

“Wha... Are you sure?”

“I saw him,” Scott admits.

“The mountain li-”

“All of them?” Allison interrupts Lydia.

“Yeah,” Scott nods, “starting with his own sister.”

“The bus driver?”

“And the guy in the video store,” Scott confirms, and you furrow your brows. That doesn’t make any sense. You were there in the video store. That couldn’t have been Derek. “It’s been Derek the whole time. He’s in here with us.”

“No,” you whisper under your breath, shaking your head. “That isn’t right.”

You feel Stiles’s eyes fall on you, and you snap your own to his, pushing for answers. You receive none.

Only silence follows your words, before Scott straightens his back; “and if we don’t get out now...” He turns, facing the five of you. “He’s going to kill us too.”

-

“Call the cops.”

“No,” Stiles responds, not even turning to face Jackson.

“Wh-What do you mean no?” Jackson huffs in response, shaking his hand out at Stiles.

“I mean no,” Stiles repeats. “You wanna hear it in spanish? No.” He finishes off with a slight accent before continuing. “Look, Derek killed three people, okay? We don’t know what he’s armed with.”

There’s a moment of silence before Jackson continues; “your dad is armed with an entire sheriff’s department. Call him.”

“I’m calling,” Lydia says, stepping forward with her phone in her hand. Stiles is quick to leave your side, rushing after her. “No, Lydia, would you just hold on a second.” Before he can reach her though, Jackson steps forward, grabbing a hold of Stiles by the shirt and pushing him back.

“Hey,” you call, affronted, as you step forward, pulling Jackson’s grip off of Stiles. He sends you a narrowed look, to which you respond with one of your own, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yes,” you hear Lydia, pulling your attention off of Jackson and onto her. “We’re at Beacon Hills high school. We’re trapped, and we need you to--” Her words suddenly halt, causing you to furrow your brows in response. “But--” Pulling the phone away from her ear, Lydia glances down at her phone, stunned. “She hung up on me.”

“The police hung up on you?” You question, doubting her words.

“She said they got a tip warning them that there are gonna be prank calls about a break-in to the high school,” Lydia explains, voice pitched with panic. “She said if I called again that they’re gonna trace it and have me arrested.”

“Okay,” Allison urges, “then call again!”

“No,” Stiles sighs, “they won’t trace a cell. Then they’ll send a car to your house before they send anyone here.”

“What the-” Allison stammers, shaking her head. “What-- What is this? Why does Derek wanna kill us? Why is he killing anyone?”

“That’s what i’d like to know,” you mumble under your breath.

After another moment of silence, everyone’s eyes falls on Scott’s who’s own widen in response. “Why’s everyone looking at me?”

“Is he the one that sent her the text?” Lydia questions, referring to the message Allison received early.

“No,” Scott panics, “I mean, I don’t know.”

“Is he the one who called the police?” Allison adds.

“I don’t know!” 

“Alright,” Stiles interrupts, easing the tension. “Why don’t we ease back on the throb, yeah?” Setting his hands on Scott’s shoulders, Stiles gently guides the boy back. You glance back at Jackson, Allison and Lydia, before following after the two them, eyes narrowed.

Once the three of you are far away in enough, you glare at them; “the two of you better explain to me what the hell is going on,” you whisper angrily. “Because you both know I know it wasn’t Derek.”

“It’s Scott’s beta,” Stiles quickly explains to you, “Derek... Derek’s dead...”

“Jesus...” You breathe, setting your head in your hands. 

“We think he’s dead,” Scott corrects.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Stiles suddenly snaps, reeling around to face Scott. “Good job throwing Derek under the bus. Nicely done.”

“I didn’t know what else to say,” Scott replies, voice urgent. “I had to say something! And if he’s dead, then... it-it doesn’t matter, right? E-Except if he’s not,” sighing, Scott shakes his head. “I totally just bit her head off.”

“And she’ll totally get over it,” you huff, shaking your head up at Scott. Is that really what he’s worrying about right now? Getting mad at Allison when your lives are in danger? “Bigger issues at hand here, like how do we get out alive?”

Scott turns to you, eyes wide; “but we are alive. It could’ve killed us already. It’s like it’s corning us or something.”

“So what?” Stiles murmurs, “he wants to eat us all at the same time?”

“No! Derek said it wants revenge.”

“Against who?” You ask, shrugging your shoulders.

Pausing in thought, Scott offers; “Allison’s family?”

Stiles lips part, as your eyes widen. “Maybe that’s what the text was about.” Scott tilts his head, silently asking Stiles to clarify. “Someone had to send it.”

“Okay, okay,” Jackson interrupts, pulling your gazes on him. “New plan. Stiles calls his useless dad and tells him to send someone with a gun and decent aim. Are we good with that?”

Glancing back and forth between Stiles and Jackson, you sigh. It’s pretty obvious Stiles doesn’t want to get his dad involved less he get hurt, but Jackson is right. You can’t just sit here waiting for Derek to burst through this windows or somehow break down the barricade.

“He’s right,” Scott boomed, “tell him the truth if you have to, just call him.”

Staring at Scott with a dumbfounded expression, Stiles shakes his head; “i’m not watching my dad get eaten alive.” He shrugs, stepping past you and Scott. You flinch though when Jackson lunges forward, grabbing a hold of Stiles’s shoulder.

“Alright, give me the phone.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief when Stiles reels around, punching Jackson directly in the cheek, causing the boy to go stumbling back, losing his footing. 

“Jackson!” Allison cries, running up to the boy. “Are you okay? Hey, are you okay?” She glances back at Stiles, lips parted in disbelief. You can’t help but do the same. Though you don’t necessarily blame Stiles, you would’ve never expected him to do that.

At the glances he receives, Stiles huffs, pulling out his phone and calling his dad. You wait a moment, Stiles eventually saying; “dad, hey, it’s me. And it’s your voicemail. Look, I need you to call me back now. Like, right now.”

You jump, head reeling around to face the door as a loud banging echoes. It only continues, becoming more rapid and sporadic by the second. Everyone backs up in response, and you find yourself in between both Scott and Stiles as the latter continues speaking; “we’re at the school, okay? We’re at the school.”

Your eyes widen when you see the barricade failing.

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God.”

“The kitchen,” Stiles suddenly says, “the kitchen suddenly leads to the stairwell.”

“Which only goes up!”

“Up is better than here.”

-

“I’m getting the key.”

Eyes widening, you whip around to face your brother, already knowing that that’s a terrible idea.

“Are you serious?” Allison breathes, voice quiet with uncertainty. 

“Well,” Scott swallows thickly, “it’s the best plan. We wanna get out of here.”

“You can’t go out there unarmed,” Allison whispers urgently in response. 

Scott hesitates a moment, glancing around for something he can use. Grabbing one of the pointer sticks that teacher’s use, he faces everyone else. Like you, everyone’s heads fall. This is such a bad idea. 

“Well, it’s better than nothing.”

Shaking your head, you take a step forward; “there’s gotta be something else.”

“There is,” Lydia replies, causing you to turn to her. Tilting her forward, she gestures to something, the five of you taking a moment before you turn your heads to the chemistry lab cabinet.

“What are we gonna do?” Stiles blurts, “throw acid on him?”

“No,” Lydia snaps, “like a fire bomb. Everything you need is in there to make a self-igniting molotov cocktail.”

“Self-igniting--”

“--Molotov cocktail.”

Another moment of silence passes, everyone staring at Lydia in disbelief.

“What?” She questions in response, breath spiking. “I read it somewhere.”

“We don’t have a key for that either,” Stiles reminds.

Huffing, Jackson rolls his eyes, slamming his elbow into the glass of the cabinet, breaking it.

“Well, looks like we’re doing it.”

-

“All right, can we not argue for half a second here?”

“Where’s Scott?” Allison sniffles, pacing on the spot. “He should be back by now.”

“Shes’ right,” you huff, biting your lip worriedly.  As soon as you finish speaking, there’s the slightest sound of the lock clicking, causing you to turn around. Just as you’re about to step forward, Allison pushes past you, slamming her fist on the door; “Scott. Scott! Scott!”

Shaking your head, you back up, utterly confused as to why Allison can’t get the door open. What did Scott do?

“Stop,” Lydia mumbles, Allison not hearing her. “Stop!” Halting, Allison whips around to face Lydia, eyes wide. “Do you hear that?” Furrowing your breath, you listen closely. “Listen.”

Police sirens... faint, but they’re there.

Rushing forward, the five of you crowd around one window, a breath of relief leaving your lips when you see a police car pull up next to Stiles’s jeep, followed by another.

-

“I’m okay. Thank you, Mr. Stilinski.”

Said man sends you a bright smile, though a tired one, nodding his head. “You two have a good night. Stay safe.”

Scott smiles, while you turn your attention on Stiles, sending him a wave and a small smile. He replies with the same, and then you’re leaning back, watching the Sheriff’s car drive away.

The moment the car’s gone, you turn around, without even batting Scott a look, intent on making it inside as quick as possible. You’re stopped, though, by Scott’s hand falling on your arm, halting your movements. You pause a moment before turning to face him, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves.

“Y/N-”

“Don’t,” you breathe, glancing down at your feet. “Just don’t.”

“Just let me expl-”

“So you can lie?” You cry, turning around to face him. You hate it, but you can’t help the way your eyes water in response, every emotion that you’ve been keeping buried and hidden all tumbling over the surface. “Or, rather, just not tell me the whole truth?”

Scott looks confused, distress. You know that Allison just broke up with him, it was pretty obvious by the way he got into the car earlier. And maybe this isn’t the time to be dumping all of your frustrations on him. But you can’t keep it hidden anymore. You can’t keep pretending like everything’s okay.

“Please,” Scott whispers, voice desperate. “Just let me explain. Everything.”

“No,” you repeat, putting emphasis on the word. “You act like i’m incapable of helping you. That i’m not good enough to help you. And yet, i’m always there. Always doing my best. I’m your sister, Scott, but lately, it feels like i’m nothing to you.”

A tear falls past your defenses, one you hastily wipe away at.

Scott doesn’t respond. Instead, his lips remained part, eyes wide with distress.

Sighing, you let your shoulders drop; “we better get inside. Mom’s probably worried sick.”

And without another word, you turn, heading up the steps to your front door.

-

let me know what you thought? remember, reblogging always helps!

i sort of struggled writing this chapter, so i hope it’s enjoyable nonetheless!

[crassussativum]

Mass Effect Asks Masterlist- Cato

(Originally posted by thenerdcommander, credit where credit is due.)

1. What would their recruitment mission look like? ((Cato’s recruitment mission, if it even can be called such, would be after Menae. Primarch Fedorian has fallen. Cato finds Shepard on the Citadel after that mission and demands to come along with them. Shepard might be reluctant at first, but eventually allows it.)) 

2. Would they be a romance option?  If so, who would the option be available to and what would their romance look like?  Would there be any special scenes? ((Cato is a shy thing in the ways of romance and sex. And another species? That’s just too confusing for him).)

3. If there is one, what would their sex scene look like?  How would the scene change if Shepard or Ryder turned the sex down? ((On the off chance, we’d get to see a naked turian that’s probably never had sex before and certainly never with a human lol it’d be awkward but sweet with a quick fade to black.))

4. If left unromanced, do they hook up with another character?  If so, who is it?  Is it a canon character or another OC? ((Nah, probably not.))

5. Would they be available as a fling option?  What would that scene look like? ((Also probably not))

6. Is there any way Shepard or Ryder could get them to turn on them or betray them?  How?  Is there any way to get them to back down once the betrayal is triggered? ((Shepard would have to do something big and horrible for Cato to betray them. Like genocide big. And yes, not doing the right thing with the Shroud mission, but then how would Cato know that?))

7. What would their loyalty mission look like? (Cato’s loyalty mission would be simple. All he’d want is a day to pretend the galaxy might not actually be ending, a day to be normal. He’d want to go somewhere the Reapers haven’t touched yet and while that may be hard, he’d just need Shepard to pretend everything’s okay with him for just a little while.))

8. Is there any way to lose their loyalty after it’s earned?  How? ((No, I don’t think so.))

9. What would their relationship with Renegade Shepard look like?  Paragon Shepard?  If they’re from Andromeda, what’s their relationship with Ryder (pick any two alignments)?  ((I think Cato would greatly look up to a Paragon Shepard, the always doing what’s right would speak to him on a Spiritual level. Renegade Shepard would probably rub him the wrong way because sometimes doing what’s right in the moment in a way that’s not right is a grey concept he just doesn’t have the experience to grasp.))

10. What phrase(s) would they shout during combat? ((“Incoming!” “Outta the way!” for biotic attacks/charges. Otherwise I think he’d be verbally keeping count of enemy positions.))

11. Any squadmates they don’t particularly get along with? ((Honestly? I think it’s less that he wouldn’t get along with Jack but that she would scare the hell out of him. He’d find how powerful she is totally fascinating, and that her body is her own canvas would intrigue the artist in him. But she’s outwardly abrasive, crudely spoken, and volatile. Waaaay too intimidating for Cato. I think, were he to go along on her loyalty mission, he’d view her as something more of a kindred Spirit, but still be too skittish to make friends. ALSO since ME3. Javik. Javik would terrify him. He’s mean, he’s battle weary, he’s bleak and he finds no joy in the little things.))

12. Are there any instances where rivalries between them and another squadmate could potentially jeopardize their loyalty or views of Shepard or Ryder? ((Maybe? Like I can’t think of anything right now, but I’m sure there’s something. Cato mostly just follows along with the flow, but he’s moody so... it’s possible.))

13. Which squadmates are they likely to make friends with? ((Everyone but maybe Javik. Tali he’d adore. Garrus is a role model. Liara is asari and he loves their artwork and history so much. James I think he’d warm up to fast. Ashley/Kaiden are in the air but I don’t see why not.))

14. In which game would they be introduced to the franchise?  ME1?  ME2?  ME3?  Andromeda? ((In ME3))

15. Would they make multiple appearances throughout the games or are they limited to one installment?  If they reappear, do they remain as a squadmate or do they become an NPC? ((He’s just a squadmate in ME3 but maybe we saw him as an NPC in ME1 or ME2. He’d have been on the Citadel a lot then.))

16. Which skills are available to them?  If they’re from the OT, pick four active powers and one unique passive class power (ex: Turian Agent, Asari Commando, Turian Smuggler, etc).  If they’re from Andromeda, pick three active powers and two passive (one of which should be a unique class power). ((So... this is hard. Cato’s an Adept, so his top four biotic moves are: Warp, Shockwave, Throw, and a Biotic Charge just for fun. Idk what passive class powers are, sorry.))

17. Write a quick exchange of banter between them and one other squadmate of your choice.

Cato: “I could use my biotics?”

Mordin: “Yes. Turian biotics, burn bright, burn hot, strong in bursts. Sufficient.”

Cato: “Or you could reach up there and pull it down. ‘Cause you can reach.”

Mordin: “….Small for a turian youth. Still growing? No, stunted. Lack of nutrition? Genetic mutation? Hmm Could take samples….”

Cato: “No samples! Spirits, I’m still growing, everyone says so….”

18. What weapons would they use?  Pick 1 minimum, maximum of 2 firearms, 1 melee weapon, and/or 1 special or unique weapon. ((Cato’s got an M-3 Predator, a Phaeston, and an omniblade for close quarter emergencies.))

19. Name one thing that players would remember them most by (ex: Garrus’ calibrations, “Lola”, Mordin’s singing, etc).  (Folks would remember that Cato’s the baby! He’s so young and idealistic, kind and caring. Like… he’s great as a squad member bc biotics and small arms fire, but… but he’s still a kid that wants to do kid things. Like go somewhere and eat nothing but junk food, or hit the movies or whatever. He would always need to be supervised bc he has no impulse control either.)

20. If they’re from the OT, what ways could they be killed on Virmire, during the Suicide Mission, or the events of ME3 (pick one)?  If they’re from Andromeda, are there any ways they could die?  If so, how and how could Ryder prevent it if prevention is possible at all? ((So ME3 and I think he could maybe die during the final battle on Earth, but only if Shepard didn’t do his loyalty mission which reminded Cato “normal” was what they’re fighting for.)) 

21. Can they be Indoctrinated or Exalted?  If so, what would they be like?  What options would Shepard or Ryder have to handle the situation?  Would there have been options to prevent it? ((No, I don’t think so))

22. How would they react to other squadmates, Shepard, or Ryder being Indoctrinated or Exalted? ((Aghast confusion. Sadness, fear.))

23. When on the Tempest or Normandy, where do they like to stay?  Do they roam around?  What about on the Citadel or Nexus?  ((Cato likes to hang around Garrus or the galley on the Normandy. Turian biotics are always hungry and Garrus is another turian that he can look up to. On the Citadel, he either loiters near the embassy in hopes of visiting with his grandpa -pre 3- or he’s down at the docks praying to see someone he knows. ))

24. Do they have an opinion on the way Shepard drives the Mako?  Or how Ryder drives the Nomad? (At first, Shepard drives the Mako way too recklessly and fast…. but Cato is still a child in many ways and I think he’d gradually have fun with Shepard driving, if Shepard was willing to teach him how.))

25. Are they vocal about their opinions of the Council or Nexus Leadership?  If so, what is their opinion?  Do they make a passing comment to another squadmate or do they say it to Shepard or Ryder directly?  (I’d say Cato is vocal about his opinions. His grandpa’s the Primach, he kinda has room to be, lol. And I’m sure he’d willingly talk about it if asked. He hates how the Cabal/biotic turians are ostracized, he doesn’t really understand why. He hates how barefaced and outer colony turians are looked down on. He’s sure that the Turian Councilor has turian people’s needs in mind but how can you see the scope of the big picture if you’re not looking at all the pieces that make it whole too?)

26. What decisions could Shepard or Ryder make that they greatly disapprove of? ((If Cato was aware-somehow- that Shepard put the fake cure in at the Shroud mission, he’d really disapprove of that.)) 

27. What decisions could Shepard or Ryder make that they greatly approve of? ((Doing that mission for the new Primarch and SAVING Tarquin. Fight me on this. My biotic Shepard could’ve saved him, damnit.))

28. Would they have any special scenes or dialogue in the Citadel DLC or for Movie Night? ((Maybe to Shepard in regards to their clone and is that like having a sibling? Cato always wanted a sibling. He probably drinks too much at the later party and ends up passed out in a cozy, secluded spot.))

29. Would they have any special scenes or dialogue in the final battle against the Reapers or the Archon? ((The final battle against the Reapers, he wouldn’t be able to just sit on his hands, he’d be on the ground driving whatever vehicle transported the survivors to safe locations.))

30. How would they react to meeting Shepard’s clone?  Or Ryder’s twin? ((Much confusion. By that point, I like to think Cato would’ve intergated himself into Shepard’s day-to-day. And why doesn’t Shepard talk to him as warmly? Or joke with him the same? Clone? Oooohkay then.))

[thisdayinfavrd]

August 13, 2009

Dear Gramma, thank you so much for the Tonka truck. It is very fun! Sorry it took me 30 years to write back. Is Heaven scary? Love, Jiggy   @fireland (Joshua Allen) – 132

Famous Resignations: Richard Nixon, Karl Rove and Sarah Palin. Better known as the Ex's of Evil.   @BakeMyFish (Unavailable) – 83

I don't care where you fall on the healthcare debate, yelling at Arlen Specter looks like fun.   @badbanana (Tim Siedell) – 82

Christians would probably be more relaxed if their savior's name was Cheez-Its Christ.   @sween (Jason Sweeney) – 76

Are you talking to me? Are you talking to me? Really, I'm asking because you refuse to take your Bluetooth out, so I'm never sure.   @joeschmitt (Joe Schmitt) – 73

Missing tweet #3281380262   @srslainey (Unavailable) – 72

I'd call my moobs "the twins" but I think I'd get sick of explaining that they are fraternal, not identical. Definitely not identical.   @CranberryPerson (N/A) – 72

"Stop making up things about me on the internet," said my housemate, as he rode his Russian, mail-order bride around like a fat, sassy pony.   @secretsquirrel (Ryan Bateman) – 71

I want a cereal like Alpha-Bits called Integer-Bits. I'd eat it and when asked what I was doing, I'd say, "Oh, just crunching some numbers."   @JephKelley (Jeff Kelley) – 71

Dear Santa,  FIRST!   @sween (Jason Sweeney) – 68

I got a scratch on my iPhone and now it always skips before the good part of Stairway To Heaven.   @joeschmitt (Joe Schmitt) – 66

Polls show senior citizens largely disapprove of Obamacare. Plan B: Start calling it Matlockcare.   @badbanana (Tim Siedell) – 66

I dropped Jim off at the airport an hour ago, and I've already left him two voicemails of me sobbing and singing "Everything I Do."   @CcSteff (Stephanie) – 65

Wearing my meeting pants. My party pants gently weep.   @badbanana (Tim Siedell) – 65

Missing tweet #3287159106   @luckyshirt (Unavailable) – 65

WARNING TO ALL MEN: Beware of female sexual predators using a date rape drug called BLOW JOBS to entrap men into scams called RELATIONSHIPS   @omg_wth (Finally, someone ) – 65

Flight home: started a game of "peek-a-boo" with 2yr old in front of me. After 30 minutes I grabbed him and said, IT'S ALWAYS GOING TO BE ME   @blankslate (Alex) – 62

No two countries with a McDonald's have ever fought a war. And no two countries with a Hardees have ever admitted to eating at a Hardees.   @adamisacson (Adam Isacson) – 60

I think freckles are God's way of saying, imagine how much fun she is when naked.   @roughdiction (RoughDiction) – 59

How much can you bench press? No, BENCH PRESS. Not FRENCH PRESS. Man, they are literally going to kill you in prison.   @kellydeal (kellydeal) – 58

[shadow-light19]

The Wolf of Lilac Lake: Dr. Redwood and Mr. Hyde Act 1

Summary: Dr. David Redwood is a well-known doctor in the town of Sleepy Peak. He lives with his adopted son, Max, and does his best to protect abused children he comes across in his profession. One day, he becomes so disgusted with corruption in the town that allows child abusers to go free that he decides to take matters into his own hands. Hyde is the worst mistake he’s ever made.

Notes: This chapter is a play. I am just pre-facing that now since the characters are a bit OOC. They are ACTING. You'll notice there are location and time notices. When you read playbooks, they generally include that before the actors' lines. Its useful for understanding the setting. For Max's bedroom, later on, I designed it similarly to Dipper and Mabel's room in Gravity Falls. Also, I want to thank everyone who has enjoyed reading this story so far. It really warms my heart whenever I see a like, comment, or reblog.

Previous Chapter: https://shadow-light19.tumblr.com/post/174189019287/the-wolf-of-lilac-lake-overcoming-demons

Next Chapter: https://shadow-light19.tumblr.com/post/175463827052/the-wolf-of-lilac-lake-dr-redwood-and-mr-hyde

Songs used in this act:

Once Upon a December from Anastasia

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KVIdK1VWmLA

God Help the Outcasts from Hunchback of Notre Dame (Esmeralda’s part only)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0pLCDnbBEk0

Good Company from Oliver and Company

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gk0dUuc5z64

David peeked out between the curtains of the camp theater stage. There was a large audience of townspeople and camper’s parents sitting on the wooden benches and eating from the little concession stand that Nerris and Ered were operating. David felt ducked back behind the curtain and started to hyperventilate.

“WHERE IS MY STAR?!” Preston screamed from backstage.

He came running up to David.

“There you are! Are you READY to start the performance? The curtain will rise in FIVE minutes.”

David gripped his shirt in nervousness. He was wearing a simple plaid shirt and a lab coat.

“I-I don’t know, Preston. Are you s-sure I’m good enough to be the lead actor? I’ve never done theater before.”

Preston scoffed, “You may never have been in a role but you have always been good at teaching it. Besides, this version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is written tailored to your personality anyways. It’s the others I’m worried about.”

Preston turned to glare at Max, Nikki, and Neil. The trio were all chatting together. David placed a hand on his Preston’s head.

“Don’t you worry about them, Preston. Nikki and Neil are really excited about this. I know Max gave you a hard time about it earlier but I’ve taken measures to make sure he does his best.”

Preston gave David a flat look.

“You mean you bribed him.”

David floundered his arms.

“I didn’t bribe him! I just offered an incentive to perform well and he excepted.”

Preston laughed.

“Don’t worry, David. Bribery is commonplace in SHOW BUSINESS! If you’ll excuse me, I must ANNOUNCE our play to our audience.”

Preston walked over to the curtain and stopped for a moment.

“Thank you, David, for arranging for the town and our families to come to the play. I don’t think I’ve ever had an audience as large as this.”

Preston walked through the curtains. David smiled at the space where Preston was before getting into place. He could hear Preston through the curtains.

“Ladies and Gentlemen. My name is Preston Goodplay and welcome tonight to the Camp Campbell Theater.”

David closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Tonight! I have a very special play for you all. My team will be performing a variation of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I call it, Dr. Redwood and Mr. Hyde! I wrote and directed this play and I am absolutely ecstatic to share it with you all tonight.”

David looked to the side as Max, Nikki, and Neil approached the side stage. Neil waved nervously, Nikki mouthed ‘You’ll be great!’ and Max smirked a gave him a thumbs up.

“And now, for the moment you’ve all been waiting for. I present, Dr. Redwood and Mr. Hyde!”

I can do this.

Act 1

*Evening in the Clinic

“Have a good evening, Mr. Everton!”

David smiled at his last patient for the day. He locked everything up before walking over to his house next door.

*Evening in the house

Once inside, he made his way down to his laboratory in the basement.

*Inside the laboratory

David liked to experiment at night in an attempt to find remedies for sicknesses that occurred in the little town of Sleep Peak. David was one of the few doctors that lived here and he always took the job very seriously.

“I have a couple hours until Max gets back from his piano lessons. Let’s see if I can get this salve for blood clotting correct.”

He worked on the salve for a couple hours and then brought it up to a mouse in a cage. He had found it that morning, bleeding out after getting attacked by some predator and tried to patch it up. However, the little thing kept pulling its stitches and the wound wasn’t clotting like it should’ve. He rubbed a small amount onto the wound using a q-tip and watched to see if it worked. The wound stopped bleeding in seconds.

“Perfect!” David cheered.

He put the salve away and stored the write-up in a binder.

“Dad! I’m home!”

David grinned and made his way upstairs.

*Inside the house

He saw his son Max setting his bookbag on the kitchen table.

“How was school?”

Max smiled and pulled out a couple notebooks.

“It was fun! Mrs. Gwen taught us all a new song and Nikki and Neil got to be in my group for a science project.”

David ruffled his son's hair.

“Well, I’m making stew tonight. Is there anything you want to go with it?”

Max hummed in thought.

“Biscuits! With butter!”

David chuckled.

“And then I’ll make banana bread for dessert. Get started on your homework for now, okay?”

Max nodded and they both got to work. The prep work for dinner and dessert wasn’t hard. As the stew sat bubbling on the stove, David pulled out the local newspaper.

Sander’s Cleared on All Charges

By Amelia Reeves

Marshall Sanders was cleared today of all charges against an accusation of child abuse. The Prosecutor, one of his family members accused the Defendant of abusing his son for his ability to perform magic and tried to gain custody. Sanders had this to say, “I never would’ve believed that my sister-in-law would have tried to take my son from me. I love Harrison very much and I hope that I have proven that to her now that she has seen the evidence. I have requested a restraining order though as I fear she may try again to take my son from me.”

The Prosecutor believed that Marshall was scared of his son for his talent in magic tricks but Marshall claims otherwise.

“I never imagined he would’ve been capable of magic but if you watch him perform, that’s the only thing it could be described as. He loves it and no one can dissuade him from his dream of performing for others.”

Marshall requested his son not be interviewed.

David frowned.

I remember that case. It was about a child at Max’s school. She had photos of bruises and everything.

“Hey, Max? How’s Harrison doing?”

Max looked up from his paper.

“He’s doing well. He was really quiet but he said he was relieved that the whole thing is finally over.”

I don’t know what to believe. I remember when I adopted Max, his own parents only received a couple years prison sentence for being abusers. It took Max being beaten almost to death for them to finally get arrested and that’s because a neighbor called the ambulance.

“Hey, Dad?” David snapped out from his thoughts and looked at his son.

“What’s up, Max?”

Max fidgeted in his chair.

“Can Nikki and Neil spend the night again this weekend?”

David frowned. It seemed the two kids were coming over more and more often.

“I’m fine with it but aren’t their parents concerned that their kids are spending the night at a friend’s house almost every weekend?”

Max bit his lip.

“If I tell you something will you promise not to tell them?”

David looked at his son in concern.

“I promise. What’s wrong?”

Max sighed.

“Nikki’s mom has been having her boyfriend come to their house every weekend and Nikki doesn’t like him. He always glares at her and makes comments about how everything would be better without her around. Her mom doesn’t care because he makes a lot of money. He’s a construction worker.”

David glared at the table.

“Tell Nikki she’s allowed to come over and spend the night whenever she wants. We have the spare bedroom and if she wants to leave anything here she can. Is Neil in a similar situation?”

Max shook his head.

“Neil’s dad and mom are divorced. They fight over him to prove who is better than the other. It makes him feel sad sometimes since he knows they are just using him to prove a point. You don’t do that though, so he likes being here.”

David turned back the stew, his good mood gone.

“Tell Neil that he’s allowed whenever as well. He can sleep in your room and I could buy a twin mattress and put it in there if you don’t mind?”

Max’s eyes lit up.

“Then we’ll be like brothers!”

David ruffled his son’s hair.

I am sick and tired of hearing about abused kids in Sleepy Peak. If no one else will help them, then I guess I will because someone fucking has to.

*Afternoon outside the house

Max, Nikki, and Neil were walking home together from school.

“You have the best dad, Max. He’s so nice to everyone!” Nikki twirled with her arms out.

Neil and Max chuckled.

“He’s gonna put a bed in my room for you Neil so that you have a place to stay whenever you want to as well.” Neil hugged his backpack in excitement.

“It’ll be great to have someone who cares so much about us. Honorary family right?”

Max and Nikki smiled.

“Honorary family forever!”

The trio walked into the house.

“Dad is at the clinic so we can go ahead and set up your room if you want, Nikki.”

Nikki squealed and ran to the doorway.

“Woah…”

The other two caught up. The spare bedroom was painted a light teal with a dark blue border. There was a simple twin bed with a brown bedframe in the corner next to a wooden dresser, desk, and bedside table. The closet was empty but had hangers on it. The bed also had a stuffed wolf on it.

“I love it!” She jumped on the bed.

“If Dad already set up your room then maybe-“

Max and Neil turned and ran to Max’s room. Nikki followed quickly after.

His room was rearranged slightly so that the two beds were on opposite sides of each other. There were two desks sitting together by the door and in between the window was the dresser. There was also a chest in front of both beds. On Max’s Bed sat a teddy bear and on Neil’s bed, there was a stuffed owl.

The kids all grabbed their stuffed animals and sat in the kitchen to work.

*Afternoon in the Clinic

David was especially attentive today. He dealt with his normal patients but whenever he worked with a child, he watched carefully for any signs of abuse or neglect. One of the children, Cassandra, seemed nervous and a little twitchy when he gave her a checkup. He saw some light yellowing on her arms and made a note of healing bruises and jumpiness. The parents looked relieved though as they went on their way. He sighed and locked up before heading home.

*Inside the house

He saw the line of shoes by the door and smiled knowing that Nikki and Neil were over.

“Hey, kids! How was school?” They all turned and rushed him.

David stepped back from the force of three kids hugging him.

“If was great! Thank you so much for the room!” Nikki jumped up and down in excitement.

Neil shyly shuffled his feet and held his hands behind him.

“And for my room as well.”

David smiled and guided them all back into the kitchen.

“I’m glad you all like it. Do you want spaghetti for dinner?”

He received a chorus of ‘yes’ and got to work.

“Hey, David?”

Nikki walked up to him.

“Yes?”

She looked at the wolf on the table.

“Since you gave me a room here, would you mind if I called you dad?”

David kneeled down and put his hand on her head.

“I would be honored.”

She smiled.

“I’m glad! I’ve always wanted a dad but I’ve never liked any of my mom’s boyfriends.”

David looked concerned.

“Do you remember your dad at all?”

Nikki shook her head, smiling sadly.

“I only have a vague memory of him. It was snowing the day he left me with my mom. I never knew why he left me but I know that he wanted me.”

She grabbed her stuffed wolf in her hands and held it close.

“Swishing pines,

Flutters of wings,

Things I almost remember,

And a song someone sings,

Once upon a December.”

Nikki twirled with her wolf, then hugs in again, swaying from side to side.

“Someone holds me safe and warm,

Traversing through a silver storm,

Smiles, tears, and comforts dance across my memory.”

She grabs David’s hands and pulls him into a dance. He lets her stand on his feet as he waltzes through the kitchen.

“Someone holds me safe and warm,

Traversing through a silver storm,

Smile, tears, and comforts dance across my memory.

Far away,

Long ago,

Glowing dim as an ember,

Things my heart used to know,

Things it used to remember,”

She steps off as David twirls her. He let’s go and kneels down again. Nikki hugs him. Max and Neil get up and hug them as well.

“And a song someone sings,

Once upon a December.”

David hugs her.

“I’m so sorry.”

Nikki chuckles softly.

“Don’t be! You’re the dad I always wanted.”

David smiles.

“I’m glad I can be that person for you.”

Neil tugs at David’s sleeve.

“C-Can I call you dad too?”

David pulled the kids closer.

“Of course! I would love to be part of your guys’ family.”

*Night in the house

David opened the door to Max and Neil’s bedroom. His sons were asleep in their beds but David could see they fell asleep talking to each other.

He quietly closed the door and moved on to Nikki’s room. She was asleep, clutching the wolf to her and mumbling about the forest. He closed the door and crept silently into his lab.

*Inside the laboratory

He cleared the table in front of him from all the chemicals that were there and pulled out a notebook. He started writing down an idea for his next creation.

Maybe I can make something that helps get rid of acne faster? Or maybe something that helps with healing burns without leaving the scars.

David wrote down several steps before he heard banging on his door.

That’s strange. Who would be here at this hour?

*In the living room, partially depicting the house and partially depicting the outside

He walked up to the first floor and opened the door.

“Hello?”

“Oh, thank goodness! Please, I need your help!” It was a frantic woman.

David noticed that she was covered in blood.

“Oh my gosh! What happened!”

The woman started crying.

“Please save my daughter! Please help her!”

David grabbed a first aid kit that he left beside the front door for emergencies, locked the door behind him, and followed the woman to her daughter.

*Inside the Midler residence

David could smell the strong stench of alcohol as he entered the house. He gasped when he saw her daughter. She was bleeding very badly in a pile of glass shards.

“What happened?” David started assessing her wounds.

“M-My h-husband drank too much and hit her with the bottle. I picked out the glass but I didn’t know what else to do.”

David picked her up and moved her out of the glass pile.

“I need a bowl filled with warm water and a towel.”

The woman ran to get the requested items and David pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol, some gloves, and some cotton balls. He also grabbed a pair of tweezers.

The woman returned and he picked out the pieces of glass that she missed and then cleaned the wounds with water and the rubbing alcohol. Once he was done, he wrapped her in bandages and picked the girl up.

“Ma’am, I need you to come with me. If this is a case of child abuse I need to report it and get you two to a safe area.”

She shook her head.

“I can’t! My husband is the principle of the school. He won’t get arrested and any charges I bring against him will probably be dropped since he knows a lot of the cops here.”

David bit his lip in anger.

“Then at least let me get you out of here.”

She started to disagree, then thought better of it.

*Inside the Clinic

He brought her to a room that had a couple beds in it and got them both blankets.

“Thank you so much, sir, for your kindness.”

David shook his head.

“This is the least I can do. I will file a report for this and hopefully, something will be done.”

She smiled sadly at him.

“I thank you for trying. I doubt anything will come of it though.”

David bade her goodnight and made the call.

“I want to report a case of child neglect. I have a little girl here who was hit with a vodka bottle that I had to tend to.”

“It’s Alison Midler.”

“What do you mean it’s probably unfounded?”

David slammed the phone on the port.

“I can’t believe they hung up on me.”

He walked outside of the clinic, knowing the woman had probably heard the conversation. It hurt to know that Alison and her mother would have to go back to their home. David ran a hand through his hair. He walked out of the clinic.

*The town with the church in the background

He walked through the neighborhood and stopped when he realized he was in front of a church. The church was always open so anyone could come in when they wanted. While David wasn’t religious, the sight of the church seemed to stir a sense of desperation deep inside. He walked up the steps and entered.

*Night in the church

The church was very simple with a small lobby, sacristy, and a large main area filled with rows of pews.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,

Or if You’re even there.”

He walked alongside the pews, brushing his hand along the armrest of each one he passed.

“I don’t know if You would listen,

To an atheist’s prayer,

I know I’ve done all that I can,

I know that deep inside.

Yet, still, I see Your face and wonder,

If you could turn the tide?”

David kneeled in front of the altar.

“God help the children,

Hungry and hurt.

Show them the mercy,

From words that are curt.”

Tears rolled down his face as he gazed at the cross of Jesus.

“God help the abused,

They look to You still.

God help the children,

Or nobody will.”

David stood and looked at the stained glass windows. The moonlight filtered softly through them.

I have done my best,

I’ve wiped their tears.

But I know of many,

Still living in fear.

Please help the children,

Neglected and hurt.”

He turned to a picture of Jesus holding a lamb and surrounded by sheep.

“Don’t You say that we’re,

The children of God.

God help the children,

Children of God.”

He turned away and walked out of the church.

*Inside the house

David walked into his house, He wanted to check on the kids and drink a cup of coffee before heading back to the clinic to check on Alison. As he started the coffee pot, he heard footsteps behind him.

“Dad?”

It was Max. David turned and got down on one knee so that he was level with his son.

“Did I wake you?” David asked.

Max shook his head. He clutched the bear he was holding close.

“Did someone need your help?”

David nodded.

“I actually am going to head back to the clinic in a moment to check on them. Are you alright here? You have Nikki and Neil now so you won’t be alone.”

Max nodded.

“I’ll be fine.”

David guided his son back to bed.

“You’re a lot like a hero you know?”

David looked at Max in surprise.

“You help people who are hurting. You make everything better. That’s what heroes do.”

David smiled at his son. He kissed him softly on the forehead and tucked him back in the bed.

“Don’t heroes have an alter-ego or disguise? Someone you wouldn’t recognize?”

Max chuckled, already falling asleep.

“You can always-“

Max yawned.

“-always make one.”

David closed the door quietly behind him, now that Max was asleep. He drank his cup of coffee and went back to the clinic.

*Inside the clinic

Alison was still unconscious but was held in her mother's arm.  David checked her vitals. It didn’t seem like she was getting better. He checked the bandages. They were stained red. He quickly unwrapped them and noticed they were still bleeding sluggishly. He applied a small amount of his salve to clot the bleeding and went to phone the nearest hospital.

“Hello? I need an ambulance. I am Dr. Redwood and a patient I have here needs more medical attention then I am capable of providing in my clinic.”

He hung up and woke the mother. David tended to Alison until the ambulance arrived. He moved aside as the EMTs carried placed her on a stretcher and carried her out. As David watched as the ambulance took off, mother and daughter inside, he prayed with all his heart, that she would survive.

*House in the afternoon

David closed up his clinic for the day. He had heard no news from Alison or the mother. He felt useless. He shook his head in an attempt to shake the negative thoughts away and went to find his kids. They were sitting in the living room chatting about the music club.

“…and I think I’m pretty good at it now,” Max stated.

Nikki and Neil laughed.

“Can we play it together?” Nikki was already pulling out her saxophone.

Neil quickly pulled out a violin. Max sat down at the piano. Neil and Max started singing.

“You and me together will be,

Forever you’ll see.

We too can be good company,

You and me.”

Neil and Nikki danced around the living room. They were all smiling.

“Yes, together we too,

Together that’s you.

Forever with me,

We’ll always be good company.

You and me, that’s together we’ll be.”

They all turned as David clapped.

“That was beautiful kids! How long have you been practicing that?”

Max looked embarrassed as he tucked his arms under themselves and looked away.

“A-A couple days.”

Nikki laughed.

“Our music teacher likes to encourage Max and Neil to sing. I think they sound really good too!”

David chuckled.

“S-Shut up, Nikki!”

Max pulled his hood up and hid his face in the hood’s collar. Neil coughed and played with his violin’s strings. David felt a strong surge of pride and affection at their banter. They were acting like siblings.

I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to any of you.

He made to ask them about their club when his phone started ringing

“Excuse me.”

He walked over and answered.

“Hello?”

“Yes, this Dr. David Redwood.”

“R-Really?”

“Yes, thank you for letting me know.”

David hung it up. He slumped over the counter and held his head with his hands.

Another child’s life taken by abusers. Why can’t this end!

David looked at his children, playing and laughing together in the living room. He remembered the day he rescued Max from his abusive parents. It had taken so much to help Max become the happy child he was today. He remembered Max’s words about Nikki and Neil’s home lives. How they were going through their own situations of abuse.

“Hey, kids. I’m gonna be downstairs. We’ll go out to the Pizza Bros. tonight for dinner alright?”

Once he received a chorus of cheers, he descended into the basement.

*Inside the laboratory

His table still had his notebook open but he quickly turned to the next page.

I can heal the pain but I can’t prevent it. I don’t have the countenance nor the power to.

He thought back to his conversation with Max last night.

Maybe I can make it? An alter-ego, a persona, someone who can deal justice to those who escape persecution by the law.

David poured over his notebook and calculations for hours, stopping once to take treat his children to dinner and help with homework. Once they were in bed, he went back into the basement and worked all night. When the sun rose the next morning, David created the serum.

[dustfeather-sphynx]

im not around on the fr scene much but after the seed and the sickness stuff i decided to write a letter. and then a few more. this is all of them compiled together in one post!

@unkorea @deadlanddisciple @jollyroger-fr @fusefr @majestyrising i just kinda pinged anyone who i remembered like getting lore? /shrug

To Mother and Father,

I apologize that I have not been able to write as much as I have wished. We have been busy--mercenaries are in great demand these past few months. Kalea would have written a letter as well, but she is exhausted. Our last job took a considerable toll on her.

It came to her in sudden pulses of awareness. A howl, long and loud, violently cut short. A blur of green rushing past her vision. The sudden panic becoming prickling needles under her skin, bubbling fear demanding release. She lunged forward, tearing down the vines that threatened to entangle her sister, teeth bared in distress and anger.

It seems to me that Sornieth is falling apart. I do not know what you have learned, but we have traced our way across Sornieth wherever we are needed and have seen devastation long and far. A maelstrom decimated the Sea, for days the wind in the Plateau was still, rebellions by the Furnace--we have even heard rumors that an Emperor has been making its way across the Lightweaver's territory.

She sensed the magic radiating off of Kalea--it was hot and nearly painful to be standing next to, sparks of energy sizzling off of the other imperial. She saw what Kalea was fixated on--a writhing mass of vines several yards away, flashes of midnight colored fur and steel whirling, the growling and snapping of the hounds being cut short as they fell one by one. Kalea's cry was full of anguish as she charged forward--"Mom!"

But the gravest news is that of armistice being shattered. Do you truly think we will go to war now? We are Plague--we survive, we spread, we thrive--and yet it seems like war now would only serve to kill us quicker. War now, when various flights prepare for war over petty slights? War now, when the beastclans wait to pick at our carcasses? War now, when the Shade even still continues to infect and spread across Sornieth?

The blade was swift and true--an old familiar extension of the wildclaw. Where it once had slew creatures of Shade, now it carved through thorny vines, pestilence pulsing through the plants. Mellori's snarl was cut off in a sudden gasp as a vine shot forward, piercing her side. She managed to whirl, cut it loose before it could grow more, but the damage was still done. Another vine surged forth, and then another, and then another--

I know it is unbecoming of me, to feel fear. I know it is unbecoming of me, a child of Plague, a daughter of the Bone Castle, to feel fear gnaw at me. And yet I am afraid. I wish I was home--an oddity, as home was always both the Castle and wherever the Pack may have roamed, and yet I miss the security of the flesh and bone halls. It is childish, is it not?

Light blinded Mellori as she stumbled, a shrill cry causing her ears to ache. Magic whirled around her, the vines falling away as they shriveled. The magic burned--a combination of her native Plague but also of shadow and arcane--but the heat died down to a comforting warmth as a large figure stood over her, teeth bared. A confused thought surfaced in the wildclaw's head, and her voice was quiet as she pleaded softly, "You must run. Please, leave me. It's not safe here, I can't lose you here, please go to the Bone Castle, please--"

Kyrja could sense the magic pouring off of her sister--it was more than Kyrja had ever seen her summon, more than Kyrja realized she could have summoned. An endless font of magic swelling forth from her twin as she screamed in grief and anger. Mellori's quiet words only served to further cause Kalea panic and the magic reached an almost blistering heat, cause Kyrja's fur to itch.

"Kalea. Kalea! Let me!" Kyrja cried over her sister's wailing, and Kalea shifted only to let Kyrja gently grab Mellori in her jaws. For a few moments, it seemed like the influence of the First Seed would break through and destroy them all, but Kalea's magic held it at bay, if only for moments.

"We must go." Kyrja said quietly, meeting her sister's gaze. The other imperial had an expression of grief, anger, exhaustion tracing her features and it made Kyrja's heart ache. The imperials took off, wings beating at the same time as the world seemed to no longer be holding its breath, rushing in to fill the gap that Kalea's magic had punched into the surrounding area.

They left the job unfinished, something they had never done before.

It does not matter anyways, even if I wanted to return home now. Kalea is exhausted still, the toll taken on our previous job being greater than any of us expected. And for Mellori...she is unwell. We are certainly in no shape to make the journey through the Wastelands to the Bone Castle, and yet...

But we are Plague, we will survive. So it is confusing why I am afraid for the Pack. Why do I wish to be home, in the safety of the Queen's influence, far from any conflicts Sornieth may be facing? Why can I not control the fear that gnaws at me? The fear that settles deep into my bones, the fear that coils at the base of my spine and sends shivers through my body. It is a feeling I am unfamiliar with. A feeling I do not like.

I miss you both. I love you both.

With all my love, Kyrja.

Plague dragons were told to master their fear.

It was the first lesson she learned--that fear was useful when wielded properly--able to pinpoint the location of a predator, heightening sense to allow for swift manuevers and quick strikes. But fear was also equally dangerous. It blinded, consumed, ate away at a dragon until they were nothing more than prey for others.

Kyrja was deeply, deeply afraid.

Grandmother,

I have not written often to you, and for this I am sorry. Kalea mostly does much of the writing to you, but she has not been well recently. Our recent job has left Kalea exhausted, and she has spent much of her time slumbering. I have made sure she still eats and drinks, and she is healthy beyond her fatigue.  

I write to you for ultimately selfish reasons, I suppose. I just wanted someone to speak with, perhaps, someone for advice. I know few dragons who know more magic than yourself, and I need help. The last job we had--it went badly, Grandmother. We were enlisted on the spot to help deal with an incident in Plague, and it went badly.

Grandmother, I'm so afraid.

Kalea stirred briefly, eyes blinking open wearily. "Kyrja..." She whined, and the larger imperial rushed to her sister's side. "What happened...?"

"We were attacked, Kallie." Kyrja whispered softly, as if speaking too loudly would harm her twin. "The Armistice broke, and we were hired to help contain some of the damages. The magic involved..." She drifted off.

"I don't hear the Pack..." Kalea said softly, "Are they well?"

Kyrja kept her voice steady. "Mom's gone hunting with them." She lied, and Kalea let out a peaceful sigh as she slipped back asleep.

I've never seen any dragon expel so much magic before. Kalea was like a star readying to burst--I was afraid she'd burn up, tear herself with all the magic she was giving off. And now she's near comatose, and I don't know what to do. She breathes, but she sleeps and I don't know if she'll recover. I don't have the ability to take her to a healer, we can't travel--

"Kalea! Don't overexert yourself," Kyrja said, her voice strained. Her sister staggered upright, trying to make herself stand, but simply couldn't hold herself up. She returned to her curled up position, letting out an annoyed sigh.

This time, Kalea was awake for more than a few minutes, able to eat some of the carcass that Kyrja had managed to drag back. She looked at Kyrja steadily as she finished--Kyrja noticed that she'd only had a handful of bites--before Kalea said, "Are you okay?"

Kyrja paused. She wasn't--not entirely, feeling like part of her was left bleeding on the sands of the Wasteland. She was weary and hungry and terrified--but Kalea couldn't know. Not yet. Not until she was stronger.

"Yes, I am."

I don't even know if this will reach you, and I suppose it is childish of me to reach out to my Grandmother, like a hatchling grasping at their mother's wings for attention. I just don't want to be alone anymore.

-Kyrja.

I don't know how to stop the bleeding it won't stop it won't stop it won't stop it won't stop

---

Her breathing is settled, thank the gods. I was so worried...

I'm glad my training from my childhood came so easily to the forefront of my mind. I'm no healer, but at least I was able to prevent her from bleeding out. Gods, I don't know what I would have done if she had died--

No, don't think about that.

---

There's only a handful of the Pack left. Almost all of the Steelhounds were decimated by the vines. Most of the wraith-hounds survived, taking more intangiable forms, but even then some of them were drowned out by the sheer Nature magic that permeated the area.

Gear is dead. Wire spends much of their time by Kalea's side. The Birds, as Kalea likes to call them, spends their time by Mellori. Lark took considerable damage, though I've patched her up as best as I can. Lonan is barely alive--although he seems as unconcerned as he can be. Much of him has faded away to a more spectral shape anyways. It seems he had more umbra wolf in him than anyone of us could have realized.

I'll have to go hunting soon.

---

Leaving Mom and Kalea alone was...terrifying. Linnet and a few of the hounds accompanied me, but much of what's left the Pack stayed to guard them. The scent of blood is still thick--Gods, any predator or scavenger could simply come along and kill us...

Stop being so afraid. You're Plague, dammit. You survive.

---

Plaguebringer must be looking out for us. Between myself and a few of the Packmembers, we managed to find a nest of dappled cluckers. They'll keep us going for a few more days at least. Kalea's eating, and I've been struggling to get Mom to eat.

---

I was right.

A scavenger--a few mirrors, likely clanless nomads searching for a larger pack to join--came across the scent trail. Unfortunately for them, they didn't expect to face an imperial at the end of it. They've left numerous injuries, but they're mild compared to what's happening to Mom and Kalea.

It seems silly--I know the Plaguebringer truly has little stake in our survival--but I left parts of the carcass out as an offering. I'm becoming more like a child every day.

My parents would be disappointed.

---

My name is Valkyrie, daughter of the Bone Castle. If you find this, please help me. I can't do this alone.