#so you feel more inclined to really connect with people as a werewolf in a way that a vampire might not

[nightingaletrash]

a surprisingly wholesome ending for a WoD game <3

[thebestofoneshots]

I have been summoned :D

Hello!! Thank you for tagging me because I love analyzing so much 😊

First, I’d like to say and warn you that my predictions may be too far-fetched/detailed. Quite literally researched so much to double check my facts and opened a word document to for out my analysis and to plan and space out my thoughts (Get it? Because constellations and all are in space…? Anyway-)

1) We gon’ analyze this from top to bottom. The top two corners of the cover have the same sigil, just inverted. A crescent moon, a star, and a girl. Now, if we were to just scrap the surface of the meaning; The crescent moon is Remus, the star (of the show) is Sirius and of course, the girl is the reader.

But what I find interesting is how you chose the waning crescent moon to represent Remus, instead of the full moon like most people do. The waning crescent moon symbolizes ‘the perfect time to rest and regenerate’. Ironically, the waning crescent moon is one of the first few stages of the moon before it turns full once more.

I’d like to think that you’re representing Remus as his own person. He is a werewolf, yes. However, it doesn’t define him as a whole. That is not all who he is. Not to mention, I love how the moon partially encompasses both the girl and the star.

The latter two are positioned in a way that makes it seem like they find comfort with the moon. The moon has a small opening; it doesn’t confine the star or the girl. Rather, it encourages freedom and independence.

Ergo, Sirius and Reader find comfort with Remus and Remus protects and shelters them in a way (reference example: when Remus calmed Sirius and Reader down from causing trouble with Barty Crouch Jr.). Remus doesn’t restrict neither Sirius nor Reader to be with him. They can come and go as they please, and Remus wouldn’t mind. But the positioning of the girl and the star make it quite obvious that they choose to be with the moon. They want and are drawn to it.

I also want to highlight the fact that the star is practically clinging to the middle of the curve of the crescent moon. Referencing Remus and Sirius’ good relationship (platonically or romantically, take it as you please) and how Sirius is connected to the moon, only because of Remus. However, the girl is sat towards the edge of the crescent moon. Almost as if she’s looking at the moon and the stars. Referencing that Remus and Sirius are not the only reason why she has this connection with the galaxy.

The Reader being a fairy already made that connection and helped her have a natural inclination towards subjects like Divination and Astronomy. I think her being drawn towards our two boys just amplifies it. Moving on!!!

2) The Sun. It’s partially filled in. Maybe it’s nothing. But I feel like it’s something. So I thought, ‘What could possibly block out the Sun?’. Short answer; the Moon. When do the Moon and Sun align together? During a lunar eclipse, werewolves don’t transform apparently. So, perhaps there will be a lunar eclipse to come within the next three remaining chapters? Perhaps a really soft Moony too 🤭.

Suns – There are suns scattered every on the cover. There’s a sun on the crescent of the moon, suns at each corner of the book title. Suns at the bottom. But that’s not just the Sun, but it shows Earth and Mars too. I’m not entirely too sure about the science behind this, but I do know that there will come a point in time the Sun, Earth, Moon and Mars will align together in a straight line, creating the total lunar eclipse. So perhaps, we wouldn’t get a regular eclipse, rather a total one.

Also, the Sun represents life, light, warmth, power, and divinity. This somewhat correlates with the symbolism of the fox. Perhaps this hints that the Reader is the biggest star among the three. Because if the Reader has some sort of correlation with the Milky Way, which contains so many suns, technically that would make her brighter than the brightest star of Canis Major and the moon put together ;)

Not to mention, moonlight is just reflected light from the Sun. Without the light, we wouldn’t be able to see the moon. (I actually have no idea where I’m going with this last paragraph 💀)

3) The constellations; (from left, right then center) Canis Major, Lupus and Vulpecula. All of which represent different animals.

Canis Major is a dog = Sirius

Lupus is a wolf = Remus

Vulpecula is a fox = Reader

Now the first two correlating with each other makes sense. Considering Sirius’ animagus and patronus is a dog, while Remus turns into a werewolf and his patronus is a wolf. (Remus never actually casts a corporeal patronus as to not make people suspicious of him. Poor Moony).

Now the link between the Reader and foxes interests me. My biggest hunch I have right now is that Reader is also an illegal animagus like Sirius. Which would make sense considering a fox is a symbol of spirituality, creation, omens, afterlife, offering wisdom, guidance, protection, nobility, and a sign of good luck to those they encounter them.

And the Reader has proven to show a majority of these traits naturally. How did the Reader become an animagus? In the earliest chapters of this book, I recall that young Reader and Sirius bought a book about animagi. I also faintly recall Reader copying some important pages off the book (most probably the process and preparation for the potion and all).

Next, there is something behind each constellation that represents our beloved main characters. Canis Major and Lupus have the marauders map behind them, representing their involvement with the famous Marauders, the four boys sharing their shared tendency to spread and cause mischief.

The same can be said about Vulpecula, however there is the faint sigil of the Milky Way. The Milky Way symbolizes coming of age and afterlife. Look at that, Vulpecula and the Milky Way share one thing in common in terms of symbolism. The afterlife. I think this correlates back to Reader being a fairy. One of the theories of fairy origins is that they are a representation of the spirits of ancestral dead. ✨ A f T e R l I f E ✨. Reader is about to pull out some serious powers >:D

That’s the suspicion anyway.

4) The moon cycle on the bottom. Initially I thought that it was a regular-degular moon cycle. Then it didn’t make sense because there were some stages that did not make sense. Why choose only certain stages of the moon? And they seemed slightly out of order. That’s when I realized, it was the blood moon cycle. Not a regular one. Plus, with the latest chapter being on the night of the blood moon, it makes sense. According to some resources, werewolves are most dangerous during these blood moons. So, assuming we get a chapter with a lunar eclipse, we would have witness different intensities of Remus’ transformations. I’ll end this here.

Whoever reads this, bless you and your patient soul for sticking through this long with (1230 words if you end at ‘with’). Also I just read the comments and realized that @starchaser-lily also made some points that make me look like I’m copying them… I swear I didn’t read it until I looked at the comments 😭 😭 😭 But you have really good points! Great minds think alike? Idk if I’m helping my case 💀

Have a lovely day and lots of love! ~

I cannot confirm or deny anything but, can I just say….

I freaking love my readers?!? I mean look at this 1k words worth of theories over a single poster that’s so freaking amazing! And son well thought out of and so detailed and ingenious. Like man, this is university worth quality analysis, and for my poster??!? I feel so freaking honored!

And the ATTENTION TO DETAIL holly mother of Merlin so freaking precious. Like all of your freaking theories, you guys are brilliant *cries*!

I literally have the cleverest readers of the whole cosmos! I’m so freaking lucky!

Side note: not sure why you think it’s only three chapters left?? It’s a whole lot more than that, like I’m already working on chapter 26 and the end toll is borderline going to be like 40 chapters so you guys are in for the long run.

I did say it was going to be slow burn, didn’t I?

For those who have no clue what this entire thing it’s about, some of you guys ( @cometsghost @starchaser-lily @moonyunebi and a certain little annon ) were theorizing over on this post about a poster/cover for Gilded Constellations!

[princess-of-the-corner]

Okay here's my thoughts on the bnha monster au so far:

Let's start with Izuku because his shit is Complicated™.

So. Izuku is a Changeling. The Fae kind not the mlp kind. A Fae child swapped with a Human for... whatever the fuck reason why do Fae do that?

Now. I debated on what to do with the Human he was swapped with. I thought about doing what Cap did with OM!Sabrina and just. Making an OC to be the Human that Izuku replaced. And honestly Faezuku was tempting.

But........

Y'all know I'm here with the 'Dad for One' stuff. And AfO did canonically kinda kidnap/adopt a child. Plus I already decided that the whole AfO/OfA situation in this AU involved a Fae Contract.

So really it writes itself that Shigaraki is the Human that AfO swapped Izuku for.

I need to fuck around with this a little because Izuku and Shigaraki are different ages in Canon but I can either adjust ages or explain some Fae Nonsense.

That said, while they were swapped, even more fuckery happens because like hell am I leaving Izuku in that family. Something or other happens and they die(miiiight be AfO's fault), with Izuku ending up adopted by Inko. I can explain away Izuku looking like Inko as some more Fae Magic, the whole Changeling thing has him inclined to make his appearance resemble the family he's in. (by the time we get to the main story his appearance is solidified and can't be changed to a different default.)

Anyway!

Izuku has no idea what he is. He has no idea Magic is a thing. He knows he's a little 'off' in some ways but thinks it's probably just the adhd/autism cocktail. He does have some funky Fae memory where he remembers more about his younger years than a Human should, so he does vaguely remember different adults in his life before Inko and is aware he's adopted. But other than that.......

Well. The only real strange thing is that he likes being in the woods. He feels 'right' there. Not that he's uncomfortable at home, but it's just the Fae nature. He'll spend a lot of time out there. Sometimes he loses track of time and will spend the night in a tree or something. It scares Inko every time but she eventually decided to just get the kid a cellphone so that he can check in.

Let's hop over to All Might for a minute!

I mentioned before that OfA is a Fae Contract. The basis is that it will give you a lot of Magic Power, connecting through each user like in Canon, but at the cost of being tied to whatever Contract was made between the users when it's passed down. Mostly it is some variation of 'use this power to protect others'.

Which. Yeah is what All Might is doing at this point. I don't know if 'superhero' is the right word but he is the person who deals with keeping people safe. Whether it's from the Human vs. Monster thing, or the Monsters that do cause problems.

Now let's finally get to my favorite Katsuki.

SO.

I need to hammer out the relationship between Izuku and Katsuki. Since this is a 'no Quirks' AU, there.... isn't really anything that could cause their fallout as kids. Like, yeah I do think that Katsuki's need for positive attention, no matter how shallow it is, could lean toward the adults at school manipulating him into aiming his anger issues into bullying other students rather than helping him deal with it. But without the difference of Katsuki having a Quirk and Izuku not, there isn't anything to really turn him against his friend entirely.

I think he might just be generally mean and they fell out of friendship for the most part but less targeted bullying.

Anyway. Things are normal up into this AU's version of the sludge villain incident. Which I'm moving up to 'just before high school' rather than a whole year before for timeline reasons.

Also instead of sludge it's a Werewolf.

Yeah you can see where I'm going with this. I made that joke to Cap and I'm sticking to it.

So for whatever reason, both Izuku and Katsuki end up in the woods one night. Whether they're there together or just both ran into each other is up in the air. But they're attacked by a very big and very angry 'wolf'.

They try running for it, but the wolf catches up to them. They try to fight back, but teeth and claws and monstrous animalistic hunger really get the better of them.

Eventually All Might shows up and is able to subdue the beast. He does check over the boys, ask about if they were bit or if they need help. but.... you know how Katsuki is. Just a 'fuck off I'm fine!'. They're a bit roughed up, but nothing they really need to go to a hospital for, right?

All Might takes them at their word and leaves. The kids walk home and Izuku insists that they at least patch up the minor stuff. Gives his mom a heart attack and they lie about the wolf thing. As they're doing that, Izuku sees that Katsuki did get bit. He's worried about it. He wants to go back and find the guy who saved them, but Katsuki brushes it off that it's probably fine.

It's not fine. But we only find this out the next Full Moon. Where Izuku, unafraid of the forest even after last month's trauma, fell asleep in a tree and wakes up to a different wolf on the forest floor. A smaller blonde one. And, as the sun rises, the wolf passes out and turns back to Katsuki.

Izuku feels like he's going fucking insane. But does climb down to check on his friend. Katsuki is very out of it. Being exhausted and in a lot of pain and confused and waking up naked in a forest with no memory of the night before.

Izuku: "So. Uh. I.... I think you might be a Werewolf."

Katsuki: "There's no way in hell."

Izuku: "Look I just saw a wolf turn into you and it was a Full Moon and you got bit a month ago and is there any other fucking explanation?!"

Katsuki: "...... Not one I can think of, no."

They don't know what else to do so they end up looking for All Might. And they do eventually find him thankfully. And explain. And ask if he can help because come on aren't there cures or something?

He tells them 'yeah Magic and Monsters are real'. And he apologizes for not insisting on checking the boys over better because now it's too late. They ask what he means, and he is honest. The only cure for Lycanthropy has to be given within the first Moon Cycle. Once the infected goes through their first Full Moon, it sets in and the cure won't work.

Well shit. Katsuki is not having a good time with that information. And Izuku feels like he should've done more too.

All Might offers to help handle the situation so that Katsuki isn't a danger. Which like. Of course for a hot second they're like 'oh shit he's gonna kill him', and Izuku is 110% down to fight.

He clarifies very quickly though that there's a school where other Magic and Monster kids go. Not only could Katsuki learn more about his own abilities and other Magic stuff, but they do know how to keep Werewolves safe during the Full Moon.

Izuku wants to go to, but... it's not really for Humans and he still thinks he's a Human. Now we the parallel to Canon of how All Might was looking for a successor and all. And seeing Izuku both the first time against the wolf that bit Katsuki and just now ready to fight him when he thought there was a threat, he decides the kid's a good candidate.

Of course there's more discussion on that. But this is... interesting. Because it is originally Fae Magic that has been passed through a few different hands and is now, unknowingly, back in the hands of a Fae. A Fae who already should have a large power due to lineage but hasn't ever used it, and is now supercharged.

Basically he's ridiculously OP lmao but that shit's just Canon.

The kids end up at UA which is. Basically Monster High vibes tbh. With the rest of the UA staff and students as various monsters. Which I have not thought of what all they are yet but rip

[ashesandhackles]

The Hogwarts Express scene in Prince's Tale: A Sirius and Snape analysis

I really, really enjoy Sirius and Snape as characters and their respective narrative functions in story. But what gets me most about them is how much Rowling hints about their backgrounds and so much of it makes sense with regard to who they are as adults. So I am going to be breaking down a very small scene from Prince Tale and getting into long winded hypothesis about their respective childhoods.

So, let's start with Snape. The scene begins with Snape rushing to find Lily, already in his Hogwarts clothes. Harry notes he must have been eager to get out of his clothes - ones that look like he borrowed from his mother, as Petunia spitefully pointed out. This has always been a very interesting detail to me - first off, it indicates how poor Snape's family is. Second, this indicates his tiny rebellion from his father - he refuses to wear clothes of the abusive man, and prefers his mother's. I admit, I am partial to the reading that Snape refuses to associate with his father in tiny ways, rather than Tobias refusing to hand his son clothes.

(I have seen readings which say that it is also a sign of neglect - perhaps his parents bought clothes that simply don't fit him, but I am more inclined to think it's a hand me down, simply because Harry identifies so strongly with it. Because Harry knows what it is like to wear a hand me down that don't quite fit, that are too big for you, or the ones that make you look ridiculous.)

Lily and Petunia's relationship is fraught with Petunia's jealousy. And young Lily is upset over it when Snape meets her. "I am not talking to you. Tuney hates me" she tells him. "Because we saw the letter from Dumbledore". Young Lily shows signs of being extremely emotionally reactive and this scene is one of them. It's easier for her to deal with Petunia's rejection of her by telling Snape she doesn't want to talk to him. It's a childish displacement of her hurt over her sister's rejection. (I am genuinely baffled by interpretations that Lily and Hermione are similar. Hermione is very cognitive person, Lily, as we have been shown repeatedly in memories, is not).

Snape, however, with his bad history with Petunia and his inability/ poor social skills to understand why this matters to her, goes: "So what?"

Lily, who throws him a look of deep dislike, says "So she's my sister". This seed is important because this is what develops into "he doesn't get me" feeling she later displays in her teenage scenes with him. Interestingly, most of Lily's personal relationships have deeply interwined love and dislike - Petunia (whose rejection bothers her but she cheerfully informs Sirius that Harry nearly broke a vase her sister sent - which means there is resentment on her end too), James - who she was attracted to even before 7th year but also disliked at one point, and Snape - again, a contentious friendship filled with love and distance.

"She's only a -" we dont get to hear what Snape intended to say. And given his own acrimony with Petunia, it could be anything. However, I read it as "She's only a Muggle" because it ties into his feelings about his father. Snape, who is proud of being half a Prince, emphasizing his magical lineage from his mother's side, his refuge in a violent, neglectful home. (Barty Crouch Jr and Snape with their disappointing fathers - I imagine Voldemort is supremely attractive leader to people with broken homes like this)

Snape, by all accounts, shows a disorganised attachment style. His caregiver, his mother - and perhaps the only parent he seems to have regard for, is too preoccupied by her own abuse to be there for her son - we see this in glimpses Harry sees in OOTP: " woman cowering" where a man shouts at her, and a young, neglected Snape cries in the corner. Children born in homes like this have trouble regulating their emotions, simultaneously displaying tendencies to aggressively lash out or show disassociative symptoms. Both of which Snape displays. Statistically, this is also seen more in low income households where economic instability and resulting domestic instability creates an unsafe environment for the kids to safely form ideas of their identity, or express emotions in healthy ways, modelling instead out of behaviour seen at home.

Then, Snape reminds her that they are going to Hogwarts. He is already in his Hogwarts clothes - now, Snape gets to be the impressive figure. The one who told her about magic, who theorised about how Muggles get letters from magical people, the one who told her about Dementors and Azkaban. He has already left behind the Spinner's End version of him, he wants to bigger than that, and is keen to be in place of magical learning and to join Slytherin. Essentially, he shows signs of unstable identity, insecurity - all prime for grooming into a cult.

And here comes along James Potter, who looks around at the mention of Slytherin. James's comment uses Snape's line and directs it to Sirius instead and it becomes a conversation between them, as a way to bond more with a fellow "rowdy boy" Sirius. Effectively ignoring the other two.

Sirius as we see here, "does not smile" when James talks about Slytherin. He essentially says something that can be construed as a way to nip that conversation in bud: "My whole family has been in. Slytherin". This suggests to me that there is some loyalty to his family there and his disillusionment with them isn't entirely fixed yet. After all, Sirius's intense loyalty to his friends, more specifically James, did not come out of thin air. It is reasonable to suggest that he felt some loyalty to his family at some point and the intensity with which he regards his friends is a reaction to burned off and being a "displaced person without a family" as Rowling put it.

Interestingly, while his reaction to his mother and Bellatrix are obviously sore spots, his response to Regulus is comparatively quite soft. ("Stupid, idiot" - something he calls James later on in the same book, OOTP). I imagine Sirius has quite complicated feelings about his brother and he is capable of nuance (when the person isn't Snape, where his dislike seems to be borne of an intense projection): "The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters". As someone who is grown up among them, Sirius would understand that.

His framing of Regulus's need to please his parents also further highlights what exactly is the source of disillusionment. He calls Regulus "soft enough to believe them" - which means he is crediting his own intelligence to see through his parents bigoted world view. Clearly, bigotry is not something the Blacks explained in a way that Sirius, eldest of their male line and their heir, bought it. It also probably didn't help the Blacks case that Grimmauld Place is in a Muggle neighborhood and that their eldest son is a bit of a wild boy with interest in pushing boundaries. His intellectual disconnect leads to the righteous rage he later feels but it began there. (Boy, it must suck to discover that everything you have been taught to value in the world and in yourself as the heir is essentially rubbish). Since his differences with his family began with seeds of intellectual disconnect rather than on intense empathy with downtrodden, it makes him, as a pureblooded privileged boy, unable to truly understand Lupin's fears regarding his lycanthropy. Hence, the Werewolf prank (I am not getting to the Snape bit, just the Lupin bit). To James' credit, he does understand what that means for Lupin and saves all three of them from different set of consequences.

Anyway, back to the scene. James, who has made an ass of himself in front of his new friend, who he was getting along with fine until now, then goes "Blimey, I thought you seemed alright". (Btw, I find James wildly large ego kind of hilarious here, especially in light of Snape's comment about him to Sirius in OOTP: "You will know he is so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off him"). Sirius, who I believe has been raised like "royalty" as Blacks would, has good enough social skills to defuse a situation. He grins and says: "Maybe I will break the tradition".

This line is an indication of Sirius's desire for independence, an identity seperate from his family. The use of the word "tradition" is interesting. It sounds like Sirius is expected to behave in a certain way, the heir of Black family whose parents thought being a Black "made you practically royal". Adult Sirius is contemptuous of this, or their "valuable contribution to Ministry" which means they just gave gold - it tells me that any and all conditions put on him by his family were to fulfill tradition that is either worthless or holds no meaning in his eyes. The root of the emotional abuse Sirius suffers from his family is this - realising his parents love for him is conditional on him being a certain way. (In fact, you can read Regulus desire to emphasise his connection to the family as a reaction to what he sees with Sirius - Sirius does not behave, Mum and Dad don't love him). As a child with unconscious knowledge of lack of love, Sirius then acts out, they react, rinse and repeat "until he has had enough". Sirius chafes against boundaries well into adulthood and doesn't react well to people enforcing it on him, even if it is out of love for him. Cue the fire scene with Harry where he behaves as if Harry is rejecting him instead of protecting him.

Sirius asks James about where he wants to go, and Snape, who is incensed about James being insulting about a House he put stock in, which he made part of new identity (so that he is no longer that Snape boy from Spinner's End) and was in general trying to be impressive about in front of Lily, "makes a disparaging noise" once James talks of Gryffindor. Snape's response to James' : "Got a problem with that?" is interesting. He says: "If you'd rather be brawny, rather than brainy-"

This is an important value for Snape. He knows he is clever and values it. He spends his spare time inventing hexes, making great shortcuts to Potions. He has genuine thirst for learning and he hones it. In SWM, we see that he has written far more longer answers than anyone else, he is poring over his paper after exams. He even mocks Hermione's lack of inventive answers: "Answer copied word to word from the textbook, but correct in essentials". He values originality. It may be me stretching this, but I am partial to the reading: this is his way of rejecting his father once again, who is implied to be a violent man. (in other words, someone who is hypermasculine - "brawny". In fact, Snape's rejection of hypermasculinity is a huge post on it's own - Potions (brewing, cauldrons - coded as feminine arts), the doe Patronus, his proficiency in Occlumency and Legliemency (intuitive mind arts, again seen archetypically feminine) etc).

"Where are you hoping to go, seeing as you are neither?" - Sirius is quick with emotionally cutting insults. Snape hasn't even finished his sentence, but Sirius is already on his case. Which suggests growing up in a household with sharp tongues. It's a fair assumption, given Mrs Black's half mad portrait. It also tallies with Sirius's talking about his mother: "My mother didn't have a heart Kreacher, she kept herself alive out of pure spite" . The wounds are fresh enough on this. (Another interesting way Snape and Sirius act as inverse mirrors - Snape rejects his father, Sirius rejects his mother. Sirius acts as proxy for James for Harry while Snape takes on Lily's role of protecting him). However, you know who else is spiteful? Sirius.

While James is the physical bully (the tripping Snape, doing most of the bullying in SWM), Sirius attacks emotionally. ( Sample the one about Snape's appearance - "I was watching him, his nose was touching the parchment, there will be great grease marks all over it, they won't be able to read a word" or even the carelessly vicious- "Put that away, before Wormtail wets himself in excitement"). Curiously, with all that talk of how his mother being spiteful, it's her room he spends time in when he is depressed. (Again, in inverse mirror way, we can talk of how Snape looks for a father figure in Dumbledore - craves his validation and is proud of Dumbledore's trust in him). We could argue it's also because Buckbeak is there, and perhaps it's the largest room in the house, but it's very telling that's where Sirius spends time when he is "in a fit of sullens". Sirius's sense of abandonment from his family, makes him look for family connections with friends - a trait he shares with Harry. Interestingly, the first time he glimpses Harry in Privet Drive, Harry is also running away from home - just like he did. Anyway, I could go on.

[lalainajanes]

For “neighborhood block party” on my bingo card! This one takes place in the same universe as Sweet As (quirky supernatural small town fic in which Caroline’s a dryad who owns a bakery and Klaus is the leader of the local werewolf pack and mates are a thing ;) ) though it’s more of a prequel.

The Fall Festival

Before he’d met Caroline, Klaus’ mornings had fallen into a predictable pattern.

He would wake up at the same time, wander into his kitchen to find a full pot of coffee and a pack member or two. Occasionally, there was an emergency. Sometimes there was an issue where his opinion was wanted. Most often, his visitors would come with a problem that could have been solved without Klaus’ input, though he’d never complained.

Klaus had been an outsider once, had become pack leader when the father he’d never known had died, and Marcel had shown up at his door in Chicago. At the time, Klaus had resented the disruption to his life.

Now, he doesn’t understand how he’d survived so long, locking himself in a cage every month.

His mother had explained his parentage when he’d turned twelve, and it had been revelatory, explained why he’d always struggled to wield even a hint of the power that came naturally to his siblings. Esther had told him what to expect, that he’d be dangerous, but she’d refused to tell Klaus anything about the man who’d passed him the werewolf genes, hadn’t even supplied a name.

The rift in their relationship had begun there, had only widened since. When Klaus had chosen to accept his birthright, he’d ensured he’d never be welcome in the home he’d grown up in. He’d never regretted it.

Most of his siblings happily defy their parents to visit, and the pack had become another sort of family.

Three months after Caroline had opened her shop, Klaus had trekked out into the forest to deal with one of the rare emergencies. A scent had been picked up on a security run two days prior, of a young, unfamiliar wolf.

A wolf who proved to have a gift for hiding.

Klaus and his inner circle had been trying to track the interloper, had to find them before the next full moon. His pack had long-standing agreements with the humans and the various local supernatural sects. A young wolf could have jeopardized the easy peace the town enjoyed without meaning to. Klaus and his pack would have had to pay the price.

Young wolves could not always assert human will over animal instincts, which could be deadly if any prey crossed their paths.

And to a werewolf, just about anyone can be prey.

That morning Klaus had decided to head west to an area of that woods that was dense with trees and wildlife. His pack usually leaves it be, understanding that there would be objections if they were to start messing with the local ecosystems. Besides, it offers little opportunity to run, something a werewolf is always eager to do when given a chance.

He’d been moving slowly and silently, examining the ground for prints that looked similar to the ones they believe belong to the young wolf. He’d frequently paused to see if he could pick up a scent, but he’d grown distracted.

Klaus had come across a grove of trees emanating a strange warmth. Curious, he’d rested his hand on the trunk of one.

Only to have the rough bark shiver under his touch and melt away, growing soft and smooth and scented of cherries and spice rather than earth.

He’d snatched his hand back and turned away as soon as he’d realized what was happening, had awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, and wondered if it would be cowardly to flee. He’d heard rustling, soft footsteps, the glide of fabric over skin. Then a woman’s voice, dripping with amusement, “You can turn around now. I’m dressed.”

Klaus had turned slowly. “My apologies. I was unaware I was trespassing.” He’d averted his eyes, realizing that “dressed” wasn’t entirely accurate. The woman had only slipped on a robe, a pale green confection of a garment made from silk and lace, loosely belted and short. He’d looked closely enough to realize she was gorgeous, with a riotous mess of blonde curls framing a flushed face and friendly, curious blue eyes.

His body had reacted, and Klaus had forced himself to begin breathing through his mouth. Her scent had clouded his thoughts, tempted him to step closer.

He hadn’t understood what was happening, why he was reacting so strongly to a stranger.

Klaus might have grown particular about who he invited into his bed, but he was hardly inexperienced or prone to awkwardness in the presence of beautiful women.

He’d gone a little wild when he’d become pack leader five years ago, had freely partaken in pleasure just about any time it was offered. Offers were still coming, but Klaus had largely lost interest, leery of complications that could occur with attachments. At the time, he’d only occasionally indulged when an alluring visitor caught his eyes.

Which hadn’t happened in months.

Why was this woman, not even a wolf, so very compelling?

When he’d clasped his hands behind his back and carefully fixed his attention to just above her forehead, she’d made a noise, an aborted laugh. “Wow, never met a shy werewolf before. You guys are usually super quick to get naked.”

Klaus’ eyes had swung to hers, shocked and a touch suspicious, “How do you know I’m a werewolf?”

Her head had tilted towards the trees, “It’s hard to explain. When I’m in that form, connected to the ground, there’s a heightened amount of intuition. Most supernatural beings pull power from some variety of natural elements, and I can usually tell which one, feel the energy.”

“You’re a dryad,” he’d said slowly. He’d remembered reading about them as a child, in one of his mother’s books. An old, thick tome, with tiny print, that detailed the origin stories of all the known species that walked the earth. He hadn’t recalled much more than the basics, had made a mental note to check if the library in his home had a similar volume.

“Guilty,” she’d chirped. She’d held out her hand, “Caroline Forbes. I bought the bakery in town a couple of months ago. You should stop by sometime.”

He’d shaken her hand, that contact enough to ensure Caroline would never stray from Klaus’ thoughts for long.

That brief brush of her skin on his had spurred a change in Klaus’ morning pattern.

He’d visited Caroline’s bakery the next day. Had rolled out of bed, earlier than he had since he’d been obligated to attend morning meetings, and driven to town. Caroline’s business had been easy to spot, featuring a cheerful striped awning in the same shade of green of the robe Klaus had spent far too many minutes contemplating.

He’d slid into a booth shortly after Caroline had opened up. She’d noticed him, appeared pleased to see him and wiggled her fingers in greeting.

And thus began a new routine.

* * * * *

Caroline smiles at Klaus as soon as he arrives. His face immediately grows suspicious.

Oops. She might have overdone it. Klaus is weirdly adept at spotting ulterior motives, and Caroline needs a teeny, tiny favor.

Which is not to say that she doesn’t look forward to his morning visits. More often than not, they’re the highlight of her day. She happens to have gotten a delivery late yesterday afternoon, one that’s essential to pulling off something she’s been working on for ages, so she’s particularly excited about it. She needs to borrow Klaus’ artistic skills to realize her vision.

That she’ll get to spend a little extra time with him is just a bonus.

He walks up to the counter and leans against it. “You look like you’re plotting something.”

She tilts her head to the side, uses her sweetest tone, “Don’t you think it’s a little early to be accusing me of such a thing?”

She spots the twitch at the corner of his mouth though he maintains an impressively deadpan expression. “Honestly, I suspect you’re usually plotting something.”

Caroline had to give him that one, “Okay, true. I might need a hand from someone who’s more artistically inclined than I am. AKA you.”

“What can I do for you?”

She smiles again, kind of glad that there’s a counter between them because Klaus’ lack of hesitation has her feeling all sorts of fuzzy things, and she very well might have thrown herself at him.

Which is not a thing that they do, though she’s hoping that changes at some point.

“I bought some lights and paint for the window. I splurged on it because it’s supposed to be really pretty, kind of sheer, and shimmery. I was hoping to paint some leaves and vines around the borders of the window, but my test runs were… subpar.”

“Still a bit upset about the Summer Solstice party then?”

Caroline glares without any real ire, “Shh. You know that’s a sore subject!”

She’d been woefully unprepared for just how serious the town took its celebrations. The Summer Solstice had been her first one. She’d nailed the food, had baked up tiny, fluffy meringues, served them with a vanilla peach compote, topped with fresh whipped cream and toasted almonds. Everyone had raved about them. But a few people – mostly the members of the town council who are generally unpleasant and excessively gossipy, in Caroline’s not at all biased opinion – had made snide remarks about her lack of decorations.

She’d been mortified even though it totally hadn’t been her fault. She’d miscalculated, not yet grasping just freaking slow the mail was. She’d had a ton of fresh flowers, but the paper lanterns and candy-colored trays and linens she’d ordered had arrived two days too late.

Caroline’s determined to do better this time and prove that party planning is her super-power, damn it.

Klaus is shrugging out of his jacket, “Show me to the supplies, love.”

“You’re the best!” she exclaims, reaching over to flip up the top of the counter. “Come on, it’s all in my office. Along with my very bad diagrams but feel free only to use them as a guideline. Far be it for little ‘ol me to tell a professional artiste what to paint.”

“Willing to cede control?” he teases. “Shocking.”

Caroline shrugs, “Guess I must trust you.”

Whoops. Caroline means it, but it’s a weighty thing to say.

Klaus has stepped passed the counter, bent to stash his jacket underneath. He freezes, head bowing before he up back at her. “I’m pleased to hear that,” he replies.

Caroline’s teeth sink into her lower lip, and she glances around. A few people are watching her curiously and, though she hates it, she knows now is not the time to dig into anything serious.

Though she’s not sure how much longer she’ll be able to resist.

Caroline clears her throat, heading to her office. She unlocks the door, stepping back to gesture Klaus go in first. She turns around to check that April’s come out from the kitchen, motions that she’ll be back out in ten, and then she joins Klaus.

He’s eyeing the sofa, “How often do you sleep here, sweetheart?”

“How do you… oh, right. Werewolf.”

Caroline’s pretty careful not to think about Klaus’ senses. Intellectually she knows he can probably sniff out all sorts of secrets, that the way she reacts to him is entirely unsubtle. She lives in purposeful denial to avoid melting into a puddle of mortification.

“Rarely. I did it a lot when I was scrambling to get this place opened. Now it’s pretty much just the night of the full moon, or the odd day when there’s a big complicated order.”

“Why the full moon?”

Caroline snorts, “Has it escaped your notice that you guys pack away a ton of food after the full moon? It’s my most profitable day of the month.”

She leans down and hefts the box of paint. Klaus steps forward, “Here, let me.”

Caroline lets him take it off her hands, “You know I’m probably at least as strong as you are, right?”

“I had read that, yes.” His eyes flit over her speculatively, and not for the first time in his presence, she thinks about how nice it would be if telepathy were in her bag of tricks. She knows what she hopes he’s thinking. Caroline’s been spinning fantasies that run the gamut from sweet and sensual to hot and frantic since Klaus first wandered into her grove. She’s pretty confident her interest is reciprocated, but he gives her mixed signals.

Caroline’s naturally tactile. She tends to crank that up when she’s in flirt mode. Klaus is careful to stay at a polite distance. He doesn’t cringe when she touches him, but he doesn’t touch her back either.

It’s confusing.

Caroline had gotten tipsy and whiny about the situation last weekend at the bar. Bonnie had been sympathetic and knowing, refused to spill what she clearly knew. Bonnie had only said, in that infuriatingly cryptic way witches have, that Caroline would figure it out when the time was right.

She and Bonnie haven’t known each other long, but Caroline had sensed she wouldn’t budge. She’d pouted until Enzo had arrived with shots.

Things had gotten a little hazy after that.

“Ah, so you’re just gentlemanly?” Caroline teases, watching as Klaus sets the box on her desk. He’s focused on it, so she takes the opportunity to ogle a little. His grey t-shirt is thin and snug. She’s going to be thinking about the way his muscles shift underneath it when she’s alone.

“Something like that.”

“Well, never let it be said that Caroline Forbes doesn’t pay her debts. I’ll save you a bunch of the desserts I’m making for the festival. I’ve perfected them over the last few days – pumpkin with pecan crumble, a delicious marriage of the best fall pies.”

He shakes his head, a laugh rumbling from low in his throat. “Sounds delicious. Perhaps you’ll save me a dance? There’s always a bonfire once the shops close down.”

Huh. That seems like an unmistakable signal. One Caroline hadn’t expected.

She swallows her initial instinct, the urge to joke about how Klaus must have decided she doesn’t have cooties after all. Caroline licks her lips, wonders if he can hear that her heartbeat has quickened. “I’ll make sure my dance card has a spot for you.”

* * * * *

Klaus finds Marcel in the living room when he comes downstairs on the night of the fall festival. He stops short, dread growing in his stomach. He’d spoken to Marcel earlier, and he hadn’t mentioned stopping by. “What happened?”

Marcel’s eyes narrow, “Is that a new sweater?”

Klaus doesn’t understand how that’s relevant to Marcel’s presence in his home.

He lifts his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for an answer to his question. Marcel grins, “Alright, not in a talkative mood. Heard. No disaster, don’t worry. I added an extra few cases of wine to the regular order last month, remember? Just here to grab them for the festival.”

Right. The pack operates several businesses but nothing with a storefront in town. On festival nights, the shops on Main Street decorate and offer free food or small gifts to anyone who wanders in. The town council covers the food available in the square, and Klaus’ pack supplies a significant portion of the booze (only fair since Klaus is quite sure they partake more than most). For this one, if he remembers correctly, they’re providing mulled wine and spiked hot chocolate while Enzo’s bar will set up kegs.

Klaus nods, relaxing. He glances at the clock on the wall. “I trust you can handle the delivery yourself?”

“Why, got a hot date? I don’t remember you ever doing much more than making an appearance at one of these things. This eagerness to arrive early is interesting.”

Marcel sounds far too knowing. To an extent, as the pack’s second in command, it’s his job to know Klaus’ business. He suspects what Caroline means to Klaus, that his wolf has chosen her, but Klaus has never confirmed it.

He’s been resisting the pull, exerting iron control over his instincts, maintaining a careful amount of distance even when he ached to return her affectionate overtures. And it’s not because he doesn’t want her, but because the bond is permanent. Unbreakable, once it’s solidified.

Klaus’ path is set. Caroline’s not bound by the same magic, not unless she wants to be.

“Obviously, you have this under control,” Klaus says, spinning on his heel. “Lock the door when you leave.”

Marcel’s laughter follows him out of the house.

* * * * *

Caroline’s nervous. More nervous than she’s ever been before a date, and it’s not even a date. She’d selected her outfit carefully. Her cream sweater dress has a wide neckline that’s prone to slipping off her shoulders. She’d selected dark tights for underneath and thigh-high boots, which are saved from being too risqué for a family-friendly event by their minimal heel.

She’s been getting compliments all evening, had smiled politely. She’d picked the outfit with one person in mind.

At nine, Caroline locks up, rushing into her office to let her hair down and touch up her makeup. A tap on the window comes at 9:06. She tucks a curl behind her ear, takes a deep breath, “You are not fifteen. Get it together,” she mutters to herself before she flicks off the lights.

She waves at Klaus through the window, grabs the small box where she’d packed up the portion of tartlets she’d saved for him and her keys.

Main Street is brighter than usual, street lamps lit and wrapped with strands of tiny white lights. Caroline steps outside, her eyes running over Klaus. He’s changed since this morning into darker jeans and a navy sweater. Is it a date outfit? She kinda thinks so.

“Hi,” Caroline says, impressed it’s not a squeak. She doesn’t trust herself to open with a compliment about how he looks – her brain-to-mouth filter is unreliable even when she’s calm, cool, and collected. Instead, she gestures to the windows, “Your paintings were a hit.”

Klaus doesn’t seem to hear her. He swallows heavily. “You look…” he trails off, but Caroline’s not an idiot. She knows exactly what the tiny ring of gold around his irises means.

Caroline’s grateful for the confirmation that her attraction isn’t at all one-sided. Her cheeks heat, “What, this old thing?”

He reaches for her, and Caroline’s heart stutters, mouth going dry. It’s the first time Klaus has made any sort of move, and it feels like the start of something she’ll want to remember.

Though she’s not capable of explaining that certainty at the moment. Caroline can’t claim to have a quiet mind, she’s capable of laser focus, but there’s usually a whole list of thoughts and questions in the background, each clamoring for attention.

Right now, there’s only Klaus and the shrinking distance between their bodies.

His palm lands on her upper arm, warm even through her sweater. His fingers tighten, skimming down, lingering when they meet the bare skin of her wrist before his palm meets hers.

She exhales shakily, returning the pressure. Caroline sways forward until her knees brush Klaus’, and his free hand clasps hers. He leans forward, and the hint of stubble on his face rasps against her cheek. “You are overwhelmingly lovely,” he murmurs, mouth brushing her temple.

Caroline’s lips part, and she’s seconds away from turning her head and rising to her toes when Klaus takes a half step away. He pivots until they stand shoulder to shoulder. He keeps one of her hands, and Caroline follows his lead when he begins to walk towards the town’s center.

She barely registers her surroundings, couldn’t name any of the people they pass or describe the decorations. She only feels Klaus’ hand, the solid strength of him next to her, is only aware of the addictive mix of comfort and anticipation fizzing through her veins.

He pulls her into his arms when they reach the makeshift dancefloor next to the bonfire.

It doesn’t feel like a first dance.

There’s no awkward shuffling or hesitant hand placement. Klaus’ grip on her changes, fingers threading between hers, and he wraps his arm around her waist. Caroline’s body melts into Klaus’, her hand rising to rest against his chest. She shivers when his head dips, his breath skimming across her bare shoulder.

There’s music, but it’s not important. She and Klaus move together seamlessly, closer than they probably should be in public, lost in their own world.

No one dares to disturb them.

[pellucidity-is-me]

On Comparing Two Werewolves

Summary: Another scene from my fanfic (link in blog description) that can work as a one-shot. Dumbledore returns to his office the night before Halloween, argues with a few portraits about Remus Lupin’s place in Hogwarts, and decides to take a closer look on his own past with Fenrir Greyback.

Wordcount: 4396

Dumbledore returned to his office, humming Benny Goodman's Sing, Sing, Sing. He looked around and smiled at all the decorations on his walls. The group of Gryffindor boys calling themselves the “Marauders” had snuck into his office and decorated it as a little Halloween practical joke. It was very advanced magic (highly impressive for first-years), and it would have fooled anyone else. But not Dumbledore—and he was going to let the prank play out. It was harmless, after all.

Dumbledore removed the portrait-coverings from the walls. The portraits found it terribly annoying to be covered up like that, and Dumbledore did like having their input... most of the time. However, many of them held very hostile beliefs towards werewolves, and Dumbledore didn't want Remus to hear any of it. Remus had, of course, probably heard it all already. But the boy was eleven years old, and Dumbledore wanted to let him be a child as long as he could.

Even if it meant having his office expertly decorated for Halloween.

Especially if it meant having his office expertly decorated for Halloween.

"They've decorated your office," Eupraxia Mole said sternly from her portrait-frame. "A couple of boys. I think there were three. One of them was the werewolf." Dumbledore noticed the contempt with which she said the word and raised an eyebrow.

"I am aware, Eupraxia. And I do not see it fit to discriminate against Remus when you are quite literally a portrait. You're not even a living being, and I do not need to argue with you."

"The audacity!"

"I'd say you weren't fit to run this school if you weren't the best Headmaster we've ever had," said Everard, twirling his moustache. "I trust your judgement, even though I do not trust the boy."

"Thank you, Everard."

"I was a Healer before I was Headmistress, you know," said Dilys. "I've healed a few, and they are not completely ill-mannered, to my knowledge. Most of them seem to be normal at first. It is society, I believe, that drives them to be the monsters that we believe them to be. Watch him carefully, Albus. It is still possible that he will go down that path."

"Very insightful, Dilys."

"Half-breed, that's all he is," said Dexter Fortescue. "They all end up the same! Why you would put the school in danger by allowing him in, I have no idea! You ought to just put a stop to this nonsense and put him out!"

"You've heard our conversations, Dexter. He is no more dangerous than you or I."

"Whiny, snivelling little brat if you ask me," said Phineas Nigellus Black. "Doesn't seem to pose much of a threat. It's Sirius Black I'm worried about. I would recognize his voice anywhere, and this hijink will be reported directly to his mother. If he were anyone else then it would be acceptable. But he has a responsibility, as heir, to act his age. I've heard Walburga rant about him—he's a Gryffindor."

"No harm done, Phineas. I find him to be a bright and entertaining boy, myself."

"Of course you would," said Phineas snidely. "You let a literal monster into Hogwarts. That never would have been done in my day. It wouldn't have been done in anyone's day. There's a reason it's never been done before."

"Remus is an eleven-year-old boy. There is no reason to be afraid of an eleven-year-old boy."

"How do you know he's not a senseless monster? You have no proof," Euphraxia argued.

"Monsters are not pleasant, clever, kind, and mild-mannered," said Dumbledore evenly. He was getting a bit frustrated now. It should be such a small thing, letting a werewolf into Hogwarts. The portraits only disliked the idea of it because it had never been done before. It was difficult to talk with paintings that were stuck in the past, could not grow, and could not mature. Dumbledore again wondered why he was doing it.

"He's faking it." Euphraxia blew out a puff of air and let her portrait-y lips flap a little. "I can't believe you can't tell. He's not a normal eleven-year-old; he is a monster assuming the shape of an eleven-year-old, pretending to act as any other child would. It's obvious, Albus, that he's lying. You saw. He nearly lost control that one time. Had to stop, breathe, and take up his façade again. Remember?"

"He was stressed. I would have stopped to take a breather, myself. And, forgive me for saying so, but I excel at reading people. He is not pretending to be a person." Really. The notion was ridiculous. Remus was good at a great many things, but pretending to be a person for six and a half years was not something that he could do. It wasn't something that anyone could do.

"Don't get defensive, Albus," said Dilys. "We are only trying to protect the school. That is our duty, after all. I am inclined to agree with you, but I would be cautious if I were you."

"Thank you, Dilys. I accidentally allowed myself to forget that you are only portraits, and that I cannot easily change the mind of a painted inanimate object."

"I had no idea that you were so irresponsible," said Phineas, "letting my descendant go bad like that."

"What was I meant to do?"

"Re-sort him. Put him in Slytherin. That House will lead him right."

"The Sorting Hat does not agree."

"You mean the inanimate talking hat?"

"I see you've heard of it."

"This school is going to go up in flames!" Dexter continued. "A werewolf running rampant in a school full of children! I may be a portrait, but I've heard of the deeds of Fenrir Greyback! Mark my words, that boy will go bad!"

Armando Dippet cut in for the first time. "I remember Fenrir. I taught him, though he didn't go by the surname 'Greyback' at the time. You taught him, too, Albus. Quiet. Soft-spoken. Like the Lupin boy."

"Not all quiet teenagers are the same person, Armando."

"I know, I know. But I see my colleagues' point. I never would have imagined Fenrir to grow up the way he did. Something snapped, Albus. Something changed. He wasn't the same after being bitten."

"He became bitter because of a tragic event. I can't see Remus taking that route."

"And I couldn't see Fenrir doing it, either. I advocate for equality, of course. But I don't think you should have let Lupin into the school."

"And you," said Dumbledore, picking up his quill, "are only a portrait. I do not wish to discuss this any further. I make the decisions. You have all made your opinions clear, but my say is final. Sirius Black is a Gryffindor, and Remus Lupin is a Hogwarts student. And remember: you all are sworn to secrecy about his condition."

"Condition!" scoffed Dexter. "What a euphemism! It's not a condition, nor is it a sickness... it's a way of life! It's a species!"

Dumbledore closed Dexter's portrait with a snap. "I would like some peace and quiet. Do not make me permanently remove your portraits from my office."

The portraits were quiet (most of them even left their frames, perhaps to sulk somewhere else), and Dumbledore finished composing a letter to the Minister. But something niggled in the back of his head. He remembered Fenrir, of course. He had gone to Hogwarts. He had been human at the time. But what had he been like? He had seemed like a normal student. Dumbledore had never paid much attention to him.

Dumbledore rifled through his bottles of memories and found what he was looking for. He poured it into the Pensieve and entered the memory of one of his classes. Fenrir Greyback was sitting at a desk, his head bowed over a book and his fingers tapping on the desk impatiently. Dumbledore bent next to him and tried to remember.

It was almost unnatural to watch this boy—whose face was now constantly in the Daily Prophet—who was now one of the most feared people on earth. He looked so young and innocent: he was hardly the same person. It was no wonder that no one ever recognized him after he went bad. Dumbledore himself hadn't believed it; when the name Fenrir Greyback had become popular amongst fearful wizardkind, Dumbledore had thought that it was simply someone with the same first name. After all, he'd taught multiple Fenrirs. He'd even entertained the notion that the name was completely fake, or that he hadn't taught Greyback at all... he'd never once made the connection until he had seen that 1965 photograph of the man, and it was hard to believe even then.

Dumbledore studied the young Greyback's face, but could find no trace of Remus Lupin in his eyes. He simply looked bored, and Dumbledore could hardly fault anyone for being so in the middle of Transfiguration class.

Fenrir was quiet. Hardly ever spoke at all, in fact. He didn't spend any time around peers in his own House—he spent more time with the Gryffindors, in fact, than anyone else. Fenrir's chosen company reminded Dumbledore of James and Sirius, in fact. But he was always an add-on; someone who never had nor was ever considered a "best friend". He was just... there. Quiet. He reminded Dumbledore more of Peter Pettigrew than Remus Lupin, if Dumbledore was being honest with himself.

Dumbledore could hardly see the current Fenrir Greyback in the boy's appearance: the man who had grown out his nails and hair, who had embraced his condition and used it to become more wolf-like and intimidating. This eleven-year-old boy looked... sweet. Happy. Had he changed? The boy stood up and walked over to young-Dumbledore after class ended. Dumbledore only had to search the depths of his brilliant memory for a moment before he remembered this conversation.

"Professor Dumbledore," said the young Fenrir Greyback, his eyes bright. "I forgot to do my homework again."

"And what were you doing instead, Fenrir?" It was always so unnatural, hearing his own voice in a memory.

"I was... er."

"Yes?"

"I dunno, sir. Sleeping. Reading. Outside. I just didn't feel like doing it."

"First year is an excellent time to start applying yourself, Fenrir. Habits are formed when you are still young. Do you realize that you have not turned in a single homework assignment since school began?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why are you here?"

"Sorry, sir?"

"Why are you at Hogwarts, if you are intent on shirking your responsibilities?"

"It's not like I'm not learning the spells. I can perform them. I just don't want to do the written homework." Now, that sentiment reminded Dumbledore of those of James Potter and Sirius Black. But still not Remus.

"Which will help the spells to stay in your long-term memory," Memory-Dumbledore said. “We teachers rather know what we are doing."

The memory faded and reformed, and Fenrir was now in third year. Dumbledore looked on as Fenrir spoke to Armando Dippet, who looked thoroughly frustrated with the child.

"Fenrir," said Dippet, not unkindly, "You are still refusing to apply yourself. What do you plan on doing after Hogwarts?"

"Don't know, sir," Fenrir said dismissively, "and I don't care. I'm meant to be doing something more than sitting still and doing homework."

Dumbledore was almost amused despite himself. Well, that ended up happening, didn't it?

The memory shifted again, and Fenrir was laughing with his friends... running and chasing them around the Hogwarts grounds... playing catch and Exploding Snap.

All monsters had started out as boys and girls, hadn't they?

Dumbledore remembered a little more of Fenrir now. He hadn't been able to sit still for the life of him. He used to tap the desk with his fingers so loudly that the children sitting next to him would be driven to madness. He held grudges. He had gotten good enough grades, but only ever ended up doing enough homework to squeak by when exams rolled around. He had been innately interested in Defense Against the Dark Arts and was a decent duellist.

Dumbledore could see some traits in Fenrir that might have contributed to his current state. He was resourceful and cunning, yet didn't often think before he acted and was wont to give into current desires rather than make future investments. He seemed to value a "pack" setting—he was fiercely loyal to those he cared about and didn't seem to care whether anybody else lived or died. He didn't seem to show much empathy, save to a few of his closest friends, but he didn't exhibit a lack of empathy either. He was just... there. A student.

Could Dumbledore imagine him going bad? Sure. But people went bad all the time. Anyone had the potential to go bad; it was only a matter of choice.

This boy had been bitten by a monster shortly after leaving Hogwarts (according to Dumbledore's recent calculations), was shunned by the wizarding community, went through unimaginable pain every month, and had eventually decided to look after his own desires rather than the needs of others. Dumbledore could see him doing that. He could see many people going down that route.

But while Fenrir had been self-centered because of his condition, Remus remained others-centered.

No, that wasn't quite right in all respects. It was right in hardly any respects, actually. Fenrir had focused on others as the object of his hate. Remus had focused on himself. Remus never got angry with others for his suffering—not for long. He seemed to quite loathe himself on occasion, but almost never others. Remus was always focusing on himself, it seemed: he pitied himself, blamed himself, and overall thought about his own troubles quite a lot. It wasn't always a strength, but it was undeniably Remus.

Fenrir, alternatively, considered himself better than others—with or without the lycanthropy. Remus considered others to be better then himself because of the lycanthropy. Funny how that worked out.

They were different people, Dumbledore deduced. Greyback was a monster. Remus was not.

He had already known that, of course. And he was thankful for it.

But looking into Fenrir's young eyes, so full of life and energy, he couldn't help thinking of Remus'—the dead opposite. Remus always had a tired look to him, looked so much older than he really was, was much too mature, and had grown up before his time. Why did Greyback get a childhood and Remus did not?

So was the mystery of the universe.

Dumbledore resolved, then and there, that he would never let Remus Lupin go bad. He had allowed Grindelwald to do so in his childhood. He had already made the mistake of letting someone's faults take over until that person was no longer who they once were. He would not let the same thing come to Remus. He was going to invade the inner workings of the universe and fix things—that was his responsibility as someone who was both powerful and intelligent. Dumbledore knew how to fix things, and he was going to do it. He simply couldn't sit idly by and watch Remus' world burn.

But Remus didn't really need his help, did he?

He returned to his office, where all the portraits were sleeping—with the exception of Armando.

"Greyback, hm?" Armando asked. "Have you considered?"

"I have. My mind has not changed."

Armando chuckled. "Albus Dumbledore, changing his mind. That will happen the day that a Welsh Green becomes Minister for Magic."

"On this matter?" Dumbledore said. "Not even then."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was one more memory that Dumbledore wanted to view, but he waited until all of the portraits were sleeping. He fished the vial out of the cabinet and poured it into the Pensieve, slightly dreading it. But it was perfect for Halloween, wasn't it?

And then there he was. That night that he had been out on the streets, walking on the cobblestones and singing to himself, enjoying the cool air and the streetlamps. His hair had been a little darker then, and his eyes a little brighter. It was only about five years ago, but it felt like an eternity.

Fenrir had been a werewolf now for... let's see, if he was eleven in 1948, and bitten at age eighteen, and now it was 1966, and he was about twenty-nine now... eleven years. Less than twice the amount of time that Remus had been a werewolf: present-day Remus had been a werewolf for six and a half. But Dumbledore didn't want to compare the two more than what was necessary, though he knew that it was inevitable.

Dumbledore saw his memory-self pause and look around. When Dumbledore heard a strange sound and he couldn't tell where it was coming from, he had a ritual of sorts. First, he would look up, because that's what the average person would least expect. Then he would look down. Then he would look to his left, because he was right-handed. Then he would look to his right. He watched his memory-self do all of this, and when he was doing the final step—spinning in a circle—he noticed the source of the sound.

It was Fenrir, of course, shrouded in a black cloak that was so ripped it barely covered him. Memory-Dumbledore did not recognize him at first. "Hello?" he said, drawing nearer. It wasn't until the thing looked up and met Memory-Dumbledore's eyes that he realized. Memory-Dumbledore recognized Fenrir's image from the papers, so he drew his wand and trained it on the creature, ready to attack if need be. "Fenrir. Fancy meeting you here."

Fenrir smiled, and both Dumbledores noticed his teeth—sharp, pointed, and stained with red... Very Halloween-y, thought Dumbledore, and also mildly disturbing.

"What are you doing out here, Fenrir? Do you need assistance in getting somewhere? Azkaban, perhaps?" Memory-Dumbledore pretended that he was not repulsed. Memory-Dumbledore imagined that it was only tomato juice or something on his teeth. Even Memory-Dumbledore, though, knew that this wasn't the case.

"Dumbledore. Long time no see." Fenrir wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were not those of the eleven-year-old boy at all. They were more dangerous. They were bloodshot. They were narrowed. Wolf-like was the first word that came to mind. Dumbledore's eyes drew to Fenrir's hand, which sported long, curled nails. He realized with a jolt that Fenrir had bitten Remus Lupin only about a year prior.

"You look a little worse-for-wear, Fenrir," said Memory-Dumbledore. "I deeply sympathize." Memory-Dumbledore did not yet know the extent of Fenrir's exploits. He remembered still the young Fenrir, full of life and a deep desire to do the right thing... Memory-Dumbledore had stupidly believed that he could somehow turn Fenrir to his own side, even though he'd been Voldemort's weapon for years now.

"You can't sympathize," said Fenrir. His voice was deep, gravelly, and scratchy, almost like a sinister record-player. He pronounced his R's in the back of his throat and ended his sentences a bit abruptly. How had his voice changed so much in a few short years? Remus' voice sounded nothing like that, so it had nothing to do with the lycanthropy. But Clark Darnall pronounced his R's that way—had Clark picked it up from Greyback or had they both gotten it from another place? "You can't sympathize," said Fenrir again. "You have no idea what I've been through."

Memory-Dumbledore, indeed, did not know. But current Dumbledore had an idea.

"I'm sorry, Fenrir. Is there anything I can do?"

"'Course not. It's not a problem anymore. I made the best of it. Made do with what I had. You know how it is."

"Hm. Have you been hurting anyone?" Memory-Dumbledore's hand twitched on his wand, knowing the answer—but he wanted to hear Greyback say it; perhaps, he thought, it would drive the man to conviction....

Fenrir was quick to confirm, and there was no guilt in his voice. "No more than they've hurt me. You've heard the stories, haven't you? You know what I've done."

Memory-Dumbledore looked at him intensely. "Fenrir," he said, "I am a very powerful wizard, you know, and I will not stand for that." Fenrir eyed Dumbledore's wand warily, but Dumbledore was not budging. "There is a way out, you know... we can keep you safe on the full moons. You are infamous for attacking children, my friend—but it's not too late to step away from all that... you'll have to pay for your crimes, of course, but we can keep you hidden from the higher-ups at the Ministry, who no doubt want to execute you. You're not trapped in this lifestyle."

Memory-Dumbledore had suspected that some of the rumors about Fenrir were unfounded, but he'd been wrong. He'd felt sympathy for the boy who had attended Hogwarts not too long ago, but he'd been wrong. Clark Darnall was in Dumbledore's ranks, and he'd warned Dumbledore of the horrific acts that Fenrir had committed... he'd already spoken to Dumbledore about Remus at this point. But Dumbledore had still thought, somewhere, deep down, that Fenrir could not have changed so much from when he was a boy—that he was only evil because he had not been given a proper choice—and Dumbledore had known that, if he could convince Fenrir, then he'd automatically have all of the werewolves in Britain on his side... countless lives could be saved.

Dumbledore was a brilliant man, yes, but he was sometimes incorrect. This was one of those times.

"Dumbledore. You know me; you taught me. Do you really think that it's so easy to convince me? You underestimate me—I wouldn't leave behind all that I've built, not for the misguided lie that there's a place for me amo-" Crack. Fenrir had, intelligently enough, Apparated away in the middle of his sentence. Nay, the middle of a word. Memory-Dumbledore had not seen it coming, and that was a rare occurrence.

Memory-Dumbledore marveled at the boy's—no, the man's—no, the monster's cleverness, and resolved to keep an eye out and figure out what he was up to before he could hurt more people. It wouldn't be that difficult. Memory-Dumbledore was already, so to speak, following the scent, and he was sure that he would have plenty more chances to apprehend the werewolf. Memory-Dumbledore walked away, less of a spring in his step, but confident and relaxed.

Current Dumbledore made his way over to the place in which his memory-self had once stood and peered down the alleyway where Greyback had been standing. A dead rabbit, still warm-looking and covered in blood, lay on the ground.

Dumbledore's stomach roiled a bit, but at least it wasn't a toddler.

With that comforting thought in mind, Dumbledore removed himself from the memory, sat down on an armchair, and opened a book.

He did not read it, though. His eyes skimmed over the words and his hand idly flipped pages, but his mind was back in the alley, watching the boy-become-monster.

The pieces clicked together in a way that they were wont to do in Dumbledore's keen mind. They were pieces that had come together in the past, yes, but now they did so even more securely.

Ten years after Fenrir was bitten, at age twenty-eight, he had attacked Remus. And he'd been savage for a long time before that. Remus had been a werewolf now for six and a half years: when Fenrir had been a werewolf for six and a half years, he had probably already begun attacking people.

The portraits had been wrong, obviously, and this proved it. But now Dumbledore thought about why.

It wasn't because Remus was a better person than Fenrir (though that was undoubtedly the case). It wasn't because he had somehow escaped whatever disease had made Fenrir go bad. It wasn't because the lycanthropy somehow affected him differently. So why had they turned out differently?

A mixture of personal choice and better circumstances, Dumbledore decided.

Remus was doing so well because he had such good parents—who had taught him right from wrong, who had spent time with him, who had loved him unconditionally. He would be further shaped by his professors and friends. He would learn, he would grow, and he would continue to live in human society—as he had done for his whole life. He'd made a choice early on to be this way, and now his choices were manifesting themselves in his personality. That was what made a person human (in the abstract sense of the word), not a species.

It was likely that Fenrir had not had systems of support like Remus did. That didn't force him to become what he was, of course, but it made it much more difficult. And then Fenrir had made a choice to do this—to give in to things that he knew were wrong—to let the worst parts of him invade his life and personality—thus Fenrir Greyback was born. Would things have gone differently if his parents had loved him unconditionally? Had they? What if Fenrir had still been in school (though Dumbledore knew that Dippet would not have allowed that)?

But one thing was for certain: it had nothing to do with lycanthropy. It was not biological. It, like many other things, was a matter of choice. It was one’s choices, after all, that showed one who they truly were—far more than their abilities.

And that was why Sirius Black, who had grown up a descendant of Phineas Nigellus, was a Gryffindor. That was why James Potter, who loved everything Gryffindor, was a Gryffindor. That was why Peter Pettigrew had chosen friends that did not match him in either ability or personality. It was all personal choice applied to surroundings: it wasn't even werewolf-specific. No one was biologically a monster.

Dumbledore had already known all that, but it was nice to put it into words.

Everyone starts out as children, he mused as he fiddled with a Disillusioned bat decoration hanging off the wall.

And as the memories replayed themselves in Dumbledore's mind well into the night, he meditated once again on the fact that having such a brilliant mind and a tendency to stick his nose in other people's business was both a blessing and a curse.

[evenmyzefronposter]

OK. I have extremely complicated (and largely negative) feelings about Ginny. As someone who spent a large part of my youth being bullied by girls that, looking back on it, remind me so much of her, she simply rubs me the wrong way. At the same time, though, I have come across so much anti stuff about the character that means the most to me (Snape), that I really hesitate to just bash someone else's favorite character. I know that she really resonates with some people and they feel empowered by her and I think that's cool. Finding a character that means a lot to you is always an amazing feeling. I have bashed her in the past because I was angry and I have no intention of doing that here.

However, today, on the day of her fictional birth, I saw the question posted "what do you like about Ginny and what would you change about her if you could?" And I like that because it gave me the opportunity to change my focus some and really examine the character.

I like that she is strong and brave and bold. I like that she was able to overcome a huge amount of trauma. I like that she doesn't fit into typical feminine stereotypes... she's athletic but still likes cute things sometimes, she dates multiple people in the series and feels no shame for doing so (which she absolutely shouldn't feel shame for but it's the kind of thing that does sometimes get shamed). I like that she's friends with people who aren't cool and popular and that she defends those people against those who would look down on them. She is a very dynamic character who I think really stands out, especially in the later books, despite not being a major character.

If I could change her, though, there's a lot that I'd change. I'd change her fangirling over Harry. It comes across kind of icky to me the way that she pines after him for years then uses other guys to make him jealous. That it works is even worse. I'd change the whole nature of her relationship with him really, either by building it up more naturally or, more likely, by eliminating the romantic nature of it altogether. They don't fit very well together, especially given how anti-bully Harry is in every other respect, and, to me, the whole thing seems incredibly sudden with no real substance. Most of all, I'd change how she bullies others – all the name-calling, the treating her friends badly, the hexing people who annoy her. I think I'd have people call her out for that kind of thing within the narrative of the story instead of praising her for things that aren't really praise-worthy. She defends her friends against bullies, but she also treats them badly herself. I don't think anyone should let that fly.

Honestly, after examining it like this, it's not even Ginny herself that bothers me the most (although she does bother me quite a bit). It's the people around her. Her flaws are largely ignored by the other characters; she's only ever presented in a positive light. Her bullying is seen as a display of power by the rest of the characters and she's rewarded for it. Her temper is seen as admirable, and even though she says nasty things and acts pretty awful, she's never the problem. She's still seen as a feisty, badass girl and it's the other characters' fault for being so mean/annoying to her. Thats why Ginny resonates so much with me, but it's in a negative way.

And I guess that kind of brings me back to Snape. (Doesn't everything always come back to him? That's not just me, right?) If any of the Marauders had called James out on his bullying, he'd likely have stopped, especiallyif they consistently called him on it. If teachers had really punished him instead of protecting him, he wouldn't have felt so entitled (kind of Iike when Ginny got into the Slug Club for hexing someone in the face). If Lily hadn't laughed at James' bullying, if she hadn't taken his side over Severus' after the werewolf incident, Snape may not have been as inclined to snap back at her while he was being assaulted.

Being bullied or mistreated by your peers is bad enough, but when everyone around, teachers and friends alike, see your bullies as funny and witty and charming and cool and "they wouldn't treat you like that if you weren't so weird/ if you didn't try so hard/ if you'd fit in better/ if you were more girly/ if you were less annoying/ if you weren't so quiet" etc etc, it's that much worse. It's victim blaming, period. I see Ginny much the same way that I do the Marauders, albeit to a lesser degree. No one ever stops to think that maybe it's not funny and cute for Ginny to call people names or to hex them when they annoy her or to belittle them when they're concerned about something.

I don't even really know where I'm going with this. Lol I can say that it was interesting to try to appreciate my least favorite character, and it was interesting, if unsurprising, that it all made me think of Severus. I think the reason I don't like her is very closely connected to the reason that I love him so much, and it's odd that I hadn't made that connection before.

It's also kind of funny to think that Harry didn't just marry someone who resembles his mother, he also married someone with the personality of his father.

Aaand I just made it weird.

[asterekmess]

(I was gonna save this for tomorrow, but FUCK IT) Eyyy, still being salty over here. Pls block the tag ‘rant’ if you don’t wanna see anymore of these. Or maybe ‘anti-scott mccall’ though, tbh, I’m not sure how much fun it would be to follow me if you aren’t anti-scott mccall. I’m pretty vocal abt disliking him.

ANYWAY.

I wanna talk about the concept of Derek being a ‘creeper’ because of all his wandering around the lacrosse field, at lydia’s party, etc. And by talk about, I mean ramble about incoherently. By which I mean, please know that I’m not trying to insult or fight anybody who makes this joke or uses this concept in fic or whatever. I’m just ranting bc I love this boy and his trauma makes me sad.

ANYWAY. (This is insanely long, so I’m adding a “Read More”)

I just have a lot of feelings about people seeing Derek as a stalker/creeper because he keeps showing up at lacrosse practice and in Scott & Stiles’ rooms, etc. It gets mentioned in loads of fics (I see a lot of “Creeperwolf” which I think is supposed to be an endearment?) (And there’s lots of fics that talk about how ‘you used to be/are really creepy, following us around’ Again, not judging) (Dude it’s even a whole tag on AO3 ‘Creeper Derek Hale’) and it’s joked about a lot in fandom (the vine with the ‘every step you take’ song and the swans on the building comes to mind). I see it a lot, and dude, it hurts me.

Let’s look at Derek’s current mental state and what he’s been dealing with, going all the way back to Paige. (Or, tbh, his birth) Derek is a werewolf. He was born a werewolf, to a family of werewolves. He grew up within the supernatural world, in a whole different culture to humans (honestly, my fury at the lack of werewolf culture/history/worldbuilding is worthy of its own post. Let me know if by some ungodly chance, you actually wanna hear my thoughts on it.) and presumably the number one rule in all of werewolfdom is “Keep the Secret.” Now, Derek’s fuckin’ 14/15 (I put his birthday on Christmas, like most of fandom, and if his house burned down when he was 16, in the spring, and he was dating Kate for a while before, he would’ve dated her when he was 15, and we don’t know how long there was between paige and kate, but let’s give him a summer of mourning. So. 14ish with paige) and he starts dating this human. He’s kinda shit at keeping the secret, implying that either he’s only dated werewolves before, or she’s his first girlfriend ever (also implying that maybe some of the people on his basketball team are werewolves, bc they don’t seem to notice his weird way of talking [pack members maybe? fuck, my heart]) and he’s maybe not as careful as he should be. (More implications arise, and we begin to build our own history. If Derek was never taught not to say dumb shit like ‘i caught a scent’ then was he even in public school before freshman year? Were the Hales all homeschooled before high school to help keep the secret? How soon do wolfy abilites arise? Do they hit with puberty? Fuck, I digress.) He says some dumb shit, and Paige gets suspicious. Of course, he doesn’t know that, and he has some kind of meltdown about her eventually finding out his secret. We hear from Peter (who’s villainized, so we’re not supposed to necessarily believe what he says, but what we see in the flashback doesn’t make a huge amount of sense either so *shrug*) that he enlists Ennis to bite Paige, believing that if she is bitten she won’t spill the secret and she’ll be more inclined to accept that Derek is a werewolf. Now, she fucking dies. Paige dies in Derek’s arms because of this, and he finds out at the last second that she already knew the secret. He feels guilty enough abt getting her killed but now he’s got a whole new batch of guilt from finding out that apparently he’s so bad at keeping the secret of his ENTIRE SPECIES that she found out he was a werewolf. She could’ve exposed them all at any time. He had to be terrified. Next, he’s 15/16 and he meets a gorgeous older woman who presumably showers him in affection, and all the horrors that go with that whole situation (I don’t wanna go into detail, because obviously). But again, whether Derek tells her himself or she just knew or she finds out, whatever it is, Kate knows Derek and his family are werewolves. AND SHE KILLS THEM ALL. Derek has no clue what the fuck is going on. All he knows is he is the only link between Kate and his family, which must mean that it’s his fault she knows about them. Once again, he’s revealed the Big Secret and people Died. He and Laura bolt to NY for six years, where presumably they live in hiding thinking the Argents are coming after them to finish off the Hales. Then Laura gets sent a funky letter and goes back to Beacon Hills. Now, we have a lil more confusion (i’ve got a whole buttload of issues with the timeline, but let’s not get into that now) because he says he came looking for Laura, but later he mentions that he knew she was in Beacon Hills and was searching for...whoever burnt down their house...that whole plotline confuses the shit out of me (derek knew kate did it. he blamed All the argents, but he knew kate was involved. So why was Laura looking for the pendant. and if he didn’t tell her then why was he looking for the pendant?? And what did the pendant have to do with the deer and the spiral?? Halp.) but whatever. He shows up and finds his sister dead, the hunters arrive in town the next day, and suddenly there’s an angry alpha Attacking Humans.

We’re finally in the present. Derek has lost what little family he had left, except for a catatonic uncle. He already has two instances in his past where the worry of keeping werewolves a secret has caused deaths. And now there’s this teenager. No, actually, two teenagers. One who was bitten, and one who shouts out “You’re a werewolf!” in the middle of the preserve, instantly figuring out a centuries-old supernatural secret. Derek is fucking terrified, and things are only getting worse. This kid who got bitten? Derek follows him to see if he’s really a wolf, to find out if he knows what’s happening to him, if he believes the other teen. He finds the kid JUMPING OVER PEOPLE’S HEADS in broad daylight in front of everyone. Derek might’ve had a couple verbal giveaways but this is just ridiculous. Then, even better, the kid goes on a date on the FULL MOON with THE YOUNGEST ARGENT. There’s about a billion reasons to follow Scott to the party. It’s a FULL MOON, for one. HE’S WITH AN ARGENT for another. And of course he can’t just walk into the party. He’s fucking 22 for fuck’s sake. This is a high school party. He’d get arrested. And of course he doesn’t introduce himself to Scott beforehand. He has no way of knowing if this kid is on the Alpha’s side. He’s the Alpha’s Beta, it would make perfect sense for him to be obeying the Alpha. OR since he’s with the Argent, maybe he’s working with them. Maybe he’s a plant of some kind. a hunter pet. Laura was used as bait to catch Derek, why not Scott too? But he sees quickly that Allison has no clue what’s going on, at least with Scott, and he takes her home and steals her jacket to lure Scott into the Preserve where he can’t hurt anyone. Then, when he sees Scott get chased by the hunters, with no Alpha coming running to protect him, he decides “Alright, guess this kid’s my ally. Gotta protect him.” Yeah. He says some weird shit. But the evidence points to Derek not knowing much about bitten wolves. He tells Scott that he doesn’t know how to train a bitten wolf, but he does know how to help Scott recover memories (the memory loss appears to only happen in the early days of shifting, which lends more credibility to the possibility that born wolves don’t start shifting properly until later in life [puberty being the most likely milestone] and he therefore has experience with that, but not with the kind of control Scott needs, that he’s known his whole life). Born a werewolf, he’s never considered the bite anything other than a gift. He also just lost his entire family, so sue him for trying to find some kind of connection between them. (It honestly makes total sense for him to use the term ‘brothers’ bc he KNOWs Scott won’t understand the concept of ‘pack’ yet) So, now that’s decided to help Scott, to protect him, he goes back to the school. SURELY now that Scott knows what he is and how dangerous he is when stressed, he’ll reign himself in during lacrosse, or even just back out of it altogether. There are lives at stake here, be them human, or if Scott exposes the secret, werewolves. SURELY this kid wouldn’t put everyone in danger over a fucking game. But no. Not only does he keep flaunting his abilities, but he SHIFTS ON THE FIELD. If Stiles hadn’t Dragged Scott out of there, the entire supernatural world would be EXPOSED by this ONE KID. Derek passed Terrified about a hundred miles back. He’s gotta be fucking out of his mind with fear. I don’t blame him even a little for threatening Scott. If Scott’s not gonna do the right thing on his own, then threatening him is worth it if people don’t DIE. Then, bc Scott’s a pissy baby and goes to shout at him and be a fuckwad, and Stiles is nosey and neither of them have boundaries (I love Stiles, but fucking seriously, digging up a grave?) Derek gets ARRESTED. He pleads with this lanky teen who is brave enough to climb into the cruiser with a WEREWOLF. Who’s FRiends with a Werewolf. Who figured it out so quickly. He pleads with him to understand how dangerous this is, to stop his friend. And Stiles looks like he’s gonna, but Scott bolts bc of the wolfsbane (Which...listen if I’m being really salty, a deep bitter part of me genuinely wonders if he was that freaked out, or if he overheard Derek beg Stiles not to let Scott play, and Scott ran away from Stiles so he wouldn’t get told no, bc he wanted to play.) and by the time Stiles finds him he’s already dressed for the game. And DEREK WAS RIGHT. Scott DID lose control. He DID shift on the field. At LEAST one human saw him shift, and the coach for the other team knew something was up too. He DID expose them, and he did it further bc Jackson is suspicious now. Now, I’ve reblogged a gifset of it before, the moment when Derek shows up at the lacrosse field and finds Jackson standing in it after Scott’s run off, staring at a glove with a claw hole in it. He is watching his worst nightmare come true. Scott has exposed them and Jackson is going to figure out werewolves, just like Stiles did. He knows right that instant that people are going to die. I’ll reiterate what I said in the tags on that gifset. It’s extremely likely that Derek bit Jackson out of self-preservation. Jackson had been threatening to tell the hunters and the entire world if he didn’t get what he wanted. The safest thing to do was give Jackson the bite so that at least he would be putting himself in danger too if he exposed werewolves. He forced Jackson to have to keep the secret for himself because he knew Jackson wouldn’t do it for anyone else. (And he knew Jackson had some self-preservation, compared to Scott, and wouldn’t want to expose himself.)

Listen, I just. I just get so sad watching Derek sneaking into people’s rooms and standing on the edge of the field and showing up in the locker rooms. He’s trying to help. He’s trying to protect. He wants to be there in case Scott does something stupid (which he does, again and Again) to protect him, even after Scott REFUSED to help him stop a SERIAL KILLER because there wasn’t anything in it for him. Even after Scott fucking blackmails him by leaving him hanging on a grate with wires plugged into his side and his abuser on their way back to hurt him, he still helps him protect Allison (who watched him be tortured and did nothing. [He still has the capacity to acknowledge that it’s not her fault. That she couldn’t save him. He doesn’t blame her for it and he certainly doesn’t want her to die.]) He wants to keep his Betas safe. He stands in the parking lot waiting for them to test Lydia because he doesn’t want them to have to go through with killing her alone (and he only tries to kill her because she DOESN’T pass the test [although I admit it’s a dumb test] and because the kanima is KILLING people. More people have died and I don’t know how the fuck Derek manages to keep standing, let alone having such capacity for empathy and optimism and sarcasm after everything he’s dealt with. He’s constantly being hunted by hunters or humans, or fuck even Scott himself, since every time Scott gets upset he blames Derek for everything (I’m still fucking disgusted that he turned up at Derek’s place and accused him of murdering his own sister.) And STILL he shows up. No matter how many times he’s shoved away and ignored and yelled at. He shows up and he stands on the fringes and he waits for the chance to help.

And what’s creepy about that?

[missjanjie]

Can't Fight the Moonlight | MoMo

this is a commission for @derpyavocado who requested a monét/monique werewolf x vampire au. i hope i did it justice!

Ship: MoMo (Monét X Change/Monique Heart) Word Count: 2.6k Rating: E

comission info | ko-fi

“I have a question,” Brianna prompted as she helped Bob and Monét finish packing for their weekend trip upstate. “When you drink from a dear, are you worried about getting ticks? Or Lyme disease?”

Monét stared blankly at her friend. “Bitch, we’re already dead, the fuck do you think a bug or the diseases they carry is gonna do to us?”

Bob snorted. “Leave it to Cracker to be a hypochondriac about a couple of dead people,” she shook her head as she zipped up the last bag.

“Hey, I think it’s a valid question,” she huffed. “Anyway, you two have fun on your trip, I’ll take good care of Colleen,” she promised, cocking her head towards the cat curled up on one of the pillows on Monét’s bed.

The two vampires laughed it off, knowing their friend was, if nothing else, well-intended. And by the time they checked into their hotel room, the exchange was no longer lingering in their minds. Their hunt was far more important. It was a monthly endeavor they undertook to stock up on deer blood to help supplement their diet. Like many vampires, they were often inclined to pursue human prey, but in a busy city like Manhattan, it was a high-risk hunt every time. And while animal blood was less satisfying, the sheer abundance made it worthwhile.

“My god, am I glad we don’t eat food, look at how overpriced this shit is,” Bob remarked, handing Monét the room service menu.

“Put that dumb shit away,” Monét laughed. “We gotta rest up before tonight.”

“We literally don’t.”

She scoffed. “You have no sense of drama, I don’t know why I fucking bother,” she jokingly chastised, making Bob roll her eyes in response.

-

It was just past midnight. The full moon was out and the woods were near silent, save for crickets chirping and the gentle breeze rattling the leaves. Bob and Monét had set their starting point and parted ways with the intent of reconvening once they had gathered the surplus blood.

Not long after she started her careful prowling, Monét set her sights on a deer meandering through the woods. She crept forward, stalking her prey with the skill that had come naturally over the past century. She was closing in, just about to pounce…

At the last split second, a four-legged figure came out of seemingly nowhere and tackled the deer to the ground, incapacitating it upon impact. Monét hardly had the chance to process what had happened before the figure turned on her, pushing her out of the way and pinning her to the ground. “What the fuck are you–”

Something between a hand and a paw came down over her mouth. The creature that had physically bested her let out a low snarl, making it clear that while there was no intent to harm her, she would be foolish if she attempted to move from underneath her.

Despite the urge to bite the hand that silenced her, Monét gave in, and when she heard, then saw the pack of wolves descend upon the deer and devour it, she understood. In an unusual turn of events, a werewolf went out of their way to protect her from the pack. And she had to acknowledge that despite the tension that flared up between the two species, she had acted in good faith. So she lay silent until the pack dispersed. “I think the coast is clear,” she remarked dryly.

“God, you guys are annoying,” the werewolf muttered as she got off of her. “You guys always have that attitude,” she remarked. “Name’s Monique, not that you bothered to ask,” as she spoke, she transformed back into her human form, her frame now a bit more lithe than Monét’s, the clothes she had on now loose on her body, almost as if she had wandered out into the woods in her pajamas.

Monét looked her over and felt a sense of surprise at the feelings that stirred up. Never in her afterlife had she found herself attracted to a werewolf, it was damn near blasphemy as far as she and most other vampires were concerned. But Monique had a pretty face and a nice body, she would’ve been lying to herself if she claimed otherwise. None of that was said out loud, of course, instead she simply replied with “Monét.”

Monique nodded, then glanced back in the direction her pack had run off in. “I had to do what I had to do, you wouldn’t have stood a chance against them.”

“You owe me a deer.”

“Goddamn entitled ass vampire…” her voice trailed off. “Is that what the bag’s for?”

She nodded. “Unlike y’all, we’re not ravenous. A couple fully drained deer last the better part of a month.” Sure, that was with the help of the occasional human victim, but that was neither here nor there.

Monique rolled her eyes. “You’re not sharing the deer with six other pack members,” she pointed out. “Look, let’s track down another couple deer and call it a night so I can get on with my life and you can get on with your… lack thereof.”

This time, Monét fought the urge to make another sarcastic remark. Instead, for one night only, she teamed up with a werewolf for her hunt. And, to be fair, it was much more efficient than taking it on by herself, or even with Bob. By the time she filled up her last thermos, she would even consider herself impressed. “That went better than expected.”

“Because your expectations were so high?” Monique retorted wryly. “You come out here by yourself often?”

“I come here with my friend,” she told her. “My girl takes forever, I better head back and get these in the fridge, no point in waiting. You can come if you want. But you probably have to get back to your pack.”

She shrugged and shook her head. “Nah, they know I’m good for it,” she assured, deciding to make the trip back to Monét’s hotel room with her. “Damn, y’all shelled out for this.”

“We have connections,” Monét replied with a light laugh, unloading the thermoses into the mini-fridge. “And it’s still cheaper than basically any hotel in the city.”

“Oh, she’s a city vamp. That don’t surprise me, really,” she admitted as she unceremoniously threw herself onto the bed.

She arched her brow. “Make yourself at home,” she quipped, her eyes raking over Monique’s body.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer. And at least I’ll show up on camera.”

“Bitch, I will too, it’s the digital age!”

Monique laughed. “Oooh, touchy subject, huh?”

Monét clicked her tongue and got onto the bed, positioning herself on top of Monique, bracketing her between her arms. “She thinks she’s cute, huh? That she had a little ‘gotcha’ moment? Baby, I don’t play like that.”

“Then how do you play, hm?” she questioned, moving a hand up to rest on Monét’s face, tapping lightly. “Because it seems to me like what you don’t play is fair.”

“No one ever got anywhere by playing fair.” She traced her finger from the base of Monique’s neck down her chest, her shirt pushed down as she dragged between her breasts. The fact that they absolutely should not be doing this sparked arousal deep inside her, and by looking in her eyes, she knew the feeling was mutual. So, she closed the distance between them with a deep, heated kiss. “We have to make this quick.”

Monique’s breath hitched in her throat at the kiss. “So long as you keep them fangs in your head, we can make it work,” she retorted before their lips reconnected, this time with more passion and less control. Their hands wandered each other’s bodies, making quick work of shedding any and all clothing, tossing them off to the side.

Monét rolled her eyes, but there was a tinge of fondness in her expression. “You just don’t know when to fuckin’ quit, do you?” But in response, she made a show of baring, then retracting her fangs and kissed down Monique’s neck and bit down to leave a hickey, demonstrating her control, her ability to not use her fangs and not pierce her skin, that she had control and was more than ready to exert it. As she kissed and sucked at her neck, she moved a hand down Monique’s body, stopping to gently ease a finger inside of her with slow thrusts.

And Monique couldn’t have pretended she didn’t like it if she tried. Her head pressed back into the pillows, her eyes fluttering shut and a breathy moan escaped. Her hips bucked up towards the contact, urging Monét on for more and moaning louder when she was rewarded with another finger being thrust into her.

After leaving several marks over the expanse of Monique’s neck and collarbone, Monét moved back up to kiss her lips, her tongue slipping past and intertwining with the other woman’s. She thrust faster and deeper, curling and scissoring her fingers. Her other hand moved between Monique’s legs as well, rubbing her clit in time with her ministrations. She was in tune with Monique’s body, noticing when she was about to come and increasing the intensity just enough to push her over the edge.

Monique barely allowed herself to catch her breath before she flipped Monét over, securing her position on top. She looked deeply into her eyes, silently conveying that she wasn’t about to leave without returning the favor, and when she got a nod of approval, she moved her head between her thighs and traced her tongue along her slit before easing her tongue in. She knew she didn’t have time to waste teasing, so she started thrusting her tongue rapidly and deeply.

Monét gave up any pretenses of being cool and coy. She moaned out loudly, she gripped her hand into Monique’s hair and pushed her hips up. Her body rocked and writhed in tandem with the skilled movements of her tongue. Breathy praise spilled from her lips and became more high-pitched and strained when she felt her orgasm approach, cursing sharply once it hit.

There were a few beats of silence, the two of them laying naked as their brains and bodies reconnected. “I… you need to go. She’ll be back any minute now.”

“Right,” Monique exhaled, getting out of bed and throwing her clothes on. She stared out the window, eyes fixating on the moon as she willed herself to transform before opening the door to step onto the balcony.

“What the hell are you doing?” she bolted upright, “we’re on the fifth floor!”

But Monique disregarded her concern and leaped from the railing, and only her distinct howl confirmed to Monét that she was fine as she disappeared into the night.

-

Bob watched her friend intently, lips pursed. “Okay, I’ll bite,” she prompted. “It’s been three days since we got home and you’ve been weird as fuck. What’s wrong? You bite a bad deer?”

Monét groaned because if there was one thing she knew about Bob, it was that she was the most stubborn person she had ever met. She knew that once the subject was brought up, it wouldn’t be dropped until she offered an acceptable explanation. “No, I… bit something else. Something I didn’t drink from. Someone.”

This piqued her interest immediately. “Oh, so you got a little freaky, huh? What’s the tea? What’s got you feeling some type of way?”

There were a few tense beats of silence before Monét confessed. “It’s just that… it was a werewolf. And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since.”

It was rare for Bob to be rendered speechless, but that managed to do the trick. She stared at her, mouth agape. “I don’t even know who you are anymore,” she shook her head. “Alright, what’s her name? We’re gonna sort this shit out.”

“Her name’s Monique. All I know is she and her pack live near where we were,” she said, then sighed. “You’re gonna call Naomi, aren’t you?”

Bob scoffed. “Of course I’m going to call Naomi, what do you think this is?” Naomi was not only their friend, but their resident expert on all things supernatural, despite being a human herself. If there was anyone that would be able to track down this werewolf and her clan, that would be the person to see.

And Monét knew better than to bother arguing and resigned herself to her fate. Sure enough, it had barely taken two full days for Naomi to report back to them with all of the information they would need: Monique Heart was the beta of her pack, one with a lineage that extended back nearly two centuries.

“Well damn,” Bob chuckled, “I guess if you had to go for a wolf, at least you picked a purebred. Though you could’ve gone for an alpha. I expected a little more from you.”

“Shut up,” Monét rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t planning on any of this. What am I supposed to do now?”

“Talk to her.”

She scoffed. “Absolutely not. It was a one time… lapse in judgement. Just because she’s been on my mind doesn’t mean I need to do anything about it. I’ve hooked up with an array of questionable women in my time, there’s no reason for this to be any different.”

Bob arched her brows, unconvinced. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

-

Though Monét never said so out loud, she ended up making an excursion upstate on her own to track down Monique. Granted, it didn’t take as much effort as it would have however many decades ago. She was simply able to reach out to her over social media, and they had picked a spot to meet. “You couldn’t show up alone?” she asked when she sat down next to Monique on a park bench.

Monique glanced back at the two women clearly watching them from a bench on the other side of the asphalt path that ran throughout the park. ���Our alpha doesn’t trust vampires. And let’s face it, you can’t blame her.” The two women were the gamma and one of the warriors of the pack, both silent with piercing gazes. “You wanna tell me why we’re here though?”

Monét sighed heavily. “Listen, I’m not about corny, cliche romantic shit but… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you over the past week. I’ve even tried to sleep to avoid letting you cross my mind, but nothing’s seemed to work. And I understand there’s absolutely no reason why we should pursue anything together, but I would be remiss if I didn’t-”

Her speech was cut off by Monique cupping her face and pressing a deep kiss to her lips. “Why are you vampires so fucking dramatic?” she asked against her lips. “Look, my kin and your kin aren’t ever gonna get along, but they’re still our family and they’re just gonna have to deal with whatever fucked up inter-species decisions we make.”

The bluntness caught Monét off guard, but she appreciated it. She was never one to be coy or beat around the bush, and as jarring as it was, she admired it. In fact, she might even say she found it attractive. “So, we’re doing this? Whatever ‘this’ is?”

“You ask too many questions,” Monique chuckled. “But yeah, I can take it if you can,” she offered, her expression more gentle and voice more relaxed.

That was all Monét needed to hear. Her arms looped around Monique’s waist and she pressed another kiss to her lips. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had set her mind into such a whirlwind, but she quickly realized she wouldn’t have it any other way.

[confused-android]

Day 4: Farah - GNC Fashion with art by Pixiliis, here: https://pixeliis.tumblr.com/post/631151195714650112/confused-android

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"I don't do long skirts," Farah says immediately. "I can't fight in them, I can't walk in them, and it's just not happening."

Dirk grimaces awkwardly. "Everyone will be in period dress. If you're not, you'll stand out."

"I'm already going to stand out," she argues. "I'm a Black woman, going to a Jane Austen ball. I don't think I'm going to blend in very well."

"True," Dirk admits. "But you'll look like you don't belong, if you won't wear a Regency outfit."

Farah growls in frustration, then takes a deep, stabilizing breath and holds up her hands. "Okay. Dirk. We are hunting for werewolves. There is no way that I'm going to go to a ball that is potentially hosted by actual werewolves in an outfit I can't fight in. That's that."

"I don't even know if they'll let you in without a costume," Dirk blurts, then covers his face.

"Dirk," Farah says dangerously. "Did you already tell them that we're coming in costume?"

Dirk squeaks.

––––––––––

"I can't believe him," Farah storms, pacing back and forth between the front desk and the kitchenette. She taps her fingers together: forefinger to thumb, middle finger to thumb, forefinger to thumb, middle finger to thumb. "He didn't even ask me if I would dress up for the ball. That's a – that's a very personal decision to make for someone! Ball outfits, and… and such. There are whole – " she stops, trying to pick a word out of her brain "– whole… movies, whole movies about that sort of thing. And he just made the decision for me!"

"I don't think Dirk realized that you'd have a problem wearing a dress," Todd says. He's sitting on the floor, icing a lump on the top of his head with one hand, and scrolling through his phone with the other. "He's not the most observant of guys, y'know?"

"Oh I know."

Dirk, who flits through life, supremely unconcerned with anything so paltry as what other people think of him. Dirk, who wouldn't think twice about wearing an absurd or impractical outfit to investigate a case. Dirk, who looks self-assured in any circumstance (except when he's spiraling). Dirk, who's comfortable in his own skin.

Farah knows she's being unfair and uncharitable, but she's also solidly pissed off.

"It's just –" she sighs and stops pacing, but continues tapping her fingers together, keeps time with the thrum under her skin. "I have to get an outfit, and the invitation recommends a few local costume makers, and if I go in and order one of those dresses they are going to look at me and make assumptions about me, and then I need to pretend that I don't hate it, and it's just more than I think I can handle right now."

"Plus the werewolves," Todd reminds her.

"Plus the werewolves." She vibrates in place for a moment, then shrieks and throws her hands up, and goes back to pacing.

Todd catches up in Instagram and moves on to Bubble Shooter, and the icepack shifts in his grip and drips cold condensation down the back of his neck. He makes his way through three rounds of the game before Farah manages to stop pacing again and stands in front of him.

"Am I – am I being unreasonable, Todd? Is this actually fine, and I'm freaking out over nothing? I need you to tell me how much to freak out over here."

"Okay, wow, well – first of all, I am the wrong person to know how much anyone should be freaking out. Let's just get that clear." Farah glares at him and he drops his phone, holds one hand up defensively. "Okay, okay. I mean, you're not being unreasonable – Dirk was definitely pretty thoughtless. Just not like, more thoughtless than he usually is? He's just on a completely different wavelength, right?"

Farah presses her lips together and closes her eyes, and takes a long, stabilizing breath. She opens her eyes again, and finds Todd looking thoughtfully up at her. "What?" she asks flatly.

"I don't think you're being unreasonable, but you might be um… Like, overreacting? I think there's something we can do about this."

"Todd, if you're not going to tell me that I can wear my regular clothes, then I don't want to hear it." She shakes her head and takes the ice pack from his hand, then turns to the kitchenette and pours out the half-melted slush, digs in the freezer for some fresh ice.

"I'm not going to tell you that," Todd starts, and grimaces when she shoots a glare at him. "No, no, wait, hear me out. Dirk is right – the whole point of us accepting this invitation is to look like we're there for the Jane Austen festival. I refuse to have read Pride and Prejudice for nothing." She cracks a reluctant smile and hands him a fresh ice pack. "But it's still 2019 right now. We don't have to actually meet Regency decency requirements."

She frowns consideringly. "Tell me more."

––––––––

Farah wipes her sweaty palm on her thighs for the third time in as many minutes, and Todd shoots her a sympathetic glance, then tugs his jacket down for the umpteenth time that afternoon. Farah had managed to find a tailor to make three period-accurate costumes in one week – truth be told, she is pretty excited to write costuming off as a business expense – and while Todd likes the way his outfit looks in the mirror, he's still getting used to the way the clothes fit.

"Stop messing with it," Dirk hisses, and fussily adjusts Todd's cravat for him. Todd rolls his eyes, but looks fond anyway.

"There is a master of ceremonies, Dirk," Farah says tightly. "They are going to announce us."

"I know!" he thrills. "Isn't it exciting!"

"Yeah. Exciting. That is definitely what I was going to say." She still thinks it's  risky move, coming in the front door and mingling with all of the other festival attendees and guests of the ball, but it really does seem to be the only way to meet everyone without pretending to be reporters (which had been Farah's rejected suggestion) or catering staff (which had been Todd's).

The line edges closer to the double doors at the head of the ballroom, and they can hear the faint sounds of a string ensemble, the booming voice of the master of ceremonies announcing guests, the murmur of a crowd settling in. The sets have already begun, and the vibration of dozens of feet treading the same beat comes through the floor boards.

"Thank gosh we took those dance workshops earlier," Dirk gushes. He seems to have enjoyed his day at the festival more than Farah and Todd combined, and starts chattering excitedly about the social implications of pre-Victorian transportation methods and the economy of luxury goods as they creeps up towards the doors. He doesn't mention anything about the case, though, and after several minutes going on about status symbols, Todd elbows Dirk in the side and raises his eyebrows questioningly.

Dirk obliges his questioning eyebrows by expounding on his point about pineapples.

Todd and Farah sigh in unison. "What are you thinking about the case?" Todd reminds him.

"Oh! Of course! Well, given Regency mores, especially those I've learned about this afternoon, it seems perfectly plausible that various high class families could have been, if not werewolves, other mythological beings that are able to adopt human or humanoid forms for limited periods of times or specific dates, and still collect enough wealth and social connections to function in society! Jane Austen hinted at such families in any number of her books, and I'm surprised that it took until Mr. Andrews' thesis project to collect as much evidence as he did!"

"How does a grad student afford our rates?" Farah muses under her breath, for the fifth time since the case began, and Dirk shoots her an impatient glare.

"That is extremely not the point," he snarks, though Farah isn't quite sure that's true.

But then they're at the head of the line, and they hand their tickets to the man at the door, who looks them over and inclines his head graciously. "I'm always glad to see such well-dressed gentlemen at an event like this," he says warmly, guiding them just inside the door. "We don't get enough fellas who haven't been dragged by their girlfriends, you know. Really helps to even out the sets."

"Oh, I'm not –" Farah begins, stammering, but the man waves his hand kindly, dismissing her concerns.

"Oh, sure no," he says. "But you'll balance out the sets anyway, if you lead half as well as you dress."

"I –" Farah blinks, then smiles unexpectedly. "Thank you, sir," she says, and he winks and faces the room.

"Presenting: Misters Gently and Brotzman; Miss Black!"

And then they step into the room: all three in their waistcoats, their tailcoats, pantaloons and cravats. All three feeling good and correct and present.

(and Farah learns that hiding silver in a Hessian boot makes kicking a werewolf startlingly effective, and that she is a damn good set leader)

-----------------

Link to: day one, Farah - Youth day two, Farah - Dance  day three, Farah - Gore prompt list

[join-the-joywrite]

Hamish & Vera soulmate au headcannons

Sometimes I'm like a red traffic light and sometimes I'm like the Flash of writing. Would you look at that, another one for the collection! Seriously, please write these and tag/link me I'm begging--

For today's rambling, we have what you write on your skin appears on your soulmate's. I'm aiming for a little happiness, given I'm still upset about the colours one and the first/last words one. Allons-y!

Vera and Hamish were best friends as soon as Hamish finally learned how to write. They shared all their stories with one another and for the most part, told each other everything.

Their parents got them washable markers when they were 10 and 6 respectively because it was getting a little hard to stop children from writing on their arms with pens that were stubborn or toxic markers.

Strange thing was that they never actually introduces themselves and they never really noticed that they didn't know each other's names. It never mattered. This was the one person in the whole world that knew them better than anyone else -- and they had no idea who the other was. It was kind of special.

Hamish wrote about how he got bullied for wearing sweaters. They called him a nerd and teacher's pet in tones that said it was the most hateful thing to be.

Vera wrote back the most cunning ways to get back at the bullies until Hamish ended up being almost a poster boy for his school while still maintaining some kind of commanding aura. At age 8.

Hamish was the first person to learn that Vera was pregnant.

"WHAT? But -- but you are a child!!" "We are leading very different lives."

"I asked my mom and she said children shouldn't be having kids but I think you'll be okay. You're stronger than anyone I know and I think your kid's gonna love you lots." Vera never tells anyone that she finds the most support in a little twelve year old kid whose name she isn't really inclined to learn.

When Vera's baby dies, Hamish is the only person she speaks -- or writes -- to. He's the only person she's never afraid to spill all her secrets to.

"If you got invited to join a secret society that could possibly be a cult of murderers, would you do it?" "What do they offer, though?" "Free drinks and magic." "I'd say go for it."

Hamish thinks it's a joke and Vera knows a 14 year old kid isn't gonna know any better but she listens to him anyway and powers through initiation, catching the eyes of her Temple Magus and the then Grand Magus.

"Hey, remember that cult I was telling you about? I accidentally got the leader killed but I got a promotion." "I'm so proud of you! Hey, what do you think about law school?" "Absolutely not." "For me?" "Oh. Go for it. I believe in you."

And it's that message from Vera that makes Hamish push through his first year at Belgrave, despite being turned into a werewolf somewhere in the third month.

Vera is the most respected Adeptii in the entire Order. She has her eyes set on Temple Magus. Most would think she was after power, but Vera just wants to set things straight. She just wants to make the Order everything it promises to be.

She's staying late at the temple one night. She feels a light tapping on her arm and rolls up her sleeves. Had she imagined it or was she starting to feel her soulmate's thinking stage?

"Remember that girl I told you about from that club I joined?" "Yeah. Did you finally ask her to be your girlfriend?"

Vera's teasing smile vanishes when she sees "she's dead" printed on her arm. The ink starts to run. She knows he's crying. She waves her hand over her arm and the ink vanishes. If he notices and asks her about the sudden disappearance, she'll say it was just a wet cloth.

"Do you want to talk about it or do you want me to distract you?" There is a long pause and Vera feels her heart beat faster. He wouldn't do anything irrational, right? "Distract me, please."

Vera tells him all about her day. She tells him how she's mastering all the skills the cult (she only ever calls it a cult on her arm) requires and she's almost at the top of the food chain. She tells him she wants to get a job at the university and she tells him she's afraid she won't be able to make a change in the world.

Despite his grief, Hamish manages to slowly write to Vera how he truly believes in her and that he knows she can do anything she puts her mind to.

Years pass. Hamish tells Vera about two new family members he's found. Vera tells Hamish about how she's got the job of her dreams. Hamish tells Vera that if they met by chance one day, he'd ring her into the family. Vera tells Hamish that she would induct him into her cult. They laugh but still, they don't reveal themselves. The anonymity of it gives them a sense of security and strangely enough, safety.

With the entrance of Jack Morton comes a whirlwind of drama and action to both of them. Their stories are filled with tales of this new member and all the strange things he does.

"I'm his boss! I'm his boss and he just does not listen to a word I say! Today, I found out he's been practicing skills only for professionals. It's like giving a kid a gun for a pinata. He is driving me insane."

"You're telling me. Our 'gender-neutral collective's new member is having a severe mental breakdown and I'm pretty sure I saw him talking to a coat rack earlier. I gave him a drink and he took it like a shot so I gave him a shot to see what he'd do and. He. Sipped. At. It."

Neither of them are aware that they're talking about the same person.

"I think I have a soft spot for the screw-up."

"I know the feeling, we call ours the family screw-up. Affectionately, of course."

"Of course."

After the burning of the Vade Maecum, Vera lies awake in bed, unable to find rest. So she grabs her marker, only to find a message waiting for her.

"Dear Diary, today I met a girl unlike any other. She's sharp, strong, brave and powerful. She reminds me of you. She helped me defend my dumbass family from some pretentious assholes. Honestly, she's a force of nature on her own. I wouldn't want her to hate me because I'm pretty sure she'd kill me if she did."

Vera smiles. "Sounds like someone has a crush."

"Gross, don't be so middle school."

Vera manages to find peaceful rest after a few more minutes of talking.

A few days later, Vera asks about the girl. "What girl?" "Nothing. How was your day?"

Vera doesn't understand why she no longer hears stories about the family of oddballs.

Vera doesn't make the connection.

She tells him she's head of the cult. Hamish draws party streamers and balloons. They're absolutely terrible but they make Vera laugh. "I'm proud of you." "Thank you."

"Dear diary, today I joined a secret club." "What, like a book club?" "Well . . . there are a lot of books here."

Vera finds a welcome sense of familairty and faintly, home, when the stories start pouring in about the family again.

"So today I had to pull a thorn out of a baby's foot. Said baby is turning 19 this year."

"Oh, you poor soul. A couple of new members drank the entire cult's worth of booze last night. Who even drinks that much and can still walk well enough to leave?" Hamish thinks about the welcome party at the temple. "You'd be surprised."

"I almost died today." For a second, neither of them realise they've written the same sentence. They make the connection to Belgrave and Rogwan. Neither are sure that other is saying that because they met the demon and did stupidly dangerous things or because they knew about the Excidium. Neither asks that question. "I almost died today and one of the biggest regrets I would've had was that I never got to see the face behind all the stories I've come to adore." "I know." "We should try to find each other." "We should."

But they don't. Anonymity protects them, it keeps them safe and it keeps their soulmates away from the dangers of the Order and the Knights -- so they think.

Instead, Hamish talks about losing Lilith. He calls her his feisty, brash, smart and loving little sister. He cries. Vera watches the ink run. Vera thinks about Lilith, about the sacrifice she made so that the Vera wouldn't perform the Excidium. Vera's sure that Lilith didn't do it for her or for Belgrave, but for the Knight down in the corridor with her and the knights running around Belgrave with no fear. Regardless, Lilith is what stopped the Excidium and a great deal of people owe her their lives -- Vera included. Vera thinks about Jack watching the portal swallow Lilith up whole. Vera thinks about Hamish having to carry her loss. Vera thinks about Randall having to soldier on without one of the few people who have never judged him about anything. The ink runs on their arms, but not just from Hamish's tears.

Late one night, Hamish can't sleep and watches the words write themselves om his arm. "I thought about her today. But it was so so powerful. Like being physically hit with those memories. You'd think by now I'd have come to terms with it--" "You can't keep blaming yourself." "Knowing that doesn't change the fact that I do and I will." "I know. Do you want to talk about her?" And Vera talks about her daughter until she falls asleep. Hamish reads the words filled with love and loss and adoration and joy until he falls asleep too.

When Foley and Salvador attack, behind thinking about what the hell will happen to the Knights and the Order without them, Vera and Hamish keep hoping that their soulmate doesn't start panicking. Vera recovers from Foley first and leaves a message. She needs someone to talk to, someone who won't feel the consequences of knowing and someone she knows will never turn her weaknesses against her. Hours later, she tries again when there's no response. As time ticks by, she starts getting restless. Not only is Hamish missing, but now so is her soulmate.

Once Jack and Randall break Hamish out, to keep himself from storming up and tearing Foley apart, he lifts his sleeve. Shit. "Randall do you have a pen?"

"Why would I have a -- yeah, okay, I do. Here."

"Sorry," he writes, "got a little held up and I lost my marker. Are you okay?"

Vera is slightly relieved. One of them is okay. But Hamish is still missing. "Waiting on someone. He's not supposed to be gone this long."

In her worrisome state, Vera doesn't notice that the pen ink is vanishing just as fast as thr washable marker. If she had been paying it any attention, she would have come to the conclusion that Order member or not, her soulmate was a practitioner.

"Is everyone okay?" She stares at Hamish, relief flooding her body. Damnit, she wasn't supposed to get attached to someone. She didn't think she could do that. But what was there to do now?

"Hey, I've got something to tell you." "Go on." "Remember that girl I told you about last year?" "Yes." "I think" Vera waits for the rest of the sentence. "You think?" "I really like her."

Vers suddenly doesn't feel guilty about Hamish anymore. She sits up in her bed. "Tell me all about her." "You sure you won't get jealous?" Vera laughs to herself. "I won't if you don't." "Oh! Someone has a new boyfriend!" "Maybe. Now tell me about this girl."

And Hamish starts. And Hamish cannot stop. Vera's watched his wipe his arm already three times and he still hasn't stopped. When he pauses, Vera takes the chance to write "You don't like her." "I do, though." "No, you don't. You LOOOVE her!" Vera can't shake the image that if they were sitting together and speaking, she would have sprinted away by now to avoid the attacks her teasing would bring. It makes her smile.

"Shut up! Tell me about your new boyfriend." "He's not my boyfriend." "Yet." Vera pauses. "We'll see." "Tell me about him."

Vera starts. And Vera cannot stop. Hamish watches the words appear and can't help falling in love with the way she loves this man. "Someone's in luuurve!" "Am not." "Are too." "Whatever."

He thinks about Vera. You don't like her, you love her. Maybe. Yeah, maybe he does.

"I lost her. I could've helped her and I didn't." "I don't think there was anything you could've done more. You said she was attacked." "I drove her away. I pushed her into leaving the one place that could've prevented the attack. And I couldn't save her. I just I can't keep losing people. This cult is poison. I thought I could make it better. I thought I could take it by the reigns and guide it. Instead I keep getting the younger ones killed." "It's not your fault." "I could honestly really use a drink right now but I already sent the boyfriend home. He's gone some stuff to deal with too. His family is . . . hinging on broken."

Vera wonders if he fell asleep when there's no response. She lays her head on her upper arm, looking at the words on her forearm. And then they vanish. Like . . . like magic. How the hell had she never noticed before?? Very slowly, new letters form

V . . . e . . . r . . . a . . . ?

Vera shoots up and sits straight, holding her arm. What the fuck? What the fuck did I say that gave me away?? And who the fuck knows me well enough to figure me out based on something I said??

Vera is grateful for the distraction her phone brings as it lights up with a text -- from Hamish. "I heard you could use a drink."

Vera tiptoes downstairs warily, relieved to find Hamish behind her counter with a drink in front of him. A drink for her.

"I thought I sent you to the den. The knights--"

"Are all asleep. You, on the other hand, aren't."

Vera takes a seat at the counter, hands around the glass. As Hamish tidies up, she catches sight of his bare forearm, where her name is written in the same hand writing as on her own arm. When his back is turned, she uncaps the marker and writes, Hamish?

He laughs softly to himself. Then, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

"Alyssa."

"Do you want to talk about Lilith?"

"You're right, a distraction would be better."

And distract each other, they did.

I might write this one out oop

See other soulmate aus I've attacked

[reginaldqueribundus]

All Dresden Files novels, ranked

RULES:

I’ll be starting with my least favourite and counting down to most favourite

This is just my opinion, so please do send me asks telling me why you think I’m wrong, I’d love to hear your thoughts on the books

I will not be ranking Side Jobs or Brief Cases. Stacking collections of short stories against full-length novels wouldn’t make sense or even be feasibly, really. But I would probably rank BC above SJ solely for the Bigfoot stories.

THE RANKINGS

(Warning: potential plot spoilers for everything before Peace Talks!)

#16: Fool Moon

I realize I’m not exactly a brilliantly original pioneer by putting this one last. I’ve heard other people say it’s the weakest instalment in the series, and I’m inclined to agree. I’m not sure why. Maybe because out of all the books it feels the least connection to the overall mythos (which feels silly to say, after all it does introduce the Alphas). Murphy is peak dumbass in this one (not entirely her fault, but still) and Harry acts like a moron most of the time. The plot feels like an excuse for Jim to see how many different kinds of werewolf he can come up with and the lycanthropes really have no reason to be there, plus the loup-garou rampage through a police station should have had more real-world consequences than it does. I haven’t read Fool Moon in a long time, and I don’t intend to again anytime soon.

#15: Storm Front

Yeah, Storm Front is weird. Jim is still figuring out his voice here, so it’s not surprising some of the characters feel a bit off. The two plot threads take awhile to connect and Shadowman is the most one-dimensional villain we’ve ever had in the series. Sometimes when I do a reread I cheat and skip the first two books. But Storm sets the foundation for a lot of important elements, like the White Council, Murphy, and Marcone, and the plot is not all that bad (aside from all the orgy nonsense). The film canisters feel out of place in the digital age but you can’t fault a book for being written 20 years ago. It’s an awkward first outing for sure, but not nearly as awkward or disjointed as Fool Moon.

#14: Proven Guilty

Whenever I reread the Dresden Files, I always get stuck on this one. I can’t quite pinpoint why. Is it all the icky sexualization of teenage Molly (which, even for Jim, is a bit much)? Is it the humdrum plot and the boring side adventure with “Darby Crane”? Or is it because, eight books and 14 years later, the mysterious attack on Arctis Tor still hasn’t been explained? I’m a little surprised Jim took a premise like “fear-sucking faeries are coming to life by impersonating popular horror movie characters” and managed to make it so dull, honestly, but the plot doesn’t really grab me until the third act after the big reveal with Charity. It’s still a better read than Storm or Moon since Jim had been writing the series for a few years at that point, but on every readthrough this is where I start losing steam.

#13: Grave Peril

Grave Peril still has some of the “just starting out” roughness around the edges, but feels like a leap forward compared to its predecessors. This is where the overall story finds its footing and kicks off the vampire war arc that would dominate the next nine books, beginning with Bianca’s famous dinner party that’s still churning out plot threads after nearly two decades. Not to mention we are introduced to many very important characters like Lea, Thomas and Michael. Lea’s obsession is a very good explanation why we haven’t seen Harry enter the Nevernever in any of the other books thus far, and the Nightmare plot is interesting (though I don’t think it’s ever been explained why Mavra was helping Kravos). This is the first book to really show us who Harry is: a man who does the right thing, even when he doesn’t have to, and damn the consequences.

#12: White Night

White Night isn’t really bad per se, I just don’t like it as much as the others. Much like the machinations of the White Court, I find the plot needlessly convoluted and a bit confusing. It’s nice to see Elaine again, and the scene where she unleashes her full power on the Skavis is one of the best scenes in the entire series. It’s also nice to see what maybe-Cowl is up to these days, and we finally get a name for Harry’s “Black Council” conspiracy: the Circle. The White Court vamps’ overall goal is upsetting because it hits close to reality — maybe a bit too close. Jim loves killing beautiful women to make Harry upset, and it’s on display more than usual in this book. Plus Molly still gets treated in a gross way. But all the stuff with Lash gets a satisfying resolution (and brilliantly side-steps Michael’s insistence that no one has ever rid themselves of a Fallen’s influence), which makes up for the book’s shortcomings.

#11: Blood Rites

Putting Blood Rites in 11th place feels wrong since it gave us both Mouse and the best opening line of the entire damn series (the famous “The building was on fire and it wasn’t my fault”). The main story just bores the shit out of me, and the B plot with Mavra never ties into the main one in any way, though it gets points for giving us more Kincaid and McCoy and some disturbing revelations about those two. Rites feels like Jim had two different ideas for a Dresden novel but he couldn’t stretch either of them into a full-length book. After all, two wrongs don’t make a rite nyurr hurr hurr. But once Thomas’s connection to Harry is revealed, I’m hooked until the end and I’d reread it for that alone.

#10: Small Favor

Honestly, Small Favor would be ranked higher on this list if not for the fact that I keep forgetting it exists. The story is interesting and shows us how truly awful the Denarians can be, though from context one gets the sense Nicodemus might actually not be on the same side as the Circle. Might even be working against it. The different Fallen are colourful and interesting and the Gruffs are interesting foes, though once again the B-plot kind of comes out of nowhere and never really has much to do with the main one, but the Eldest Gruff doughnut payoff is worth it. I guess my main beef with Favor is the ending is so bleak and depressing. Much like Harry, I have trouble reconciling Michael’s faith in God with his ultimate reward.

#9: Summer Knight

If Grave Peril is where the series finds its feet, then Summer Knight is where it breaks into a run. It introduces the Faerie Courts, which are one of the best parts of the entire series. It introduces Mab, arguably the most important character who isn’t Harry. It gives us our first real look at the White Council and how it functions. The big twist (”what unicorn?”) and the way Harry defeats Aurora with a duffel bag full of tiny faeries are some of the books’ finer moments. And most of all, the plot makes sense. I don’t know if Jim planned it that way but the future reveal that Aurora was likely an agent of Nemesis makes the book all the more compelling in hindsight. It still doesn’t have the polish of later books, but it’s easily the best of the first four.

#8: Death Masks

I feel like Death Masks edges out Summer Knight simply because it has the villain I love to hate, Nicodemus Archleone. It also introduces Shiro and Sanya, two of my favourite characters (even if one of them wasn’t long for this world, thanks Jim) and has a suitably epic (and suitably Harry) plot with Harry being asked to track down the Shroud of Turin. The stakes are higher than any book before it (except Summer Knight), and Nicodemus is one of the best villains in the entire series, and Marcone’s final scene with the Shroud gives his character a depth it had heretofore lacked. The duel with Ortega storyline doesn’t have much to it, but it’s handled well and Ortega is an interesting side villain. All told, a solid outing.

#7: Peace Talks

I hear a lot of people saying they’re immensely disappointed in Peace Talks and I disagree, but (without getting into spoilers) I can see what they mean. I’ve seen it compared to Avengers: Infinity War, but  I enjoyed the hell out of Infinity War and this book. I went back and reread the Ethniu scene three times. Peace does an admirable job of standing on its own. The central conflict is resolved, but the mystery remains unsolved, and we’re left with a lot of unanswered questions that I’m sure will be addressed in Battle Ground. Thus Peace Talks still feels like the first half of a larger story, which is why I don’t enjoy it quite as much as the remaining entries on this list.

#6: Ghost Story

GS is very much the odd one out; a lot of it is devoted to flashbacks and introspection, or Harry adjusting to his ghostly state — a new form of existence that, for the first time in the series, means he can’t go charging into battle and has to spend a lot of the time spectating and finding alternate ways to help. It’s an important stage in Harry’s growth and comes across as such. It’s also interesting to see the birth of the BFS and the Chicago Alliance; most series don’t show us what would happen if the protagonist suddenly up and died. It’s all fresh ground for the books, and I love every inch of it: Harry learning to teleport, Mort sucking ghosts into his body to gain their fighting prowess, Evil Bob. Corpsetaker is the perfect villain for this type of story. The Fitz storyline is a heartwarming tale of an abuser getting his power broken. I read it before I knew there would be further books, so as far as I knew Harry was actually dead. My only complaint is the shit with the ghostly proxies in the graveyard is confusing and doesn’t add much, and the ending is far too… convenient with Uriel’s It’s a Wonderful Life montage of how everything will be fine. I like GS a lot and would reread it all on its own.

#5: Changes

Changes is the only Dresden Files book thus far to break the two-word titling convention, to hammer home the unsubtle message broadcast by the title itself: this is a season of change for Harry Dresden. He finds out he has a child and McCoy is his granddad, his apartment burns down, his office blows up. Oh yeah, and he fucking dies. This is the first time we see Harry truly go all out, picking up every tool and ally at his disposal to save his daughter, leading to one of the most shocking, far-reaching and satisfying third acts in the series to date. Not to mention the ending, which nearly made me throw the book at the wall. Changes is another book in the series that I’ll pick up again and again, even when I’m not rereading the entire series.

#4: Turn Coat

TC has always been one of my favourite Dresden Files. Much like Changes, it kicks off with a hell of an opening scene (Donald Morgan, one of Harry’s worst enemies, collapsing on his doorstep) that remains the sole plot thread throughout. Before the Red Court was annihilated, this book made it seem like the White Council was truly on the way out, fraught with corruption and beset by enemies on all sides (and within). Harry’s gambit shows he’s getting smarter and the ultimate reveal of who framed Morgan and how is brilliant. And all that aside, TC would probably get the #4 spot just for the entire scene between Listens-to-Wind and the naagloshii. “Not gonna bind or banish you, old ghost. Just gonna kick your ass up between your ears.” One of the most iconic lines in the entire series, IMO.

#3: Cold Days

I only discovered the Dresden Files in 2010/2011 so naturally the books released since then hold a special place in my heart. But maybe Cold Days is just that good? It’s the first book to return Harry to some measure of normalcy (for given values of normalcy) after the massive upheavals of Ghost and Changes, and it does a good job of easing us into the new status quo. Then it freaking kicks us in the teeth with one bombshell after another: Demonreach, Nemesis, the Outer Gates. It hints at the nature of the series’s ultimate overarching conflict and casts the events of several past books (especially Summer Knight) in a different light. I may never get over what happened to Molly, but I still enjoy this book a lot. The only things I don’t really like about it are what aren’t in it. I know Harry has a good reason for avoiding Molly, but he doesn’t even try to talk to Eb? I know they aren’t close but goddamn dude you were dead. In fact Harry’s whole death and resurrection doesn’t seem to have much impact on his White Council membership beyond some “paperwork” Rashid helps him with. Which box do I check for “only mostly dead”?

#2: Skin Game

Skin Game gets a lot of flak and… I’m really not sure why? It’s actually a lot of fun, especially for a Nicodemus book. True, it’s more of a heist than a mystery. But after three books of death and genocide and Harry wrestling with the consequences of his actions, we needed a breather. It’s refreshing to see Harry thinking ahead instead of constantly being on the back foot, something we haven’t really seen since Turn Coat, and it gave me a nice warm feeling inside to see the gang finally get one over on Ol’ Nick. And when Butters lit up the sword, I swear to god I felt like cheering. Parkour!

#1: Dead Beat

Dead Beat remains my absolute favourite Dresden Files book. An ensemble of colourful villains, the debut of Mouse, the first hints toward a larger conspiracy… oh yeah, and POLKA-POWERED ZOMBIE DINOSAUR. This book just fires on all cylinders, man. And it features my most favourite character of all, Waldo Butters, who learns that polka will never die. Kemmler, his disciples, the concept of the Darkhallow, all fascinating stuff. Harry is flying by the seat of his pants as usual, but it all comes out right in the end, and the Shiela subplot is one of the most masterful twists Jim has ever pulled off. Even the return of Quintus Cassius works in its own way, despite being unrelated to the main plot. Dead Beat left me satisfied but also craving more.

[anangelicday-mrwolf]

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 44 – The Story Unbeknownst

“Welcome back. And thanks. We owe you so... Miss Lunark?”

Tao beckoned Lunark; he was outside, having watched the four teenagers leaving less than a minute ago.

He raised his arm halfway before he froze awkwardly, upon checking the composition of her face.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen at the KSA?”

“Oh, yes. Something did happen – something far from small. And for your information, this has nothing to do with the fact that you made me your substitute.”

Lunark foresaw what Tao will first and foremost forecast and barricaded his apology.

“Is everyone home now? I reckon this is something I gotta share with all of you.”

She directed her eyes towards Frankenstein’s house as she spoke.

Tao instantly understood what she was implying and in return nodded as he turned.

“This way, please. And I’m sorry, but could you please give Takio a few moments? He has yet to come back, and...”

“Forget it.”

“Pardon?”

Tao for a moment was appalled by the apparent distaste she has come to harbor for one of the founding members of RK, probably because of his connection to Yuigi, but soon enough he was told wrong.

“We don’t have time to wait until he makes it back. Call him. Use the video call feature on your phone.”

“What? I-is it that serious?”

Lunark did not issue a reply for him.

Which was more than enough for him to fathom the magnitude of the situation; Tao promptly led the way for the werewolf warrior, thumbing through his phone to scroll down his recent call records.

*****

The gathering was held for the second time, featuring Tao, M-21, Raizel, and Takio through a video call.

It was revealed Takio was at the other safehouse under Frankenstein’s ownership.

Yuigi had been made homeless, with the previous safehouse no more. So he was helping her to move in to her new residence, as well as installing and auditing the variety of defense kits devised by Tao, in order to prevent anything reminiscent of Kornel’s visit from taking place.

He was finished with his task by the time Tao’s name popped up upon his phone screen, so he was currently standing atop an empty building on his way back home.

And this time they were occupying the underground lab, originally Frankenstein’s possession now passed on to Tao.

If it were not for the essence of the situation, Lunark would have been completely mesmerized by the touches and traces of Frankenstein flaunting themselves in his lab.

“I got the item from the KSA – Yuhyung’s USB containing a security program developed by the man himself, along with its upgrade version from their doctor. But of course, that’s not what I requested this meeting for. It’s the researcher we have to talk about.”

The moment Yuhyung’s name came up, all men’s eyes glinted with nervousness as they flickered over Lunark’s face.

Keeping her facial muscles in control, despite knowing it would be no use once she is done talking, Lunark pulled out from her head the conversation she had at KSA.

*****

“...That’s what he told you?”

“What? What is it?”

“We beg your pardon, but could you reiterate for us exactly what he told you?”

“Hmm... He said... ‘The shock I received was too severe for me to return to work. I was half-forced to take off work, and I could return after much time was spent.’”

Taesik’s and doctor’s expressions were intensified with anxiety as they met each other in the eyes, holding something somewhat different from useless concern.

What their pupils were hinting were not meaningless concern; it was untainted apprehension, close to fear.

“If there is something going on between you two, I’d really appreciate it if you could share with me. Whatever it is that you know about him, I’m obliged to learn. He’s not the only one affiliated with the QuadraNet project.”

Lunark’s words were inquisitive, not imperative or exclamatory.

Albeit she could not help emitting a splinter of annoyance, she had no intention of telling them off.

Nevertheless, Taesik and the doctor grew much smaller in presence, like brothers whose parents figured out at last what they had done wrong and kept as secret so far.

“Listen carefully, Miss Lunark. About the reason why Yuhyung took off work in the past... It wasn’t a vacation or anything of the sort.”

“What are you talking about?”

“At least on his dossier, it is described as personal vacation. And that’s what all personnel and staff of KSA think regarding his temporary leave.”

“Are you saying in reality, he was momentarily kicked out or something?”

“That was not what we had in mind, but... I guess he’d say that was the case. Because he left not because of the assault you mentioned.”

“Strictly speaking, that assault is not completely unrelated to this matter, but in reality there’s a difference. This is partially why we can’t stop asking you if Yuhyung has troubled you in any way.”

Taesik solemnly clasped his hands upon his desk, and the doctor wound up his arms behind his back as he stood beside his boss.

“Do you know what Yuhyung majored in during... I mean, do you know what he used to specialize in before joining us?”

The doctor unfolded for Lunark almost the exact same thing Sangin and Yeonsu relayed to Rael on his first encounter with Yuhyung.

The fact that prior to the job offer from the doctor himself, Yuhyung majored in Bio And Brain Engineering at KAIST.

The fact that 6 years have passed ever since, and he is now the lead technological assistant and one of the lead researchers of KSA, making majestic contributions to bioengineering studies and developments.

The fact that he is almost solely responsible for the studies associated with artificial intelligence and brain and neurology.

“He had made names for himself during his time at KAIST for his creative-slash-bizarre imaginations and suggestions. Some would dub them as innovative and original, while others would dub as unrealistic and preposterous.”

“Really? But wouldn’t your folks consider those handy? You’d need to take your perspectives and imaginations way over human boundaries to struggle and survive against a bunch of people with supernatural, superhuman technology and knowledge.”

“You’re right. And we wouldn’t have stayed on the edge of our seats if Yuhyung had... Kept his limits, to say. Ever since the assault you mentioned, he was basically a ball of glass on the tip of a sword.”

Once again came up the assault Lunark laid on Korea along with Zarga and 8th Elder; nonetheless, this time Lunark did not even flinch.

She was too curious about the contents and conclusion of this mystery to care.

“Just a few days afterwards, Yuhyung visited us in private, to make scandalous proposals.”

“He proposed that KSA accepts the Union way.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Was he suggesting KSA should officially request Union to share its technology on body modification?”

“No. He meant it in a literal sense. He wanted us to adopt Union technology and methodology completely void of ethics or morals, treating humans as nothing more than shovels and garden trimmers in paving and shearing way towards goals.”

At this point, Lunark felt highly inclined to pause the current situation, to instead run over to Frankenstein’s house and book a full body exam on her auditory system.

She has witnessed countless examples of immorality and corruption throughout the past centuries. Even with such pre-exposure, she had been thoroughly disgusted at what Union could and would do.

And now that she has learned that the human so very timid and clumsy but meticulous and passionate in his job wanted his lot to copy and paste the Union’s manners, she felt positive that there must have been a mistake, much more strongly than she did with Adne’s potential betrayal.

Alas, just like with Adne, her suspicion was altogether blown away by Taesik and the doctor.

“After the assault you referred to, Yuhyung came to us and said... He said even though Korea’s history on modified humans is short, especially with Union watching, this was not supposed to happen. He said he couldn’t take that Korea’s modified humans could do nothing to defend their motherland, leaving everything to the modified humans in the ex-chairman’s team and creatures outside human classification. Which gave him nightmarish despair, making him question KSA’s existence and the purpose of studying body modification.”

“I remember how he appeared more agitated than usual. However, the sense of guilt, insecurity, and helplessness seething from his every vowel and consonant were neither exaggerated nor feigned.”

“And he urged us to remove all cautions and limits in studies, claiming that since our technology is an imitation of Union’s arts, there’s no reason for us to leave their ideology unimitated. He claimed that if we stick to rules unlike the Union, we will make no progress at all.”

“He even insisted on making it mandatory for incoming agents to go through body modification.”

Lunark could not even feel her lips parting. She was too busy suspecting whether the one they were designating was really Yuhyung Jang.

“Make body modification mandatory? That’s exactly the kind of thing Union would do, but not even Union went that far. Not that the Union kept the final line uncrossed – it was simply because their system did not need all of its human resources to pay at least one visit to the lab tank.”

“Is that so? Anyhow, this was what he had in mind – we are undoubtedly short of data on body modification, so reserving for ourselves more trials and errors in body modification would lead to natural collection of data, which will ultimately lead to progress.”

“Both of us vetoed the idea. No, there was no need to veto it. We never took into account his idea in the first place. I mean, force body modification? That’s just plain wrong.”

“Moreover, something was not right with Yuhyung back then. His mouth spoke of KSA’s progress, but his eyes were...”

Taesik and the doctor shuddered as they brought up the memories of the day.

“His eyes were shrieking vengeance and insecurity.”

“So the director gave him vacation, just to force him away from his lab. We figured we had to do something to separate his mind from such unreasonable thought.”

“Once he was back, he began to sort out and discard all his studies and creations on body modification, to instead shift his attention to artificial intelligence. So we figured he has come to his senses.”

“But listening to you, perhaps we were told wrong. Or are we being delusional here?”

Taesik and doctor stared at Lunark, as if imploring her to tell them they are being delusional.

But of course, she could not meet their demands.

*****

Tao, M-21, Raizel, and Takio beyond the phone could not even bat an eye, their bodies now entirely taken over by the danger alert that was growing increasingly cacophonous as they were listening.

The fact that the man of their interest did not outright deceive them but nevertheless led them to believe otherwise regarding the reason why he had to leave his job.

The revelation on his standing as a researcher, close to that of a mad scientist.

His specialization on artificial intelligence and brain, which ominously stood out for them as of now.

The raid by weapons against heads of noble clans that Rael and wolfkind suffered nearby Lukedonia and in their front lawn, respectively.

And the exhibition of changes in the weapons, indicated by the fact that they could now interact with each other and exercise strategies during battles.

For some very strange reason, it fatally dawned upon them that there must be a missing link in all of these.

However, none of them voiced their suspicion.

Things happened, but there was no evidence, material or immaterial.

More importantly, they knew that if they are to even pretend to point it out, the dam that has been remaining firm would finally break down, to result in something irreversible, inevitable.

“Now it’s your turn.”

“Uh... Sorry?”

“You said that something came up after hearing what I had, so you had to look into it. Doesn’t that mean now you have something new to tell me?”

“Uh... Uh, right!”

Tao spun in his seat, to race his chair towards the humongous desk plastered with a bunch of screens.

The rest followed suit, and Tao began to speak as he let his fingers dance.

(next chapter)

That’s right - Yuhyung had a secret. And guess what - there’s plenty more where that came from XD For now I don’t want to provide too much details about his past, as I do not want to spoil my own fic. Please stay tuned to find out more about Yuhyung!

[ifridiot]

cryptid, rock, neon lights, ghost, grave, neighbour, fae, deer

Cryptid: what kind of otherworldly / cryptid / folklore being do you identify with the most and why?

This is a very hard question for me to answer, I have a very hard time identifying with anything without being told look specifically by other people that I remind them of that thing. I don't think that anybody has ever really likened me to too many other creatures concept aesthetics that kind of thing sure but not so many, like... creatures.

That being said, I often have associated myself with werewolves. There's something that really draws me to the concept of a being that can change its shape, that might look harmless at one moment and then in another circumstance becomes very dangerous and very obviously predatory or imposing and threatening. I have always especially been drawn to stories about werewolves where the werewolf is more sympathetic, rather than the concept of a creature that loses all humanity and can't do anything but savage those around it. I don't really find that to be a compelling narrative at the best of times, much less something that I would really think of myself in connection to. I think I tend to be extremely humane in most of my interactions, regardless of whether I am hurt or upset or not thrilled with the person who is trying to talk to me.

Rock: things you collect?

I collect notebooks. I absolutely adore having something that I can just pick up and write in, to the extent that I have notebooks that live in specific locations so that I always have one on hand. There's a notebook that lives in my bag that goes with me everywhere I go. There's another notebook that lives on the table next to my chair in the living room, and there are many notebooks that live in the bookcase beside my bed.

Another thing I collect is knives. I don't have very many of them anymore, because when I moved out of my dad's place I couldn't really take whole ton with me, but (marge simpson voice:) I just think they're neat. I keep a really fancy ornate one on a display stand that's on top of my dresser, and I have one that shaped like a whale that I got from a friend of mine, and it lives in its sheath because it's very sharp, in the bookcase that's beside my bed. I would really like to get more again at some point

I also collect recipes, especially baking recipes. I really love cooking, and I find it very useful to be able to pull up the exact recipe for something that me and my sister enjoyed, so I can cook it again. So I have lots of bookmarks from when I look recipes up online, just tons of bookmarks. And I have a whole folder of recipes that I've typed up from making shit up on the fly, which I love sharing.

Neon lights: what's your aesthetic?

I always have a really hard time with this question, too. Kind of like the cryptid question, I have a hard time visualizing myself, or seeing enough of myself from an outsider's perspective to really say if the things that I consider my aesthetic actually come across in any real way. Which is to say, I don't know that somebody walking into my space or looking at my blog would necessarily see my aesthetic the way that I see things as being my aesthetic.

Very babbling way of saying, “here are some aesthetic concepts I really like but I don't know if they show up in any way that anybody would ever notice that I actually like them.”

I really love bones and teeth, especially paired with flowers. I like crows and ravens and little finches and sparrow-y song birds. I am very into a sort of goth/punk sort of look with layered clothes and spikes on things... I really like putting pins and buttons on my denim jacket, and I am working on designing a piece to either paint or stitch onto the back of that jacket. As far as interior design aesthetic goes, strong I like lots of plants and like Earth tones in greens and blues, like sages and dusty blues for the wall colours and then lots of shelves to display things on…  lots of plants and lots of big windows to let in light,  but with actual curtains because I like to have some privacy. Wood floors with nice rugs, as opposed to carpet.  I like a very clean kind of decorating without a lot of centralized clutter (I prefer the clutter on shelves, so my blind ass doesn’t get tripped). I guess kind of like a soft cottagecore kind of look. And then add in some very vulture culture details mixed into that, some bones and furs and stuff. Love that kind of shit.

Ghost: have you ever had a paranormal experience?

Yeah I have had a lot of them, especially from when I was a kid growing up in this one really old, shitty house. The one that comes to mind most clearly is this:

I must have been about seven or eight, and I went to my parents’ room to do something – i’m pretty sure I was supposed to put away an armload of clothes. My parents’ room in that house had really bad vibes, like it just felt really spooky almost all the time and I never wanted to be in there by myself.

On this particular occasion, the lights were off and the blackout curtains were drawn so my father, who worked midnights, could sleep. I remember that it was super dark and cool compared to the rest of the house, but in the light from the hall and behind the curtains it wasn’t impossible to see.

Dad’s dresser was across the room, past the bed, from the door. In the corner farthest back from the door, deepest into the room, it was all shadow, and on this particular excursion, I remember something like a piece of shadow breaking from all the rest of the dark back there, and sort of sliding across the ceiling to weight over the dresser. When I stepped forward, intending to ignore this thing, it sort of dripped down, like a very heavy, viscous fluid, to stretch from floor to ceiling.

I absolutely ran, because I’d seen enough horror movies and I didn’t want to die.

Grave: what do you think happens after we die?

Dog, I have no idea. In a less... public forum I might be willing to talk about my really weird theory of everything, But it's extremely long, extremely involved, and I definitely sound like like the insane person that I am when I start talking about it. So not here and not now.

Neighbour: if you lived in an eerie town in the middle of nowhere, one of those where everybody knows something is wrong, but nobody talks about it, what would your role be?

Okay, so I absolutely insist that, in this scenario I am able-bodied enough to hold a job. I am the bookstore owner / employee who gives advice to travelers but in a really ominous, like, ‘get the fuck out while you can’ kind of way. I absolutely take no shit from anybody, I'm married to the town so I won't leave, but I want everybody to survive so I'm definitely giving people advice…

Unless I don't like them, in which case they can eat shit.

Fae: wings or fins?

Wings, absolutely every time. I'm not afraid of heights, I absolutely believe if I had been born with wings I would be a much different physically shaped person. That is to say, I feel like wings are one of those body parts that, were they naturally occurring and part of me, would have kept me inclined to being much more physically active and I probably would not be as dramatically overweight.  I absolutely would be the kind of person who just fucking flies places.

Deer: antlers or fangs?

I think that it is absolutely a hate crime specifically against me that I am being asked to pick one or the other.

I should be allowed to have both, and I would have the most glorious, gigantic fucking multi-pronged deer antlers, and just like absolutely massive fangs, like the male orcs from World of Warcraft tusks except where your upper canines are, just massive...

actually, can we be real and just say I absolutely have tusks like orcs as well?

[ashesandhackles]

More of where Snack came from

This is what happens when you discuss narrative parallels between them and end up creating scenes during the conversation. @thedreamermusing wrote the Sirius parts, while I wrote the Snape ones.

Here is a little AU, where Sirius lives at the end of Order of Phoenix.

When Sirius sees Lily's patronus--beautiful and graceful and almost forgotten in the years in Azkaban -- landing in the kitchen of Grimmauld place, he's mystified, remembering when James saw it for the first time. 'We're made for each other,' he'd said, spinning Lily around in his arms. Sirius reverently reaches out an arm to touch it. And then---'Black,' a silky voice made of grease and cold water says. 'Your godson is of the opinion that you aren't uselessly hiding away in your mother's house and somehow thinks that you're with the Dark Lord. Do try to prove him wrong and stay where you are.' As the patronus fades away, the only thought left in Sirius's mind is 'Motherfucker'.

..

Snape always wondered if his life was an elaborate joke. It was humiliating enough, revealing his Patronus to Black, of all people. He was dreading stepping foot in the house. It was amazing - how showing that vulnerable part of himself, that part he asked Dumbledore to swear no one must know, makes him feel like a teenager again. Powerless. Anxious. Twitchy. This is all the fault of that stupid boy - if he didn't prize that connection of his, if he had heeded what was said, he would not have been in this position. It's only luck that no one got killed for his stupidity. Luck favours everyone but him, apparently.

To Snape's horror, he was early at the headquarters. Black was sitting at the long table, reading a letter. He stilled when he entered. "Snape" Black acknowledged gruffly, without looking up. He didn't deign to respond. It was a trap - whatever it was. He wondered when that ridiculous woman would come and knock over the umbrella, so that the entire house is filled with Black's delightful mother's shrieks. There was an uncomfortable silence, broken by Black looking up at him. "So....Evans?"

Snape's insides were glacial. Don't react, don't react, don't react. He used her maiden name to get a rise out of you .. lull you into a false sense of security...

It seemed that Black was amused by his inability to respond. This made him angry. "Well, it turns out I no longer doubt your alliegances" he continued. "So what's in it for you Snivellus? Revenge?"

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Spare me your curiosity. You know as well as I do that I have no inclination to chat with you". "But I want to chat with you" Black smirked. "You see, I want to make sense of this". Snape reached for the handle of his wand instinctively. "Contrary to whatever you may believe, Black, you are not entitled to any answers and certainly not from me".

"When did you turn spy?" Black asked abruptly. "Were you the one who told Dumbledore that there was someone close to us who had betrayed us?"

Snape said nothing. He would give nothing to Black, no information about that hideous year spent fearing for her life and his own, tangled in loyalties he knew not where. "I am going to take that as a yes" Black said, his grey eyes boring into him. "Why did you do it? What really made you turn?"

"Shut up" he hissed, finally drawing his wand and flicking it into his most useful spell, Langlock. No one can know. No one, he remembered telling Dumbledore.

Black stopped speaking as his tongue got stuck to the roof of his mouth. He looked furious as he whipped out his own wand. The Order filed in just then - all looking unsurprised to see them both pointing their wands at each other. "Sirius, please" the werewolf implored. Black looked up at him angrily, but his jinx rendered him unable to say whatever was on his mind.

For the first time since he stepped into the house, the anxiety in Snape's chest eased a bit. He still had power. He was no longer that young boy - no longer. "Unfortunately for us, Black wouldn't be gracing us with his remarkable wit today," he said, stuffing his own wand back into his robes. The werewolf glared at him. He sneered. "It's quite alright, not like he has been upto anything useful recently - apart from not getting lured into the Ministry to run after his idiot of a godson. And we don't want endless reminisces of that, do we?"

..

'Fucking Snivellus,' Sirius thought furiously, hardly listening to the Order meeting. It burned--burned him to think he owed his and Harry's life to the greasy bastard, that he'd listened to the warning and stayed put, that Harry and his friends were apprehended before they went on to make a tragedy of things at the Ministry. He never would have thought Snape would be capable of such depth of emotion, that he felt so deeply for Lily. He'd known of course that they were friends of a sort in their initial years at Hogwarts, something James railed about constantly back then. But he'd never considered it important, thought Snape was a bit of a charity case for Lily. But he should have known better; Lily wasn't one to make friends out of charity. She'd seen something in him evidently, something they had all missed.

And yet, none of them had seen anything in Peter.

Sirius glares at Snape, who continues to glare back. 'Fucking greasy bat. Why couldn't you just be an enemy?' To think that Sirius had gotten it all so wrong about Peter, his brother in all but blood, the boy he'd patiently tutored through the animagus transformation, the boy who he would have died for while Snape, fucking Snivellus Snape, would end up being loyal to a friend who'd cut him off years earlier, would switch sides and save Sirius's life even--it's funny really. He's tempted to laugh, laugh like a maniac, at the absurdity, the injustice, out of grief--let out all his curled up emotions in a big hearty laugh. But then again, that hadn't worked out so well for him 15 years ago. So the only thing he can do is glare at Snape. But the familiar hatred is more unsettling now than comforting.

..

Snape couldn't help but stiffen at the prickly sensation of being watched during his meeting report. He knew without really looking that it was Black - Black trying to fish out his truth with his grey eyes, truth that he is not willing to give to him. He would leave immediately after the meeting - perhaps ask Dumbledore whether he could just give his reports in person, in his office, rather than bother coming to Headquarters. After all, the Order is hardly a democracy with Dumbledore controlling what information gets presented in his report and what remains between them. What's the difference? It's not a good idea anymore to come here. And Black will surely be prepared for his jinx next time - he can't be stupid enough to hope he will get him to shut up everytime.

So when the meeting got over, he jumped to his feet, ready to escape, when a thin hand gripped his shoulder. Snape turned around, pulling out his wand and wasn't surprised to find it pointed at Black's face.

A small, teenage part of him wanted to yell, leave me alone!

"Easy" Black said, quietly. He made no move to take out his wand. It could perhaps be the werewolf close by, watching them. "I want answers. I am grateful you saved Harry's life- and if I hadn't known what I know about you now, I would have not thought too much about this. But I want to know, Snape. I want to know what happened before they died. I want to know how many other transgressions I should be killing Wormtail for".

Snape took in the look on his face. "You want me to help with murder? Great idea Black, since I was on receiving end of your clever jokes-"

"You don't want to kill him?" Black interuppted, raising a disbelieving eyebrow. "You wanted to get me Kissed by Dementors because you thought I killed her and now-"

"I can't kill him!" Snape hissed at him.A twisted truth came tumbling out of him. He wanted to - oh, he wanted to. He went on: "Unfortunately for you, not every fight is won by smashing your way in like a moronic Gryffindor - there are things only I can do and I don't intend to put myself in any position that is dangerous to the cause".

There was a silence. "Fair enough. " Black said, stepping back. Snape thought it was safer to put his own wand back into his pocket now. "You don't kill him" Black simply said. "You help me find him".

Snape looked at him in utter disbelief. He couldn't believe him ."Didn't you just hear me? I am not risking blowing my cover. There will be a time for that and an opportunity will arise - he is no longer useful to the Dark Lord. But I don't want any eyes on me and certainly not for your schemes. Get your wolf to do it for you - at least he can plead temporary insanity".

"Leave him out of it" Black said harshly, glancing at him sitting close by. "Too late for that, isn't it?" Snape said, softly. "You involved him in the first place. What's the matter? These are your rules, I am just playing by them".

Black looked like he was praying for patience before he said what he did next. "I don't suppose you will tell me about that year". Snape sneered at him. "No, I won't. Now, goodbye Black " he whipped out of the headquarters, hoping he'd never have to step foot in it again.

.

Remus approached Sirius, a little amused. "Well, that went well. " Sirius shrugged. "I suppose. I still need him to tell me about Peter". Remus' eyes were cold. "You think he would help us?"

"He has to," Sirius said flatly. "After what Peter did to Harry in the graveyard, I am going to kill him with my bare hands if I have to".

Now if anyone wants to make this full fledged AU where they all corner Wormtail and revise their traumas and deep projections in the process, feel free to continue. XD

[wickedsrest-rp-archive]

Name: Morvern McAuliffe Species: Human (Hunter) Occupation: Game hunter and tanner; hunter-for-hire Age: 59 Years Old Played By: Mel Face Claim: Jennifer Jason Leigh

“Kiddo, I shredded my road map to this joyride a looong time ago.”

She served her revenge piping hot, ladled over rice and mixed in with potatoes and onion and mushroom just like papa used to make. Back in the day, werewolf could’ve fed half the clan. The rest of the meat was wasted. Thirty-six years, and she still wasn’t used to cooking for less than fifty plus strong.

For the most part, life had been a great ride. Sure, there had been some hard feelings on that night back in ’84 when Morvern clambered into the F150 older than she was, kin watching her from the trees with eyes shining like lampades hidden in the dark. Truth was, they had driven her mad. A hundred and seventy-five years and no Galford, Littlethunder, Van der Meer, Iskier, and certainly not any McAuliffe had ever set one foot further than the foothills and tributary rivers of the West Virginia-Kentucky-Virginia Appalachian communities they called home. No home but they mountains, they’d always say. No sense of adventure! Just a promise you’re going to be dead by the time you’re thirty, screaming and crying for your father to put you out of your misery in the dirt that nurtured you. That really harshed her mellow, killed her vibe. So she bounced. Bailed. No regrets, no looking back.

And boy, America’s a grand old place.

She never did find a Wampus Cat in East Tennessee, but she did find mermaids in Miami and shriken near Shreveport. Kereshag in Kansas City, lubber fiends in Laramie. She packed everything she needed into the back of a sunflower yellow Kombi van, networking with hunters everywhere she went to treat the whole country like their safari ground. Picked herself up a husband, too. Married in a Vegas chapel, Elvis officiated. Morvern + Clyde. A couple of kids, Kathleen and Beau. By the time they’re ten years old, daddy Clyde’s long gone. That’s just the way it is, she tells them, just like her mother told her.

In the end, Beau took after her more than Katie ever did. He was twenty-one when he told them he was through. Bounced. Bailed. No regrets, no looking back. He calls occasionally, but never gave his own address. Once four, now two. Even mountain odds were never as bad as that.

They made it to every state except Hawaii by the time Katie married and settled down in New Hampshire. It was the first hunt she’d gone on since before she’d given birth. She couldn’t wait for Morvern to make it up from Georgia, and when she died screaming and crying for her mother she wasn’t there and her blood drained into dirt that never even knew her, much less nurtured her. It’s not an easy thing to live with, the face of the child you once nursed proudly in your arms seared forever in your nightmares with her face torn off, eyeball hanging by a tendon. But that’s life, isn’t it? Sometimes you beat the odds, the first McAuliffe in a century in a half to nearly scrape sixty, and sometimes a werewolf decides your daughter, your first-born child is gonna be pack chow.

But two could play at that game.

It took five years to hunt him. Five hellish years of a phantom haunting your every waking thought, and then when you finally track them down in White Crest, Maine and kill them stone dead after they try and beg and plead and tell you how they’ve changed, they take it upon themselves to Haunt you haunt you this time around. Even when he was fresh, he tasted spoilt and she told the pieces of him floating in their own juices as much. Maybe that’s what made him so pissed that he felt the need to move in. Problem is, he knows a medium when he sees one. Exorcists, too. Even ghosts can make themselves scarce when inclined. The mediums shrug their shoulders, the exorcists do, too.

Maybe it’s true about hunters, they think as they head out the door. They all go mad in the end.

Character Facts:

Personality: Crafty, good-humoured, observant, secretive, gracious, stubborn, loose morals, independent, bitter

Lives deep in the woods by Candleton Cemetery in a ramshackle, formerly off-grid cabin that was only introduced to electricity and WIFI after Morvern became acquainted with online poker and Farmville. In the latter, she has now achieved the rank of Bastillion of the Barn. Recently picked up Animal Crossing. And DOOM.

Ardent old-school conspiracy theorist and is vehemently anti-government and anti-authority. True believer in an agrarian society governed by The People. WCPD can definitely stay off her lawn (not that she has one). The Freemasons are an ancient order of vampires, people!

Sells her leathers out to buyers all around New England. Mostly, they’re made from deerskin and cowhide, but occasionally more… exotic skins find their way to a select picking of vendors. As for her meat, it’s bought under the table by private buyers and unscrupulous restaurants around town. Accepts cash only in all her business ventures. Never reports taxes.

Is able to get along with most species nowadays on a case by case basis if they’re not total squares. Werewolves, however, are totally exempt from this. Not much of an undead fan either, but met a vampire who followed the Grateful Dead once, so maybe they’re not all bad.

Grows weed and psilocybin mushrooms in her vegetable patch. Mind you don’t mix up your cup of tea with hers. Or do. Be wild!

Like most of the friends and family she grew up with, Morvern was never born with a hunter specialty due to the historically insular nature of her community who were constantly coming to blows with all sorts of mountain creatures. They believed in strength in numbers and rarely hunted alone, and as such she connects herself with the hunter community in White Crest and beyond.

Jill of all trades, master of none. Favours ranged weaponry (expert marksmanship) and traps; not a fan of solo melee and hand to hand combat. Strong knowledge of non-humanoid regional monsters and favours hunting these types; will rarely accept a job to hunt humanoid or intelligent monsters alone. Knows which ones you can eat, and what parts to cut out. Make sure you avoid those salamander spleens!

Has two dogs. Atreides, a Golden Retriever, and a Maltese. His name is Richard.