#probably wrote scratch too much like a werewolf but whatevs

[bennydwight]

A dialogue snippet that turned into this:

Standoff (TGAMM Oneshot: Spoilers for season 2)

Summary: Half-feral, trapped in a snare barely big enough for his fluctuating form and Oliver Chen's gun trained directly at his head, Scratch is out of options.

So why isn't Ollie taking the shot?

Intrinsically, Scratch was a pretty simple, lazy guy. He liked an easy routine, a familiar path. The hardest work he did most days was figuring out how to avoid hard work. He didn’t have the patience for strategy (why, when cheating was faster and easier?) and trying to think in multiple directions at once just sapped his strength and made his head hurt. All that variety, all that junk humans did to ‘better their mind’ was just so hard.

Astonishingly, it was made ten times harder when he was near bursting out of a containment unit, a wide barreled gun trained directly between his eyes.

He couldn’t even pinpoint where everything had gone wrong, too much focus funneled into clamping down on a base instinct: trapped in a snare barely large enough for his normal size and his afterlife on the line, Scratch’s scare form had started to take over.

He strained against the effort of keeping his ectoplasm intact, phantom breaths coming in rapid huffs even as his teeth lengthened, spines burst from his arms, his shape swelled and pressed dangerously against unyielding steel and electrons. Somewhere, quietly in the back of his mind and underneath the screaming need to SCARE SCARE SCARE SCARE, he realized dimly that he’d never been afraid of being crushed until now, after he’d gained the ability to phase through objects at will. Well, most objects. Go figure.

So it was here, desperately trying to reign in his higher processes, that through an animalistic red haze Scratch glowered into the eyes of his captor. Ollie stood mere feet away, that biohazard-yellow gun a shield between him and his helpless prey, and Scratch acknowledged a terrible gleam of satisfaction as even now the weapon trembled in the boy’s hands.

Across the other side of the warehouse, behind the orangey shimmer of the Chens’s forcefield, Molly lay prone, the tiny movement of her breaths the only reason any of the Ghost Chasers were still alive. Esther knelt next to her, first-aid kit in hand, expression one of barely-contained terror. Not his doing, but he’d take credit. Maybe next time she’d learn not to chuck a knockout bomb at a child. Well, at him. Molly had taken the metaphorical bullet (not a pretty mental image, given the circumstances), and if anything happened to her then Scratch was going to make all their lives a living hell.

Provided he got out unscathed. Somewhere, out of the thick of battle, Andrea fought to take the snare’s electronics offline, and no doubt June was blocking every attack with equal fervor. And even with legs as long as Libby’s, it would take too much time for her to reach the McGee’s house and bring back Pete and Sharon. Time Scratch didn’t have.

Imprisoned, half feral with the urge to survive, and one finger twitch away from total erasure, Scratch was out of options. Just him and Ollie, and the trap and the gun.

And the father.

Ruben stood, face and hands pressed against the forcefield, vibrating with adrenaline. His attention laser focused to his son, caught on the opposite side with the enemy (that was Scratch, he had enemies now), the shouts of excitement and encouragement died at Ollie’s hesitation and veered distinctly into confusion and urgency.

“Finish it, Ollie, it’s trying to take attack form! End it before it escapes!”

Ollie’s only acknowledgement was the hitch of his shoulders, eyes locked with Scratch in a way that felt like he was missing context. Scratch had seen this boy’s hatred firsthand, he put things on the internet that should not be there, so what stopped him now?

A memory flashed to mind: Molly throwing herself in front of the knockout bomb, and someone shouting ‘NO’ nearby, and Scratch swelled painfully against the snare as a fresh wave of rage tore through his ectoplasm like the hiss from behind his fangs.

Ah. So now he knew.

“We’re so close, Ollie,” Ruben continued to not shut up, voice like fingernails down Scratch’s strained self-control. “Our family’s whole legacy has led up to this! You can give us everything we’ve ever dreamed, just pull the trigger!”

The monster was caged, and still fear shone like a beacon behind Ollie’s eyes. Everything they’d worked for at his feet and he still didn’t move. Didn’t look away.

Scratch was not a smart man on the best of days and now, claws scoring uneven grooves in the ground as their length oscillated with his concentration, he was grossly, hilariously far from his best. “Do it kid,” Scratch snarled, sucking harsh breaths from between gritted teeth. “You know what it’ll cost ya.”

“Do it, Ollie! This is our only chance!”

A long beat passed.

Ollie’s hands shook, but his trigger finger didn’t waver.

From outside, a roar, and then a scream. Good old Geoff. The Chens’s heads whipped towards the door, and their combined fear-smell nearly whited out Scratch’s mind for good.

“Go help June!” Ollie’s voice pitched high with terror, and something else that tugged Scratch’s mind back to clarity. Surprise registered through the darkness clouding his mind as his parents obeyed, gathering a limp Molly into their arms, and a strange quiet settled over the warehouse.

And then, there were two.

Most of the threat and the fear-smell were gone, but Ollie still had a gun to his head and Scratch was still angry. His hue shifted, deepening to a sickly green, mouth stretching wide in a grotesque grin. “So what’ll it be, Ollie? Gonna finish me yourself? Or gonna make your daddy do it for you?” The snare creaked ominously as his growth strained the limits. The ropes of plasma burned fierce red lines through the green, but he barely registered the pain. “Either way, she’ll never talk to you again. Won’t even look at you. She thought better of you, y’know. Tried her darnedest to change your mind. You want her to wake up and find out she failed?”

Ollie’s eyes hardened, and Scratch’s temperature dropped several degrees. He really should’ve known better by now than to make calculated risks, this one might’ve just cost him his life.

Ollie’s hand moved, and Scratch bit back a flinch before watching it dip into a pocket and emerge with a square device. As he pressed the giant, terrifying button right in the middle, Scratch braced for pain.

Instead, the pressure around him retreated, and Scratch floated up into the air. Free.

Free, and alone with the Ghost Chaser, who kept the gun trained on his head even as scared tears pooled at the corners of his eyes.

They stared at each other in a stalemate, Ollie unwilling to put down his weapon and Scratch wobbling between forms as he considered whether to put his uncomfortably pent-up scare energy to good use. Or at least entertaining use.

“Run,” Ollie whispered, and Scratch couldn’t tell if it was a threat or a plea.

The instinct-induced haze lessened. If Ollie took the shot, he’d be disappointing Molly. (Who was he kidding, life without Scratch? He’d be devastating Molly!) But if Scratch proved the Chens thoughts on ghosts right, he’d be doing the same thing.

Ollie hefted the gun higher, looking no keener to use it. “Run,” he repeated.

The easy way out. No lie, Scratch had considered it immediately. Molly was safe enough with the Chens, and all he wanted was to disappear into a dark corner and forget this whole nightmare ever happened. He could run, and they’d be more careful, and this whole debacle meant Molly would stop hanging out with Ollie, and Scratch’s life could go back to normal. Save being on the run. Forever.

(Or until the Chens died out, and with Scratch’s luck this would absolutely turn into a multigenerational blood feud.)

Facts were: he was outed, and so was Molly’s connection to him. They’d never be safe, not while the Chens were determined to cleanse the world of ghostkind.

Scratch took a deep breath and thought of his family, and the last of his spines smoothed and his colour returned to its natural blue and his shape stabilized. It might’ve been easier to go underground, but even these past few months of avoiding their (many, many) ghost traps had triggered an exhaustion that would’ve been called bone-deep if he’d had bones. He didn’t want to put his family through that, and frankly, Scratch was just damn tired. All he wanted was to sleep for a century.

He'd finish this first.

“Look, Ollie,” he started, relieved to find the bass in his voice had returned to normal. “As far as ghosts go, I’m a pretty lazy guy. Rather take a nap, y’know? All that exercise ain’t good for you.”

Ollie’s eyes darted to the side, face screwing up in that ‘um actually’ wince that Molly liked to adopt whenever she annoyed him enough to bring up the flat-earth theory. The first flicker of character he’d shown since this whole standoff started. “Not how that works, but what do you mean?”

Scratch smiled at his mortal enemy, and somehow it felt natural. “Means I’m tired of running, kid.”

 END

[velvetjune]

Alan Wake Night Springs DLC spoilers and thoughts:

This is very vague, but this really was the most Remedy thing to ever exist. My brain exploded at some point from Everything. Good game—you can tell those developers had the time of their life making all this. looking forward to the Lake House as something more serious and similar to the main game/tone.

Episode one with Rose was the best! Stunning from the start until the end and had the funniest moments in any Remedy game. [Rose voice] “𝖎 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖈𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚”

That fanart was SO good and could’ve been drawn by any irl Alan Wake fan. I can’t even say another or act like it’s embarrassing because I also think Alan is hot. So. Same Rose.

Bad boy Scratch being a werewolf.. Cat boy Alan (and the fucking Nightmare on Elm Street crop top fanart of him) being comically weak and in distress.. Rose dipping him at the end was unbelievably hilarious. Reject alpha male Scratch and embrace wet cat Alan. Every few minutes I had to remind myself that Alan technically wrote this,, his mind,, his perception of himself is incredible

That episode also was fun all around to play. Endless ammo and fun effects with the automatic shotgun. Rose slowly getting covered in blood. She’s already one of my favorite characters after this—she’s cringey in the best (and scarily realistic) ways. I support her

Episode 2: wish this one was longer because I missed Jesse and her awkward and aggressive conversations with others. I thought Dylan would pop up at some point, but of course Alan wrote himself into this twist ending. Couldn’t stop laughing with that. It felt just like the Night Springs eps of Alan Wake 1 lol.

I had the most trouble with some of the sections of this game, but it was fun, mostly just felt like a fool for not initially understanding it. The secret agency and clear references to the Board and FBC were everything. It was just Control: Coffee edition.

Episode 3: Death Rally Tom !! I was beyond happy seeing this. Always nice to see more Zane.

I’m not very familiar with Quantum Break outside of the general story and beginning, so the last episode was So Much. Initial thought: Please no Jesse and Tim in Control 2. It’s almost certainly supposed to be because of Quantum Break, but that version of her waiting for Tim came out of nowhere for me lol (also 😔 because I either want her to be with Emily or not get with someone at all—Control Jesse is so far from Beth Quantum Break/Lisa imo). The “but maybe…” multiverse romance was. whatever. cheesy but in a more negative way.

Another thing that makes me somewhat relieved this is the whacky DLC is that it does address a lot of the vague unanswered questions of the game in the typical sci-fi way (and probably a big win for theorists), and I want to keep that away from most of the main games. I like not knowing things lmao. It’s not a huge deal and I love all the crossovers/realities, but I want future AW (if 3 happens) and Control games to still largely focus on the mysterious horror without anything too definitive or distracting. I’m mostly okay with it here because this is Also an episode written by Alan and hosted by Door, so it’s not reliable—even if I’m sure this is what Remedy envisions when writing these games.

^ something something “In a horror story the victim keeps asking why, but there can be no explanation and there shouldn't be one. The unanswered mystery is what stays with us the longest and is what we'll remember in the end.”

However looooved how the third episode changed the style of the game repeatedly. The very last scene where the words form the writers room and Alan before it abruptly ends was great and the standout of the ep.

I’m not going to try to unpack all this, but it’s interesting how Alan and Door present themselves as being these largely antagonistic forces in this DLC. They’re an underrated duo (the two Masters of Many Worlds). Everything felt like it was Alan purposefully trying to imprint on these realities and influence things in his writing, making certain things parallel his life and circumstances. Reminded me of him attempting to get the irl Koskela brothers to kill each other to get out of the Dark Place. Hard to tell what’s really the truth.

I like Door too much to be scared of him. The jump scares were nicely paced throughout and the echoes of Tim/Shawn/Jack fighting him were interesting.

The tribute for James McCaffrey at the end was emotional and lovely.

[darriness]

Klaine Fic: Premonition

Author: darriness

Word Count: 1179

Summary: A vampire meets a boy.

Author's Note: Hello! So last year I wrote a fic entitled Care where Kurt was a vampire and Blaine was a werewolf. This year I decided to go back and fill in some of the blanks in that story (and it's October so I thought it was fitting!). I don't know how many parts this one will have (I'm part way through writing part 2) but I have been stalled in my writing for the last few months and this has been the first piece since July that I've felt like posting. I hope you enjoy it! You don't have to have read Care in order to read this but you may want to after it's done! :)

AO3 Link

Kurt quickly drops the pencil in his hand and smoothes his features into a neutral expression. He stares forward, trying to ignore the eyes he can feel on him, but eventually (probably quicker than he would have two months ago - his reactions have been on a hair trigger since that night) he can handle it no longer and glares across the room.

The eyes that had been on him widen slightly before they turn back to the front of the room.

Good. Kurt thinks with a nod. The less attention he draws toward himself the better and if people are afraid of him? That can only help.

Kurt’s attention swings back to the front of the room. He tries to focus back on the teacher currently lecturing about the Civil War, but...he can feel that nagging sensation creeping back in. The temporary distraction of the curious onlooker had been just that - temporary.

Kurt almost growls as he tries to use his tongue to ease the sensations in his mouth. It’s almost a...tickle. It feels like an itch he just can’t scratch. The pencil had been doing an okay job, but clearly it drew too much unwanted attention.

God, he’s had these things for two months, why are they just NOW starting to itch?

Kurt wouldn’t say the adjustment to being a vampire had been, or is, an easy one. Since getting bitten two months ago, just after his eighteenth birthday (GREAT birthday present, Uniserve), he’s had to deal with heightened senses, a thirst for blood, a desire to murder every living creature, a decrease in the need for most human bodily functions, and now...itchy gums.

Out of all the things he’s had to get used to in his new life (or rather un-life?), this one is pretty far down on the ‘fuck shit crap’ scale, but it’s also super annoying. His urge to murder things is rising the more his gums itch.

Mercifully, the bell rings to end the period. If becoming a vampire weren’t bad enough, he still has to contend with finishing his senior year of high school. Only he would end up with the only father in history to have a son turn into a vampire and still insist he complete his education…

Kurt tries to leave the classroom as slowly as possible, but the less time he spends in a group of people the better for everyone involved. He’s got his lunch period now and he figures he’ll spend it under some secluded trees in the courtyard - soak up some of that early May sun.

He had been quite pleased to discover that, unlike all the stories he’s ever heard, the sun does absolutely nothing to him. He figures he won’t tan much, but he never did before. He was also supremely glad to discover his skin doesn’t glitter in the sun (he hadn’t REALLY thought that would happen, but it had been in the back of his mind).

He’s almost to his favourite tree when his ears pick up movement behind him. He instantly tenses. He never encounters anyone at lunch. He’s new to the school, transferring to this county following his month-long ‘hospital stay’ (re: discovering and dealing with the fact that he was now a vampire) after he was attacked. He and his father thought it would be best to leave his old life behind and while Kurt had thought he’d feel some sort of sadness leaving his old friends behind, he found his new nature left very little room for such feelings.

He’s on alert as he hears the footsteps getting closer and even though he’s never once felt like prey since becoming a vampire, he senses the person coming toward him doesn’t feel very much like prey either. The person making their way toward him has no idea they are coming upon a predator…

“Hey!” A voice calls and Kurt whirls to face the sound.

Coming toward him with bounding, exuberant steps is the boy who was staring at him in class. Kurt hadn’t really been paying close attention to him in class (and can’t recall seeing him before today), but he notices the gelled brown hair, polo shirt, bow tie, and chinos now and when the boy settles in front of him with an easy smile, Kurt notices a pair of disarmingly attractive hazel eyes.

Kurt is immediately on his guard. It’s a strange sensation - one he hasn’t had to deal with in two months - but this feeling isn’t tied to fear or the need for protection so much. He’s instantly attracted to this boy, in a very real and visceral way. This has never happened to him before.

He doesn’t know what to do.

“You’re new, right?” The boy asks.

Kurt blinks at him like he’s just spoken a different language. His blood, which pumps sluggishly normally (as long as he keeps a healthy diet of blood, his body functions more or less like a human’s) is now racing through his veins and the itchy feeling in his gums intensifies.

He still doesn’t know what to do.

The boy’s easy smile falters, slightly, at Kurt’s lack of response and Kurt’s body aches that he’s caused this boy any form of discomfort.

He shakes his head to clear it before coughing, “Um, yeah. Yes, I am new.” He says, marvelling at the breathy quality of his voice.

The boy’s easy smile returns, “I’m Blaine!” He says, sticking his hand out.

Kurt thinks touching the boy, Blaine, in Kurt’s current state probably isn’t smart, but he’s already been rude enough and, unlike 99% of his life right now, he doesn’t WANT to be rude to Blaine.

He slides his hand into Blaine’s and tries to control the sharp intake of breath the move triggers. He doesn’t even BREATHE anymore (unless he wants to talk), so the fact that his body would have this reaction is insane.

“Kurt.” He remembers to say before it’s too late and things get awkward again.

Blaine drops his hand and nods with the same happy smile. Kurt tilts his head a little, curiously. Blaine kind of reminds Kurt of a puppy…

“I notice you tend to eat lunch by the trees by yourself.” Blaine says before putting his hands out in front of himself in a calming gesture, “Not that that is a bad thing!” He defends quickly and Kurt almost giggles, “But I was wondering if I could...join you today?” He says it with a little shrug and Kurt is immediately charmed.

His answer should probably be ‘no’ and if anyone else had asked (no one else would have asked) he would have said ‘no’, but he finds himself unable to do so with Blaine.

He nods and feels his cheeks blush slightly (he wasn’t even aware they still could) when Blaine’s eyes light up, “Sure.” He says, tilting his head toward the trees and turning to make his way over. He hears Blaine follow and he takes a deep breath he doesn’t need, preparing himself for whatever this is.

[maxineswritingcenter]

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 25

-----------

2005

It was the semi-finales for girl’s lacrosse. Miraculously, I was made captain as a freshman. Which meant, for some reason, people were offended and thought that I should be picked on more. Fact of the matter is that lacrosse is a game of strategy. Together; with the help of my teammates, we would play to win. Being captain wasn’t a choice, Finstock made me captain and the role was a big shoe to fill. But here we are, semi-finales.

As we made our way out to the play, I looked at the stands. Mom, Dad, Uncle Noah, Stiles, Scott on one end. Laura and Derek on the other side. 

There were fifteen minutes left in the game, the score was tied. We needed to make one more goal to win and get to the finales. For this next play, I was face to face with the other team captain, waiting for the pearl to be thrown. 

“You don’t deserve to be captain.” The girl glared, her eyes looked like they wanted to melt through my helmet and into my brain. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me. I worked my ass off for four years to be captain. What makes you so special?” 

I blinked at her, a little confused as to where this hostility was coming from, “I’m just playing a game.” 

“A real captain knows the lacrosse is more than a game.” She smirked, “When we win this, I’m getting a scholarship to So Cal, so why don’t you just do what freshman do best and lose.” On one hand I felt bad for her. She probably had parents that pushed and pushed for her to be the best. And I also felt bad because I knew we were gonna win.

The ref blew the whistle starting play. And everything was going according to plan. That was until I was passed the pearl. I ran with it, tossing it to another player. Meaning that it was completely unnecessary for me to be tackled and would be considered aggressive. But that didn’t stop the other captain from using her entire body to slam me into the ground. One minute I was standing and the next I had was on the ground. My chest felt tight, like I was straining to breathe. When I opened my eyes, I saw her face over mine, smirking down at me. 

“HEY!” I heard Finstock’s booming voice, “Ref! Aren’t you gonna call that?!” No whistle, either the ref hadn’t seen it or he was allowing it. But Derek wasn’t allowing it. I heard multiple shouts and then watched the player who stood above me get shoved away, Derek replaced her. He knelt down, placing a hand on my shoulder. 

“Derek, what are you doing?” I groaned. 

“Can you get up?” He asked, trying to help me sit up. I hissed at the movement. 

Derek turned back to the bench, “Get a medic!” And only then did the whistle blow. The girl had given plenty of excuses, but they still gave her team a three minute penalty that made them lose the game. Looks like I had been right. 

I was taken to the hospital and diagnosed with a concussion but I would be fine just in time for the finales. The whole time in the waiting room, in the room itself, and even when we got home, Derek had been right beside me, holding my hand.

- 

I had grown to hate hospitals and everything about them since the last time I had been to one I had been stabbed. The gowns with the open backs that were way too open to the public. That smell that was a cross between cleaner and the latex and rubber of gloves. The beds that were as hard as a rock and were covered in paper that would crinkle and make noise even if you weren't moving. That apprehensiveness that would build up in your stomach every time you heard footsteps coming down the hallway.

Thankfully, I didn't have to go through any of that. Since I was a pregnant werewolf, going to the hospital in Beacon Hills was a definite no-no, so the next best option is Dr. Deaton, a veterinarian and a makeshift supernatural doctor. Not to mention a full blown druid in this day and age. But from what I've learned in the past couple years, old magic was very much alive. 

I was sitting on the metal table used for the animals, swinging my legs back and forth, waiting for Deaton to come back from getting my medical records emailed to him by Melissa. He could have gotten them himself, he just figured it would be less illegal if he got them from a nurse. 

Thoughts were racing through my head for no rhyme or reason. Since I became a werewolf, every scar or scratch on my body had become only a memory. My stab wound, the acid burns on my legs, the cuts on my face from being tortured all those months ago which really felt more like a lifetime. It had been a different life, a life fabricated through magic and spells. A life that almost didn't feel like mine anymore.

"Sorry, for the wait, (Y/N)." Deaton walked into the room, his eyes scanning over the stack of papers in his hands.

"You're alright, Doc." I smiled, leaning back on my hands, "So how am I looking?"

“Very pregnant.”

"Nothing gets past you, huh?” I smirked. To be fair, I was approaching the three and a half month mark. Deaton smiled, taking my vitals and a vial of blood. 

“So I’ve been made aware that Mr. Hale is the father.” He said, pressing a cotton ball to my skin after removing the needle, “How's that going?"

“About as well as you can imagine.” 

“So not at all?” He asked. I nodded, shrugging my shoulders. 

"Everything looks normal," He smiled as he wrote everything down on his clipboard, "Just need to get a look at the little guy." He looked up, "You said it was a boy, right?" He asked, moving over to get the sonographer that I’m sure had never been used on a human before.

“Unless the baby’s sprouting a third arm. That'd be cool." I smiled, “But yeah, that’s what the ultrasound tech in Scotland said.”

He chuckled and shook his head, "Alright, lay back and lift your shirt up." I laid back on the table, lifting my shirt up. The jelly he put on my stomach was cold and reminded me of the goo that had encased Jackson when he was a lizard person. He moved the sensor over my stomach and looked into the monitor. Ultrasounds were usually a little hard to see anyway, just like a fancy warschak paintings. And the fetus? Kinda like a funky jellybean.

“There we are.” He grinned, “Little werewolf.”

Craning my neck, I looked up at him, "You can tell he's a werewolf?"

"No.” He took the monitor off, handing me a paper towel so I could wipe off my stomach, “But odds are since his parents are both werewolves, it would make sense that the child would be also. However, you had the dormant gene, maybe your child will too." He turned off the sonographer.

“Have any names picked out?”

"I have a few... I liked Jacob, which Derek hated because it was too ‘Twilight’. Then there's one other but I don't know about it." The name that Derek loved more than anything for some reason, "Nicholas." And damn was it good. 

"What about Nicholas Jacob? Just use both of them." 

"Or I could name him after Stiles" I smirked to myself, "Mieczyslaw Nicholas.”

"Maybe that would be a little too much."

“Stiles is a little too much.” I smiled to myself

-

"So Nicholas?" Sheriff looked at me from across the table, a cup of coffee in his hand. I hummed and nodded, sipping my hot cocoa.

"Nicholas?” He asked again.

"Mieczyslaw?" I raised my eyebrows at him.

He raised his eyebrows, "It was his mother's father's name." 

“I remember Grandpa Mitch, trust me." I smiled, holding my mug in both hands, “I was thinking maybe Nicholas Noah.” I avoided looking in his eyes. Emotional talks were never really his strong suit, especially after Aunt Claudia. I wanted to honor him somehow.

He smiled, blinking a few times, “Sounds pretty good to me.” After a moment he asked: "What are you going to do now?"

I finished my drink and stood up to put it in the sink, "My plan, right now at least, is that I'm going to stay here to have the baby... Then...” I washed out the mug, “Then I'm not sure. I don't know if I want to go back to Scotland or stay here." He stood up as well and pulled me into his arms for a tight hug. I wrapped my arms around him, blinking my own tears away. 

Uncle Noah stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head, "Whatever your decision, I'll be there for you. Whenever you need me. I'll always, always be there for you." 

-

My pajamas had taken a turn for the worst. No more t-shirts and shorts, it’s moo moos and nightgowns from now on. I pulled my night gown over my head, smoothing out the skirt. Did I look like I had raided a grandmother’s closet? Absolutely. I looked down at my stomach, rubbing my hand over my bump.

"Are you a little alien?" I smiled after a moment, listening deeply to his little heartbeat, “Nice.” I glanced over at my desk, then pulled back my blankets to get into bed. I stopped, my head snapping back towards the window where there were red eyes staring back at me. 

 Now, if this was two years ago I would be losing my mind over the fact that there were red eyes staring at me. But since I've gone through emotional Hell, I was feeling rather annoyed by some alpha that just thought they could mosey around my house, around my window, and around my goddamn personal space. I stalked over to the window and slammed it open. 

"Listen, pal, you have about five seconds to get out my yard or I swear by all that is damnable, I will put you through so much pain that your great-grandchildren will be sore."

The eyes came closer, revealing a familiar crooked jaw, "Nice to see you too." 

"You could have just come through the front door, ya know? If Stiles can make a spare key to your house, then he can make you one for his." Scott only looked at me seriously. It was like the kid from three months ago was gone and all there was left was a battle hardened man. 

"Can I please come in?" I stepped away from the window, watching him crawl inside and stand up.

"I've been great, Scott, I've only been in Scotland for months, crying and wondering why none of my friends or family were contacting me. How have you been?" Was it petty? Absolutely, but the hormones were raging. Even if Derek told everyone to stop talking to me, what hold did he have over anyone when Scott was around?

"I'm sorry about that, I really am. But I came to-"

I cut him off, after finally connecting, "Who did you kill?"

“What?”

"To become an alpha, who did you take it from?" 

"I didn't kill anyone!” He said in an exasperated voice, “Why does everyone ask that? Not killing people has been my thing since Peter bit me." He ran his hand through his shorter hair, it suit him.

It then dawned on me. The one thing that had little to no documentation of. Even the Lunar Circle had just the basics. It was the stuff of legend, a hear say. I didn't think it was possible. 

"A true alpha." He stared at me for a second and blinked a couple times.

"You're a true alpha." I grinned, "Oh my god, Scott, this is unbelievable." I grabbed his shoulders and gave them a slight squeeze, "Tell me everything. I wanna know how it happened and what situation you were in. How were you feeling? Were you hurt? Was your body under so much stress that it just happened?”

Scott grabbed my hands and placed them by my sides, "(Y/N), maybe another time I came here for a reason."

"Oh, right, of course." Probably looking ridiculous, “What’s on your mind?”  

"I really don't think it's safe for you here." 

"Here we go agai-" 

"Will you just listen to me before you start whining?" He growled. That certainly shut me up. I raised my eyebrows at him, but I guess I should hear him out. I motioned for him to continue.

"I'm not so much worried about you.” He said, “I know you can take care of yourself. I'm worried about..." He paused, "Uh..." 

“Nicholas.”

"Yeah, I'm worried about Nicholas." He sat in my computer chair and leaned forward, "The pack we're facing don't care who they kill or why, all they want is to hurt us. You're my friend, (Y/N). I don't want anything to happen to you. And I don't want anything to happen to your kid. Please." He rolled forward and took my hands in his, "Please, go back to Scotland. I promise you, you won't be in the dark. You don't deserve to be left out. I'll call myself, and if not me, Stiles will. It's not safe for you.” I looked down, gnawing on my lip. Scott was right, he was completely right. It wasn't safe. I couldn't be a tough alpha when I had so much to live for. Keeping this kid safe is my top priority. As much as I wanted to stay home, it wasn’t safe.

"You'll tell me when it's safe to come back?" 

"You have my word." 

I sighed, looking up at him with a half-smile, "I may be stubborn as hell, but that doesn't mean I can't admit when someone's right. And you're right, Scott. I'll go." 

He closed his eyes, like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He dropped my hands and rolled back, "I'm so glad you agreed with my first speech, if you hadn't I would have been improvising for my life." He chuckled.

Shaking my head, I grinned at him, “It’s good to see you again.” 

“It’s good to see you too.”

- 

"So you're going back?" Uncle Noah looked over his coffee with tired eyes, spying my luggage that had only been unpacked for two days. It was a new day and another plane ride.

"It's not safe for me. It's not safe for any of you." I rested my head on his shoulder, "But I know that will never stop you from helping the ones you care about." 

A small smile pulled at his lips, "You're way too good at reading me." 

"Well, I've only known you my whole life." 

He set down his coffee and hugged me tight, like this was the last time he would see me. I know he was worried about me and Stiles, it was in his nature. This was the best option for me. As much as I wanted to stay and fight. I couldn't fight if my child was kidnapped and hell knows what would happen to him. 

Giving him one last squeeze, I pulled away, the honking outside meant that Stiles had pulled in and was ready to drop me off at the airport. 

"I'll call you when I land. Or text you. Depends on the time." I kissed his cheek, "Bye Uncle Noah." 

“Goodbye, sweetheart. Stay safe." I kissed his cheek. My head held high, I grabbed my bag and my rolling luggage and went out the door. Stiles grabbed my bags, opening the back of Roscoe to throw my luggage in. That was until a familiar black Camero pulled into the driveway, blocking Stiles in. 

"God. Dammit." I muttered to myself. My life was just going swell, wasn't it? I looked down at my stomach and sighed. I felt the burn of acid reflux in my throat, my child showing obvious discomfort as well. Me too, little man. Me too. 

There was no way around it, I couldn’t leave without talking with him. Not that I should have to begin with. I sucked. 

Derek got out of the car, coming around quickly and standing in front of me. 

“Derek, I don’t think you should be here.” Stiles stepped forward. Very sweet, but realistically Stiles wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing against Derek. They stared each other down, the air just filled with masculinity.

“Stiles...” I said, grabbing my bags, “If he wants to take me to the airport, let him.” 

Stiles eyes widened, “You’re really giving him the time of day? Really?” 

Sighing, I pulled Stiles into my arms and hugged him tightly. He hesitated, but hugged me back. 

“I know that this seems like a bad idea, and most of my ideas are bad, but I got this. Trust me.” I smiled and kissed his cheek, “I love you.” He pulled away, looking between Derek and I. 

“I love you too. Scott and I will let you know when it’s safe to come back.”

“You better.” I turned back to Derek, trying to keep up the attitude I had to keep Stiles at ease. I held out my bags. He took them without a word and we both started the trip to the airport. It was hard to get a read on him at the moment. He emotions were dull, nothing that stood out. He still looked as tense as ever. His brows were knitted together and his piercing green eyes looked hard. 

“So...” He said after a while, “What are you going to do about...” He trailed off. 

“Him?” I looked down at my stomach, “I’m just preparing and getting ready for him. I picked a name too. Nicholas.” 

A small smile pulled at his lips, but he hid it, “Hmm.” 

“Derek....” Now or never, “I just need to know why?” 

He inhaled deeply, “I wish I could tell you. I don’t even remember it happening. Like I was under a spell and I couldn’t break out of it.” So he had experienced what I had when I was under Matt’s control. In this situation, in Beacon Hills, there was no reason not to believe him. His heart told me it was true. 

“I’m sorry that I hit you.” 

“I don’t blame you.” He glanced over at me, “If I felt the same thing you did, I would probably lose control too.” 

“I’m tired of people taking advantage of you. If I see that bitch-” I hadn’t realized that my eyes had turned red. 

“(Y/N)...” He reached over his right hand, placing it on my knee, “Calm down.” I took a deep breath and leaned back against the seat, closing my eyes. Just the simplest touch could calm me down and it was something that I missed. 

“Nicholas, huh? I like it.”

Happiness welled up in my chest, “I sure hope so since you picked it.” 

“I didn’t think you liked it.” 

I sat back up and opened my eyes, “What are you talking about? I’ve always liked that name.”

“Riiiiight.” 

By the time the conversation ended, we were at the airport. I reached for the handle to open the door when he reached over to stop me. 

“I let you leave alone last time, I’m walking you in."

We got inside and checked in, the only thing left was for me to board. Maybe it was a good thing that he didn't take me to the airport last time, because now that he was here, I didn't want to leave him.

"How selfish would it be for me to ask you to drop your life here and come with me?" I leaned on his arm.

"Very. Trust me, the thought crossed my mind. I'm needed here. I have to be here for Cora."

I smiled slightly, "We're gonna get through this. Soon we'll be together again and we can have that big happy family that you deserve. That we deserve."

Derek sighed, resting his head on top of mine, "Is it cliche to hope that this all ends tomorrow?" 

My smile faltered, "Don't believe in miracles, Derek."

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Read part 26 here!

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Keeping Secrets Ch. 21

Keeping Secrets Masterlist

Pairing: DamonxOc, TylerxOc, ElijahxOc then KlausxOc endgame.

The feel of Damon’s lips on her cheek pulled her from yet another repeat dream of Elijah and Hannah. Katie decided to play with Damon and pretended to still be asleep as he kept kissing her in an attempt to wake her up. He kissed her other cheek then her chin, her neck, her chest and when she pressed a kiss to her stomach, just below her belly button she couldn’t help but laugh. He did it again knowing it tickled her. “Okay, okay, I’m awake.” She laughed as she reached down and hooked her hand under his chin, pulling him up to kiss him on the lips. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” He echoed back then reached over and grabbed her phone. “You got a message from Elijah last night.” He handed it to her to see Elijah’s name on the screen with a message under it.

She opened the message, “Lunch at the Mystic Grill, 12:00. Come alone.” She read out loud then clicked her phone off and tossed it aside. “That gives me five hours to hide away in bed with you.” she said as she rolled over onto her side to look at him.”

“As much as I would love that, don’t you have work?” he asked and Katie turned her eyes to the sheets they were laying on.

“Yeah…no. I quit.” She answered. “It’s just another part of my old life that I can’t fit myself back into. There’s too much vampire crap going on for me to actually make it through a full shift.”

“I won’t argue with that decision.” He told her as he rolled them over and laid to the side of her as he brushed her hair to the side, admiring her. “But if you quit your job what are you going to do about paying your bills.”

“Compel the repo. man when he comes to repossess my car? Sell my house and all the bad memories it holds? I don’t know, but I’d rather quit than be flaky.” Katie answered and Damon looked at her with a face that said he wanted to say something, but didn’t know if he should. “Whatever you’re thinking, say it.”

“I can’t see you making this decision a few months ago.” He said exactly what she thought he was going to say.

“I wasn’t a vampire stuck in the middle of vampire problems a few months ago. Now my soul is tied to an original vampire’s, Elena is possibly going to be sacrificed and has no interest in stopping it and I have to go meet with said vampire that my soul is tied to and talk about who the hell knows what because the topic of he and I is going to be off limits.” She said as she rolled them over and started kissing his face randomly.  “Do you see time for waiting on tables and serving you bourbon in there anywhere, because I don’t.”

“Okay, you’ve made your point. I won’t talk you into going back to work as long as you go to school.” He told her making her roll her eyes.

“I’ve worked practically my whole life to go to college and make something of myself. That part of me hasn’t changed. I’ll go to school, make the best grades I can and when I slip, that’s what compulsion is for.” She said.

He rolled them back over and looked at her with warning eyes. “Damon.” She drawled. “I’m kidding. I’m not going compel my teachers…again.” She added with a smile. “Now can you please take my mind off all of this until I have to shower and meet Elijah?”

Damon laughed and pressed his lips to hers.

TVDTVDTVD

At twelve sharp Katie walked into the grill and over to the table where she saw Elijah waiting for her. As soon as she sat down a waitress walked over to take their order. Katie simply ordered fries, something that could be eaten quickly or slowly depending on how fast she wanted the conversation to be over. Elijah didn’t order anything and already had a glass of water sitting in front of him. “Can I start the conversation?” Katie asked as the waitress walked away.

“Yes, of course.” He told her with a pleased smile.

“I have some…ground rules.” Elijah smirked and waved for her to talk. “I don’t know what you had planned for us to talk about today, but we aren’t going to talk about my past life as Hannah, us or you and Hannah. Everything else is fine.”

“Understood.” Elijah told her with a nod. “So what do you do for fun?” he asked as the waitress walked over with their drinks.

Deciding to let him lead the conversation for now she answered the question. “Before Katherine snapped my neck I…” she tried to think of the things she considered fun. “wrote poetry, hung out with my friends and was attempting and failing to teach myself to play guitar.” She answered then grabbed her coke and took a drink. “Now…nothing.”

“I know you’re in school.” She said remembering the history paper on her desk. “Any extracurricular activities?”

“Cheerleading, track and softball, but our coach was…” she was going to say murdered, but looked around the restaurant and changed her mind, “attacked by an animal. So all sports got canceled for the year.” She answered getting an odd look from him.

“You don’t come across as the kind of girl who would enjoy cheerleading.” He said with a look that said he was intrigued.

“Yeah, I know. My grandfather pushed me into it. Plus it’s actually kind of fun pretending to be super peppy.” Katie said as she crossed her arms over her chest. “What about you? Ever go to college?”

“Unfortunately no.” he answered then took a drink of his water. Getting tired of the small talk, Katie looked down at her hands as she thought about asking him what she really wanted to know. “If you have a question, just ask. You do not have to be nervous around me.”

“You saw my parents when you were in my head…” she started, putting her hands in her lap under the table so he wouldn’t see her fidgeting. “Do you know them? Did they ever succeed in getting into your inner circle or whatever they were talking about?”

“No. I’ve never seen them before. They went to New Orleans. My family has not resided there since 1919. They were probably given outdated information.” He told her.

Katie bit the inside of her lip as she looked down at the table with a frown. “Right, well.” Katie sighed and scratched the back of her neck uncomfortable. “Maybe one of these days I’ll find my father myself and as him what he’s still doing there since he obviously isn’t keeping you and you’re brother from me.”

“You have yet to call my brother by his name.” Elijah pointed out. “You don’t know it do you?” he asked and she shook her head no. “It’s Niklaus.”

“Niklaus as in Klaus?” Katie asked. “The oldest vampire in the history of time?”

“I am older than him, but yes.” Elijah answered.

“Wow, okay.” Katie blinked. “So do you have any more siblings who might want to kill me?” she asked then placed her elbows on the table and motioned for him to bring it on with her hands. “Hit me with some family history.” She placed her arms on the table and leaned in clearly interested.

He smiled a little, pleasantly surprised with her playfulness. “My father was a wealthy land owner in a village in eastern Europe. My mother bore seven children.” He started.

“So were you born a vampire or…?” Katie asked a little confused.

“How my family became vampires is a very long story for another time. I was born human as were my siblings. What you heard of my brother is true for all of us. We are the oldest vampires in the world, the original family and from us all vampires were created.”

“I have a feeling I’m going to be saying wow a lot during this conversation.” Katie said as the waitress finally walked over with her fries and set them down in front of her.

“My family was quite close, but Klaus and my father did not get on too well. When we became vampires, we discovered the truth.” As he spoke, Katie munched on her fries. “Klaus was not my father’s son. My mother had been unfaithful many years before. This was her darkest secret. Klaus was from a different blood line.” Katie’s brows rose. “Let me guess, you are thinking…Wow?” he asked with a small smirk.

Katie laughed a little as she swallowed her food. “Actually I was thinking…Ooh scandalous.” She said like an interested interviewer then smiled as she picked up a fry. “Please continue the story.”

“When my father discovered this about Klaus he hunted down and he killed my mother’s lover and his Entire family. Not realizing, of course, that he was igniting a war between species that rages until this day.” He paused to give Katie time to put the pieces together.

“Vampires and werewolves.” Katie said out loud. “Klaus is part werewolf…part vampire?”

“A hybrid, yes.” He answered and Katie put down the fry she was about to eat. “A hybrid would be deadlier than any werewolf or vampire. Nature would not stand for such an imbalance of power. Therefore the witches, servants of nature, saw to it that my brother’s werewolf side would become dormant.”

When Katie saw Damon and Elena walk into the grill she frowned. “Will you excuse me for a minute?” Elijah nodded so Katie stood up and headed over to them. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Better question is why are you here with Elijah.” Elena said with a confused look at Katie.

“I’ll explain later.” Katie told her then looked at Damon for answers.

“We just need to talk to John.” He said with a point at John where he stood near Alaric and Jenna who were sitting at a table. She hadn’t even noticed that they were at the grill. Katie frowned and looked back at Damon. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep my ears and eyes to myself.” He told her then leaned into her as he said, “My lips, however…” he smiled right before he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into him as he kissed her.

Elena cleared her throat reminding them they were in a public place. So the broke the kiss and let go of each other. “So much for no PDA for a couple weeks.” Katie said making Damon roll his eyes with a smile. “I’ll see you later.” She told him then walked back over to Elijah. “Sorry about that.” She sighed as she sat down across from him. “So Klaus has a dormant werewolf gene.” She prompted him to continue.

“I would like some fresh air. Care to take a walk with me?” he asked not liking the fact that Damon was now at the grill and most likely wasn’t keeping his ears to himself.

Katie looked down at her cold fries and watered down coke. “Sure.” She stood up and pulled cash out of her pocket.

“I have already covered the bill.” He spoke up as he stood from the chair.

“But all you had was water.” she argued with a point at the glass of water on the table.

“A gentleman never allows the lady to pay.” He argued back making Katie smile. “Shall we?” he asked motioning for her to go first.

She put the money back into her pocket and they went outside, him opening the door for her like the gentleman he was. “Thank you.” she told him with a polite smile as she stepped outside. Realizing that they were out in the sun she turned her eyes to his hands.

“Trying to see if I wear a daylight ring?” He asked as he held up his hand for her to see the lapis lazuli ring on his right hand. He then dropped it and held his arm out for her to take as they walked.

“I thought nothing could kill you.” she said as she took his offered arm, slipping hers though it. Touching him even over the layers of his nice suit caused the feelings she always had when near him to stir in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t help looking up at him to see if he felt it too.

He gave her a small smile that told her he did. “That’s not entirely true.” He told her as they slowly walked down the sidewalk. “The witches won’t allow anything truly immortal to walk the earth. Every creature needs to have weaknesses in order to maintain the balance.” Katie looked across her shoulder at him curiously. “So while the sun will not kill me it still burns.”

“What about fire?” Katie asked then glanced ahead of them.

“It hurts, but it will not kill me nor will a werewolf bite.” He answered. “I hope you will forgive me for not telling you what will kill me.”

Katie looked up at him. “If you didn’t already know what would kill me I wouldn’t tell you either, no offense.” They walked quietly for a minute as Katie thought about what all he had told her. “So if the sun won’t kill you, why does Klaus want the sun and moon curse broken?”

“Ah, the curse of the sun and the moon.” He said as he looked around them with a smile.

“Why do you say it like that?” she asked looking across her shoulder at his handsome face.

“Because it’s not real.” He told her straight out making Katie give him a tilt of her head with furrowed brows. “Klaus and I planted that story in Roman scrolls, African carvings, Aztec sketches and any other culture or continent we felt like.”

“Why?” Katie asked as she placed her other hand on his arm.

“The easiest way to discover the existence of a doppelganger or to get your hands on some long, lost moon stone is to have every single member of two warring species on the lookout for it.” he answered making her stare at him.

“So what do you need the moon stone and Elena for if not to break the sun and moon curse?” she asked not taking her eyes off of him as they walked. The smile he gave her suggested she already knew the answer to that question. “Oh my god.” Katie gasped and stopped walking and let go of Elijah’s arm. “He wants to unlock his werewolf gene.”

“Yes. If allowed, Klaus would sire his own bloodline. He’d build his own race, endangering not just vampires, but everyone.” Elijah told her as he walked around her to stand face to face with her.

“Do you plan on letting him do that?” Katie asked with wide, scared eyes. “I mean, you already admitted to helping him plant the sun and moon story all over the world.”

“I helped him because I loved him. That’s changed, now he must die.” He told her and she just stared at him. “I promise you, I will not let him hurt you.” He told her as he slid his hand over her cheek.

Hating the way skin to skin contact with him made her feel she grabbed his wrist and took his hand off of her. “Can I ask how you’re planning on killing him?” she asked as she looped her arm back through his so that they were now walking back to the grill, facing the setting sun.

“I’m sorry. I can not reveal that information to you.” he told her sounding genuinely sorry.

“Understandable.” She told him with a hard faced nod.

“You are mad at me.” He observed as he reached over and placed his hand over hers on his arm.

“I’m not mad.” She couldn’t help looking up into his eyes as they walked. “I’m grateful you have willingly told me everything that you have.”

“Willingly?” he asked a little amused that she thought she could pull it out of him another way.

“Yeah…” she drawled as she looked down at the ground and kicked a rock sending it skipping down the sidewalk. “Damon suggested that I flirt with you to get you to open up.” She admitted as she scratched the back of her neck uncomfortably then looked across her shoulder at him to see him giving her an amused smile. “I don’t think he understands how…drawn, to you I already feel.”

“That is the first time you have admitted to feeling something for me.” He pointed out making her keep looking at him as they strolled along the sidewalk.

“It’s not like I can keep ignoring the fact that every time you touch me I…” she trailed off with a shake of her head. “But it’s not real.” She wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince, her or him. “It’s just a spell put on us by Fiona.”

“We are breaking your rules.” He pointed out with a smirk.

“Right.” She took in a deep breath and let it out. “Change of subject.” She sighed as she looked over at him, taking in his hair and eyes. “I liked your hair better in the 1830’s.”

“You are flirting with me.” He observed and she looked down at the ground then up at him through her lashes. “Well, I like your hair better now.” She blushed a little and turned her eyes to the ground. “The wild curls were a bit…problematic.” His words caused images to flash through her minds eye and she stopped walking causing him to stop and turn to see a confused look on her face as the images kept flashing. “What’s the matter?”

“A memory.” She answered as she closed her eye to see the images better.

Hannah was laughing as she hovered over him, her nose brushing his as she pressed her lips to his, her hair covering both of their faces. He rolled them over with lightening speed then sat them up. “That hair of yours while beautiful can be quite…” he paused and reached over the side of the bed, pulling the lacing out of her dress before he sat back up, “problematic.” He was clearly annoyed but she just giggled as he brushed her hair back and tied it away from her face with the lace. “Now, where were we?” he asked and she leaned in brushing his nose with hers, teasing him by lightly brushing her lips across his. Needing more he grabbed the back of her head and pulled her into him kissing her hungrily as he rolled them over and sank into her.

While she was standing on the sidewalk with her eyes closed Elijah watched as her facial expression changed as if she was experiencing with the vision she was seeing. When she opened her eyes and looked at him, lust was in her eyes. “What did you see?”

Instead of answering him Katie zipped out of sight desperate to get away from him before what she was feeling won the battle that she was losing in such close proximity to Elijah. He looked around making sure no one was looking before he chased after her, finding her leaning against the back of one of the stores with her hands on her head that was leaned back against the bricks of the building, breathing hard.

He walked silently over to her and took her hands from her head, making her eyes snap open. In a flash she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into her pressing her lips to his in a hungry kiss. He gripped her hips and picked her up, causing her to wrap her legs around him as he pressed her back into the building. As if her hands were not her own she started unbuttoning his shirt as he kissed her neck. But when the lust driven fog that had clouded her brain began to clear she forced herself to take her hands from him, slamming them back into the bricks, cracking one of them. “Stop…” the word sounded pained. He too was foggy headed and her word didn’t make it though. “Elijah…please…stop.” He stopped kissing her neck, but didn’t let her go. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” She panted, resting her head on his strong shoulder.

“What did you see?” he whispered in her ear then back up so she could drop her legs from around him.

“We were in bed.” She started as she took a step back and started buttoning his shirt. “My hair was in both of our faces, getting on your nerves. I thought your aggravation was funny.” It was obvious to both of them that she was only buttoning his shirt out of the need to touch him. “You tied it back from my face and we started kissing and…” she breathed hard just from talking about it as she buttoned the last button, under his tie.

“I remember.” He told her as she made herself step back and take her hands off of him. “Please, let me give you your memories.” He almost begged, the desperation in his voice surprising her.

“I’ve told you why I don’t want that.” She argued. “No.”

“Perhaps they don’t have to come from me.” He started as he cupped her face in his hand. “A witch once put a dam in your mind it could be possible for one to completely unlock all of your past memories, not just the ones of us, but…”

“No, Elijah.” Katie insisted. “I’m sorry, we obviously loved each other…a lot, but I love Damon. I’ve made that clear from the beginning and it’s still true now despite my mixed signals today.” Part of her wanted to throw herself at him again and another part wanted to run to Damon. “If I have fulfilled my part of yesterday’s agreement I would very much like to go home now.” She looked around them just now realizing that it had gotten dark outside.

When she looked back at him she brought her hand up to grab the wrist of his hand that was still on her face. He leaned down and brushed his lips across hers like she had done to tease him in her memory. When she didn’t kiss him back he pulled away and took his hand from her face. “You can go.”

She sped away from him to the back of the grill where she walked around it and to her car. She was getting inside when her phone started ringing. “Your timing is incredible.” She answered Damon.

“The blond werewolf has your blond friend.” He told her angrily. “Where are you?”

“Getting into my car about to go home.” She told him. “Where are you?” she asked right before he walked out of the grill and headed her way.

“I’m driving.” He told her as he walked around to the driver’s side and held his hand out for her keys. So she gave them to him and headed to the passenger side. “Tyler knows about us. Jules told him that we killed Mason. To make a long story short Stefan has Tyler and Jules has Caroline.”

“Awesome.” Katie sighed as she put on her seatbelt. “So where are you going?” she asked.

“A clearing near wickery falls.” He answered as he started driving.

TVDTVDTVD

“Tyler is free to make his own decisions as soon as you release Caroline." They heard Stefan say as they walked up to where he and Tyler stood outside of a camper that Jules stood in front of.

"My brother the peace maker." Damon said as the walked up making Stefan and Tyler look at them.

"Katie?" Tyler asked looking at her across his shoulder as she moved to stand beside him and Damon.

"Hi." She told him quietly with a quick, awkward wave.

"Since Stefan got here before me I'm going to let him try it his way before I resort my way...which is a little bloodier." Katie shook her head at him then looked at Jules. "So give us Caroline."

"Let go of Tyler." Jules argued.

"Give us Caroline. Without a full moon it’s not an even fight and you know it." Damon pointed out. "We will take you."

"I’m not so sure about that tough guy." Jules replied then whistled making more werewolves step out of the shadows. Most were carrying wooden stakes or other weapons and one had a tank of gas and a flame thrower. "Let’s try this again. Give us Tyler."

Katie, Damon and Stefan all exchanged looks before Damon looked at Tyler. "You heard her." He jerked his head at Jules. "Get over there."

Tyler walked over and stood next to Jules before a guy standing closer to the camper asked. "Which one of you killed Mason?"

"Um...that'd be me." Damon answered not surprising anyone.

"Boys! Make sure that one suffers." The guy pointed at Damon with a stake.

The three of them looked around. "We can take them." Damon encouraged.

"I don’t know about that." Stefan countered.

"Yeah...I think I'm with Stefan on this one." Katie said looking around at all the werewolves.

"Well then." Damon headed straight for Jules kicking off the fighting.

"Shit." Katie scoffed having no clue how to kill a werewolf or fight in general.

Stefan grabbed the guy who was now attempting to use the flame thrower and used him to hold off two werewolves. So seeing that they were distracted, Katie rushed over and broke one of their necks and when the second one made a move for her Stefan burned him with the flamethrower, distracting him enough for Katie to break his neck too.

When a wolf came at her she freaked and jumped high, avoiding his grappling move then landed right behind him and snapped his neck. One rushed up behind her and staked her between her shoulder blades causing her back to arch as she screamed out in pain. She fell on her stomach on the dirt and attempted to reach back to pull it out, but the wolf that stabbed her stepped on it, pushing it further in. She screamed, digging her nails into the dirt.

Damon tried to make a run for Katie, but Jules shot him in the shoulder making him fall to the ground. When Caroline came out of the camper Jules rushed to her and pinned her to the side of it, holding the gun to her head. Katie watched from the ground as Tyler stood in the doorway looking at Caroline with scared eyes. “Tyler, do something!” she yelled and the guy stepped on the stake again making her scream.

Tyler was about to take a step out of the camper when all of the wolves besides him grabbed their heads in pain and fell to the ground. Katie was pushing herself from the ground when Damon came over and pulled the stake from her back then helped her up and wrapped his arm around her side. “Elijah made a promise to Elena. I’m here to see it’s upheld.” The witch that knocked the wolves out spoke and Katie looked up to see that it was Luka’s dad. “You need to go.” Damon, Katie, Stefan and Caroline all walked over to him. “Get out of here, now.”

Katie looked back at Tyler then let Damon help her walk away. When he got into the drivers seat she looked over at him. “How’s your shoulder?” she asked with a nod to the bullet hole.

“Healed.” He answered. “How’s your back?”

“Healing.” She answered as she rolled her shoulders. “I’ve only had one blood bag today.” Damon reached over and cupped her face in his hand, looking at her with worried eyes. “I’m fine.” She took it off of her face and kissed his palm. “Let’s go home, a blood bag, a shower and your bed is calling my name.” he gave her a smile and started the car.

TVDTVDTVD

Water poured over them from the shower head above them as Damon ran his hands over her sudsy skin. “Not gonna lie, seeing you break someone’s neck tonight was kind of hot.” Damon told her, his lusty voice in her ear before he kissed it.

She smiled and slid her arms over his that hugged her from behind. “It’s kind of my only move.” She told him as she turned in his arms, wrapping hers around his waist. “I’ve been thinking about asking Alaric to teach me how to fight.”

“I can teach you how to fight.” He said as he started kissing her neck.

“I think we both know that if you tried to teach me we’d just end up in bed.” She told him with a smirk.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He said as he moved to kissing the other side of her neck. Katie pulled away from him to rinse the soap from her skin then step out of the shower. He could tell something was as off as soon as she walked away from him. “So what did you and Elijah talk about?” he asked as he finished showering without her.

“A lot.” She answered. “Mostly him and Klaus and the sun and moon curse.” She answered as she dried off.

“You know I can tell when you’re keeping something from me right?” he asked as he turned off the shower and stepped out. Katie looked at him with guilty eyes as she wrapped her towel around herself. “What is it?” he wrapped a towel around his hips as he walked over to her.

“I think you and I have both severely underestimated how much my tie to Elijah…the bond we share…affects me.” She said as she walked around him and into his room. He didn’t like how she was avoiding his touch. “I had a new memory…a vision…come to me when I was around him today and it was…” she could think of a thousand different words to describe it, but none that she wanted to say to Damon. “Like the dream I had in your car.” She said instead. Damon just stared at her, his jaw a little slack. “I…god this is hard to say to you…” she sighed as she headed to her clothes that she had laid on his bed.

“You love him…don’t you?” he asked not moving from where he stood in the archway of his bathroom.

“No.” she answered as she pulled on a pair of lace panties. “Right now, when I’m not around him…no.” she grabbed her bra and put it on while thinking of the right thing to say without lying to him. “But when I’m near him…it feels like I do. And when I had that vision today…it was like dirty cupid shot me with an arrow and all I could think about was jumping his bones.” She pulled on a tank top.

Damon walked over to his dresser and grabbed a pair of boxers. “So what did you do?”

“I ran.” She answered as she pulled on a pair of cheer shorts then sat down on the bed. “But he didn’t know what was wrong so he followed me.” She watched him put on his boxers then turned to look at her with glaring, pissed off eyes.

“Just say it Katie.” He told her as he walked over to her. “I can see it written all over your face so just…say it.” his harsh tone caused her eyes to water.

“I lost control and I kissed him.” she admitted in a shaky voice as a tear slipped. “I made a mistake.”

Damon whooshed out of the room, slamming the door behind him and Katie flinched as a picture crashed to the floor, shattering the glass. Refusing to break down for the millionth time since she turned, she headed to the parlor where she knew alcohol would be in stock. She was staring at the decanter, playing with the rim of it as she debated getting drunk when Stefan walked in. “Are you okay?” he asked seeing the tear that betrayed her.

She quickly wiped it away and looked up at him and his worried eyes. “No.” she answered letting her eyes fall back to the decanters in front of her.

Stefan walked over and took her hand off of the bottle then dropped it. “I have a healthier alternative.”

“Yeah?” she asked not looking at him. “What’s that?” she asked not really interested.

“Girls night at Caroline’s.” he said making Katie look up at him, confused considering she hadn’t heard from her friends. “Both of you have had a hard night, Caroline more so. I think you could all use it.” Katie stared at him, a little shocked that Stefan was suggesting a slumber party. “I thought you, Elena and Bonnie could surprise her.”

“That…” Katie sighed looking around as if she might find Damon, “sounds like the best thing I’ve heard all day.” Her reply made Stefan smile. “I’ll go change and pack a bag then meet you guys there.”

Katie went to her room, tore a piece of paper out of a spiral notebook and scribbled down a note for Damon. She taped it to his door then grabbed her things and headed out.

TVDTVDTVD

Katie, Elena and Bonnie stood on Caroline’s front porch, each holding their pillows and overnight bags like a bunch of preteens, as Stefan knocked on the door. Caroline answered wearing a robe with her wet hair tied up in a bun. “Hey.” She greeted Stefan since the girls were standing were Caroline could see them. “What’s going on?”

“I was a bit worried about you after everything you went through tonight.” Stefan told her with his hands in his pockets.

“I’m fine.” Caroline replied with a smile.

“Good, but just in case, I…uh, brought some back up.” He told her with a point over his shoulder as the girls stepped into view, Elena first.

“We’re gonna slumber it.” she told her as she stepped inside.

“We haven’t done it in ages.” Bonnie told her as she walked inside.

“It’s long over due.” Katie chipped in as the three of them hugged Caroline who started crying.

TVDTVDTVD

The girls sat around on Caroline’s bed surrounded by junk food with bowls of ice cream in their laps. The three girls giggled and laughed, letting lose, but Katie just stared down at the strawberry ice cream that she swirled around with her spoon. “Hey!” Caroline said as she snapped her fingers in Katie’s face getting her attention. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing, just distracted…I guess.” She said as she picked up a potato chip and dipped it in the melted ice cream.

“Well, talk about it.” Caroline told her and Katie shook her head no.

“Come on, that’s what tonight is all about.” Elena pressed.

“Y’all are happy and laughing, I…don’t want to squash the mood.” Katie brushed them off then ate the chip.

“Katie…” Bonnie sighed making Katie look up at her. “Talk to us.”

“Tonight is all about making Caroline feel better.” Katie tried again, but her friends all dead panned at her. “Fine…I…” Katie sighed. “Dear lord where do I start.”

“Try the beginning.” Bonnie told her making Katie smile.

“Okay…” Katie scratched at her head. “Well, after Damon healed me from the car wreck and before I turned I…found out that I was three weeks pregnant.”

“What?” “Oh my god.” “Oh, no.” Bonnie, Caroline and Elena said at the same time.

“Does Tyler know?” Caroline asked.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know that I lost it because of Katherine.” Katie answered then looked up from the bowl of ice cream to Caroline. “You were right when you said that my relationship was doomed from the moment Katherine killed us. I know I should’ve tried to make things work with him, I should have been there for him, but…just looking at him reminds me of the family I could have had, the child I could have given a better life than the one I had.”

“Hey, at least you’re happy with Damon.” Elena attempted to make her feel better, but all it did was make her feel worse.

“Yeah,” Katie attempted to smile but it looked pained, “but just like last time we were together there is someone else in the picture making things complicated.”

“Who is Damon going after now?” Bonnie asked with a frown.

“It’s not Damon…it’s me. I’m screwing things up.” She answered as she leaned to the side and sat her bowl on the floor, no longer interested in it.

“What?” all three of them asked together.

Katie took a deep breath in an attempt to hold it together. “This is going to sound crazy, but my soul was linked to Elijah’s in the 1830’s by a witch names Fiona.”

“That doesn’t just sound crazy it is crazy. You weren’t alive then.” Elena told her with a shake of her head.

“Ever heard of reincarnation?” Katie asked then told them about how she came to be linked to Elijah.

“So do you love Elijah?” Caroline asked curiously.

“No. I love Damon with every bone in my body.” Katie answered then grabbed a chip out of the bag in front of Caroline and tossed it into her mouth. “But when I’m around Elijah it’s like…how I feel about Damon completely disappears and gets replaced by Elijah.” She answered staring down at the bed. “When I’m around him I have to fight as hard as I possibly can to not hug him or kiss him…its torture.”

“You went to him yesterday didn’t you?” Elena asked making Katie look up at her. “You said you were going to do what you could to find a cure for Rose.”

Katie nodded. “I promised him that if he told me if there was a cure that I would have lunch with him today.”

“Did you?” Bonnie asked.

“Yep.” Katie answered popping the p at the end of the word.

“That’s why you were with him at the grill today.” Elena realized and Katie nodded.

“Damon suggested that I flirt with him to get him to confide in me. I couldn’t do that so I was just…friendly with him. I was holding his arm as we walked down the sidewalk and he made some comment about how he liked my hair better than Hannah’s and a word he used triggered a past memory…a vision almost. I’ll spare you the details, but when it was over…I ended up making out with him behind a store.”

“Whoa.” Bonnie said making Katie look up at her.

“Ew.” Elena added.

“Is he a good kisser?” Caroline asked getting scolded by Elena and Bonnie, but for the first time that night Katie started laughing. “What?” Caroline asked.

“Nothing.” Katie shook her head and stopped laughing but still smiled. “Becoming a vampire has changed you…but it hasn’t changed you that much.” Caroline smiled and shook her head at Katie. “Yes, he is a very good kisser.” She answered. “But that’s not the point. I told Damon what happened and he got pissed and just…took off. I don’t know where he went, but I’m afraid he’s going to do something stupid.”

Elena pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed Stefan. “Hey, is Damon there?” she asked and Katie could hear Stefan on the other end of the line. “No, I don’t want to talk to him. I was just making sure he wasn’t off doing something stupid to get back at Katie.” She once again heard Stefan’s reply. “Yeah, we’re binging on calories, she’s fine.”

“Okay, no more boy talk unless they’re famous.” Bonnie told Elena and Katie as she urged Elena to hang up the phone. Elena told Stefan goodnight.

“Damon is at the boarding house. Stefan said he’s been in the library, drinking since he got home.” Katie sighed in relief. “Now, what Bonnie said, no more boy talk.”

“Why don’t we watch a movie?” Bonnie suggested.

“Oh, what about the notebook?” Caroline asked perking up.

“No.” all three girls answered at the same time then started laughing.

[bigbrotherlouis]

the bag of chips scene from 'i ate you up the day we first spoke' for the director's cut meme!

whoohoo i actually loved writing this scene and i’m so glad someone asked about it yeeee

(director’s cut meme)

everything eases back into normal. tk picks nolan up for practice, because nolan’s car is inexplicably always out of gas, (this is true, i read an article about it somewhere) and ties nolan’s ties for him on game days, and follows him into his living room to eat all the good snacks nolan hides on increasingly higher shelves.

“how did you even get those?” he asks when he comes out of the washroom and finds travis eating illegal all-dressed his mom had sent down in his last care package. he’s pretty sure they were hidden, like, on top of the cupboards this time. he literally had to throw them up there. (food, when you move countries, is a really big deal. i always want to keep the mutlicultural aspect of a lot of hockey players in mind, because i was a young multicutural person in the united states, and home foods is usually a good way to do it. all-dressed are pretty distinctly canadian, and my cousin gets her parents to send them to her in california, so i borrowed that from her. also i liked the image of TK climbing on the counters to try and get at a bag of chips.)

tk shrugs and crams a handful of chips into his mouth. “smart thinking.”

“those are mine.”

“i don’t see you eating them,” tk says smugly and nolan thinks about it for precisely point two seconds before he launches himself at the sofa. (no thoughts, head empty)

it’s a familiar ritual, this one. tk cackles, going limp so he can noodle off the cushions onto the floor, the bag still clamped in his hand. he scrabbles backwards until he’s out of reach of nolan’s admittedly long arms.

“sucks to suck, babe,” he gloats, except nolan is not emphatically giving up, those are his chips, and he’s not going to let his idiot of a best friend eat them all. tk grunts when nolan lands on his lower half, hard, and pins down his legs so he can’t escape. he sits on tk’s knees and ignores the yelling. (travis “has never shut up once in his life” konecny strikes again)

“mine,” he says savagely, snatching the bag out of his hands. tk huffs, shoving at his legs.

“it’s rude— not to— share— fuck, patty, what are you doing in the gym?”

“some of us don’t skip leg day.”

“yeah, well, some of us aren’t built like a fuckin’ ox,” tk complains, as if he’s not just as in shape as nolan is. “i can’t even fuckin’ pinch you because you’re wearing jeans.”

“now who’s the smart think—  fuck!” (not you, pat. not tk either but still not you.) he shouts, flinching and rubbing at his side. that pinch is definitely going to bruise. tk uses it as a distraction to roll them, nolan’s shoulders thudding painfully against the floor, and straddles nolan’s stomach with his thighs. there’s another struggle but tk gets hold of nolan’s arms, pins them under his knees so nolan’s fists are at his sides. he’s effectively trapped. (too many nolans but what do you do when writing m/m. also this isn’t specific to this scene, but especially in hockey with all its nicknames, i like to write people’s internal narrative with whatever name they probably think of themselves as. that’s why nolan isn’t pat/patty here, and why tk is usually not travis)

“still me,” tk says, grinning at him with undisguised glee. he works the chips free and sits up, putting his weight just under nolan’s ribs so all the breath gets knocked out of him for a second.

“fucker,” nolan hisses, trying and failing to wriggle his way out. “what the fuck, teeks?”

“that’s what you get for not growing up with brothers, bro. gotta fight to survive. survival skills.”

“bud, you don’t even know. sisters have nails and they’re not fucking afraid to use them,” nolan says, his best murder glare in effect. he probably still has the scars in some places. (i know i do) tk snorts.

“sorry, i don’t see you scratching me here,” he says.  

“let me go and i’ll scratch you up real good,” he threatens and then his brain catches up with his mouth, his face going red as he realises what he’s maybe implied. “uh.”

tk doesn’t take the obvious chirp, just raises an eyebrow. there’s a considering look on his face, one that makes nolan want to squirm more and it settles somewhere down deep in his stomach. (so i wrote this scene because i needed a turn for both of them, relationship-wise. iirc, there’s been a few places where tk’s interest might be noticeable, but nothing super concrete for pat or for the reader. meanwhile, on tk’s side, he needed clear signals that pat’s into him before he tries to tell him again.)

“uh,” he says again because his brain is just fucking offline and his arms are still locked under travis��� legs and travis burns hot because nolan can feel it against his skin, through his t-shirt, and this is all going to get incredibly, incredibly awkward in about three seconds. (unfortunately, i love a good run-on sentence to build tension) he’s pretty sure popping a boner because a teammate is sitting on you is, like, not something you can get away with by laughing.

tk shifts, sitting up the tiniest bit, and reaches out the hand that’s not currently occupied with the fuckin’ chips— probably all crushed to hell now, anyway (foreshadowing!! also strategic last mention here so we know that tk is still holding them, and then they aren’t mentioned until the shoe drops for optimal dramatic effect) — and brushes his fingers against nolan’s cheek. he traces the blush from his cheekbone carefully down his neck, pausing to thumb at his jaw, and then bumps his fingers against his collar, where it disappears down into his shirt. (i really liked building the tension here. also this is fully just projection bc i would love to touch patty’s blush once in my life)

“you’re glowing, pat,” he says, so soft, and it makes nolan go redder. he glowers at a spot by tk’s ear, unwilling to look him in the face and see whatever is written there. (would tk actually tell nolan he’s glowing? probably not, but fictionally it gives the reader a good picture of what nolan looks like to someone else. i didn’t want to overuse red-- which didn’t quite feel like a strong enough word-- or blush, so glowing it was.) tk hooks his index into the collar and there’s a moment when nolan thinks he’s going to pull it down, see if his blush goes all the way down his chest— it does, if he’s embarrassed enough. it’s fucking terrible— and he turns his head away, dragging in a breath through his nose. he’s, like, so incredibly fucked that he can’t even think about it without going dizzy. (you’ll probably see this a lot if you look for it in my writing, but i like to add in a “like” or something similarly bro-ish when things get particularly emotionally fraught, to keep it more realistic. also i think it’s funny. anyway, i like the contrast of tk not being able to take his eyes away from something he wanted and nolan not being able to look at it. characterisation, wahey!) it’s better to just not look.

of course, it’s the exact opposite of what tk wants.

“hey,” he says. “look at me.”

nolan refuses, a muscle ticking in his jaw. (this is hot to me idc) tk lets go of his collar to pull on his hair instead, just a little tug of a piece by his ear, and nolan can’t quite bite back the punched-out sound that he lets out. (also hot.)

“look at me,” tk says again, an edge to his voice, and nolan does. tk won’t stop until he does, he knows that well enough. (another look at their dynamic and how well they know each other) he lifts his chin, just a tiny bit, because he’s not going to do anything without a fight. tk’s hand tightens in his hair and it keeps him in place, nailed— ha— to the floor. (i write for the people whose brains make inappropriate jokes at the wrong moments) he couldn’t move if he wanted to, watches helplessly as tk leans down.

the hope in his chest is so thick, nolan thinks it might actually smother him, stop his heart. he’s breathing fast and shallow, almost on the verge of panting, and jesus fuck, isn’t that embarrassing. he’s so desperate, he could squirm with it and he briefly remembers travis months ago, writhing on his very rug and how much nolan wanted to help. he can smell snow again, sharp in the back of his nose. (this does the double work of calling back to an earlier scene-- ya girl loves a good callback-- and also building the anticipation some more. the snow reference reminds the reader that this is still a werewolf au, even in the midst of this. also, once when i was like fifteen, i read something about how to write kisses/romance and it talked about picking one or two aspects of the kiss to focus on-- breathing, hands, the feeling of someone’s mouth, etc. i still use that advice.)

tk shifts his weight and nolan has enough time to think holy fuck, is this happening? before travis fucking konecny upends the bag of all dressed-flavoured crumbs all over his face. (OKAY a lot going on here! it’s one of my favourite moments, really. first of all, here’s the resolution of all the chips talk! sure, i could’ve just abandoned them, but the subverting of expectations was a lot more fun and the story still wasn’t quite ready for them to kiss yet. second, this is tk chickening out. he had two choices and he chose violence. or, like, the buddies option, which is amusing to me because this is not buddies, boys. finally, the full name was necessary to convey nolan’s disappointment and anger, as was the full description of the chips. nolan is upset, and he’s going to notice these things, and that shows up in his internal narrative.)

“got ‘em,” he crows over nolan’s sputtering, letting himself get bucked off onto the floor. nolan wipes furiously at his face, all his feelings a confusing mix of horny and angry and confused, all with the thick overtone of humiliation.

“you’re a fucking dick,” he says and it’s flat, but tk is gloating too much to care. (he’s not, he’s trying to cover, but nolan’s too embarrassed to realise)

“you should’ve seen your face, pat.”

nolan glares daggers at the carpet, the chips spread out everywhere. it’s going to be a bitch to clean up. tk had better help. (makes sure the punch landed, and to give a final resolution.)

he leans against the sofa and waits for tk to tire himself out, listening to the laughter and trying not to get too angry or, like, cry. his neck feels hot, prickling uneasily. he rubs at it with his hand, startles when tk kicks him gently in the ankle. (in order for tk to not come out of this looking like an asshole, i needed him to make up his obliviousness by being observant in other times. and in order for tk to notice patty being mad, i needed to give patty actions that could be noticed, like not laughing along with the joke)

“sorry if i made you mad,” tk says quietly, all the giggles finally worked out of him. “you looked tense (no shit bud) and i thought it would make you laugh.”

it’s not tk’s fault nolan thought he was gonna, like, kiss him. (”like” again, to break up a too-honest moment) it was a dick move but tk doesn't have a cruel bone in his body, so: “it’s fine,” he mumbles and shrugs his shoulder. “it was funny.”

tk preens for a second. “i know.”

“you owe me a bag now.”

“i’ll buy you a family-sized pack. i’m sure they’ll ship it down here, amazon or ups or somethin’.” (patty’s attempting to be normal and tk is attempting to make amends.)

nolan nods and scratches at his face, tipping his head against the couch cushions. (little motions like him scratching his face aren’t super necessary for like plot or development, but it helps humanize characters and i like to add them in whenever i can, as long as it’s not overkill. they can also be helpful in pointing to emotional state without directly saying it.) it’s quiet for a few seconds, just the sound of them breathing heavier than usual, and it would be so normal. should be normal, by all counts, but nolan still kind of wants to crawl into a hole for while. wants to push tk out of the apartment and eat ice cream and google ‘how to stop a crush,’ like his sisters used to do when they were upset. he’s already googled it, a few days ago, and there was nothing but maybe someone’s offered good advice since then. (people make an impact on you, and family even more so, and i always like reminders of how close nolan seems to be with his sisters. also, it’s funny.)

tk flicks him on the wrist. (this is something that tk does consistently through the story, and even though it’s not super important to this scene, it establishes a behaviour in the larger story. that’s important too!)

“pat,” he says and it sounds it’s not the first time. nolan blinks.

“yeah?”

“i just asked you if you were hungry.”

“oh. uh. no, not really,” he answers truthfully. tk wrinkles his nose.

“do you, like, have anything in your fridge to eat?”

“mm, probably not.”

“typical,” tk mutters under his breath, as if he ever has anything regularly stocked besides protein powder and bacon. (protein rich foods that are easy to eat after a full moon, or after a workout) at least nolan has eggs pretty consistently. (also a protein rich food that’s less easy to eat after a full moon, but are easy to make when you aren’t a werewolf) “wanna go get sushi?”

nolan thinks about it. shoves his sweaty hair behind his ear and considers going out to their favourite place and pretending he’s not still fucking mortified. and, like, a little turned on. it makes him nauseous. (i get such physical reactions to emotional things that i write everyone into having them) 

“no,” he says. he’s not facing tk but he can still see him deflate, his shoulders hunching over. “i don’t— no.”

“okay. that’s… okay.”

“i think i’m getting a migraine,” lies nolan. “think i’m just gonna lay down.”

“do you need me to stay with you? keep you company?”

nolan’s shaking his head before tk even finishes the thought. “no, trav. i’m fine, i promise.” (the trav here works as a signal that something isn’t right! it’s why tk looks at him for so long in the next line.)

tk studies him for a long minute, his eyes searching the side of patty’s face presented to him. nolan keeps his expression as blank as possible and stares hard at his feet.

“text me if you need anything,” he says finally, the words coming out slow and gentle. it’s a lot to handle. “i’ll come back.”

“i know. i will.” he won’t, but that’s not for tk to know. he doesn’t move when tk goes out the door, squeezes his eyes shut when the door doesn’t slam into its frame, (tk’s taking care of him, still!) and decides to leave the pile of crumbs to deal with later. (the climax of this scene happened a while ago so this is another little reminder of what happened, just so it’s solidified in the reader’s head after the longish comedown. i end scenes a LOT like this-- two actions, and then a callback-- because they’re simple and effective, and usually sound great!)  /fin

ahh thank you so much for asking!! this was really fun to, like, process through and remember my logic for! i was actually really nervous writing this scene, because i knew the tension and the break had to be PERFECT for it to land right. but i do like how it turned out so at least there’s that. ily!!

[gaygent37]

Calling the Wolf Within - JayDick

I had a lot of hope going into this. I got 4k words in, and just lost interest, so here you go. As per usual, no porn :/ because it would’ve taken another few thousand words to get to that actual porn, and a few thousand to wrap it up afterwards, and that was too long for me. So I scrapped it and wrote the other werewolf fic instead. Also it just started getting strange.

5,021 words, JayDick, werewolf Jason, human Dick, human Tim, almost kidnapping, almost Stockholm Syndrome, almost mating calls, almost explained why ‘almost’ towards end, fluff, borderline crack at time, h/c, no idea why Tim is there, OOC Tim, it’s a mess

For the past week and a half, Dick would hear shuffling in the woods behind his cottage. The first couple of times, he took it as a family of rabbits or raccoons looking for a place to live, but when the heard a tree crack and fall, Dick knew it was something much bigger.

His neighbors said it could be a bear or perhaps a mountain lion that had come down from the mountains. So Dick called the local ranger to take a gander.

“I dunno what to tell ya, kid,” the ranger said, shaking his head at the tree and the large muddy footprints that appeared last night. “Ya see these tracks?” he asked, pointing to the paws in the mud. “I grew up in Wyoming, so I’ seen my share o’ wolf tracks. And if I were to guess, I’d say it’s one hellava wolf ya’ve got there.”

“W-Wolf?” Dick asked faintly. “But Mr. and Mrs. Hanks said there are no wolves in this area.”

The ranger nodded and tipped his hat. “There ain’t.”

Dick nodded slowly, like the ranger was making complete sense. “Okay, so there’s a huge wolf coming around the woods and making a mess near my house every night. What do you propose I do?”

“Wolf of this size?” he chuckled humorlessly, nodding at the tracks. “Ain’t no shotgun in the world that could make a dent in this thing, so I’d move the hell out. Well, that or call in the military. This is way outta my jurisdiction.”

“But you’re supposed to deal with these kinds of things in this area!” Dick said in frustration. “You can’t expect everyone to just move out when there’s a problem to can’t handle! Think of something!”

The ranger stood and scratched his head. “Well, I gotta friend a state over who specializes in catching these kinda beasts. He might have an extra-large bear trap or two?”

“Yes!” Dick said in relief. “Please call him.”

“You got it, kid.” The ranger stepped away for a few minutes to call his friend.

Dick shoved his hands into his pocket with a sigh, looking around the forest. He could see his cottage no more than thirty paces from the fallen tree and the tracks. There were also snapped branches and a dried bloody trail leading to a chicken carcass, more signs of the large animal that had popped up throughout the past week.

Dick shivered slightly and glanced over at the ranger, who was laughing into his phone. Suddenly, he shivered, a chill running over him. Dick glanced around again, but nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary in the sunny forest.

“Good news!” the ranger said, jogging back over. “My friend said he could come with a couple of his huntin’ buddies! Bad news, they can’t come until the weekend.”

“The weekend?” Dick asked. “That’s- That’s not for another four days.”

The ranger gave him a shrug.

Dick took a deep breath. “Okay. I- I guess I’ll just pack some stuff and go stay at the town inn until then. I don’t want to be up here alone when there’s that giant… whatever it is, running around.”

The ranger smiled. “That’s the spirit, kid! Want me to give you a ride into town?”

“Nah,” Dick said. “I need to do some packing first. I’ll head over first thing tomorrow morning.”

Dick awoke to the sound of his downstairs window breaking. Immediately, his hand went to his phone, which was charging on the bedside table. There were several more crashes and the banging of pots clashing, the sound of something very large moving through Dick’s tiny kitchen.

Dick slid off his bed and rolled under it in one smooth moment. He dialed 911 immediately and pressed the phone to his ear, his breathing erratic and loud. His eyes were pinned to his bedroom door, which was cracked open slightly.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Someone broke into my house,” Dick whispered.

“Okay, and where are they now?”

“In my house,” Dick repeated, barely daring to speak.

“And where are you, sir?”

“I’m- I’m hiding, under my bed. Can you- Can you please send a squad? With guns.” Dick tensed even more when he heard the bottom stair creak, louder than it has ever creaked before. “Please.”

“Is there only one person?” There was another creak. The second step. Then a third.

“I don’t know!” Dick hissed. “They’re- They’re making a lot of noise, and they’re coming up the stairs!”

“Okay, stay calm, sir. I’m going to-” Suddenly, there was loud thump, right outside his bedroom door. Whatever it was, had jumped eight entire steps up to the second floor. Dick shoved his phone underneath him and pressed his hand tightly to his mouth, not even daring to breathe.

His bedroom door was nosed open. Literally nosed open. The first thing that appeared was a huge snout. The nose twitched a couple of times before the rest of the beast entered the room as well.

Dick’s eyes grew wider, and he felt like his heart was going to pound out of his chest in fear. He could only see the huge paws of the creature, but it took up all the space in Dick’s room. Its tail knocked over Dick’s lamp, and the glass of watch he always set by his bed.

A soft growl filled the air and the creature shifted, stretching down so that its head was pressed against the ground. Golden eyes met his, and Dick let out the tiniest of squeaks.

The last thing Dick heard when he fainted was the emotionless calls of “Sir? Sir? Are you still there? Please stay on the line. We’re sending someone over right now.”

“…look! You scratched up his face!” There was a growl and a snapping of teeth. “Damn, that’s gotta hurt… Oh, wait, I think he’s waking up!”

Dick blinked his eyes open slowly, feeling dizzy and disoriented. The first thing he saw was the smiling face of a young teenager.

“Hullo,” the boy said. “You alright?”

“Where the hell… am I?” Dick asked, looking around. Everywhere he looked, he just saw jagged stone.

The boy gave a light laugh. “I couldn’t tell you,” he said. “Some cave in the middle of nowhere, probably.”

There was a snuffle and a growl from somewhere behind the boy.

Dick craned his neck and peered behind him. His eyes widened, and he tensed. The largest wolf Dick had ever seen was curled up lazily against the opposite wall, its head resting in its paws, and it was staring at Dick.

“Oh my god,” Dick said hoarsely. “I’m having a nightmare.”

“That’s what I thought too, at first,” the boy said, strangely cheerfully. “But you’ll get used to it.”

“What?” Dick asked, staring at the teen like he was crazy.

“Oh, I should introduce myself,” the boy said. He held out his hand. “I’m Tim.”

Dick stared at Tim’s hand for the longest time. He looked over at the wolf again. Then, he took Tim’s hand. “Dick… my name’s Dick,” he said very slowly, unsure of what was going on.

“So, where are you from, Dick?” Tim asked.

“Um… Brighton Springs… in Pennsylvania,” Dick said.

“Never heard of it,” Tim said.

“It’s a small town,” Dick said absently. “Wha- What about you? What are you doing here?” He kept a cautious eye on the wolf.

“Los Angeles,” Tim said.

“California?”

“Yup,” Tim said. “My parents were in Pittsburg for business, and I tagged along. Didn’t know I’d be kidnapped by a giant wolf though.” Tim laughed.

“Wait, you were- you were taken by- by that too?”

Tim nodded.

“And- And you’re not freaked out by it?!” Dick exclaimed.

“I was,” Tim said. “I’ve been here two weeks though, so I’ve had time to get used to it. Besides, Wolfie isn’t bad at all.”

“Wolfie.”

Tim grinned. “Yeah. I couldn’t keep calling him ‘it’ or ‘the wolf’. And I don’t think he really minds anyway. Isn’t that right, Wolfie?”

Wolfie yawned and flicked his tail.

“Oh my god, I’m stuck in a cave with a giant wolf and a crazy kid,” Dick muttered. “What the ever-loving fuck.”

“Hey, I’m not a kid,” Tim said. “I’m seventeen.”

“Seven- You look no older than thirteen!”

Tim gave him an annoyed look. “Right, and I guess you’d assume I also attend high school and nerd out over video games with my friends at lunch.”

Dick blinked at him. “…Do you not?”

Tim threw his hands in the air. “Oh my god, the people of this world! I’ll have you know that I’m in my sophomore year of college! At Cal Tech!”

Dick squinted at him. “And you still named the wolf… Wolfie?”

Tim huffed. “I- Okay, fine, it’s a stupid name! My parents never let me have a dog because my mom’s allergic, and I’ve always wanted one, and I wanted to name it Doggie, so sue me if I’m living my childhood dream a bit!”

“That’s not a dog, Tim. That thing can eat you up in one bite!” Dick said.

“But he hasn’t!” Tim shouted.

“Doesn’t mean he won’t!”

“Holy shit, Wolfie, you’ve picked up the most annoying person ever!” Tim yelled. “You get him out of here, or I’m leaving!”

“You know what? I don’t want to be here anyway!” Dick fumed back. He stood up and shoved Tim out of the way and started storming towards the exit.

In a flash, Wolfie was on his feet and in front of Dick in a threatening stance, lips pulled back in a growl. He snapped his teeth at Dick.

“Wha- What’s he doing?” Dick said, taking a step back. Wolfie took step forward.

Dick stepped back again. Wolfie continued to follow, growling and snapping his teeth. “Tim, call him off!”

“He doesn’t listen to me,” Tim grumbled. “Besides, you yelled at me, so I don’t think I’m going to help you.”

Tim sat down, crossed his legs, and produced a bag of chips from somewhere. He popped it open and started eating, watching as Dick was slowly being cornered against the cave wall.

“S-Seriously, I- I think he’s going to eat me!” Dick whimpered, his back pressed tightly against the cold stone.

Wolfie opened his mouth wide, and Dick screamed, his knees giving out as he curled up in a ball, waiting for the inevitable.

Suddenly, there was a heavy floomph of air and fur tickled Dick’s nose. He waited a few more seconds before opening his eyes.

He was still curled up against the wall, but now, Wolfie was sprawled in front of him, on his back, giant legs up in the air.

“What’s- What’s he doing?” Dick asked, pulling himself in tighter.

“Making sure you don’t try running away again,” Tim said, licking his fingers. “And asking for belly rubs. He likes the spot under his chin the best.”

“Huh?!”

“Rub his belly,” Tim said.

Dick stared at Tim like the boy was crazy. But Tim did not seem like he was kidding, and the way Wolfie was lying, it really did seem like a dog waiting for belly rubs.

Wolfie turned his head towards Dick, his golden eyes wide. And holy shit, he looked sad.

“Stop- Stop that,” Dick said weakly. “I thought you were going to eat me.”

Wolfie let out a whine and wiggled even closer.

Dick stared at him for a couple more seconds before giving in to the puppy-dog eyes. He placed his trembling hand on Wolfie’s stomach, pushing down several inches of fur, which were surprising soft.

Very tentatively, Dick moved his hand back and forth. Wolfie gave a rumble of pleasure.

“Oh my god, he likes it,” Dick said in a near-hysterical voice.

“Told you,” Tim said smugly, opening his second bag of chips. “Get the spot under his chin.”

Dick looked over at Wolfie’s head, which was arched back in response. “Er, how? I’m stuck here.”

“Climb on top of him,” Tim said. “And use both hands.”

Dick was not keen on the idea of climbing onto Wolfie’s stomach, but after another brief stare down with the sad golden eyes, Dick uncurled himself and slowly put one leg over Wolfie’s stomach, straddling him.

Then, Dick slowly pulled himself up until his legs were behind Wolfie’s front legs, and he could comfortably reach over and scratch under Wolfie’s chin.

Dick took a deep breath and reached forward. Suddenly, he was slammed down flat against Wolfie’s chest, his face pressed into the soft fur. He could feel Wolfie’s giant legs wrapped around him.

“Aww, he wants a hug,” Tim laughed. “Lucky you, Dick. I’ve never gotten a hug before.”

Dick struggled, trying to put himself up, but Wolfie’s hold was strong. Eventually, Dick gave up when Wolfie did not seem to move. So Dick just lay there, half-scared, half-confused, with his ear pressed to Wolfie’s heartbeat.

The steady ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, eventually lulled him off to sleep.

It took a bit of getting used to, but like Tim said, he got used to it. Mostly.

Four days into his capture, Dick awoke to his face being gently licked by a soft tongue. “No…” he groaned, pushing away Wolfie’s snout.

Wolfie snuffled and licked Dick again, this time, getting under his neck.

“That tickles,” Dick grimaced, his eyes still stubbornly screwed shut. “Go wake Tim first.”

“I’m already awake, dummy. You need to get up and make us food. I can’t cook for shit.”

Dick groaned and rolled over, pulling the blankets over his head, burrowing deeper into his bed. His “bed” consisted of large scraps of very soft material and larger, thicker scraps for blankets.

Wolfie hooked a paw around Dick’s waist and turned him over like it was nothing. Dick whined, but he eventually sat up and got breakfast going.

Dick had no idea where all the household items or any of the food was coming from. They just appeared out of nowhere, when neither Dick nor Tim was paying attention. The perishables were still cold.

“Bacon! Bacon! Bacon!” Tim chanted.

“Okay, okay,” Dick said with a laugh as Wolfie nudged him all the way to the fire pit.

Breakfast did not take long to cook up – as much bacon as either of them could take, and a large helping of eggs. Wolfie had the habit of nipping at the their fingers for bacon scraps, which would have terrified Dick before, but now, he found it endearing.

It was strange how quickly his mindset changed in four days.

“Hey,” Dick said after swallowing the last of his eggs. “You’ve been here for nearly three weeks now, right? Did you ever take a shower?”

Tim gasped, his eyes lighting up. “Can we go to the swimming hole?” he practically squealed.

“Swimming hole?” Dick asked, glancing at Wolfie, who usually curled around the two of them during breakfast.

“Yeah! There’s this huge swimming hole by here. A waterfall and everything!” Tim said excitedly. “I’ve been there a few times so far, to wash and then swim.”

“That… That sounds perfect,” Dick said. It also sounded like a way to scout his surroundings and gauge where the hell he was.

Not long after breakfast, Dick found himself standing in front of a large pool of water that very gradually became deeper, deepest at the waterfall.

“Wow,” Dick said.

“I know,” Tim said, already splashing into the water. “It’s fucking cold though!” He ran out of the water again, laughing.

“Get in here!” Dick said, splashing water at Tim.

“Hey!” Tim ran back in, sending a wave of water crashing into Dick.

Dick dunked himself under the water before coming up. “Hah! You missed.”

Wolfie lay down at the edge, content in just watching. At some point, he fell asleep. That was when Dick grabbed Tim and pulled him in.

“I’m gonna go climb the waterfall,” he whispered.

“Wh-What?” Tim asked, confused. “Why?”

“Duh, to see what’s up there. To see how far away we are from anything. Maybe I can signal help or something,” Dick said.

Tim looked completely baffled. “Are you crazy?” he asked.

Dick’s expression darkened. “What, you think we can actually stay here with that wolf forever?”

“Well, I-”

“Grow up, Tim, this isn’t some fantasy world. He kidnapped us. I’m going to climb that waterfall. And you’re going to distract him if he wakes up.”

With that, Dick dunked himself under the water and started swimming towards the base of the waterfall. Up close, the roar of the water was louder, but it was not a particularly large waterfall, only about twelve feet up. The rocks that made the wall were at a convenient slant. The only issue was that they were mossy and slick.

Dick pulled himself up onto the first rock, shivering as the air hit his wet body. Still, he continued climbing. A couple of times, his foot slipped, but he was nearly to the top.

Suddenly, he heard Tim yell, “Wolfie, no!”

Dick turned around and saw Wolfie leap from the shore into the water, completely clearing Tim’s head. Dick gritted his teeth and climbed a little faster.

Just as he was about to reach the top, Dick looked back down and saw Wolfie at the base of the waterfall. His front legs were on the bottom rock, but he made no attempt to climb. He just watched Dick with those sad golden eyes.

Dick had to turn away. Finally, with quite some effort, Dick made it to the top of the waterfall. He was very disappointed to find just more forest all around him. For a second, he considered running away, but he thought about Tim – the city boy who could not cook, ate nothing but chips, and was an all-around mess of a human being – and he could not bear to.

With a sigh, Dick turned around again, standing at the top of the waterfall, looking down at Tim. He gave the boy a little wave. Wolfie gave a whimper and a howl, patting the rock he was hanging onto. Dick understood that Wolfie wanted him to climb back down.

Dick gave a tiny smile and shook his head. “Watch this!” he called. He back up a few steps, took a running start, and leapt off the edge.

He did a total of two flips before hitting the water perfectly. It was quite exhilarating. Dick did not get a chance to enjoy the moment because he was suddenly being propelled toward the surface, his body being pushed by the nose of an extra-large canine.

Dick laughed as he broke the surface, allowing Wolfie to swim him back to the shore.

“Dick!” Tim said, splashing over. “Are you okay? I thought you were going to break your neck doing that!”

“I was on the dive team in high school, Timbo,” Dick said, sitting up. “I’m fine.”

“Well, I didn’t know that! It was scary, but also kind of cool.”

Wolfie obviously did not agree. He nudged Dick further onto the shore with rough flicks of his nose. When Dick was a good distance from the water, Wolfie started sniffing and licking him all over.

“W-Wolfie! That’s- That’s completely unnecessary,�� Dick said. “I’m fine!”

Wolfie ignored him and continued with his sniffing and licking, occasionally letting whines from his throat. Finally, Dick succumbed to the mother hen treatment, just lying there and allowing Wolfie to turn him this way and that, checking for the tiniest of scratches.

When Wolfie was at last satisfied, he let his head drop down by Dick’s body, his eyes boring into Dick’s, sad and vulnerable.

“Look, you made upset him,” Tim chided. “He thought you were going to get hurt.”

Dick sighed and gave Wolfie a wry smile. “Sorry about that,” he said, patting Wolfie’s head. “I’ll tell you next time.”

Wolfie moved his head from side to side.

Dick raised his eyebrows. It was the first actual response he had gotten from Wolfie.

“I won’t do it at all next time?” he said slowly.

Wolfie huffed and moved his snout onto Dick’s legs, demanding more pets.

It was the full moon, the first one since Tim or Dick had been taken.

In the middle of the night, Dick was nudged awake.

“Stop it, Timmy,” Dick grumbled, pulling the covers closer.

“No, Dick, get up. I want to show you something.”

“’m sleeping.”

“Please, Dickie. You’ll like it.”

Finally, after some more grumbling and insistence, Dick opened his eyes. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the scant bits of moonlight that filtered into the cave and to register the face hovering above his.

It was not Tim.

Dick blinked several times to make sure he was not dreaming. He turned his head to the side and realized that Tim was still asleep in the bed next to him, cocooned tightly in his blankets.

“Who are you?” Dick asked. He slowly sat up, looking around the cave. Wolfie was nowhere to be seen.

The strange man grinned took Dick’s hand. “I want to show you something,” he repeated.

“Huh?” Dick, still not fully awake, stumbled to his feet, tugged along by the man. “Wait, who are you? Where’s- Where’s Wolfie?”

It was bizarre for Dick to be exiting the cave without Wolfie trotting behind him or Tim chattering loudly by his side. The moon was large and bright above them, lighting the way.

It was then that Dick noticed that the man was also completely naked, running barefoot through the forest.

“Hurry up, Dickie!” the man would occasionally turn and say.

“How do you know my name?” Dick asked, though none of his questions were ever answered.

Dick felt like they had been running for miles by the time they stopped. Dick had no idea where they were, nor did he have any idea who was leading him. Perhaps it was just a very realistic dream.

“Look,” the man said, pointing in front of them. Dick gasped softly when he saw the cabin. It looked like a rich person’s vacation cabin, three stories tall and very large. “Do you… like it?” the man asked.

Dick looked at him. “I don’t- I don’t understand,” he said. “Who are you? What is this place?”

“Home,” the man said with a smile. He stepped closer. “Home, Dickie.”

Dick got a good look at the man. He was a bit taller than Dick, with black hair and blue eyes and a deliciously sharp jawline. The rest of his body, which Dick may or may not have been admiring to distract himself from the burning of his lungs, was just as attractive.

“Is this your house?” Dick asked.

“Mine, yours, Timmy’s, ours,” the man said. “I want to show you the inside.”

“I don’t- what?” Dick asked, having no choice but to follow the man.

The inside of the cabin was gorgeous as well. The rich, dark wood gave the cabin a warm feel to it, and it was comfortably furnished as well. But the man ignored all of that in favor of pulling Dick up the stairs.

He pulled Dick into the first room on the second floor.

“What’s this?” Dick asked, looking around. It looked like a typical master bedroom.

“It’s our bedroom,” the man said proudly.

“…I’m sorry, did you say our?”

The man nodded.

“I don’t get it,” Dick said helplessly. “Can you please just tell me who you are?”

The man’s smile faded a little. “I’m your mate.”

“Mate?”

“I’ll take care of you and make sure you’re safe and happy,” the man said. He stepped forward, pulling Dick closer by slipping an arm around Dick’s waist. If Dick were not beyond confused by his situation, he would not have minded so much.

“I don’t even know you!” Dick said.

The man leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of Dick’s jaw. “You know me,” he whispered in Dick’s ear. “I’ve taken care of you and Timmy.”

Just like that, it clicked, though it made no sense either. “You’re- You’re Wolfie?”

“Jason,” the man said. “My name’s Jason.” The kisses trailed to Dick’s cheek, edging closer to his lips. “I’m a werewolf.”

“Werewolf… like- like vampires and werewolves,” Dick said, unable to wrap his head around it.

Jason pulled back, his expression puzzled. “N…o? Just werewolf. I don’t know any vampires. They usually congregate in the South.”

“Oh! How convenient,” Dick said as a hysterical giggle bubbled up his throat. “I was kidnapped by a werewolf who now thinks I’m his mate.”

Jason stepped back this time, his face contorted in a frown. “I didn’t kidnap you,” he said, his voice low. “You called me.”

“What?! That’s ridiculous!” Dick said. “Why- Why would I call you?”

“I don’t know,” Jason snapped. “You sat at your window every time for two weeks, calling to me! You told me to take you away.”

“I would never do that!” Dick said, a chill running through him.

Jason looked hurt. His arms crossed in front of him, defensive. “You did, though.”

“No, I didn’t,” Dick insisted. “I had a good life, and I didn’t need someone to ‘take me away’ from it. All you did was ruin my life by kidnapping me!”

Jason recoiled, stepping backwards again. “You don’t want to be my mate?” he asked.

“No!”

“Fine.” Jason turned and started walking away.

“Where the hell are you going?” Dick demanded. “You’re just going to leave me here?”

“You can have this place,” Jason growled. “I don’t need it anymore now that I don’t have a mate.” He stormed down the stairs, heading for the front door. “I’m going back to Tim.”

“He’s just a kid!” Dick shouted. “Even if you didn’t kidnap me, you certainly took him!”

Jason jerked the door open and turned for a second. “I did not! He found me! He followed me! He threatened to tell authorities where I was hiding if I didn’t take him in!”

“What?” Dick asked. “But- But why did he lie then?”

Jason just gave him one more withering glare before slamming the door behind him. Dick ran to the window, and all he saw was the flash of a large wolf’s tail before the dark forest was all that surrounded him.

That night, Dick tried to sleep, but he could not, tossing and turning on the couch. The next night, it got worse. Dick could not even find a comfortable position to lie still in. The third night, Dick spent pacing, exhausted but unable to rest.

Something just felt wrong. He just felt distinctly uncomfortable everywhere, despite it not being physical. Dick felt like he was going crazy.

On the fourth day, Dick crawled into the bed on the second floor master bedroom and sobbed for an hour straight before falling asleep. He slept through the night for the first time. But the next night, he kept waking up. By the end of the week, Dick could not sleep at all again.

He had taken to sitting by the window, staring forlornly out into the forest. Dick had no idea what was bothering him so much, nor did he know what he was searching for.

At the start of the second week, Dick propped the window open, his head resting on the windowsill as he stared into the forest.

“I miss you,” he whispered to the silent trees. “I’m lonely. Please come back.”

Not even the breeze answered.

Dick felt warmer than he had all week. The warmth was surrounding him completely, and Dick reached out for more, his hands grabbing fistfuls of the warmth and pulled himself closer.

Then the warmth moved, curling tighter around Dick. It made him inexplicably happy.

Dick’s eyes snapped open to find that he was pressed against a very furry mass. There was a large paw curled around his waist as well, keeping him close.

Dick pushed himself up as much as he could. “Wolfie?” he whispered, recognizing the dozing wolf. He also recognized the cave he had spent much of the past month in. On his other side, Tim was sprawled on his chest, starfish style.

Dick smiled, unable to help the flood of relief that ran through him. He was back, like the past week was just some terrible nightmare.

He lay back down, snuggling even closer and fell asleep again.

---

The second that morning broke, Dick was shoved awake by Tim.

“Where the hell were you?!” he demanded.

“Wha…?”

“You disappeared in the middle of the night, and Wolfie was worried sick! And he was depressed without you here. And I missed you too, you idiot!”

Dick sat up only to be hugged tightly by Tim. He patted Tim’s back and looked around the cave, his eyes lingering on Wolfie, who was sitting by the entrance, his tail flopped over his eyes.

“How… How did I get back here?” Dick asked.

“Wolfie brought you back,” Tim said. “He’s just been moping around the cave all day and night, and then last night, he just perked up and took off into the forest. When he came back, you were asleep on his back.”

“Oh,” Dick said, looking back at Wolfie. He extracted himself from Tim and hesitantly walked over there. “Hey,” he said, sitting down next to the wolf’s head. Dick took Wolfie’s tail away. “I’m sorry I worried you. I don’t… I don’t know if you can understand all of what I’m saying when you’re… um, in this form, but thank you. For coming back for me.

“I don’t really know what going on, but I just know I missed you a lot. Timmy too, but…” Dick trailed off, looking into Wolfie’s golden eyes. “Do you know what I’m saying?”

Wolfie stared at him. Then, he raised his head and licked Dick’s cheek.

“Okay,” Dick said. “I guess I’ll talk to you more when you… I don’t know, change back or something?”

He got another lick.

“Alright then,” Dick said with a small smile. He sat down and leaned against Wolfie’s side, finally feeling at peace.

[defenselesswriter]

Blanket Fort Protection

@darrenhasmyheart sent me this post and welp i wrote a whole ficlet on it so please enjoy

Five years after Scott had been bitten is when things in Beacon Hills finally started to calm the fuck down. Even so, the pack still kept up on their patrols and research and pack bonding even. Somehow Scott and Derek made the whole co-alpha thing work, much to Stiles' surprise. However, it was definitely a rough adjustment period for all involved. 

For the first time in his life, Stiles had a group of friends, and he'd even consider them family, but if anyone ever tells Jackson that Stiles thinks of him as family, he will vehemently deny it. And he could deny it. Sure, lying to werewolves isn't the smartest, but Stiles has learned how to do it. Sometimes, he just needs privacy, and if they know every one of his white lies then... then Derek would probably kill him honestly.

Stiles flinches when Derek throws Boyd onto the ground harder than he needed to. "Derbear, chill," Stiles calls out from his seat on the porch of the newly built Hale house.

Derek growls and flashes his red eyes at Stiles, and you know what, scratch that. Derek will definitely kill Stiles. 

Stiles rolls his own because he isn't scared of Derek, not really. And his automatic response to Derek's alpha eyes is definitely not the most appropriate, but no one has called him out on it yet, so as he does with those kinds of problems, he ignores it until it goes away.

Boyd stands up, definitely favoring his left arm instead of his right. He gives Derek one of his long, meaningful looks that Stiles either knows exactly what they mean or has no fucking clue what Boyd is trying to tell him. It seems that Derek understands this meaningful look because he growls at Boyd, who just shakes his head minutely at the alpha. 

After that, Stiles calls it quits on the training session. 

Once the pack has left to their own places to nurse their wounds inflicted by the alpha (Erica has a broken wrist, Isaac a sprained ankle, Boyd a dislocated shoulder, and Jackson a swollen eye), Derek turns on Stiles.

"Why do you always act like you have any authority over my pack?" Derek half yells, half growls. 

Stiles scoffs at him and falls onto the couch. "Because your pack, oh dearest alpha, listens to me. Take it up with them if you have such a huge problem with it."

Derek huffs. "We weren't done training for the day."

"You were," Stiles says as he opens his laptop and focuses his attention on the screen. A minute of silence goes by where Stiles assumes that Derek has accepted defeat. He starts reading through the Satomi pack bestiary and translating it into the Hale's. Derek is quiet long enough that Stiles forgets that they were in the middle of an argument where Derek was so obviously wrong, as he always is, when said alpha slams Stiles' laptop lid shut.

"Do you live here?" Derek asks. "Did you move in without my knowledge?"

Stiles glares at him and slides his fingers out from under his laptop. "I do have a room here."

"Go home, Stiles," Derek growls at him. "Training is apparently over, so what possible reason do you have for still annoying me with your presence?"

Stiles hums and studies Derek for a moment. Over the years, they have become friends as they both have worked together on protecting the pack and pulling each other out of danger. Derek is even known to smile sometimes, but this Derek in front of him is the same one Stiles met when he was sixteen. While Derek learned how to be happy again, Stiles learned the important lesson of knowing when to pick his battles, and this one right here is not one to pick at the moment.

Without another word, Stiles slips his laptop back into his backpack and gets off the couch. He sees something flash across Derek's face as he nears the door, but he already decided to not pick this battle, so he doesn't.

With his back to Derek and his hand on the door, Stiles calls out, "Call me when you're done repressing whatever it is that's going on." Before Derek can respond, Stiles opens the door and closes it behind him. Obviously, Derek could easily catch up to Stiles as he walks to his jeep, but he knows Derek learned a similar lesson a few years back: he doesn't have to pick every single battle.

A couple days go by with no word from Derek, and Stiles hasn't grown out of his anxiety or constant worrying over people he cares about, so he has been keeping tabs on Derek through different pack members. Isaac texted yesterday saying that Derek was cleaning the grout on the kitchen tile with his claws. Erica called last night to tell Stiles that Derek won't touch the Chinese takeout she brought over for dinner even though she knows it's his favorite. Boyd answered a simple, "Yes," when Stiles asked if Derek was still alive earlier this morning, which makes Boyd his new favorite because Jackson's only response was the middle finger emoji. That's not an answer, Jackson.

When the sheriff comes home from his shift, Stiles corners him at the kitchen table with a dinner of steak, roasted potatoes, and brussel sprouts (he had to make sure something was healthy at dinner). As soon as his dad sits down, he looks at Stiles with a resigned look. 

"I am going to enjoy this dinner before you tell me whatever you did that will upset me," he instructs, pointing his fork at Stiles for emphasis before taking a bite of steak.

Stiles allows his father to enjoy half of his dinner before he opens his mouth. "I just have one question."

The sheriff groans loudly and dramatically - and people really wonder where Stiles got that from? - before dropping his fork and knife on the table. He settles his forehead into his hand and waves his other hand for Stiles to continue.

"Did Derek show up for his shift today?" Stiles asks.

Slowly, Stiles' dad lifts his head to stare at Stiles with doubt. "Yes," he finally answers as his eyes narrow to study Stiles. 

"That was all I wanted to know," Stiles tells him and starts cutting up his steak, but it's hard to eat when he can feel his dad's eyes on him scrutinizing every detail of Stiles. With a groan, Stiles leans back in his chair and stares at his dad expectantly. "What?"

"Why do you care about my deputy's attendance?" he asks.

Stiles shrugs. "Because you're too soft on him, so if he's slacking I can give him a stern talking to."

"Uh-huh," the sheriff grunts. "I know you have figured out how to lie to your werewolf friends, Stiles, but I raised you, and I know when you're lying."

"Technically, that wasn't a lie," Stiles points out. "You are too soft on Derek."

"The kid deserves a bit of a break, Stiles," his dad argues. "And he is one of my best and most hardworking deputies."

Stiles huffs and picks up his fork to push around his potatoes. "I'm just worried about him, okay? Did he seem off today?"

The man across the table relaxes as their conversation shifts to an actual conversation rather than the interrogation Stiles had set up. Really, Stiles doesn't understand how no one has figured out where he gets a majority of his tactics from. 

"He seemed tense," his dad answers as he stabs a piece of potato. His brussel sprouts are suspiciously left untouched.

Stiles hums to acknowledge his dad's words, but he finishes his plate in silence. As he gets up from the table to rinse his plate, he nods at his dad's plate. "Make sure to finish your brussel sprouts, old man."

And if his dad could have growled, Stiles has no doubt that would have been a moment he would.

Friday night, Stiles nervously walks into Derek's house. It's pack night, and his presence is expected, but he hasn't spoken to Derek all week, so he isn't sure how Derek will react to him.

Turns out, Derek isn't reacting to Stiles at all. Whenever Stiles speaks, Derek either flat out ignores it or responds in as little words as possible and not directly to Stiles. To be fair, everyone else gets similar treatment. 

After everyone finishes dinner, they find a reason to excuse themselves before anyone can suggest a movie as they usually do. Once again, Stiles is the last one left as he finishes up the dishes. He keeps side eyeing Derek's untouched plate before he wraps it up and puts it in the fridge in case he wants it later.

Derek disappeared upstairs once Isaac excused himself, so there really was no reason for Stiles to linger once the kitchen is clean. There's something wrong with Derek, and he knows it. He just can't pinpoint exactly what's wrong. 

Before he can talk himself out of it, Stiles starts pulling cushions off the couches and grabbing blankets from the linen closet. He goes to his designated room and grabs the comforter he loves and the pillows off the bed. It takes a while, and he is genuinely surprised Derek doesn't come yell at him to leave his house, but once he's finished, he's happy with the results.

Stiles goes through and turns off all the lights in the house, starting the dishwasher as he passes it and grabs something out of the freezer. Once it's dark, he crawls into the fort and makes himself comfortable, playing on his phone until he hears footsteps on the stairs.

He can't stop himself from smiling when he hears Derek growling, "Stiles, what are you doing?"

"Cheering you up!" he answers lightly.

"I don't need cheering up," Derek gets out through what sounds like clenched jaws. "I need you to leave me the fuck alone."

For some reason, that is the straw that breaks Stiles' back. "Just get in the fucking blanket fort, Derek!" he yells.

Surprisingly, after a few quiet moments, Derek starts shuffling to the fort. When he pokes his head in, Stiles smiles at him, which earns him a glare. Once Derek is seated at the very edge of the fort, he lifts his eyebrows expectantly. Stiles glares at him instead of giving him a verbal answer because Derek is smart and can figure shit out.

With the most dramatic and heaving sigh, Derek shifts so his back is against the couch like Stiles and his legs are splayed in front of him. He even grabs Stiles' favorite pillow and holds it to his chest.

Stiles rewards him by reaching behind himself and handing Derek a carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream (the heathen's favorite) and a spoon. Then he pulls his laptop closer to himself and plays the first episode of Matt Smith's run as the doctor, which is also Derek's favorite doctor and really the man has such poor taste. It's not that Derek's wrong. It's that there are better options.

Once the laptop is set down near their feet, Stiles relaxes and takes his own spoon to the now opened container of ice cream. Mint chocolate chip isn't the worst flavor, but as Stiles says, there are better options.

It takes three episodes of Doctor Who for Derek to actually start relaxing. The ice cream is long gone and has been set aside on the towel Stiles thought to bring in ahead of time. 

As the end credits start to roll and Stiles reaches to play the next episode, Derek shifts. Stiles looks over at him, and it looks like Derek is about to talk, so Stiles puts his hand back in his lap. Netflix asks if they're still watching, but neither of them click the answer.

"It's the anniversary of the fire," Derek mumbles without looking at Stiles.

The words hit Stiles hard, but his feelings aren't the ones that matter right now, so instead of saying anything, Stiles leans forward and plays the next episode. When he leans back against the couch again, he rests his arm on the bottom cushions not quite on Derek's shoulders, though.

By the halfway point of the episode, Derek finally relaxes into Stiles' touch and leans against his side. Wordlessly, Stiles starts running his fingers through Derek's hair. When Derek nuzzles Stiles' shoulder, he knows the man is asleep. Carefully, he closes his laptop when his socked foot so he doesn't jostle Derek too much. He's not sure Derek has gotten a lot of sleep this week and is desperate not to wake Derek up.

With one hand, Stiles pulls up his comforter around the both of them and curls into Derek, holding him close. In response, Derek tucks his face into Stiles' neck and clutches his shirt. They've never cuddled, not like this at least. They've been more tactile in recent years, but this feels a bit more intimate than Stiles is used to. He finds that he doesn't mind at all as his head falls onto Derek's and his eyes close.

Stiles wakes up feeling warm, but not in a bad way. He's more comfortable than he remembers ever being and sighs contentedly. Rubbing the back of the person curled into him, he starts to think maybe he'll drift off to sleep again, but then he remembers who is curled into him.

As Stiles' heart rate spikes, Derek shushes him.

"Are you actually awake?" Stiles whispers. "Like you are aware of your current surroundings?"

"Yes," Derek grumbles, and fuck, his scratchy morning voice is the cutest sound Stiles has ever heard. "Relax, please."

"So you're not mad about this?" because Stiles can't not ask.

"If I was, would you still be in my house, Stiles?"

"No...?"

"No," Derek confirms. "Are you mad about this?"

"No," Stiles quickly says, not even having to try to lie. 

Derek hums contentedly, his thumb sweeping the skin of Stiles' hip because apparently his shirt has racked up a little. "Thank you," Derek says so quietly that Stiles isn't sure he heard him correctly because to be fair, he has been focused on not popping an inappropriate boner as if he were still a teenager.

"No problem," he squeaks out.

Finally, Derek lifts his head and looks down at Stiles. His face is softer than it has been all week, and something inside Stiles melts. As if Derek could sense that, he smiles a little until his eyebrows furrow slightly and he looks at Stiles as if there is something important to say.

"Can I kiss you?" is the absolute last thing Stiles expected Derek to say.

"Do you want to?" Stiles asks, his brain suddenly moving so slowly even though right now would be a great time for it to pick up the pace and solve the puzzle in front of him.

Derek just nods, his eyes darting down to look at Stiles' lips.

"Oh my god," Stiles says, knowing his words sound a bit freaked out because he is. Doesn't matter. He rushes forward to kiss Derek but ends up knocking their foreheads together. "Fuck!" Stiles groans, his head dropping back down as he rubs his head.

Derek laughs softly, nudging Stiles' hand out of the way with his nose before pressing a soft kiss that takes away all of the pain in Stiles' head. Before Stiles can comment on magic kisses, Derek is cupping his cheek and kissing Stiles' lips. It's chaste and soft and Stiles can't fucking breathe because it's perfect and nothing at all like he imagined. It's so so much better.

"You're never getting rid of me now," Stiles mumbles against Derek's lips.

Derek pulls him closer as he kisses him. Pulling back ever so slightly, he whispers, "Is that a promise?"

[jamsiesir]

Hi! if you're still doing things from the prompt list, do you thing you could do 27 for wolfstar? only if you want to or have time obviously. thank you for all your writing!!

Hi! 💕

I have to say that this quote was so Remus to me, that I had to go and prove myself wrong by writing this from Sirius' pov 😂 

(I do hope he isn't too OOC)

Also: I had two ideas for this and I actually wrote both!

Thank you for your request and I hope you like it! (even if it is a bit too sad – I’m sorry, really 😅) 

27: It's not that I want to have you. I want to deserve you.

 --

One.

It is so dark that Sirius can't see anything: the only reassurance he has that Remus is resting on the bed right next to his seat is that both Madam Pomfrey and his friend are creatures of habit; that has been Remus' sleeping spot after full moon since he came to Hogwarts. 

Sirius sighs, drawing the invisibility cloak tighter around himself before casting a wordless lumos with his wand. Remus' condition is worse than he thought: James has already told him that, but to Sirius it has sounded like a very rude scolding instead of a real report on his own boyfriend's health. 

Boyfriend. As if Remus would like to still be with him after what he did - probably even friend is too much of a word right now. 

He shouldn't have dealt with Snivellus after that bad meeting with Regulus and - and that nasty thing the Slytherin has done to James the morning before. 

His wand gives him a little bit of light and a chance to assess the reality of his actions: Remus is so pale; he looks so fragile with all those bandages that Sirius has to stop thinking for a moment, because he doesn't have it in him to keep on justifying himself like that when Remus is looking like this. 

One of his hands reaches out to touch Remus' right one and he caresses lightly the knuckles, one by one, trying not to wake him up. 

«I'm sorry,» he whispers from under the cloak. «I didn't realise what I had done until I told James and he --» Sirius swallows down a sob. «-- he stopped Snape before it was too late» his voice is barely audible. «You three always say that I'm not able to prove any remorse for whatever shit I do, but you're wrong,» only his nails are touching Remus' skin now, without applying any pressure. «I do think about every little shit that backfired against the three of you - every time you, Prong and Wormtail got in trouble or hurt because of me» Sirius swallows, the voice now scratching his throat. «I'm quite good at taking the blame, so that's what I'm going to do» he straightens his back and brings his hand back inside the cloak. «I will make sure it is hard for you to forgive me --» he clears his throat. «-- because I don't deserve it.»

Because I don't deserve you. 

--

Two.

The light coming from the window made the grey in Remus' hair stand out more than it was necessary, making him even more attractive than Sirius remembered. 

«Has it tried to bite you yet?» he asked, looking at the book the man is reading. 

«Twice, but I found a spell to freeze it under the cover» Remus replied, his mouth curving in a tight smile.  

Sirius put his drink down on the table, standing up to sit on the armrest of Remus' chair - arm relaxing on the back. His eyes skimmed through the lines of the page, squinting when some words became blurred.

«I told you that you need glasses,» said Remus, sounding sincerely amused. 

«Fuck you and your glasses» answered Sirius half-heartedly, moving his head forward, as if trying to read better. «I'm only thirty-four, I don't need glasses.»

Remus shook his head and kept on reading, waiting for Sirius to catch up before turning the page. From the way he moved, he seemed aware of the time the animagus was buying before telling him what was going on in his head. His head was cocked to the side while the phantom of a smile lingered on his mouth: Sirius was almost tempted to bury his nose into his hair, taking in his scent, before sliding down to caress the skin behind the ear - it was ridiculous how most of his tactile memories were still intact. He could still remember which were Remus’ erogenous zones, but he couldn’t say when or how he had found them out.

«You know, you did make us feel ashamed of ourselves,» said Sirius, when he was sure the werewolf wasn't already too drawn by the book to understand him. The way Remus had brushed off his statement when they were speaking with Harry earlier didn't really sit well with him. «There was a time in which I think that, for me, the idea of disappointing you was worse than the one of disappointing everyone else» he confided, his cheek brushing against Remus' ear. «Then I did it, I let you down more than once and --»

«I let you down too, Pads,» replied Remus, turning his face so that they were watching each other. «You are quite good at taking the blame -- but you don't need to» taking a breath, he closed the book and moved into a more comfortable position, crossing his legs. His words tickled the back of Sirius’ mind, as if they were supposed to remind him of something. «We can share it -- we can divide it equally so that we don’t have to shoulder too much of it»

Sirius had always wondered how it was possible for Remus to still be this kind even after all of the things that had happened; it wasn’t fair, it was both frustrating and amazing and it made him want to give him an ordinary life. To take him somewhere safe with him and Harry - to get the peace the three of them needed.

«When my name will be cleared» he promised himself under his breath. 

«Whenever you are ready» Remus replied, misunderstanding the meaning of his words. «I’ll be here.»

«Give me a few days» Sirius said, feeling like he has been repeating it over and over again in the last months. «I will --»

A loud noise interrupted him, making his mother’s portrait wake up from its slumber. «I’m sorry!» Tonks’ voice yelled, followed by Mad-Eye’s rough voice. 

Remus didn’t take his eyes off Sirius, giving him an expression that was both exasperated and amused. «I forgot that today I was supposed to patrol around muggle London with Tonks» he confessed, lips stretching. «I will try to get you a pair of glasses, uh?»  he joked, standing up.

Sirius let himself slide down the armchair, so that he was sprawled on it a bit weirdly. «I will eat your shoes if you do.»

«Then, I should get you a muzzle.»

Sirius chuckled at that, following Remus’ figure with his eyes, as the man walked out of the room. Suddenly in a bad mood, he closed his eyes, letting his head fall back on the armrest. There he was - all alone once again.

Did he deserve anything different?

[jackjots]

#10 Siblings

  Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye 30 Day Prompt

(This takes place around Episode 6 )

Day #10 @30daysofwayward

(I do not own any other characters or place names outside of Shelby St. Ranger, this is just for fun)

 “You oughta ask GPS.” Desmond threw his towel over his shoulder.

“What?” I asked, wrapping my hand around the cold beer.

“Garmin Patrick Saget, GPS, he’s usually over with Wallis Gale. Surely you’ve seen them?” 

“Are they the two that sit over that way, with the hats?” I gestured. He nodded. “That’s not the way I usually go, but I have seen them sitting there an awful lot. GPS, and he knows where things are?”

“Yes.”

“Great. Technology these days.” Desmond frowned and I shrugged away the joke. I wondered if he understood the very pun he had told himself. I didn’t feel like explaining it to him. 

“Why do you want to go see Aubrey anyway?” 

I contemplated the harm in letting Desmond in on what I was searching for. In the pause that he saw me take a long sip of beer, I rolled around in my mind his likelihood of being a werewolf. Even if he was, I just couldn’t picture him being a bad person. So I swallowed the beer, and risked it. “I heard he knows about werewolves.”

“Ah.” He shook his head. “I don’t know about that.”

“No? His father then”

“His great-grandfather.” He corrected me. “We all know about that and the stories he used to tell.” 

“Right. But naturally his family listened to those stories?”

“Maybe. Still, don’t you think that’s taking this whole werewolf thing a little far?”

“You don’t believe it.”

He looked at me. “You do?”

I scratched my head. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. It’s like there’s two sides at war inside of me, the logical and the imagination. I know what I’ve seen, and I know what I’ve heard about. I could be mistaken, and they could be mistaken. But there’s too much empty space there for maybes. But even if they do exist, I am not convinced they’re guilty of murder.” 

“No?”

“No. Just because someone is holding a gun, doesn’t mean they’ve fired it. I don’t think judging a group of individuals before you even know for sure they exist, nevermind what their intentions are, is fair at all. People are scared of what they don’t understand. So of course there’s panic. I am more worried about the damage the panic will cause than the threat of the werewolves.” 

“Well said. You’re a writer, right?”

“Correct.”

“You’re used to making stuff up and having things go your way.”

I frowned. “I guess.”

“Just be careful. This is real life. You might be walking into something you don’t understand, however pure your intentions might be.”

I tilted my head. “Do you know something about this Desmond?”

He shook his head. “I know people. And you’re right, when they panic, they get down right mean. And these people, they don’t know you. You might as well be a stranger.” 

I flinched. “I’m not very good at socializing.”

“You’re new here. It wouldn’t matter if you were the life of the party, it wouldn't matter if you were the mayor’s best friend. They don’t know you.”

“They don’t know each other either.” “Pardon?”

“If they aren’t turning on each other already, they will soon. The idea of a werewolf is a person who turns into a wolf, unless - which is very likely - the movies are wrong and they just stay wolves all the time which...which opens a whole other possibility. But if they are people during the day, presumably, they’re people who have lived here for years.”

“How do you figure they’re not new people.” “Like me?”

“The siblings, Artemis and Paul. The podcasters.” He threw it out there with a small nod to what had once been a humorous moment between us, but it was like hearing an echo a week after speaking into a cave and didn’t hit me the same way.

“They aren’t the killers. They could be the werewolves. But from what I’ve pieced together, they couldn’t be the killers. Probably. And because of the lore that I’ve seen hints of, werewolves in Connor Creek is not a foreign concept. It’s far more likely that we’re dealing with locals.”

“You’ve got quite the brain.”

“Do I? I feel like I’m chasing my own tail sometimes. I just want to make sure no one innocent gets hurt.” I paused. “Noone else innocent, that is.” I grimaced. 

“You’re taking on a lot that isn’t yours.” He observed.

I drank another deep sip. This whole ordeal was making me drink a lot more. “All I’m doing is observing.” I said finally. “That’s all it is. Just writing down what I see and what I hear. If it helps, it helps. If it just fades away into the background and I go back to my book and just write about vikings beating each other up.” 

“That’s what you write about?”

“Yes. I’ve always liked humans in extreme situations. In high school I wrote horror stories about spiders coming out of ear canals and other fun things like that. I try not to give so many nightmares now.” 

He nodded. “Will you publish whatever it is you write here?”

“Publish it?” The thought hadn’t really occurred to me. “Desmond, if I write any of this down, it’s just to make sure the truth is found. I’m not trying to get a story out of this.”

“Try or not, you’re recording it.”

“I’ll burn it.” I promised. “Once everything is all over, it’s gone. I just need to keep track of everything.” 

“If you could prove werewolves existed, you’d just get rid of any evidence of that?”

“Of course.” I shook my head. “If they’re hurting people, that’s a whole other situation. But again, I don’t think they are. All I want is the town to go back to the quiet place it was before. This isn’t good for my book writing, honestly.” Desmond cleaned a glass and just the hint of a smile hit his face. 

I found GPS and Wallis eager to give me directions. “Aubrey? Sure!” Wallis’ chipper attitude propelled him toward GPS who whispered in his ear. “That way!” He said, describing Aubrey’s residence to me in detail so I’d know what to find. I thanked them both and GPS smiled at me from under his hat that took up most of his face. Although they’d been overly eager, I liked them better than other outgoing people I’d met recently. I didn’t feel as trespassed in my introversion, so to speak. 

Trespassing on other people’s introversion seemed to be my accidental next choice, though, as was obvious when I knocked on Aubrey’s door.

“Who is it?” He called through the door. 

“Aubrey Dockweiler?” I asked.

“Who wants to know?” He voice had a hint of shrillness like I hadn’t been the first person knocking on his door. 

Just the sound of it made me start with an apology. “I’m sorry, my name is Shelby. I’m fairly new to town.” “Yes, yes, I remember you. What do you want?”

“I just had some questions-

“No. There’s been enough for today.” I was not good at this. “Of course you have. I’m sorry. I hope you have a nice evening Aubrey.” I turned to leave when the door opened behind me and I turned.

“Werewolves aren’t real. That’s all you need to know.” Just a whisper after he said: “But I wish they were.”

[luctisonusx]

Sick Of Vargulf’s || Drabble

I wrote this at work bc I was bored and the muse of Christina Wendell in my head was bouncing around wanting to harass my little baby Caleb so here it is. Ft Peter near the end

The full moon was getting closer and closer. With each passing day, Caleb grew more and more sick. Going to school was hard, but explaining what was happening to him to his dad or Cindy was certainly not an option. His brother, Alan, had commented on how awful he had looked that morning though and now as Caleb stood staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror he realized that his brother had been right. He did look awful.

His eyes were bloodshot and his face was pale -- an almost snow white. His lips were chapped, probably from the corroding effects of all the stomach acid he’d been vomiting up the last few days. He’d been ignoring Roman’s texts and calls. As much as Caleb wanted to be close with Roman, he just didn’t know how to share this with him. Though Caleb did want to reach out to Peter about this, he wasn’t sure if the other even seemed to know much about it. After all, Peter had been born this way. It was in his blood. He’d said. Caleb was not born this way. Everything about him was changing and it was terrifying.

“Wow. You look like shit.” A voice came from the door of the men’s bathroom and it pulled Caleb out of his thoughts. He turned to face the bearer of the voice only to be faced with the person he hated the most right now. Christina. He knew she was the vargulf. He just didn’t know how to tell Peter or Roman and what they would even do with the information. Then there was the question of would they even believe him? The look on her face was one of complete innocence, as if she hadn’t just insulted him. The wolf inside of him growled, begging to be let out to tear her apart and Caleb had to steady himself against the sink.

“Fuck you!” He spat and the girl blinked in surprise, walking further into the bathroom and seemingly barricading the bathroom door closed with the trash can. It felt like a threat of sorts, but he wasn’t sure what being a vargulf actually entailed. She looked so small and helpless. Surely if she tried something he could fight her off, right? Right? It didn’t feel right.

“I’d let you.” She says. Her voice is soft as if she hadn’t said something entirely vulgar to him. “But you can’t keep your eyes off the Godfrey boy and Peter too. Didn’t take you for a slut.” Caleb was literally shaking as she spoke to him. The malice was quickly seeping into her tone. What was her fucking deal? His lips pulled back into a snarl, but to her he looked like a trembling puppy. How cute.

“I made you.” Christina says, “And when the full moon rises, you’ll belong to me.” Caleb felt sick. He didn’t know what that meant. Had her bite not only changed him but marked him as what? Her servant? Her lover? The wolf seemed to indicate that that was a lie, but then again they hadn’t had their first full moon together. He didn’t know what that would be like. His stomach turned with his rage and he heaved once, twice, and then the contents of his stomach were all over the bathroom floor. The action seemed to pull the girl out of whatever trance she was in and her nose crinkled in disgust.

“Gross!” She exclaimed before dashing out of the bathroom, spilling the contents of the trash bin as she ran out. Caleb wasn’t sure why, but he started laughing then, holding his stomach while still hunched over. Spit and blood coated his bottom lip, a line of it hanging over the mess he had made. Caleb wasn’t sure how long he was like that, laughing with burning eyes until the door opened and in came Peter. The usual lazy look that was on his face disappeared quickly at the sight of Caleb and the gore that was all over the floor. 

“Sheeit.” He responded and that was enough to get Caleb to stop laughing and in it’s place, began to cry instead. He just wanted this to stop. He just wanted this to end. All of this. But the end in sight didn’t seem so bright now. What would he become on the next full moon? Was his fate sealed? Would he become a vargulf just like Christina? Would he be forced to be with her in whatever sick way she had planned? He didn’t want it.

“Let’s uh...Let’s get this cleaned up.” Peter said, grabbing a ton of paper towels and wiping up what he could. He took a few handfuls of water from the sink and poured it over the left over blood and by then Caleb had composed himself a bit, leaning against the wall as his legs felt like jello. He sniffled and Peter looked in his direction.

“You okay?” Peter asked.

“No.” Caleb said honestly.

“Understandable.” Peter scratched at his chin awkwardly, half wanting to ask what had happened, but he’d seen the fur in the vomit and he was smart enough to put two and two together. 

“You uh probably shouldn’t be here if you’re throwing up chunks like that.” Peter finally says and somehow Caleb finds it in him to roll his eyes. His anger was flaring back up despite himself.

“No shit, but there’s no logical way to explain this to my dad. Like Hey, Dad, I’m turning into a fucking werewolf and my first full moon is coming up where I may or may not survive and if I do may or may not become a vargulf, but it’s making me vomit like a lot. Mind if I stay home?” Caleb sighs and for a moment Peter doesn’t know what to say.

“I should get back to class.” Caleb says then, finally getting the strength to use his legs again. As he walked pass Peter, Peter lightly grabbed his wrist. The look on his face was the most serious Caleb had ever seen him.

“We’ll get through this...together.” Peter says, “Trust me.” Caleb holds his gaze for a second before someone else comes in. A guy who sometimes bullied the two of them, especially if they weren’t around Roman.

“What’s going on in here, gypsy heads? You sucking each other’s dicks in here or what?” The guy questioned in a stupid tone. Caleb wanted to turn and punch his face in. Why people in this town were so god damn racist against Romani’s was beyond him. Peter let go of Caleb’s wrist and Caleb walked out, bumping shoulders hard with the guy who had walked in, just to prove a point.

“What? Guy can’t take a fucking joke?” The guy asked, dumbfounded.

“Fuck off and go take a piss, man.” Peter said before going to the door. He peaked out to see if he could spot Caleb walking back to class, but he was gone.

[hecohansen31]

Gurl if you got more ideas for them please dish! Lol that's my request, just more of that, whatever your ideas are for them lol

(A/N): Hello sweetie!

I know that I have already started a story about those two, but hey… I literally wrote this supernatural AU (although I don’t know if this could be properly called AU, since Roman is already a supernatural being) a few months ago and it was supposed to be about an OC insert (so if you see Heco, sorry it’s reader) and it was supposed to be actually MichaelxReaderXIvar… but I feel like Roman is just more fitting, so…

I really hope that you’ll enjoy it and if you like this verse please let me know because I literally finished the first chapter of the other fanfic I was working on so I will be working on the smutty continue of this…

Thank you, again for your support lovelY!

(Also I am tagging @walkxthexmoon, since she expressed her love for it, if you want to be tagged into something else… let me know!).

Also, since it is implied but not explained: Ivar is a werewolf, whereas Roman is a vampire (actually a “upir” but both Ivar and Reader tease him calling him “vampire” so I am here doing the same thing!).

WARNINGS: Bad Friends (I literally have to say that each time I am wirting about shitty friends I am like “No, my friends are not like this”, and then they make something… and I am like “this is karma for being assholes), Bitchy Reader, Heavy Flirting and Mentions of Sex and Threesomes.

She couldn’t help but feel a bit betrayed when her friends had sent her into that demonic village, as a birthday gift.

She was almost wondering if they hated her that much

(Was it the fact that she was more successful than them, or the fact that she was the only single one of the group, ruining with her mere presence the life of all its components…).

Because there was no way that journey was a vacation, it was absolutely a punishment of some kind, starting from the fact that her freaking car had stopped working an hour before arriving to the hotel, on a full bus, with her heavy luggage.

She was supposed to spend a weekend as a single lady with her newly broken-up best friend, except…

Except her ex-boyfriend appeared a few days ago, proposing to her and basically blowing off her plans.

If you could call “plans” something which had been thrown on your way.

She still regretted all the books she might have received, instead of being sent in this shithole.

She didn’t mean to judge a book from the cover, or better by the shitty phone reception, and the shitty appearance of the hotel where she was staying for two nights and three days and the shitty shops.

She hoped she might find some kind of bookshop… because that’s where she hoped to spend the days… although there were a lot of bar and liquor shops, maybe people liked to get drunk enough to forget about this shithole.

No, she wouldn’t be judging, not even as it started raining just when she stepped off the bus and reached hurryingly the hotel, almost slamming herself on the closed door, that thank God gave out under a little pressure, allowing her inside and in the warmth of the hall, for which she was thankful.

She spent a few minutes trying to recollect herself and thanking whatever make-up goddess, she hadn’t worn any, alongside collecting from her bag the vacation’s document and her wallet.

She approached the receptionist, a man, bigger than her of a few good inches, and turned around fixing some documents, till she coughed, more because of the cold she had been in than anything else, gaining his attention, or better a very pissed glare.

She almost though about fleeing the scene and checking the buses station, but the glare dissipated as soon as he took her in: she was sure she looked a mess enough to pray for his pity.

-Well… it is raining outside, isn’t it? – he mused almost shyly, immediately leaning on the table of the reception hall, almost as if to be closer to her, making her squeak lightly and in response her social anxiety kicked in, making her shove her folder with the payments and bookings in his face.

He smiled, with his shining blue eyes, taking (very gently for a man of his stature) the documents and setting down his eyes on them, and she almost whined to be robbed of those two spots of ocean, but she tried again just to readjust her appearance, wanting to seem calm and at ease, although she hated doing anything that remotely made her have contact with strangers.

-(Y/N) (L/N)? – he asked and she had to stop herself from saluting him as a freaking soldier, but the voice raspy and rough made him seem like someone who wanted everyone to stand at attention when he spoke to them, so she tried her best, although staring right into the ocean was a bit scary -… but I don’t see any Annie Howin, are you waiting for her? -.

Here came the hard part: explaining her friend had balled out of this “magical adventure” and if she could use a single room, instead of a double…

-… nope…- she almost wanted to slap herself for the childish expression, but the guy looked at her wolfish, clearly amused by the way she had rolled the word, which made her blush (wasn’t it too warm here? Or was she just burning from embarrassment?) -… you see… we were supposed to spend a weekend as singles…-

-You are,,, single?- he seemed  almost surprised by the way she said it, but she tried not to mind the comment too much, spitting out the discourse she had rehearsed for two days.

-… but her ex-boyfriend came back in town and… he proposed…-

-… and she accepted? – he commented as if they were in some kind of cheap telenovela, bringing a smile on her lips, while his own mimicked it in a smirk, a very sensual smirk (part of her thought it was the one lovers offered when they were teasing the other, as if humoring them but also trying to get them out of the shyness shell).

-Yep- again the childish expression and again the wolf-like smirk, which honesty made her wonder if his teeth were freaking sharp or it was just an impression -… and after he cheated on her… the dude kind of sucks…-

-Well, he must have other talents- the innuendos made her start out a laugh, mostly because of the absurdity of the situation: shy little (Y/N) gossiping with a gorgeous receptionist, who seemed into her.

(Key-word: “seemed”, she was pretty sure he was just flirty by nature, with those good looks and arms that could carry her everywhere, no she wasn’t totally imagining herself clinging at them, meanwhile he whispered naughty things, before dropping her to their shared bed…).

-I don’t know, I wasn’t the one he cheated her with…- and then she went back to the straight discourse, gaining a little laugh from the receptionist -… so she is not coming… and I am all by myself…-.

She didn’t meant to appear that pathetic, but it must have seemed that way to the guy, who rose his head, as if his ears could stand at attention as a well-trained dog, before giving her a sultry look and in that moment she remembered how stuck to her body her clothing was, nothing too transparent but… she was definitely vulnerable and that guy was checking her out as a piece of meat.

But not in the “sexual harassment” way, the “I really want you in my bed” way, and she was sure she was just mistaking the signs.

She was not ugly, but not a boy magnet: she just eased the “feminist who won’t put up with your shit” attitude, and it didn’t help to have social anxiety and shyness.

-So, you are all alone in a wedding suite… that’s honestly sad…- he mumbled but he didn’t seem sad for her, he was still leaning, and although his head was at the same level of her cleavage he was being a gentleman and still staring at her eyes.

-Yep, that’s why I would like to change it to a single: wedding suite is definitely too big for me…-.

-Sorry, lovely- she almost jumped at the nickname but he just smiled at her sweetly, letting the flirty persona behind -… we can’t change, but I am sure you will find the wedding suite to your liking, it is one of our best-.

Oh, just her luck.

She must have shown her disgust on her face (not a difficult thing, since she couldn’t hide anything) because he smiled apologetically to her:

-I swear it is a lot better than it looks, and we have warm water-

-But no wi-fi- she mumbled sadly at the sign on the window.

He scratched his head nervously, nodding.

-That sucks absolutely, but you can find an amazing wi-fi connection at “Shiny Moon”, it’s a bar near here, if you want, I can accompany you later-.

She seriously was flattered by the offer, but she didn’t know this guy and although he had been a gentleman (still sending her a few glance that made her feel hot and bothered, but maybe she was imagining them) she didn’t want trouble, mostly with hunks.

-Thank you, but I am sure I will find it, also I wouldn’t want to disrupt your work- she tried to push the “don’t want to bother you” excuse and he clearly didn’t believe it, but nodded as if he was used to that rejection and she thought for a moment to tell him, that maybe he…

But a beautiful blond-haired woman appeared catching the receptionist’s attention.

-Ivar! – she shouted, the name probably written on the little thing on the man’s tight t-shirt, which she couldn’t read because her glasses were a mess.

Ivar didn’t seem happy to be called and (Y/N) honestly didn’t get why: the woman looked like she came straight from a Swedish version of “Sports Illustrated”, definitely a model, who had unluckily chosen a shitty hotel.

-The water in my room isn’t working- she didn’t acknowledge (Y/N) as soon as she stepped near the receptionist table, locking eyes with Ivar, who turned his head down, avoiding categorically her gaze, but grunting a “ok” -… it needs to be fixated immediately, so come to my room-.

The last part of the quote seemed a clear invitation and it was what made Ivar snap, turning around abruptly and sending a glare at the woman, before recognizing her presence and softening his grim grin.

She didn’t know why, probably for empathy, but she smiled straight back at her, before coughing to make the rude model acknowledge her presence and whisper, trying to appear sultry.

-Ivar was minding my case, give him five minutes and he will solve your problem…- she wanted to add “your attitude problem” but she didn’t dare, already having said much more than the model expected, from her smiling face which sent her way a venomously sweet smile, nodding.

She didn’t answer to her, just turning to Ivar again and mumbling in a languid voice.

-Be swift, I don’t think it can wait much longer-.

Ivar just nodded, eyes fixed on the desk, and raising just when (Y/N) whispered a “she is gone”.

-She is a…- he tried to mumble, clearly numbing his rage to her benefit, meanwhile she shot him a compassionate look.

-Some people should just get a kick in their beautifully shaped butt- she mumbled and laughed honestly, as if releasing all the tension, something which was truly heartwarming for her, and made her smile to him as genuinely as she could do.

-I mean I would, but I am scared it would get just stuck there…- he made her laugh brightly and for a moment she thought about how embarrassing she must have sounded: nobody liked her voice or her laugh, too high-pitched, childish and definitely creepy but he looked at her as if she had just told him she was the freaking Virgin Mary, before turning around and catching a key.

-I am supposed to photocopy your document, but since you seem pretty cold and have dealt with an assholish receptionist, I’d say you can go to your room and warm up, it should be done by now- he put the key in her hands, reaching out for the physical contact.

He could have thrown them at her, made them dangle in front of her, but he straight up waited for her to offer her hands, gently putting the keys into them, covering them with his: that freaking contact was not accidental.

But she enjoyed the warmness of his hands, smiling thankfully at him, before trying to take everything in her hands.

And just when she was going for the elevator, she felt herself being called out.

-I know you might already know, because Fredys gave it out, but I am Ivar-.

She got into the elevator and she faced him smiling brightly before offering her hands as if she could grip his.

-I am (Y/N), but I think the documents gave it away-

-… unless they are fake, (Y/N) a pretty common name…- he made her laugh so easily she forgot to push the button, thankfully somebody else called the elevator and she made it in time just to smile at him and start her phrase.

-Strangest…-

-… parents- she mumbled meanwhile she reached her number, forty-eight, she low key liked it and the place looked much nicer inside, the old style that made everything seem “vintage” although it was a step from destroying itself, which might happen with her luck.

The key actually worked and she slipped swiftly inside the room, smiling at the clean smell and the warmth of it: a shower and a change of clothes would do her good, but firstly she moved around the room to check everything was alright and was surprised to find out how luxurious it actually looked, with even a bathtub, with hydromassage and a long plump bed where you could roll around in silk sheets.

The architecture was old and there was the much hated and anti-hygienic moquette, alongside with a horrible fantasy on it but everything looked in a classy way, much better than the motel she expected to find and much more than for what she had paid for her.

The place didn’t cost too much, according to her last research but it looked like it was worth every penny, if you ignored the fact that it was in the middle of nowhere with no wi-fi.

It was perfect if you looked for the perfect place for a “Shining” replica.

She tried to focus on positive thoughts, such as the fact that she shower water was immediately warm and she was happy to sing a little meanwhile relaxing her tights muscles from carrying her luggage every freaking where.

She then blow-dried her hair with the hair-drier that was there working perfectly, meanwhile slipping in a more comfortable attire: she had mostly short dresses, since she thought she would be out partying, a few sweater and her beloved high-waisted skinny jeans but she had managed to slip some ugly leggings and an old ruined university sweater.

It was barely three p.m. but she was tired for the long journey, which should have been a very short one, but the breaking of her car didn’t help (she had thought for a moment it was a sign that she should have just gone back home); she had had to deal with the police, coming to help her.

She had thought that maybe luck would be on her side, when she saw the bus coming on her way.

Unluckily the freaking bus journey sucked, so… she was tired AF and the cheap reality show she had chosen didn’t help and she ended up falling asleep on the plush bed, mumbling something about how bitchy bridesmaids could be…

She woke up because something on her head was vibrating and scared her into thinking about a possible earthquake, but it was just her phone.

It was Annie, from whom she had missed five calls and thousands of messages.

But she was so tired, that she actually thought about not answering her back and going back to Tom Hardy’s muscled arms.

(She had dreamt for a minute about the reception boy… Ivar… but it low key felt wrong; he wouldn’t definitely be involved into the situation she was dreaming, alongside the fact that it would be low key disgraceful to see him and blush after what she had seen in her dream).

-Hey Annie… I was sleeping- she even yawned, trying to tell her friend to make it quick.

They had never really been best-friends, forever competitors in everything and at the social level it seemed Annie was winning.

-Thank God you answered! I was getting worried…- she mumbled, clearly chewing her lips, she was also probably staring at her elegant diamond ring, part of (Y/N) wanted to tell her it was as small as her boyfriend’s dick, or so the rumors said, but she had stopped herself from doing anything, she had just “awed” stupidly alongside her other friends, when Annie had shown it to them (the ring, not her boyfriend’s dick)-… did you arrive? -.

-Yeah- and she watched her watch, apparently it was late enough that she might have missed her dinner, because of her little nap and outside it was pretty dark.

She put her friend on speaker, trying to put on a decent outfit, nothing too much to go to the “Shiny Moon”, which she highly hoped wasn’t some kind of exclusive club or a strip-club, because she had no intention to stick her tired body in a skirt, so she ended up in her comfortable jeans and an even more comfortable sweater.

-… so I am still sorry, but I felt like me and Gerry had to have our space and time, after the proposal… did I tell you he took me out to the “Sinatra”…- the most expensive place in their hometown, Heco remembered how it was something Annie always wished to do, and she was low key happy her friend could cross that off the list.

-Oh, it’s beautiful! – she commented, grabbing in her hand the sheer lace of her mini-black dress, the sexiest dress she owned and definitely the one she used to go out to clubs, but she immediately put outfit down, not feeling confident enough for that look -Hope you two had fun! -.

-I hope you will, too, (Y/N), is the room nice? -she asked, quitting the chipping about everything else.

-Oh, yeah, I have a jacuzzi- she heard her friend “owww” and mumble “maybe I should have come” -… and I am going out to get wi-fi, that’s why I haven’t been answering your messages because my 3G is not working so well…-.

-Yeah, I can’t hear you well…- mumbled Annie, but this didn’t discourage her from keeping up the conversation meanwhile (Y/N) adjusted her head in a high ponytail -… so I was thinking about the maid of honor: my sister or my cousin? -.

She low key didn’t expect to be the maid of honor, but not even being considered?

They hadn’t been best friends but (Y/N) had tried to play the part, remembering her friend’s birthday and gifting her lavish gifts, consoling her when asshole Gerry had left her and helping her build her confidence.

Annie had always left (Y/N) behind, after she was alright, and (Y/N) had been ok with that, she had stopped expecting people to do something for her, but still, it stung…

And to avoid confrontation, she started making horrible sounds and stumbling on her words as if she was seriously having a shitty phone reception, hearing Annie trying to scream and give up in the end, telling her to call her when the phone reception would get better.

She threw the phone on the bed, huffing and breathing heavily before adjusting elegantly her appearance and attempt to go out.

She stalked the reception hall and found a woman instead of Ivar: a beautiful blonde woman who seriously made her wonder if everyone there was a model.

She chatted a bit, asking for directions for the “Shiny Moon”, meanwhile the woman photocopied her ID, but clearly as disinterested as Ivar had been flirty.

She thanked the woman and adjusting her light coat she moved outside.

It was November and it was definitely cold but not as cold as in some  other states: the sweater and the coat kept her warm for the ten-minutes-journey to the “Shiny Moon” a dark and grimy place.

Still from the window she saw that there were many people dressed just like her, just with their computers or chatting up.

She entered and although the main colors of the club were golden and black, in a very tacky assemble that mixed a sex-club with a diner, the atmosphere was peaceful, alongside almost empty.

She sat at the bar stool, immediately making eye contact with a pretty girl of her age.

-Hi, welcome to the “Shiny Moon”! What can I get you? – her voice was emotionless although she showed off a smart smirk.

-Whatever can get me the wi-fi password?- she asked, trying to get straight to the point and gaining a sincere smile from the girl, who took a little piece of paper and offered it to her, before asking if that was all.

-Can I get a menu if I am not too late for dinner? – she asked, feeling her stomach grumble miserably, since she had avoided lunch.

-You are lucky, the kitchen is open for another hour and in the meanwhile can I bring you some kind of drink? – she said, putting out a white notebook and offering a plastic menu.

-Oh…- she didn’t know what to say -… coca cola? -.

-With rum? – added the girl, smiling at her teasingly and making her blush.

-No, no alcohol- she liked alcohol, but only when she knew she would make a fool of himself between people who did know her, not a strange grimy place, where she knew nobody, although if they looked all like models she could make an exception -… I need to go back on my own, so…-.

-If you can wait till my turn is over, I can accompany you- offered the girl she had just met and this brightened (Y/N)’s heart, but also she didn’t understand why a stranger might offer her help, after a few minutes of knowing.

-Oh, no I don’t want to bother you- she mumbled, using again the excuse she loved, since she constantly felt like a bother for everyone, even strangers she just met in a bar.

-Oh no bother, sweetie- the girl cheered sweetly -Us girls must stick together-.

And she sent a wink her way, worsening her blush, but she was immediately distracted by a blonde ghost appearing beside her.

-What have I said about talking with clients, Destiny? We have a full night.. we have no time to…- and then she met the ghost bluish-green eyes -… well I think I can make a little time for you, doll-.

Ivar adjusted the hydraulic tools back again on their shelf, fixing his appearance.

He had managed to avoid Fredys’ advances this time, although he hadn’t minded the flirty attitude of the new guest.

It wasn’t a typically flirty, more like he was the one doing all the flirty parts and she was just batting her long eyelashes, smiling shyly and worst of all: her freaking hips…

They looked like a freaking goddess’ hips, large and he wanted to see them in his hands, meanwhile he pushed them down on the bed, reassuring her with kisses on them.

Shit, the little girlie had done just a few steps in his direction and he wanted to bed her already, something he couldn’t do, but still nothing made him avoid the pleasure of making her blush and maybe if he played his cards right he would get to feel those hips.

He had a serious problem, worse than Hvitserk and food.

Talking about Hvitserk, he was coming up the stairs just when Ivar was going down on them, swiftly.

-Oh, hello there! – saluted him cheerily his brother, meanwhile he stopped alongside Ivar -Going out? -.

-Yep, I am going out for a few shots at the “Shiny Mood”, want to come? – he proposed.

-Sadly not, me and Ubbe have clan thing to do, but maybe I can join you later…- he knew he had lost the faith of his brothers and it hurt every time they reminded him of that but he tried to rein in his anger.

-Ok, have fun at the clan meeting- he tried not to sound bitter, but he knew he had failed when Hvitserk failed to keep his own straight face.

-You know we would absolutely love for you to be here with us, but… the clan is still not trusting you…- and he patted on his younger brother’s back -… you’ll be back soon-.

-I hope- he mumbled closing the conversation, and moving down the stairs, meanwhile his brother stuck there, but got a last look from Ivar -Oh… and we have a new guest, room forty-eight, she is mine, don’t try anything funny-.

If with Ivar, the flirting was strangely comical and harmless, with the green-eyed bartender she felt dangerously exposed even in her turtleneck and her full fitting jeans.

-Just cola, so, beautiful? – she just nodded, avoiding the bartender’s gaze.

Men weren’t usually that blunt with her and not having the control made her feel definitely vulnerable.

-… Destiny you can go to deal with other clients, I got this one- he ordered to the gentle girl and (Y/N) shot her a glance as if to ask her not to leave her with the hot bartender.

But the girl just sent her a sorry glance, before moving off to the other clients.

-You are new in town- it wasn’t a question, but she still nodded again, just to feel a hand under her chin, gently raising it up so that her ink eyes could meet the bluish and greenish of the bartender, who sweetly stare into her making her feel as if she was showing him her soul.

And she was thankful he liked what he saw.

-Much better, doll, look at me in the face while we speak, you have pretty eyes and even a prettier mouth-.

-I have never been told that- she mumbled but kept her eyes up.

-Oh, what a shame- he replied, moving his hand, which was still resting on her chin, to her hair, caressing her as if she was some kind of dog, something which made her roll her eyes but also lean into the touch -… women like you need to be cherished each day-.

-Aren’t you the flatterer…- she mumbled and he laughed sensually, dropping his head and turning around, thing that made her almost drop a whine, being robbed of the beauty, but he came back immediately, with her drink, and exactly like Ivar, he handed it to her with extreme physical contact, thing that made her almost wink at him.

-Just the truth, lovely mystery lady- he replied, before dropping on his elbows so he could stare at her at the same height, making her blush and cough out her cola.

-You didn’t tell me anything about yourself also, mysterious bartender- she sassed him and it got a pretty smile and an hand offered to her.

-Roman- and she accepted it, offering her own name.

-(Y/N)-.

-Pretty strange name, (Y/N) look more like a tequila girl- he humored her making her cackle a laugh.

-I do like tequila, but I am in the middle of nowhere and I don’t want to be kicked out of my single night out-.

-Ohh… single night out…- Michael almost whistled, clearly focused more on the single part than the ladies night -We host a thousand of ladies night, but don’t they involve another friend? - .

-Didn’t I tell you I am nothing like ordinary? – she said, with a bitter smile, drinking her sorrows away in the sugary drink -My last single friend got engaged a few days before, so I am all out of single friends, that was why I was trying to talk Destiny to join my night out… you literally ruined my night-.

-Oh, did I? – and he did a thing with his tongue that made her almost faint.

-Yeah, you are obviously not a single lady- she mumbled, trying to regain the upper hand in the conversation.

-I am not a lady- he appointed -… but I am single, sweetheart-.

And the hand was back on her cheek, coaxing her nearer, till she felt somebody occupying the bar sit next to her…

-…well I am single too, so can I join the single train? -.

Shit, flirty! Ivar was back again.

Roman had had a tough night, a full night at the “Shiny Moo” and Roman had wandered off, meanwhile Destiny was chatting up clients, making others wait, and he had immediately moved to tell her to move her ass, till he saw the pretty girl she was talking to.

Clearly the type of girl who didn’t care to walk in a bar in simple clothes and she still managed to be the most stunning girl in there, and she was just wearing jeans, jeans that looked like they were painted on her perky butt, and a mickey mouse sweater, he honestly thought looked deviously innocent.

Part of her looked like she could have just come out of a fairy tale books, but the way she talked and once the shyness went away… she seemed to come out straight from an erotic novel, the well written kind.

She honestly made his night better.

Ivar, a little less.

The fact that they wanted to bring the same girl in their beds made it… interesting.

-Hello there, lovely, saw you found the “Shiny Moon”-.

The girl smiled more at ease, than with him; Ivar was a people-charmer, whereas Roman was more sensual and the girl looked like she was entirely scared by her sexuality.

So, Ivar clearly had the advantage, but Roman knew how to get everybody on their knees for him.

-… yeah, I mean I am not amazing with directions, but this place is basically in front of the hotel so…-.

-So, you are staying at the old “Kattegat”? – asked Roman, trying to get more info than Ivar, also because he was honestly mesmerized by the girl, utterly smitten and curious to know more.

-Yeah, just for the weekend- and then she moved her little chin to Ivar, smiling slightly and asking -Oh by the way the room is beautiful-.

Ivar looked like a puppy who got a treat after the compliment he had received, nodding immediately meanwhile he mumbled lowly a few words.

-… that place might seem a terrible on the outside, but believe me, it’s very much worse inside, alongside the fact that his owners are all assholes- replied Roman, wanting her eyes back on him and getting them, alongside a shocked expression and a grunt from Ivar, which was immediately suppressed by something that said “do you want war? I will bring it to you”.

-People only come here for the free wi-fi- replied swiftly the other man, sparking a little fight.

And immediately (Y/N) came between those two, touching Ivar’s chest.

-Woah woah… your places are equally broken on the outside, but they are prettier on the inside, and yeah the wi-fi bonus is amazing- she laughed lightly, but her intention was clear: she wanted no riot or brawl in there, cocking an eyebrow at Roman, in a little show of dominance.

He, instead, licked his lips, a little aroused by a girl that could handle two extremely territorial males, without and ounce of fear; Ivar was thinking the same, looking at the hand on his chest with wide eyes.

-You are definitely all over men’s bullshit- mumbled attentively Roman, making her drop her hand from Ivar, who looked a few minutes from crying for the loss.

-Oh, all over every person’s bullshit, but you men are just the absolute worst- she laughed timidly, before downing again her drink, as she tried to avoid thinking about the two men looking at her smugly and intensively.

“Well you are lucky, we are not men, sweetie” that’s what he wanted to tell her, but seeing through all  the confidence she was faking, that she was pretty shy, it wasn’t the time to tell her they were supernatural beings.

Although she seemed smart to figure that out on her own.

-… men disappointed you, lovely? – Ivar asked, tried to sound compassionate, meanwhile he adjusted himself on the stool, probably because of his legs bothering him.

-It’s just…-.

-Are you a lesbian? – asked again Ivar and Roman sent him a death glare, knowing perfectly from the adorable blush she was wearing that they had just burned a chance to talk with her.

-No, I mean girls are beautiful, but not interested into them, although maybe I should, men are…-.

-… the worst- mumbled Roman, sending a straight up glare at Ivar, as if to let the sweetheart know that he was indeed “the worst”.

Ivar clearly looked embarrassed by the way she mumbled back, and moved near to get her attention, offering and half-hearted apology, helped by his sweet and dramatic blue eyes.

-Sorry, didn’t mean…-.

-Don’t worry- she mumbled leaning towards him -… a lot of people assumed it the same: no dates, no guys out of my house and I frighten every boy who comes my way-.

She tried to laugh it off but Roman could find how much it actually pained her: the loneliness and the sadness made her feel as if she was not enough.

But she was so so much more than enough and sweet, and she had already two men courting her.

-They were all boys to be frightened by such a pretty and powerful girl- replied Ivar, immediately gaining points by the pretty compliments, she leaned back into him, not enough to touch but… Ivar helped the contact by putting a hand over her shoulders, making her blush even more and sending Roman a winning smirk.

But he hadn’t lost.

-So, pretty girlie, do you have any plans for this weekend? – he asked, taking away the attention from Ivar and leaning forward, thing that was made by (Y/N) herself.

-Just to relax and do anything else-.

-Never thought about a threesome? – and the look of shock was enough to be a win for him.

Ivar seriously couldn’t be the prouder guy in the entire bar with the prettiest girl in town under his arm, smiling sweetly and with red shadows on her cheeks he wanted to kiss and maybe he would get to if he accompanied her back to the room.

Also, it was a little win over Roman, who instead of him, just needed to look at a girl to have her in her bed, and he also had had another little advantaged over him.

But he ruined anything as soon as Roman spit out the “threesome” proposition; it wasn’t rare for them to share a girl, mostly because of Ivar’s “little problem”, but this girl so sweet and pure… he felt like the sharing option was crazy.

She looked shell shocked in her expression of true shock, even worse than the one that she had on her face after his “embarrassing question”, but she almost laughed out, probably expecting it all to be a little joke.

Michael looked at her like a cat with a mouse, clearly trying to stay serious, although he laughed it off as if it was joke before going back to being serious.

-But seriously sweetie… if you want to do something more than just relax, we are more than willing to help you with a little fun-.

[ladylynse]

Happy birthday, @sapphireswimming! I wrote you a superphantom fic. Also...this got away on me. A lot. It was supposed to be short and--well, not sweet, more angsty, but still. Now it’s just shy of 6 K.

Note: More swearing and threats than actual violence.

-|-

Bewitched: [FF | AO3] Sam and Dean thought they were dealing with some centuries-old he-witch. That isn’t quite the case.

-|-

The signs had been more along the lines of impossible robberies than bloody murders, but Sam and Dean had been fairly sure they were on the trail of some centuries-old he-witch.

The creep changed his name in every town, though he was still recognizable by his out-of-place clothes and snake oil schemes. He was able to get into places that were locked up without leaving a trace, grab whatever he wanted, and disappear. Between appearances, he dropped off the grid. He seemed a little too good at that to be human, or at least an ordinary human, so when Sam saw that newspaper article and put two and two together, they’d decided to take a road trip to Michigan and check him out before he skipped town. Just to be safe.

Now?

Dean wasn’t so sure about any of that now.

If the guy was a witch, he sure as hell wasn’t using any magic to save his ass. He wasn’t even trying to fight them. He was cowering in a corner, trying to hide from their guns behind a wooden table. Dean and Sam both had different weaponry and ammunition on them—silver and iron bullets and even slugs packed with rock salt, though only Dean had a sawed-off shotgun with him, strapped to his back—in case they were wrong about what kind of monster this guy was, but….

Dean met Sam’s eyes, and Sam nodded and pulled out a flask of holy water. Probably not a demon—even with their reputation, most demons seemed to think they could take them and those that didn’t would’ve smoked out by now—but better to be safe than sorry.

Dean kept his pistol steady as Sam approached just near enough to toss the water onto their target. No burning. No smoking.

Crap. Maybe he was just a human monster after all. They hadn’t tried him with silver yet, but—

The door opened behind them. Dean spun around while Sam kept an eye on their target and found himself facing down a young girl, who promptly opened her mouth and screamed. Shit. While this cabin they’d tracked their target to was far enough away not to worry about more unexpected company, nothing in their intel had indicated that the guy had a kid. He couldn’t even remember someone matching her description being seen with him.

She wasn’t terribly old; thirteen, maybe, or fourteen or somewhere older than ten and younger than sixteen. He’d worry about her appearance—jarring red eyes and hair whiter than any platinum blonde dye job he’d seen before, which stood out against the black outfit—if their target wasn’t also doing the coloured contact thing. And the outlandish clothes thing.

Dean lowered the gun—not too far, since he knew better than anyone that even kids could be a threat if they were possessed by the right demon—but enough to hopefully stop her from screaming her head off if she was just an ordinary human girl. “Hey, it’s okay, this isn’t—”

Scuffling came from behind as their target stood up and Sam cocked his gun. “They’ve come for the final act,” the guy said. Gleefully. As if he were enjoying this.

Dean had no idea what the hell that was supposed to mean, so he risked a glance over his shoulder at Sam, who looked equally confused.

And then the last of their plan went sideways.

He didn’t see the blast that sent the pistol flying out of his hands, but he felt its heat. The girl wasn’t holding anything anymore—he couldn’t even see what she could’ve used to pack such a punch—but her stance had shifted. She wasn’t scared; she was focused. Hands balled into fists, feet apart, standing lightly and ready to move. To fight.

Salt rounds still hurt like a son of a bitch, especially close range, but better to bruise her than pull a knife. Besides, she wouldn’t know the ammo wasn’t going to do any lasting damage.

She didn’t react when Dean readied the shotgun. Hell, she didn’t even try to stop him. Didn’t attack, even when he’d been preoccupied. Which made zero sense, especially if she thought he was going to attack her.

He heard Sam moving behind him, shifting to better cover his back. The guy they’d tracked down still hadn’t tried anything, cryptic remarks aside. Definitely not a witch. Neither of them would still be armed if that were the case. But he had to have something up his sleeve.

He didn’t seem to recognize them—hadn’t called them by name, hadn’t seemed overjoyed or overly terrified by their appearance, now that the opening act was over—but that didn’t seem to matter to him. He hadn’t called them out as hunters, either.

But he also wasn’t trying to run, wasn’t trying to throw something at them or otherwise distract them so he could have a chance to get away. He hadn’t told his kid to run. Heck, he hadn’t even tried to keep their attention on him instead of her. Some parent that guy was. Or guardian. Whatever. Dean was pretty sure he’d make a better father than that dude, and that was saying something, considering how things had gone the last time he’d tried going domestic.

Sam was talking. Trying to calm the guy down. As if their target were the one holding the gun instead of staring down its barrel. There’s no way that was going to work. Especially since— “You’re responsible for all those robberies,” Dean said to the girl.

She grinned. It looked…wrong. Feral. It was an expression that belonged on a demon, not a kid.

“Christo,” Dean murmured, even as the man started ranting about payment. The girl’s eyes never went black, and she didn’t flinch. She was human after all.

Or at least not a demon.

“Don’t move.” That was Sam’s warning. If the guy was smart, he’d listen. Even if he managed to get the jump on Sam, it wouldn’t be enough to get out of here unscathed. They were used to taking on monsters. If these were ordinary people—

“Why don’t you light it up for the finale, my dear? Put on a little show for our…guests.”

Dammit, whatever that meant wasn’t going to be good.

Behind him, Dean was vaguely aware of a fight starting up—Sam had made a move or vice versa—but he was more concerned about the fact that the girl’s hands had caught fire. Not fire fire, some kind of green flame that smelled like burnt ectoplasm and hummed like electricity, but still something that shouldn’t be engulfing bare flesh.

The girl—or whatever she was—took a step forward, and Dean pulled the trigger. She staggered. And then she began to laugh. He shot her again.

He was definitely thinking more monster than girl now, which meant the other guy— “Sammy?” There’d been a crash a while back, and he didn’t know—

There was a grunt. Then, “Human. Out cold.”

“Yeah, well, I got a live one.” The salt wasn’t doing much to slow her down, not that it necessarily would, depending on what she was. She still hadn’t attacked him yet. She was giving him time to reload. Why?

Dean blinked, and the girl vanished.

Before he had a chance to complete his turn, he heard Sam’s surprised yelp.

That was why.

Jeez, she was fast. “Salt barely slows her down,” he yelled. Then, since he couldn’t see Sam through the hole he and the other guy had left in the wall, “I’m coming through.”

The room was tiny, barely two and a half feet wide despite running the length of the cabin, and was stuffed with jewels and gold and other valuables. Things that could be melted down or easily recut, reset, and sold off. Splinters and larger chunks of wood from the false wall were easily visible. Their initial target, as Sam had said, was out cold, looking like his head had cracked against a safe when they’d broken through the wall.

But Sam wasn’t there.

And neither was the girl.

Shit.

XXXXXXX

Sam hadn’t seen her move. He’d just felt someone grab him and then…nothing. He was conscious. Wide awake. But suddenly he couldn’t feel the floor beneath his feet, and then there was no floor beneath his feet and he was moving through the wooden wall as if it were just a hologram.

Reality crashed back a few seconds later when he hit wet ground with enough momentum that he skidded a few inches into a tree. The girl he’d glimpsed interrupting them earlier stood over him now. Even if it hadn’t been cloudy, he was pretty sure he’d have been able to see her glowing.

He’d think ghost if it weren’t for the fact that she was solid. He’d felt her. And he’d been thrown enough times by pure power, magic, or sheer force of will that he knew what that felt like, and this hadn’t been that.

Although he still wasn’t entirely sure how she’d thrown him through a wall without taking it out. A ghost wouldn’t have had an issue getting through, sure, but the pain and the damp made it pretty clear that he was still alive.

Sam started to get up, but the girl was suddenly on top of him again, pushing him down. She was surprisingly strong, even for a monster. He tried to twist away, and she just pressed harder, intent on shoving his shoulders into the tree behind him. With a jolt, he realized that if she could take him through a wall, she could just as easily take him partway through a tree.

He took more than one swipe at her, but his hands just passed right through her. Even clawing at her hands as they pinned him did little good; he could certainly feel something, the barest skin contact, but nothing substantial. He scratched at her, trying to inflict the only harm he could, but she didn’t flinch.

“Should I take your heart first?” she asked. Her smile revealed sharp teeth—not like a vamp’s or a werewolf’s, nothing so obvious, but they were unsettlingly long and uncannily pointed, too far past normal to be dismissed with the things he’d seen.

“He’d like that, I think,” she decided. “Your heart. And then your head. For what you did to his.”

He had to distract her. Give Dean enough time to figure something out, assuming she hadn’t taken him out first. Sam didn’t know what she was, if she was a human hopped up on some kind of monster juice, a monster with a human mask, or something in between. He started on a generic exorcism in case her powers were demon-related—

—and felt her hand in his mouth, holding his tongue, not so much as blinking when he closed his mouth. “I could rip this out.” Her head tilted. “Not quite an eye for an eye, but he wouldn’t mind. He wants me to be inventive. He encourages it.”

She wasn’t forcing him back anymore. She was still on top of him, lighter than someone her size should be but heavier than before, as if she were letting him feel more of her true weight—or forgetting that she was. He wondered if that meant more of her was solid again. She wasn’t using her strength to pin him down. If he could knock her off….

She released his tongue and sat back. “But if I do that now, you’ll never be able to apologize to him properly.”

He swallowed. “Couldn’t do that if you tore out my heart, either.”

She laughed. “I just need you to be able to talk. You don’t have to be alive for that.”

Unfortunately, he knew the truth of that, though there was no guarantee he’d ever come back as a ghost if she killed him.

Which, given what she’d done so far, he knew she could do.

“I’d still need my head.”

She seemed to consider this for a few seconds and shrugged. “Easier to find if you’re not in pieces.” She planted her right hand on his chest, directly over his sternum. “Still doesn’t mean I can’t—”

They heard the gunshot at the same time.

He felt her body weight vanish.

And then she shrieked, and her weight came back for a moment before she was off him, flying back towards—

Dean.

Sam scrambled to his feet.

He needed to help, but he didn’t know what was effective against her. Salt barely slows her down, Dean had said, and Sam had never lost sight of her. She wasn’t a ghost, but this wasn’t just magic, and even demons experienced some limitations when they took someone for a meatsuit—namely, they couldn’t just pass through walls like that. So what the hell had they walked into? They didn’t have time to do more research now, not when—

Sam ducked as Dean fired off another shot and ran, keeping low as he circled well out of Dean’s way. Not that that would help much with the speed that girl moved. Whatever kind of monster she was, she wasn’t new to the game. She had a handle on her abilities, whether she’d been turned early or born that way.

There was a flash of green and then a string of Dean’s curses. Sam didn’t need to stop running to see that Dean’s gun was on the ground and that the lichen-coated rock around it was scorched. He dove for it, but the girl was faster.

She only had a hand on it, but it was enough to make him slide right through it.

“What the hell do you want?” Dean bit out as the girl pointed the gun in their direction.

Sam got to his feet again, moving slowly and raising his arms so she knew he wasn’t going to go for any weapons that probably wouldn’t be effective anyway. Salt rounds might not kill them, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be shot, especially from this distance.

“You hurt him,” she said. Her grip on the gun wasn’t sloppy; whatever else she could do, she knew how to use a firearm. Great. “You need to apologize for that.”

“We’ll apologize,” Sam said, hoping to assure her now that she wasn’t at his throat, but she turned the gun on him and narrowed her eyes.

“You hurt him,” she hissed again. “I’m supposed to protect him, and you hurt him.”

“Hold up, you’re supposed to protect him? You?” Dean’s incredulous voice immediately drew her attention. “Shouldn’t it be the other way around? I mean, you’re just a kid.”

Sam knew what Dean was trying to do. Even though he wasn’t sure it would work, he pitched in. “Hey, you’re, what, thirteen? Fourteen?”

“I’m….” For the first time, she was hesitating. “I’m…. It doesn’t matter. I have to protect him. And you have to pay for what you’ve done.”

Sam glanced at Dean. He wasn’t the same person who’d killed Amy Pond in cold blood just because she’d been a monster. If this girl hadn’t actually killed anyone, if she was only threatening to now because they’d hurt her father, guardian, whatever, then….

“Look, kid, me and my brother, we’re good at first aid. We have to be in our line of work. So if you want to help your old man, you could start by letting us look at him.”

“He’s not my father,” she snapped. “And you’re the reason he’s hurt!”

“It was an accident,” Sam said, honestly enough. “We weren’t trying to kill him.” He’d seemed human, after all. And the explanation for all those robberies was in front of them. “I didn’t get a good look at his injuries, but—”

“Then fix him,” she said. “Fix him or I’ll hurt you like you hurt him.”

Sam met Dean’s eyes. They both knew how desperate she was, how likely she was to shoot them because of some perceived slight, and not necessarily with the gun in her hands. Still, they didn’t have a choice. If they couldn’t figure out what weapons would work on her, talking her down was their best bet. And if they couldn’t talk her down, if she flew off the handle, then they’d just have to throw everything they had at her and hope something worked.

“We’ll do everything we can,” Sam promised carefully. “We just need to look at—”

The girl rolled her eyes, tossed the gun to the side, and grabbed each of them by the arm. Sam wasn’t any more prepared for the sensation of moving through solid objects despite knowing it was coming, and it was disorienting to suddenly feel the wooden floorboards of the cabin beneath his feet.

He wasn’t surprised when Dean cursed and reached to steady himself on the opposite wall. Sam hadn’t felt the wind despite how quickly they’d been moved, which was in drastic contrast to every time a demon or ghost or witch or whatever had thrown them across the room.

“The hell was that?” grumbled Dean.

The girl glowered at him, so Sam knelt as best he could to check on their original target. He already had a goose egg, but the blood made it look worse than it was; it might not even need stitches by the time they cleaned him up. Sam did a quick once-over, but nothing else seemed to be amiss. “Help me with him,” Sam said, trying to manoeuvre so he could pick up the man without having anything else stacked in this place come tumbling down on them.

Dean grabbed the man’s feet, and he mumbled something as they hefted him. The girl was quick to sidestep as they carried him back to the main room—some open-complex living room/kitchen combo that they’d mostly trashed when this mess started—and dumped him on the couch. Dean went to get a wet cloth, and the girl’s gaze followed him.

Which gave Sam the opportunity to slip off and pocket the man’s pendant without either of them—the man or the girl—realizing. It bore engravings he recognized but couldn’t immediately identify, and he suspected it might tell him more about the girl and what sort of monster she was. The man was more cognizant when Dean returned, water and rag in hand, and Sam looked at the girl. “What’s his name?”

“I’m not telling you that.”

“Then what’s your name?” Dean shot back.

“Just fix him.”

“Just fix him,” Dean mimicked under his breath as he started to dab at the blood on the man’s head. “Look, I’ve got this. Head back to the car and see if you can find anything useful.”

Sam glanced at the girl. “Is that okay with you?” He knew what Dean was really asking—call someone, do some research, just see what he could find out—and he knew the girl would—should—assume Dean was just asking him to see if they had any supplies that might help.

She nodded once, and he hurried out before she could change her mind. He could always bring back the suture kit, and if he didn’t wait too long….

There was a small red stone set in the pendant, but it didn’t look like it belonged there. The gem itself was all sharp edges, more a shard than anything else, and the claws holding it in place looked to have been bent in with pliers. It was rough. Crude. Even the markings around it were homemade. Whoever had done this certainly wasn’t an expert at it.

They did, however, know what they were doing when it came to the runes themselves. Now that he got a better look at them, he could guess what they were for, despite modifications he hadn’t seen before. Most people knew better than to try to control ghosts.

Whoever Dean was trying to help inside was clearly not one of those people.

And the girl….

Possessed, maybe? An unwilling vessel for a ghost? Or a witch whose spell had gone wrong? She looked young, but that didn’t mean anything if she was a witch. Magic could explain what she could do, dragging them through solid walls like that. If he salted and burned this thing, maybe the ghost—

“You’re not helping.”

Sam jerked, dropping the pendant, and he turned around in time to see the girl’s expression melt from anger to confusion. Her feet and then hands and knees hit the ground. She was shaking. Panting.

He knelt and pocketed the pendant and the larger pieces of the red centerpiece—glass, he now realized—that had shattered when it had hit rock. “Hey,” he called softly, not wanting to touch the girl in case she snapped and did more than just threaten to tear out any important body parts, “you okay?”

She glanced up at him and scrambled backwards, flinging up pine needles and acorns in her haste to put some distance between them.

But it wasn’t enough distance for him not to notice how young she suddenly looked.

How scared.

Like someone who’d been possessed by a demon and suddenly found themselves free.

Considering her eyes were green now instead of red, that theory might still hold some water—even if they really were dealing with some kind of ghost and not a demon.

“My name is Sam,” he said, smiling at her. “What’s yours?”

“Dani.” The response was whispered. “I…I don’t…. I don’t know what….”

“It’s okay, Dani. My brother and I are here to help.”

She didn’t look convinced of that, but she didn’t shy away when he got back to his feet and walked over to help her up.

Instead, she stared at the pocket where he’d put the pendant. “What are you doing?”

“Helping,” he repeated.

She shook her head slowly and looked up at him again. “Not with that. Da— My cousin told me about that. About the gem that could do that. I didn’t think there was another one after he destroyed it. I thought I was safe.”

“And I just want to help you be safe.” Even if she was a monster, as long as she stopped this and didn’t kill anyone, hadn’t killed anyone, well. He couldn’t exactly fault her for what she’d done while she’d been possessed. His track record wasn’t good on that front. “Trust me.”

“I can’t trust you when I don’t know what happened,” she retorted, some of her earlier fire resurfacing. She climbed to her feet, ignoring his offered hand. “Where are we?”

“Michigan.” They weren’t really near any towns, and unless she knew the area—

Her breath hitched. “Oh, crud. I don’t know how long it’s been. The last thing I remember was that magic competition in California, and—” She broke off. “This has to be Freakshow. Have you run into Lydia or any of the other ghosts? They’re not still with him, are they?”

Sam blinked. All things considered, she was taking this remarkably well. “Who are Freakshow and Lydia?”

She made a face at him. “Lydia’s another ghost,” she said, her tone making it clear that she thought he wasn’t keeping up with her. Before he could question her on the fact that she’d said another ghost, she continued, “Freakshow’s the creep who had the gem that could control them. Us. Give it here and let me see it. The amulet thing, I mean.”

Sam raised his eyebrows but didn’t comply. “Us?”

She rolled her eyes and reached for his pocket, and his hand went through her arm when he tried to stop her.

Definitely not human, as if he’d needed any more proof.

But the fact that she withdrew her hand holding the pendant meant she wasn’t an ordinary ghost, either, even a relatively recent one with strong ties to her former life.

Ghosts couldn’t exactly transfer their intangibility to other objects, let alone travel long distances without being tied to anything in particular.

She studied the pendant for a few seconds before looking back up at him. “Do you think I can burn this?” she asked, and before he could answer, her hands lit up with that green fire again. He jumped back, and she said, “No, don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you.”

He wanted to believe her.

She was just a kid.

But he knew appearances could be deceiving. He knew the tricks monsters played on people. But she didn’t seem concerned that she was showing him her hand, showing him what she was, and she seemed to take the fact that he wasn’t freaking out himself in stride. Was it possible she was on friendly terms with a hunter? Could she have figured out what he was by his interest in the pendant, the fact that he and his brother were here? He hadn’t said that they were the Winchesters, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have put two and two together if she had any connections within the hunter community.

For all he knew, she could’ve run into Garth at some point after he’d been turned and learned which hunters she could trust.

“You have to salt and burn things to destroy them when they’re associated with ghosts,” he said quietly.

She stared at him. “Really? That’s what you think?” She glanced at the unharmed pendant, shrugged, and tossed it in his direction. He dodged, not sure if it would be hot when he didn’t know what kind of fire she could wield, and let it hit the rock at their feet. “Fine. Salt and burn it then. Just get rid of it and that stone.”

She didn’t make a move to run away or go back inside, just stood there with her arms crossed, so he grabbed the supplies from the trunk, wrapped the remains of the pendant in a cloth doused with lighter fluid, salted it, and set it on fire. He remembered the symbols well enough to be able to draw them again later and see if there was anything like them in the books the Men of Letters had written. Right now, he didn’t want to disobey her and wind up fighting an angry spirit who didn’t follow the same rules as the rest of them.

She was gone when he looked up again, but as he hadn’t heard any screaming, he figured that was by choice.

Hopefully, he’d taken the steps to making an ally and not an enemy.

XXXXXX

“Where’s the amulet?” the creep on the couch screeched as he lunged at Dean and tried to go through his pockets.

Dean, naturally, swore and fought back.

And blamed Sam.

Because, clearly, Sam had pickpocketed something their monster-turned-not-so-innocent-victim valued, and his little monster minion might still be hanging around invisibly and watching all this.

“I don’t have your freaking amulet,” Dean snarled, twisting the guy’s arm and finally succeeding in prying his hands off of Dean’s jacket. “Now sit your ass down and let me help you or I’ll just knock you out again to make my life easier.” He didn’t get hit with the freaky green fire the girl used when he said that, so he figured she was checking on Sam.

Just as well.

There was no way that would’ve gone over well, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with the fallout. As if their lives weren’t messed up enough, things had to go sideways in the way that they always seemed to lately: unpredictably badly. Not uncharacteristically badly, sure, but bad in ways they couldn’t seem to account for.

“Give it back to me!” the guy shrieked, twisting so he could lash out with his feet.

Dean dodged and nailed him in the stomach with a well-placed punch that knocked the wind from him.

And then he felt the temperature in the room drop, saw his breath fog, and swore again.

He turned before the ghost girl had a chance to blast him in the back, but she wasn’t focused on him anymore. She was staring at the guy she was supposed to be protecting.

Even from across the room, he could see the anger on her face.

She wasn’t protecting him any longer.

She flew closer, not quite ignoring Dean but definitely not focusing on him, and shot ice out of her hands, neatly freezing the guy’s cloak to the couch.

He didn’t miss the fact that if she could do that, she could probably turn them all into popsicles, but she’d been careful enough to avoid touching skin.

“Freakshow,” she growled, “how long has it been?”

The guy—Freakshow was as good a name for him as any; he certainly looked like a freakshow—finally seemed to have caught his breath. “I don’t—”

“I’m not stupid!” she shouted. “I’ve talked to Phantom, and I know you’ve been doing it again, that you’ve been controlling me. How long?”

Freakshow didn’t seem inclined to answer, and when Dean heard Sam come in, he moved back to his brother’s side. “This is a new one,” he muttered.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed as he handed Dean the shotgun they’d left outside earlier, “tell me about it. The guy had this pendant with runes etched into it and some kind of glass that she seems to think he was using to control her.”

“Well, she’s icing him, not us. What kind of runes?”

“I didn’t recognize them, but from what I could guess, she’s not wrong about using them to control ghosts. I salted and burned the thing to be safe, so if she’s tied to anything, it’s not that.”

“But she’s not just a ghost. Ghosts don’t do all that.”

“She might be tied to a person.”

“Who, the freakshow over there?”

Sam shook his head. “She said her name was Dani, but maybe things aren’t that simple. What if Dani’s an ordinary girl who’s formed a connection with this ghost? It could explain why she’s sometimes tangible.”

“Sammy. Ghosts can’t do that. That’s not how possession works.”

“I don’t think it’s a simple possession. And we’ve seen a lot of impossible things. Dude, we used to think angels never existed. What if this is just something else we’ve missed?”

“If you’re suggesting we take her back to the bunker—”

“I need your help to return all this,” Dani said, suddenly appearing between them and dropping an armload of stolen jewellery and other treasures onto the floor. “I don’t know where they all came from, but I know they’re stolen.”

Dean glanced at the couch. Freakshow was bound and gagged with some glowing green stuff that must stick fast or he’d be working his way out of it already. Dani followed his gaze and just said, “We can drop him off at the nearest police station. He has to have a file.”

“So do we,” Dean said, “and I’m not getting my fingerprints all over that stuff.” Let the girl or ghost or human working with a ghost or whatever she was take the fall for that. He didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her, and he sincerely doubted she had a record—or would get one from this, considering what he’d seen her do.

Besides, why was a fourteen year old practically giving them orders?

Dani rolled her eyes. “Fine. There are some boxes in the other room, and I’m pretty sure his book is in that safe; I’ll crack it and do the packing. You two can deal with Freakshow.”

Scratch that. She was definitely giving them orders.

“You know we’re hunters, right?”

She pursed her lips. “I’d guessed,” she said, eyeing his shotgun, “but I’ve worked with ghost hunters before to catch the bad guys. Because I don’t want to be one of them. I don’t like it when people try to control me.”

Dean exchanged a look with Sam but knew better than to push it. “Fine. We’ll help you if you be straight with us. What the hell are you?”

“A ghost.”

“We’ve run into our fair share of those, and you don’t fit the bill.”

She gave them a wide smile. “Maybe you just haven’t run into my sort of ghost yet.”

“This isn’t our first rodeo. You can pretend to be a good guy all you want. Doesn’t make you Casper.”

The smile dropped off her face. “I’m not pretending to be good. I’m trying to be. There’s a difference. Not like you two are going to be saints if you have criminal records.”

“She got you there, Dean,” Sam murmured. Traitor.

“You can’t find a hunter with a clean record, kid, at least not once they’ve been around the block a few times.”

She didn’t bother to hide her dubious look. “I know a family of ghost hunters. The Fentons. And none of them have records.”

Dean glanced at Sam, but a quick shake of the head confirmed that he hadn’t just forgotten the name. Whoever the Fentons were, they ran in different circles.

Which wasn’t really a surprise, if these people specialized in ghosts and somehow managed to avoid the authorities.

Maybe they weren’t legit.

Or maybe they were about as good at their job as the GhostFacers, even if it was the family business.

“Fine,” Dean said again. “But if we’re helping you, you need to keep talking. And explain what you know about all of this.” He wasn’t about to turn his back on her, but he could cram Sammy into the backseat to babysit Freakshow and let Dani ride shotgun. Maybe by the time they actually made it somewhere, he could figure out what the hell she was.

Frankly, he still half-expected a reaper to pop out of nowhere and deal with her, but if they hadn’t done that when she was in killer mode, they weren’t going to do it when she was playing nice.

Maybe if he pretended he was on good terms with Billie and could get her to show, Dani would be a little more forthcoming. Assuming she even knew that Billie had taken over for Death. Even if the girl rightly didn’t believe him, the boast might be enough to annoy whichever reaper was on Winchester duty into showing themselves and putting in their two cents.

“Why don’t I just teach you how to really deal with ghosts and hook you up with some actual weapons?” Dani jerked a thumb in Sam’s direction. “He said something about salting and burning things? Seriously?”

“That’s what works,” Sam said, and she just snorted.

“Okay, look. We’ll deal with this first. You can play human for the cops, right, kid?”

“Better than you think I can.”

Sam’s eyebrows were raised, but Dean didn’t want to explain why he was caving with this. Why he was curious. Especially when he was—or at least had been--pretty sure it was just a story. He’d heard a lot of things while on the road with his dad, back in Sammy’s Stanford days, but the wild stories that had flown around the hunter circles some years back, originating out of Wisconsin….

It might be nothing but stories.

It might have nothing to do with this even if it wasn’t just stories.

But he damn well wanted to find out before this kid disappeared on him if he could.

Especially now that she wasn’t ready to kill them.

If she had been controlled before, then maybe, now that she was free of that, she’d make as good an ally as Benny had been. They could use more of those, especially with what was coming.

“Keep an eye on the bad guy, Sammy,” Dean said, walking over to pick up the pistol Dani had shot out of his hands earlier. “I’m going to do a final sweep of this place before we put it in our rear-view mirror.”

(see more fics)

[crowsheadcaneandleathergloves]

Ferocious Zoya

Hogwarts AU

Zoyalai (Zoya Nazyalensky/Nikolai Lantsov)

Warnings: The Darkling’s real name, and King of Scars spoilers if you look really hard

Word Count: 3,820

Here’s another Hogwarts AU I wrote but with the crows: Impossible

Zoya Nazyalensky waited patiently with the other professors for the new professor. Or, rather, the assistant professor.

Nikolai Lantsov was his name.

Zoya knew quite a bit about him but right know all she knew was that he was horrendously late. While a couple professors were waiting patiently, Zoya had her lips pursed and was tapping her foot against the cold stone of the floor.

“Lighten up a little, Zoya,” Neville said, smiling at her. “With this new assistant, we won’t have to do as much work as normal.”

“We’re magical, Neville,” Zoya grumbled back. “If we want something we can use magic.” She hadn’t meant to sound harsh but she hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before and Nikolai’s tardiness just irritated her even more.

Zoya remembered Nikolai Lantsov from her time at Hogwarts. They had both been in the same year. He had been put in Ravenclaw while she was sorted into Slytherin.

She remembered crazy things happening in school. Once, someone built a small boat that would probably sink in water but charmed it so it would fly and soar. On the night of the Yule Ball, a masked person with hazel eyes charged one sickle per person to ride on his boat. Zoya did not remember who her date had been only that she had ridden that flimsy thing. They flew over the Great Lake and flew higher and higher and higher until Zoya was sure she’d be able to reach out and touch the stars. It was one of the only times the word magical ran through her mind.

Another time, an anonymous person with shockingly blonde hair began punching anyone who said the word “mudblood”. Milliseconds after the word was said, the cloaked figure would appear from seemingly thin air and sock the culprit right in the jaw. Mere five days later, no one dared say the slur on Hogwarts grounds. 

By that time, this mysterious person had a name: Sturmhond.

And then, during Zoya’s seventh year, on Valentine’s day every single student, teacher, and caretaker woke up with a red rose on their bedside table and personalized note expressing their undying love for the receiver. Zoya hated to admit it but she still had her note piled under all her things in her trunk.

Ferocious Zoya,

I do declare my love for you. You are clever and intelligent and determined to do you best! I have the utmost confidence in you that you will succeed in any career path you choose (however I personally see you becoming a famous auror one day!) Do manage to take some time for yourself, however! It never hurts to stop and smell the flowers! Stay strong!

Sturmhond

While no one seemed to know who it was, there were many theories. Zoya didn’t say it, but something had always told her it was Nikolai Lantsov.

But Nikolai Lantsov as himself was always intelligent, strong, and always had a student fawning over him. Teachers loved their prized student. Students loved how charming he was. Even Filch could not manage to hate him. 

Zoya was snapped out of her thoughts of simpler times when she heard heavy boots draw near the Great Hall. 

Nikolai Lantsov’s broad figure stood in the Great Hall’s massive double doorway. He had a grin on his face. “It’s good to be home.”

***

School started and Hogwarts was the same. Except for the fact that Nikolai Lantsov seemed busier than all the Hogwarts’s professors combined.

Hooch wanted him to teach her students the art of flying broomsticks. Flitwick wanted Nikolai to show his students the levitating and flying charms. Neville Longbottom, who hadn’t previously known of Nikolai before, wanted his help since he had “travelled far and wide and had seen many incredible plants”.

It wasn’t uncommon to see Nikolai grab a school broomstick and fly through a window and into a class because it was quicker than running through the halls. Sometimes he was muddy from Herbology, or stinking of whatever students were learning in Care for Magical Creatures. No one seemed to care, though. He was still Nikolai Lantsov.

Zoya told herself that if Nikolai asked to help with her Defence Against the Dark Arts class, she’d outright refuse. Nikolai, however, never asked. Good, she had thought one night before bed.

One encounter that stood out in Zoya’s mind was when she had been in the empty potions classroom, rummaging in the potion’s cabinet for a Confusing Concoction, planning to use it on her students to see if they could cast spells while under the influence of the potion.

She hadn’t realized Nikolai had even walked in until he had coughed and said, “hello.”

Zoya had spun around, startled. When she had realized it was just Nikolai she had turned around again, returning to her search of the potion.

Zoya hadn’t expected to hear him speak again until he said, “you don’t think Aleksander would mind if I glanced around in his potions cabinet, do you?”

She had finally found the familiar bottle and took it in her hands. She turned around to look at Nikolai and shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. “Maybe. Guess it depends on what potion your looking for.” She raised an eyebrow expectantly.

Nikolai scratched his neck. “Oh.” He let his arm drop and shrugged. “You know, just a headache potion.”

“To cure or create?” Zoya asked, stepping out of the potions cabinet and letting Nikolai step in and glance around. 

“To create,” Nikolai said easily. He glanced around at all the oddly shaped bottles, his eyes roaming over their labels. “Alina wants it.”

“What does the Muggle Studies professor want to do with a headache creating potion?” Zoya had asked incredulously. 

“Wants to show her students about muggle superstitions for curing certain ailments and whatnot.” He shrugged his shoulders and then they slumped. “Doesn’t seem to be here. I’ll go check the Hospital Wing I guess.” Nikolai had the walked to the doorway, turning back only to smile and say, “it’s nice seeing you again, Zoya.”

When Zoya had checked the potions cabinet after he had left, she had seen the headache potion right in front of the cabinet, perfectly eye level to Nikolai’s height.

As months went by, Zoya began to notice strange things about Nikolai. Like how he’d be sick every month and had to be confined to his room. 

As well, during the first few months of the school year, strange smells came out of his room. Soon, the smell was gone and Zoya noticed Nikolai speaking to Aleksander Morozova, the potions professor, more and more often. 

All her questions were answered when on one especially beautiful night, the full moon rising, Zoya couldn’t sleep. 

Ever since she had prematurely retired from being an auror, she could not sleep well. Before her retirement, she had slept like a log. But now, she couldn’t go two hours straight without waking up. Sleeping potions didn’t work; all she did was get horrendous, bloody, nightmares. Zoya would rather have bags under her eyes and feel exhausted than have nightmares. 

The stars twinkled outside her window and she was taken back to that Yule Ball when she flew in that rickety, flying, boat. 

Soon, Zoya found herself outside, drawing her cloak tighter around her body as the winds whipped around her. Her black hair was probably looking atrocious and she was without any makeup but Zoya couldn’t care. The cold brought her back to reality and out of her nightmare. It was like dunking her head in cold water.

Zoya’s hair on the back of her neck prickled as she head a loud howl cutting through the beautiful night like a knife. The noise startled Zoya and she gripped her wand from inside her cloak. It sounded like a wolf but it was incredibly close to Hogwarts grounds. Too close, she thought to herself.

Suddenly, Zoya caught a flash of brown fur and she jerked her wand towards the thing, thinking of the only spell she could think of: Petrificus Totalus.

A white light flew from the tip of Zoya’s wand. The thing whined softly before being temporarily frozen. 

Zoya edged closer to the creature and recognized it instantly as a werewolf. But who and how had it gotten loose on Hogwarts grounds, were unknown. The werewolf’s fur was slick and looked soft, the snout short. What really made Zoya take a step back were the eyes—human eyes. 

Zoya shivered and she was unprepared as the werewolf un-froze and snarled right into her face.

Zoya clamped her mouth shut, refusing to let the werewolf win so easily. She’d have to take the werewolf in after it transformed back to human to see what had caused the werewolf to roam Hogwarts’ grounds in the first place. 

The werewolf snapped at Zoya and then ran towards her. She cast her all-time favourite spell, Ventus, causing a strong gust of wind which made the werewolf slide backwards. She kept the wind going for as long as possible. She was horribly out of shape; Defence Against the Dark Arts was not suitable preparation for the real world and teaching it had made her grow weak.

Zoya cast Stupefy quickly, the wind dying down to nothing and the werewolf was knocked back at the power of the spell, out like a light in seconds.

She dragged the werewolf to the groundkeepers hut which was uninhabited since Hagrid left. It was dusty and unkempt and Zoya barely feel asleep before every two hours she woke herself up to stun the werewolf so he wouldn’t come to and kill her.

As the moon began to lower beneath the mountains and the sun’s rays could be seen peeking out, Zoya tried to straighten herself out before opening the hut door and stepping down the steps.

Nikolai Lantsov was sprawled out in the old pumpkin patch, his eyes staring upwards towards the sky, his cloak muddy and wet. “You’ve got a strong stun spell, Nazyalensky.” He slowly lifted himself into a sitting position.

“Nikolai?” Zoya couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice.

“The one and only,” Nikolai grinned and winked as he heaved himself up onto his feet.

“What were you doing on the school grounds? You could’ve killed somebody! And shouldn’t you be under the influence of the Wolfsbane Potion?” Zoya asked, flaring up suddenly like a match.

“Always straight to the interrogation. How very Zoya of you.” Nikolai grinned and ran a hand through his messed up hair. Then, more to himself, “I think I might need that curing headache potion now...”

“Nikolai.”

Nikolai sighed and then said, “come on. Let’s go to the castle before the students wake up.

They made their way up to the castle in silence until Nikolai said, “I normally transform in the Forbidden Forest but I somehow must have found my way back...” he trailed off. “And Wolfsbane potion is an incredibly difficult potion. I trust Aleksander’s skills in potions but not as a person in general. One wrong move and the potion could be deadly.”

“You were trying to make the potion on your own,” Zoya suddenly realized, remembering those awful smells that used to come out of his room. “Those first couple of months.”

Nikolai nodded. “Yeah, I thought that I could possible create the potion myself but I don’t have any talent in potions.”

Zoya pursed her lips as they got inside the castle and began walking through the halls. “I could try to make the potion. When I was a student I had an O in potions.”

She didn’t mention the fact that that was probably because of all the secret practice she had done making cosmetic potions for herself. How arrogant and self-conscious she had been back in her school years.

Nikolai didn’t say anything for a long moment before shrugging and saying a “sure.”

Zoya could hear the doubt in his voice. “What? You don’t think I can do it?” I probably—” but she was cut short as she saw Nikolai’s grinning face. “What?” She frowned.

“You were always competitive.” Nikolai chuckled.

Zoya sniffed. “And what’s so wrong about that?” She asked snappily.

Nikolai didn’t have the chance to reply as they both caught sight of a young Gryffindor student further down the corridor. Once she realized she had been spotted, she scurried away.

“Who was that?” Nikolai asked, squinting at nothing as the girl’s footsteps faded away.

“Nina Zenik.” Zoya could recognize that girl from a mile away. Who knew what she’d say now that she saw two of her teachers roaming the hallways at the crack of dawn, noticeably mussed up and disheveled. 

A moment of silence passed through them before Zoya said, “there will probably be rumours.”

“I don’t care.” Nikolai said. He then turned to face Zoya. “And I fully believe in your potion skills, Nazyalensky, and I trust you more than Aleksander.”

“That’s not saying much,” Zoya huffed but she couldn’t help but let a small smile escape. She rolled her eyes.

***

The potion was difficult. 

But Zoya gritted her teeth through it all and trucked along, reading and re-reading the passages over and over again, even speaking to Severus Snape’s portrait in the Headmistress’ office, one of the best potion masters she could name that was at her disposal. 

She didn’t know what had caused her to decide to help Nikolai. Maybe she thought she was obligated to help a fellow colleague. Maybe she was doing it because it was her job to keep the students safe. Or maybe because Zoya actually cared.

Zoya had bought her own cauldron so she wouldn’t have to ask Aleksander and kept it in her private bathroom. More often than not, Nikolai would keep her company while she brewed the potion, her hair becoming fuzzy and her skin feeling dirty.

There seemed to never be a dull moment when Nikolai was there. He always seemed to be in the best of spirits, always smiling and laughing and cracking jokes. 

“Honestly, how do you always seem so happy?” Zoya had grumbled after one particularly hard day of arguing with Nina Zenik.

“You fake it ‘till you make it, Nazyalensky. I’m a rather convincing actor, even to me!” Nikolai had replied with his self-sure smile.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you frown. Don’t you get tired?”

“It takes more muscles to frown than smile.” Nikolai had joked back. He then suddenly turned serious. “Honestly though, it can get tiring. I guess I’m just so used to be seen as a emotionally strong person.”

Zoya suddenly looked mildly interested. She looked up from the potion book for a second. “How so?”

“After I was bitten by the werewolf, my mother and father begged me to hide the mark and to hide any thing that would make people come to the conclusion that I was a werewolf. So, I guess I just decided that I would act as who they wanted to see: a strong leader, a kind gentleman...etcetera etcetera.” Nikolai shrugged. 

Zoya stirred the potion three times counter-clockwise. She hadn’t thought about Nikolai past his outer shell. 

“I like to please people too.” Nikolai added in thoughtfully.

Zoya stayed silent and shook some white powder into the Wolfsbane potion. Then, she thoughtfully said, “perhaps you should take your own advice: Manage to take some time for yourself. It never hurts to stop and smell the flowers.” She hadn’t even realized what she had said. 

“What?” Nikolai asked, his spine straightening. His eyes widened just a bit.

Zoya straightened too, suddenly realized what she had said. She cursed herself. She had gotten too comfortable in Nikolai’s company.

“You knew?”

“Of course I knew. Are you daft?” Zoya snapped, her guard coming back up. “A blond haired, hazel eyed, boy anonymously going around school?”

“But I changed my appearance!” Nikolai looked amused.

“Not until Year 4, you didn’t.” Zoya said as she began stirring again. 

“Hmmm, Nazyalensky. Didn’t know you were paying attention.” Nikolai grinned and handed her a bottle. “Next ingredient.”

Zoya took it and rolled her eyes. 

***

“How about you, Nazyalensky?” Nikolai asked, the potion near done. It was close to cyan. “What happened when you graduated? Did you become an auror?”

Zoya’s shoulders stiffened. “For a short period.” She then shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Nikolai frowned and just silently passed her her wand, nodding understandingly.

***

Zoya gripped her wand anxiously, trying to calm her nerves. A goblet of lightly smoking, blue-green, Wolfsbane was in front of her and Nikolai. 

“You think it’s alright?” Zoya asked, hating how small her voice sounded.

“I trust you.” Nikolai said, looking over at Zoya with his easy-going smile. “I’m sure it’ll taste great.”

Zoya punched him in the arm lightly. “You know it’s not supposed to taste good! It’s supposed to be unpleasant.” She grumbled.

Zoya didn’t like this. Alone in her bathroom with the smoking potion in front of them. It felt ominous. She couldn’t take the silence. “Well then? What are you waiting for? Drink the darn thing. I didn’t brew the potion for eye candy!” 

Nikolai chuckled and grabbed the potion. Zoya noticed his knuckled were white from gripping the goblet too tightly. He downed it all in one gulp.

Nikolai made a face and Zoya wondered if she had actually concocted the Wolfsbane potion correctly.

“It’s...sweet...” Nikolai fell to the ground in a heap.

“Nononononono,” Zoya said, her voice becoming high pitched as she repeated the word. I poisoned him, she thought suddenly, her heart palpitating in her chest.

Zoya heaved Nikolai up quickly, casting a levitating charm and hurrying out of the bathroom and out into the hallways were students were milling about, about to head to their first class.

“Get out of the way!” She growled, the students parting quickly. Zoya dragged Nikolai’s floating body through the halls, hearing students beginning to murmur. “Get out!” She shrieked again. “Go to your classes!”

Madame Pomfrey quickly took Nikolai in, her face scrunched up and her movements quick. “Zoya, you should know how dangerous Wolfsbane can be when done incorrect—”

“—I know I know!” Zoya said, pacing the Hospital Wing. Her head was throbbing. He asked me to do it. He trusted me with his life...

The whole thing seemed outrageous now that she was looking back at it. How could she have thought that she could make Wolfsbane Potion? How had she been so stupid? Even Snape had warned her that he had found it difficult—

“He should have asked me to brew the potion himself. No hard feelings, Nazyalensky, but you’re hardly capable to brew one of the most difficult potions known to—”

Zoya spun to Aleksander, her eyes alight with distaste. “Well he didn’t ask you, now did he, Aleksander?” She knew it sounded childish but Aleksander’s words were true. She should have never let Nikolai drink the poison she had created.

Aleksander only smiled politely and Zoya hated him even more. How could he be so calm? He swept over to where Nikolai was laid and pulled out a clear liquid. “This should help,” he said with a pleasant expression masked on his face. “It should eliminate some of the poison. Mind it though, he’ll throw up.” He then left.

Madame Pomfrey didn’t even hesitant or ask about Aleksander’s motives. All she did was uncork the bottle and began feeding it to Nikolai.

Zoya clenched her jaw as Madame Pomfrey fed him the potion. What if Aleksander had poisoned it and was trying to kill Nikolai?

But the liquid went down easily and, just as Aleksander had predicted, Nikolai vomited up some of the poison.

“You may go now, Zoya.” Madame Pomfrey said, looking up at her. “Go teach your classes. Nikolai is in good hands.”

***

Zoya managed to get through one class. She almost strangled Nina Zenik and was close to cursing that blasted Kaz Brekker into oblivion. 

Eventually, Zoya got Alina to take over her classes. She just couldn’t handle it. What if Nikolai died while she was away?

Zoya sat next to Nikolai in the Hospital Wing, watching over him like a mother bird. She almost hated the way she felt about Nikolai. Why did she care so much? Zoya bit her lip and glanced over at Nikolai, feeling her eyes prickle with tears but refusing to let them fall.

Late at night, when Madame Pomfrey had retired for the evening, Zoya was looking out the window.

Madame Pomprey had said that there nothing left to do. She had given him healing potion upon healing potion and had given him poison extracting potions upon poison extracting potions. She was sure she’d seen enough vomit to last her a lifetime.

Now, it was just a waiting game.

The sky was clear and bright and Zoya was reminded of that night which seemed like ages ago but really wasn’t that long. 

Zoya sat back down next to Nikolai. She needed something to hang on to—anything except for the sadness that was filling her up and was close to reaching her capacity before it would leak out.

Anger. She needed anger. Zoya found it inside of her and gripped onto it for dear life. “Why?” She asked and she was glad no one was around to hear her voice crack. “Why?” She asked more quietly. 

Zoya hardened her voice. “Why did you want allow me to brew the potion?” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m not even that good at potions! Alina could have probably done a better job than me!” 

Zoya crossed her arms, feeling her fingers begin to twitch. She felt a sense of relief flood her as she noticed she was no longer on the verge of tears.

“I don’t know why I helped you either.” Zoya snapped, needing to fill the silence of the room and to keep her sane. “I don’t know why I decided to brew that potion. I knew it was difficult. I knew it was dangerous...” she trailed off as her lip trembled; just now realizing how this could have all been avoided if she hadn’t decided to help Nikolai.

Zoya put both of her hands on Nikolai’s cot. “It was stupid of you to even allow me to do it. I shouldn't have suggested and you shouldn’t have agreed,” she hissed.

That was when Nikolai’s mouth began to move.

Zoya thudded back in her chair, shocked. Her anger she was clinging to desperately to slipped away and she was left with utter bewilderment and the urge to cry.

Nikolai was trying to say something. “F-f-f...”

Zoya felt the tears well behind her eyes. This time, she didn’t blink them back. Instead, she let them roll down her cheeks. Her nose was stinging and she covered her face with her hands.

“F-f...Ferocious Zoya, I do declare my love for you.”

[twitchesandstitches]

HS Humans in Crossthicc - Descriptions!

The humans themselves, along with my headcanons for how they look here. In general, the post-scratch humans are the older generation, from 5 to 10 years older than the pre-scratch humans:

Jane Egbert: She was originally called Jane Crocker, but she has no wish to be associated with Crockercorp, nor her position as the Condesces’ legal heir. Polynesian, a definite BBW and a very strongfat build, she stands more than ten feet tall and is a walking tank and her powers function as this, making her a living wall that ignores all damage and heals what does get through. Crockertier cybernetics are imbedded through her, glowing blue and making her a very obvious cyborg. Likes to use a combat gourmand fork that can turn into a spoon, and she fancies herself a gourmand when it comes to foes. She tends to use her healing powers to restore people to health as a combat medic.

She started the army of chefs that keeps the fleet fed, and wrote up the principles of agriculture and livestock they follow to this day. She’s since become one of the heads of a corporation-analogue called the Carnival Bazaar; the fleet’s source of wealth, where they sell their goods as they travel from world to world. She’s less a CEO and more of an HR department head who keeps people stabilized and counseled, but in practice she runs the whole thing. She’s very close with Steven Universe, the two of them dating from time to time, and they’ve had many children together.

She is clearly mutated with troll mods; her blood is tinted faintly fuchsia, and she has a few mutations indicating her troll-themed genetic mix. She and Feferi are quite close, and the latter is responsible for stabilizing some of Jane’s complications.

John Egbert: A cheerful and helpful guy, and very tiny, standing below five feet tall. Polynesian, chubby, and incredibly solid for it with muscle. He drifts from ship to ship, going wherever he pleases, and proves to be popular wherever he goes and does his best to keep everyone happy. He’s extremely fast and mobile, and surprisingly destructive in a straight fight, using massive hammers bigger than he is.

Dated Vriska at some point and they’re still very close. No one is sure how the size difference was coped with but he doesn’t seem to mind being totally dominated by extremely large women.

Dirk Strider: Mechanics expert, roboticist, and key engineer in both shipcraft and mech maintenance, though he declines to actually pilot them. Aboriginal, a bit shorter than average (5’6), and has that bishounen ‘thin but pretty and fit’ look. His powers allow him to effect magic directly, and the soul directly; damaging their essence, or turning heroic spirit into raw damage. It gives him a great insight into creating AI, which led to the creation of  his… son? Brother? Something? Anyway, that’s where Li’l Hal came from.

Prefers not to put himself out there and likes being a support guy. “I don’t want to be the guy to kill the bad guy. I want to make the weapon that kills the bad guy.”

Dave Strider: Studies monsters of all kinds, and is a forensic expert and coroner. He also does part time in one of the many bands the fleet does in their flirtation with being cosmic pop stars. He doesn’t like fighting, but he exhibits absolutely absurd speed related to his growing powers of time travel. Aboriginal, smaller than Dirk (5’4), and on the plump side. MILFs of all kinds gravitate straight towards him in a ‘oh, you POOR Dear…!” way. He is the father of many children now, having a huge weakness for gentle, protective mom-types.

Roxy Lalonde: one of the fleet’s head scientists, heavily influential in their alchemizer program, and loves messing with bio mods for fun. Her playful demeanor hides how frighteningly smart she is, and she loves messing with people on account of it. (NOT an alcoholic of any sort here, either.) When she is involved in fighting, she uses high-powered rifles and does sniper duty. Indian, a classic hyper curvy hourglass and about seven and a half feet tall. She can manifest objects out of raw magic, but this takes a lot of work and requires her to understand them in and out. Has a lot of cat-themed mods that sometimes give her pink fur, a tail, cat ears, and functional claws.

A true mom friend to everyone around her, Roxy is a sweet and good-natured person who loves helping people and being a Science Hero FOR GREAT JUSTICE; she’s very passionate about what the fleet does, and actively encourages everyone to be more proactively heroic. She fears that she has a tendency towards addiction, and is compelled to mass produce children whenever she has the chance, with the possibility that she has an integrated alchemizer to ‘produce’ items herself through her powers.

Rose Lalonde: Expert in magical power and theory, specializing in arcane magic, but she also has channeled power from mysterious eldritch entities that are nonetheless apparently benign. They have left their mark on her; while she looks human if she concentrates, in her true form she is a monstrous eldritch monster girl, with tentacles for legs, glowing multiple rows of white eyes, and immense spookiness. Probably at least Roxy’s height, but can be a lot bigger as she powers up. Hard to say how her powers will interface in the AU, but she is certainly an EXTREMELY powerful magic user, on par with a D&D Warlock, and takes a methodical, experimental approach to her powers. Indian, pear-shaped, with very large hips, massive butt, thick tentacles, and large breasts. She tends to favor more inhuman mods, for more multiple… well, everything if she wants it. Her weapons of choice are a pair of deadly wands that channel her magic, and can stab really well too.

Rose is deeply spooky to a lot of people, and she enjoys unsettling others. She gets annoyed that John, Dave and the others don’t fall for it so much anymore. She has a close romance with Kanaya, whom she has had many children with, and they enjoy a mutual spooky aesthetic of eldritch/vampire goodness. She is deeply fascinated by the mystery of what happened in the ancient cataclysm, and has resolved to solve it.

Jake Harley: An explorer and famous fleet scout, often flying off on his own to report on new worlds and see if there is first contact to be made. Able to channel optimism and happiness into raw destructive power over a period of time, he’s situationally very powerful, but tends to be a glass cannon, easily taken out once he Does The Thing. He’s First Nations, and a massive super-cute beefcake of a man; he flexes and people thank him. Likes to use a pair of customized pistol-lasers that channel his powers. About seven feet tall. He may have some genuine angelic essence in him, which can be very spooky.

Jade Harley: A monstrously big and obscenely powerful amazon, so heavily modded that she looks like a werewolf girl even when not monsterized. Her heart has been replaced with an infinite energy generator, she calls it the green sun,, and it is powered by her own resolve, and she uses it to channel a wide variety of technologies secretly fueled by her own powers. She can alter space in many ways; shrinking herself and others, growing herself and others, opening portals, or unleashing incredibly destructive blasts of green energy. She is obscenely powerful, and one of the fleet’s heaviest hitters, bar none. She can even channel it into herself, giving her immense strength or size. She is First Nations, standing… however big she wants, but often over twelve feet high. Muscular and amazonian, she has absolutely enormous curves but focuses on gigantic breasts. Her canine mods are advanced enough that she has furry skin, canine features, and can generally pass as a low-level beastwoman. One of her favorite alternate forms is a dogtaur form. Jade turns Grimbark whenever she uses enough power, but this is more of a super mode, not a bad thing, and she just becomes a lot more aggressive and domineering.

Working heavily in the science departments, Jade is a major leader in the fleet, and a powerful witch as well. She takes a more carefree approach to her magic, doing whatever seems like an intriguing idea for her spells; an artist, to Rose’s technician. She is one of the most prominent human characters here, and her raw power is simply awe inspiring. She’s very sweet, if prone to sassiness and a short temper. She’s rather dominant with boys, too.

Joey Harley: She has no conflict with Jake here, so did not take another name out of spite. A talented dancer and xenopsychologist, she prefers to do ‘real work’ and research, but enjoys dancing and regularly demonstrates her skills at the fleet’s clubs. She is First Nation, with a bulk similar to Jade’s but slimmer, with smaller breasts; instead most of her curve mass is in her cybernetically enhanced legs, which are absurdly powerful. Her kicks are very strong, she can leap great distances, and she augments them further with special weaponized shoes with built-in cannons. Nine feet tall.

Jude Harley: A self-proclaimed strategist and existential threat theorist, he is deeply worried about the threats that the Ringers have supposedly seen, and organizes a group of people who are trying to figure it out as well. He otherwise works in the Zoo, the facility where the pet monsters, summon creatures, and powerlink beasts are cared for, and he happily tends towards the avian ones. He’s made a lot of friends with Flying-type Pokemon and avian Digimon as well. Built on broadly the same lines as Jake but shorter (a little under seven foot) and very softly built.

Li’l Hal: Dirk’s robotic offspring, and while an AI, he can upload himself into robotic bodies as he pleases. He and Dirk have a very complicated relationship, and with being often subject to harassment, oppression and worse by humans, he has a very negative attitude towards organics in general from sheer spite. He’s warmed up a bit since joining the fleet… to just being instantly suspicious of anyone outside the fleet. He’s in sincere love with Jane and Roxy, but doesn’t seem to realize it. He’s quite close with the other robots of the fleet, idolizing the Dinobots as liberators of robotkind, and wishes to one day upload into a Cybertronian frame.

Unexpectedly, he has his own share of unusual abilities unrelated to whatever body he is using. This appears to be related to soul-themed abilities; he can weaponize the essence of genuinely living beings, or tear organics apart at the very soul. While Dirk can destroy in ways he can’t Hal’s actual combat powers are superior to Dirk’s.

Squarewave and Sawtooth: Hal’s robot brothers, and performers in the fleet’s various bands, pop groups, metalheads, and other musical interests. Both of them are loyal to Dirk and are generally considered legally Striders, and think Hal needs to calm down on the ‘meatbags are out to GET US’ front. Squarewave uses destructive sonic attacks… by yelling really, really loud, and comes off as an earnest kid brother. Sawtooth, on the other hand, is just plain cool, everyone wishes they were as cool as that. It must be a Strider thing. He employs integrated weaponry and sonic weapons, often narrating his actions in musical form and working it into his performance.

The Consorts: A wide variety of strange creatures Roxy and Jade created, producing happy little creatures modeled after the canon consorts, and they seem happy to act as servants to the fleet as a whole, bustling in and tidying up or serving people, washing people in the communal baths, and so forth. The fleet tried to get them to be more independent and less servile, but they refused to listen, so they’re just left to their own cheerful devices.

[internetremix]

I was wondering... Do you any of you have tips for a rookie GM? I'm setting up a game night here soon and I'm stressing the heck out over it.

Alex: No matter what game system you play it's usually quite intimidating because there are like 600 pages of information to digest. At any given time you need to have memorized only, like, thirty. At the end of the day most tabletop games are just two things - math and improv. Admittedly things that, outside of tabletop games, people go out of their way to avoid, but still.

Stress can lead people to get things done fast but also get things done sloppy. You don't need to plan out every single detail of what the characters might encounter eventually in a session. You can flesh out a couple of interesting people, places, or things you want them to see and just keep a scratch card of notes and traits for if/when they go off the beaten path. Remember, no matter what you plan, there is no accounting for the actions of players, and rolling with them provides a far better experience than slamming your fist down and saying "NO" to every deviation.

And above all else, remember that tabletop games are a collaborative effort. People come together to play games, tell stories, and shoot the shit. If shooting the shit overtakes the game you can rein that in a little but at the end of the day everyone's there voluntarily to have fun, and no one is there to see anyone fail.So to recap -

1. You are the arbiter of rules no matter what the book says. You can double-check later and take notes for future games if it becomes an issue but generally you only need to have in mind rules that are actively going to be used in game. If you don't know the exact way to handle something just make up what the closest action would be and if the player rolls what you think is well enough to do it, they did it.

2. If you don't have time to take notes on every single thing the players might encounter, congratulations, you're an average person. You only need a few based on the following factors - what do you want the players to do, how do you think they're going to do it, and do you have something prepared for when they go off the beaten path.

3. Have fun! Seriously, it's called a tabletop GAME, not a tabletop dictatorship.

Kristen: All of my games are Tabletop Dictatorships, all of them. Unfortunately I'm a terrible, weak-willed dictator so this helps nothing.

Alex: Discord Murder Party is different. Mafia/Werewolf operates way differently than D&D and needs a GM SPECIFICALLY so that players don't go off the rails.

Kristen: You are 100% correct.

God my first tabletop I ever DMed for I made my own thing and wrote like... twenty pages for my first session. And then as soon as I started, my players were like HEY I WANNA EXPLORE THE SHOPS

"O-oh.... y-yeah, here's uh... heeeere's a list of shops..."

So then I had to improv like... five shops and make multiple NPCs on the fly and then I found out "it turns out writing an entire paragraph for every NPC is an awful idea because you can't fucking read those notes mid-session"

So my point is don't do that.

Juno: Oh yeah. Last night I had to make up a guy named Lucas on the spot because JoJo's character wanted to convince a guy not to kill them

Kristen: YEP I ran the generic 5e DnD starter for a group of friends and somehow it went from a generic "you all hunt down and kill a bunch of goblins and a bugbear in a cave, way to go" to "You spared a Goblin who has a ridiculous Brooklyn accent who hates his job and now you're starting a ridiculous worker's revolution and this has ended with you all enlisting every other goblin you were supposed to fight into swarming the bugbear boss. Okay."

Juno: I mean. That's a pretty bomb plot twist if you ask me.

Kristen: Oh yes, I enjoyed it immensely. Also really in the context of a DnD game I'm pretty sure that shouldn't be doable cause I don't think any of them were supposed to be able to speak common. If your players are setting themselves up for a more interesting story and you have to bend the rules a bit to make it happen, go for it. One of the most important things for GMing is making your players feel like they have agency- as Alex said, it's collaborative, it's not just you telling your players a story.

Another thing to keep in mind is what sort of players you have. I usually prefer to play with people who are more into the RP/story aspect, but some people are gonna be more into them fighty fights and mechanics and such. Which is fine and can work, it's just a matter of striking a balance in your game.  I usually try to tailor things in such a way that everyone's getting a chance to get what they want out of a game and their shot at the spotlight, in whatever manner that takes. For me it's helped to ask my players directly "hey, what do you want out of this game? Do you have any ideas or anything you're really into?"

Mostly what I'm saying is just try to keep in mind what your players are in this for, since that contributes a lot to how much fun you all have.

Atwas: Something that's helped me a lot is to not stress out or stop the game entirely to double check rules. It sort of kills momentum. In my experience, ruling a situation and then looking something up later is a lot less stressful than the pressure of putting something completely on pause while you flip through a book/google something.

If you're doing stuff in real life, I would recommend making a little cheat sheet of your PC's information. My DM screen has sticky notes with each party characters HP, AC, Passive Perception, and Spell Save DC to keep things streamlined.

Kristen: Oooo smurt

Alex: Hell yeah dude. Also there are custom DM screens you can get tailor-made to give you quick rules references. Fairly cheap on Amazon.

Atwas: Also your players don't know if you're winging stuff unless you tell them. ;^)

Also also don't be scared of bumping monster hp up or down depending on a fight or having monsters run away or call in reinforcements. If you go off script in an encounter--surprise! Nobody knows but you. I did that quite a bit when I was starting out because balancing encounters is a bit of an art and CR is a loose guideline at best.

Also also also the point of the game isn't to win. Don't fall into the trap of "beating your players" or stuff like that. Imo that kind of messes with the table dynamics unless 100% of everyone is on board with that type of game.

Kristen: Yeah, don't fall into that and also be careful not to go into the mindset of "punishing" your players if they do something dumb. Like if it's a silly "you did this thing and consequences have gone WILDLY outside of what you expect wheee", awesome, but I've had DMs who basically would act like if you didn't somehow read their minds and find their exact solution, welp you made a dumb choice and now everyone is penalized for it. Made for a pretty toxic atmosphere, do not recommend. Kind goes hand in hand with "don't be a tabletop dictator".

Atwas: oh gods i could go on and on about how punishing someone in game never works for out of game behaviour but i digress. also please don't feel afraid to talk to your players, even if having adult conversations is difficult.

Juno: Cause and effect is the biggest thing to think about I think, especially in a DMing situation.

Alex: For instance, siccing a Revenant on the party? Thavagath made a bad decision in character, that's the natural consequence, he gets a chance to save his ass. Someone makes a dick joke about your carefully crafted NPC? Don't be a dick right back.

Atwas: sweats, trying to think back to the last time a dick joke was made in Fallen Empires

Alex: Like I think the last major one was Phill pulling a muscle stretching so hard to make a joke for five minutes about the "Male Room" rather than the "Mail Room"

But then we - wait for it - ACTUALLY DISCUSSED THE ISSUE OUT OF GAME and stuff like that doesn't pop up any more.

Atwas: WHAT? SPEAKING LIKE REASONABLE ADULTS?!?! IN MY TABLETOP?!?!?! it's really useful. please have those conversations, even if they're uncomfortable. and if something is becoming an issue, bring it up sooner rather than later--turns out that people can't change stuff if they don't know about it! Most people want to stay friends after a campaign after all.

Jojo: Have your story planned, npcs, and what you want an end goal to be. Make sure it's all planned out BEFORE asking people to join it. And if you need a second DM to help you with Dice or story, then that's ok too! I'm still a beginner DM myself, so that's the best advice I can give

These guys are pros, so listen to them

Phill: Heheh... male room

Alex: Phill no you'll pull your hamstring again

Phill:

Atwas: what do you think is Phill's average Henderson rating?

Alex: Phill has at least One Henderson in him, he destroyed Underdark to the point of we can't go back to it ever now.

Phill: I mean. Yeah. Honestly, I could've very easily seen phresh reach a 1.75 hendersons eventually.

Atwas: I'd say 1.75 works. 2 is still out of reach, but one day...

Xander: Underdark is cursed content and deserved better

Atwas: How many of he players had that as their first campaign? 3/5?

Xander: I believe so

Alex: Uprising and I had played before, I don't think Jojo, Dawn, or Phill had.

Xander: I'm probably gonna reboot Underdark one day. Wipe the slate clean. Probably not gonna be done on IR

Alex: We did it! We reached two Hendersons!

Xander: Two full Hendersons.

Phill: time unveil my new original character. Blesh

Alex: Blerish

Xander: More like Blemish