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kohanayaki · 3 years

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.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 6

You continue the tale of how you, James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter became known as The Marauders.

LINKS: CH 1 CH 2 CH 3 CH 4 CH 5 CH 6 CH 7 CH 8

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Ch 6 .:The Making of the Marauders:.

~Previously~

“That was when they were first starting to put the map together,” you continued, “but that wasn't even the biggest secret they had. Of course, I wouldn't find out about that for another year. . .”

“So at this point I knew that they were hiding something else, but not what it was,” you told Harry, continuing on with your story, “But one night we had planned to meet up and use the invisibility cloak to map out the underground tunnels that ran through the storage cellars, and they never showed up. So I snuck into the Gryffindor common room through the secret passage and found their dorm completely empty. But what was there was our work in progress map. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1975 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This isn't going to work,” Peter said flatly, watching James and Sirius draw a large circle in chalk on the floor of the Shrieking Shack.

“Not with that attitude it's not,” James said, “if there's a way we can speed up this process I'm willing to give it a go. I don't know how long I can go on with this bloody leaf in my mouth.”

“Is this even real?” Peter sighed, “it looks like what muggles think magic is.”

“It's real all right,” Sirius said, “old, but real. I mean, Transfiguration was founded on the principles of magic circles! I'm not really sure what these runes on the side mean, but it's probably not important.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Peter retorted, “Remus, back me up here.”

He turned towards Lupin, but he had long since dozed off, arms crossed as he leaned against one of the nearly decaying walls in the corner. Peter sighed, taking a piece of paper from the ground and crumpling it into a ball before promptly throwing it in the sleeping boy's face. Lupin jolted awake, realizing what had happened and chucking the paper back at Peter in annoyance.

“Not a moment of peace,” he huffed under his breath.

“Sounds awfully boring,” James said over his shoulder.

“Blimey, what time is it?” Remus said, panicked as he noticed the light had completely gone from the sky, “It's long past sundown.”

“So?” Sirius shrugged.

“So, we told (Y/n) we'd meet them to work on the map at dusk,” Remus said, “They're probably looking for us right now!”

“Oh, they are,” you announced your presence, an unimpressed look on your face as they jumped, whipping around to look at you.

“(Y-Y/n)!” Sirius stuttered, “how did you—”

You held up the map, raising a brow at the four guilty looking boys.

“Right. . .”

“You snuck into our rooms?!” James said incredulously as he saw the map, which he was sure he had left on his bedside table, in your hands.

“You've snuck into my shower before, Potter,” you glared lightly at him.

“Point taken.”

“Okay, look, I'm sorry we didn't show tonight, and I know we've been acting weird,” Sirius sighed, “the truth is—”

“Lupin's a werewolf.”

The color drained from Remus' face, slightly mortified that you already knew.

“Come on, guys,” you said, “the claw marks and you lot disappearing whenever there's a full moon kind of gave it away. You aren't exactly subtle about it.”

You could sense the intense nervousness in the room, especially from Remus. Ok, so maybe coming right out with it wasn't the best course of action.

“Look,” you said, “if you're worried about anyone else finding out, they won't. I mean, the only reason I even knew you were here is because I'm literally helping you make a magical map that details all the secret passages and shows where everyone is. I won't tell anyone, I swear.”

They still seemed a little unsure, and you bit the inside of your lip slightly.

“If it'll make us even, I'll let you know a secret of my own,” you said, “it can even be future blackmail me if you really don't trust me.”

“No, it's not that, (Y/n),” Remus said as he stepped forward, his throat feeling dry, “it's just, well, I've never really told anyone except the people in this room. Having someone else know. . . it's just a lot to process, but if had to be anyone I'm glad it's you.” He paused for a moment, feeling oddly self-conscious as he regarded you. “When I turn into a werewolf I can't recognize any human as someone I know. I have no control over myself in that state. In the worst case scenario, I could injure or even kill someone I didn't mean to. We originally started taking note of the secret passages and rooms to find a place where I could turn safely and not hurt anyone, and we settled on here. I don't remember much when I come out of it, but. . . I do feel this painful sense of separation each time. Werewolves are pack creatures by nature, so being isolated in that state is. . . agony, if I must be honest. They all figured, I can't recognize humans, but perhaps I could recognize other animals, so. . .”

“They're trying to become animagi,” you finished, “so you won't have to be alone. That's. . . that's actually really sweet,” you said, a breathy laugh escaping you.

Remus thanked Merlin the Shrieking Shack was as dimly lit as it was so his beet red face was at least somewhat less noticeable.

“I agree,” Remus said, turning to his friends and sharing a rare, genuine moment with them. “And, you don't have to tell us your secret,” he said, turning back to you, “it's okay.”

“Hey, I wanted to know,” Sirius said, Peter swiftly elbowing him in the ribs.

“I was actually planning on telling you anyways,” you said, “If you guys are trying to become animagi, I can help you.”

You took a few steps back, bracing yourself against the wall.

“Promise me you won't freak out.”

After receiving a few quick nods, you kicked off the wall. Your body seemed to morph in mid-air, shrinking and re-configuring so fast that by the time you landed on the floor you had been entirely replaced by a large, (e/c)-eyed wolf with fur reminiscent of your hair.

Peter yelped, instinctively putting Sirius in front of him who was gawking at the sight. Remus was in complete shock and you could have sworn you saw James' glasses slip down his face.

In your animal form your heightened senses could sense their fear, and you tried your best to assuage it. You padded around in a circle, sitting down and blinking up at them to try and show them you were in control of your actions. After you figured they'd seen enough, you crawled back into your robes, which had pooled on the floor when you'd transfigured, and willed your body to turn back.

James, Sirius, and Peter looked somewhere in the intersection of shocked and terrified, but Remus looked nothing less than impressed.

“That's amazing, (Y/n),” he said breathlessly, “your transformation was seamless, how long have you had this ability?”

“My aunt had me go through the process when I was nine,” you said, a bitter edge to your voice as you fastened your clothes back around you, “it's not fun, but obviously useful. And thank you, but trust me, it didn't come at all naturally to me. I spent a good part of my winter break stuck with a wolf's hind legs, which is just as inconvenient as it sounds.”

“But this proves that it's possible!” James said, a new rush of energy invigorating him, “we can actually pull this off.”

“If I can manage to keep this sodding leaf from choking me every ten minutes,” Peter grumbled.

“Here, this should help with that,” you said, drawing your wand and pointing it at Peter's mouth. With a simple sticking charm, he suddenly felt the odd sensation of the leaf in his mouth disappearing, only to find it had melded with the flesh on the underside of his tongue.

“It's a long process, but yes, it's possible,” you said to James. Your eyes drifted to the floor where the magic circle and pages of runes were still scattered about, “if you were thinking of taking shortcuts, you might have wanted to read the warning about this spell requiring a blood sacrifice.”

The quartet paled and you laughed at their dumbstruck expressions.

“Kidding,” you grinned, “but seriously, there's no shortcuts. Now look alive, boys. We have a lot of work to do.”

_________________________________________________________

From then on, you helped the four wizards along on their quest to become fully fledged shifters.

“In order to become an animagus, a wizard must keep a Mandrake leaf in their mouth for an entire month, even when eating and sleeping,” Peter read aloud from the book they'd snatched from the restricted section, “Next, under a full moon, the wizard must place the leaf in a vial full of dew that has neither been stepped on nor exposed to the sun. The resulting potion must be stored in a dark place, and the following incantation: Amato Animo Animato Animagus, must be recited every morning until an electrical storm arrives, at which point the potion can be taken.”

“Blimey, all that to turn into a bloody cat?” Sirius said, exasperated.

“Well we have the first part almost done,” James said, feeling the faintest outline of the leaf still under his tongue, “Next full moon we'll have to go dew-hunting, I suppose. Looks like you'll have to stick it out for a few more cycles, Moony,” he said to Remus.

“That's alright,” he said, “I've made it this far.”

“He won't be alone for those,” you said, “I'll spend the full moons with him until you guys are ready.”

“What?” James said, looking at you like you'd just told him you were off to join Voldemort, “not a chance, that's way too dangerous.”

“Aw, don't act like you're all concerned about me all of a sudden, Potter,” you smirked. When his expression didn't change it took you aback slightly. He was actually worried about you. “Look, I'm probably the best suited for it anyways,” you said, coughing a bit to coast through the awkward tension, “Remus and I are both wolves, or at least partly. If one of you end up turning into a sheep or something you might be dead meat, not to freak you out or anything.”

“That's reassuring,” Sirius said under his breath.

____________________________________________________________

“You really don't have to do this,” Lupin insisted as you sat on the floor together in the Shrieking Shack later that month.

“I want to,” you assured him, “take it as a thanks for helping me pass Arithmancy. Besides, it's a perfectly fine excuse for me to practice interacting with other animals in my animagus form.”

The boy beside you was quiet for a moment, shoulders tense and jaw set tight. It wasn't that he wasn't happy you were here, he was more grateful than you could know, but he was terrified that he was going to end up hurting you. On top of that was the fact that he didn't want you to see him as he transformed. It wasn't pretty, and it was visibly painful. He didn't want you to think any lower of him, though he knew that fear was irrational.

The calming jazz record that spun on the other side of the room was the only noise between you two for quite some time, but you understood that he needed time to gather his thoughts. This was something so deeply personal you were surprised and a bit honored he allowed you to be here at all. You noticed the photograph that he held in his hands; it was of Hogwarts, taken from the very edge of the forest. The sun was peeking over the horizon, spilling out between the complexly constructed towers that made up the castle's exterior, and casting a warm, golden hue over the landscape.

“It's beautiful,” you said, “the picture.”

“It is,” Remus smiled to himself and nodded, “James gave it to me, as a reminder. He said that matter what happens during the full moon, the sun will always rise on us again.”

“Huh,” you mused softly, “perhaps he isn't such an insufferable jerk after all.”

“Oh, no, he is,” Lupin chuckled, “but he is also a very good friend, and endlessly thoughtful even if he denies it.”

You let that sink in for a moment. You supposed he was.

“Well,” you said, laughing a bit as you shifted in your seat, “this isn't as deep and meaningful as the photo, but I brought something for you.” You reached into your bag, retrieving something that made Remus' eyes widen.

“Where did you get that?” he said, elated as you held out his favorite chocolate bar which had been out of stock at Hogsmeade for weeks now.

“You guys have a secret tunnel that goes right to the Honeydukes cellar and you've never taken advantage of their storage?” you grinned.

Lupin hesitated as he held the bar in his hands.

“So you stole it?”

“I left five dracma in the tip jar,” you rolled your eyes, “I'm not a death eater.”

His smiled returned at that, and he ripped open the familiar foil gratefully.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“It's the least I could do,” you said.

“It's really not,” he said, turning to face you fully. You were left a bit breathless as the unexpected intensity of his eyes. “None of this is the least you could do, because the least you could do is nothing,” he continued, rambling, “we were so horrible to someone you consider a dear friend, and you were willing to look past that. You're risking your life by even being with me right now, (Y/n).”

“You don't—”

“I do know that,” Remus said sharply, “I've never been in contact with anyone as a werewolf. The one time I was, I. . .” he trailed off, and it hurt you to see his pained expression, “I just don't know how I'll react.”

“You're saying that as if something bad's already happened,” you said gently, “it'll be okay.”

“How can you be so sure?” he asked quietly, equally full of frustration and admiration.

“I'm willing to put my trust in you, Remus. I think it's time you put some trust in yourself.”

Lupin's heart pounded a little harder in his chest. Had you ever called him by his first name before? You looked at him so reassuringly, so confidently. He couldn't understand it, but your words reached him to his core.

“(Y/n). . .” he trailed off, blinking rapidly. A shaky breath escaped him, and your stomach dropped.

“Remus?”

Suddenly you saw something shift in him. His breathing became heavy and his pupils dilated, completely filling his irises in a matter of seconds. He braced himself against the wall as he stumbled to his feet, his skin slowly taking on a gray hue.

“It's happening,” he said, voice deeper and strained, his neck convulsing, “you have to transform, now!”

You didn't waste any time, taking the shape of your wolf form and padding away a cautionary distance. Your stomach churned as you watched Remus yell out, his expression full of pain as his body grew in size, his cries slowly becoming reminiscent of howls. His face contorted in agony as his head morphed into a more animalistic shape, ears growing from his scalp and fur appearing as if his werewolf was fully formed inside him, physically escaping through his skin. You've seen werewolves before, but seeing someone you know actually turn into one, it was completely different. Nothing could have prepared you for this. Seeing anyone in this much pain made your chest tighten harshly.

At last it seemed the transformation was complete. Remus Lupin was gone, and in front of you stood a creature of at least eight feet, perched on his hind legs and towering over you especially in your animal form. You could hear how ragged his breathing had become, his body convulsing with the motion; growing and retracting like a beating heart. You heard a whimper escape his throat, and you could tell he was still recovering from the pain.

You steeled yourself, making the decision to alert him to your presence subtly. You tilted your head upwards, releasing a similar sounding whimper to his. Immediately the werewolf across from you was on high alert, his head snapping towards you and his lips pulling back into a snarl as his ears lowered. You took an instinctive step back, lowering your head slowly. He seemed puzzled by your behavior, which made sense seeing as Lupin told you he never interacted with any other animals during the full moon. His head tilted inquisitively and he took a heavy step forward. You forced yourself to not back away, testing the waters. His eyes narrowed again as he saw you standing your ground, but you quickly sat down, your head tilting to expose your neck slightly. You made doubly sure not to show any signs of aggression; you knew you had no chance against a werewolf at full strength.

However, he seemed to take your queues well. His tail seemed to relax a bit, his eyes returning to their full, round shape as he looked at you with curiosity. You sniffed up at him and he hesitated, but eventually circled around you and did the same. You could almost see the turmoil in him, as a werewolf you doubted anyone he came across treated him with anything less than terror in their eyes, but you were completely relaxed.

He whimpered again, and you were shocked at the sign of submission. You rose to your feet, and he didn't back away. You let out a friendly yip, which he returned, and you felt the weight lift off your chest. You leaped to the side, and he followed you, running alongside you as you bounded across the room, practically leaping off the walls. You jumped at each other playfully, rolling across the floor in a mess of fur. You smiled inwardly as this continued throughout the night, no longer seeing fear or pain or aggression in his eyes when you looked into them. Even if he wouldn't remember most of this, you hoped he would at least feel better in the morning than all the times he had to go through it alone.

Exhausted from all the playing around, you padded softly back to your robes, crawling inside yours and and gesturing over to him with your head. He followed you, coming down to all fours before laying beside you. You weren't sure when sleep came over you, but it was like the world's most comfortable blanket had been thrown over your shoulders, and your eyes drifted closed of their own volition. . .

“Merlin's beard, just what were you two doing last night?!”

You and Remus both jolted awake at the sound of James Potter's aggravatingly loud voice but quickly came to your senses. Remus' arms were wrapped around you, your back facing him. You were just barely covered by your robes with nothing underneath as a result of your transformation. As you scrambled to get decent your face heated even more as you saw Remus was currently without a shirt, his pants ripped considerably. You scrambled away from each other, trying to make yourselves decent.

Peter was howling with laughter, James looking smug as ever. Sirius was oddly quiet, but you were too wrapped up in the embarrassment to notice his behavior.

“What was that about being 'endlessly thoughtful'?” you grumbled to Remus.

“Right, I completely take back what I said,” he scoffed, “ 'insufferable jerk' is much more accurate.”

“Close your eyes, you perverted git!” you yelled at James, who was blatantly staring at you, “toss me my clothes at least, would you?”

James bit back a smirk as he grabbed your bag that was sitting in the corner of the room— clothes you had brought with the intention of changing into after returning to your human form when Lupin fell asleep. He tossed it over to you and you began to change under your robes. As his back was turned to you his mind began to wander. You'd always been attractive, sure, but since you'd always been his rival he hadn't really given you a second thought, especially when he'd been trying to get Lily's attention for ages. But just now, thinking about how downright adorable you looked when you'd yelled at him, something in him shifted. He shook it off quickly, turning to Lupin with a grin he'd managed to put on concernedly fast.

“You cheeky bastard,” he said to Remus, who was furiously changing into a new shirt, “you just wanted her alone, didn't you? Do you really need us to become animagi after all?”

“You're the worst, Potter,” the werewolf glared at him.

“Don't listen to him, Remus,” you grumbled, straightening out your tie as you slipped it on over your shirt, “he's an even bigger idiot than he looks.”

“Are you implying I look stupid?”

“Implying may not be a strong enough word.”

__________________________________________________________

It had taken months of brewing the potion and getting all the necessary preparations in order, but they were finally ready. Remus sat with you in the grass, wand at the ready to undo any untoward transfiguration that happened on accident. Peter, Sirius, and James stood across from you, standing at the edge of a stone ledge about five feet off the ground. You'd said that a leap of faith is what would best trigger their first transformation. They looked nervous, but they were prepared as they'd ever be. Over the last year you had grown considerably closer to the four boys you had miraculously come to know as friends.

“Remember, focus on your emotions,” you said, “you need to pick a strong one, let it fill your body and flow through you. If you block the magic off from any part of your body, it's not going to be pretty.”

“Right, but how do I—”

“James, I swear, I'm really rooting for you to be a mute animal.”

“But how do you choose-”

“Just do it already!”

“Oh, sod it,” James squeezed his eyes shut, not giving himself time to second guess before jumping off the ledge. For a moment he was certain he was about to land face first in the dirt, but then it happened— a moment where time seemed to freeze and his body felt completely weightless. He felt this sensation where his arms and legs vibrated with an intense, foreign energy. Images flashed through his mind in that brief moment in the air; Sirius manically laughing as they ran away from Filch, Remus snapping off a piece of chocolate to offer him after he'd lost Gryffindor a Quidditch match, and, unexpectedly, you. A feeling of warmth spread through his chest, and he grasped onto it, letting it flow through his body like you said. In an instant he felt torso shift, his shoulders narrow, his neck elongate; and when he landed on the ground he still landed face-first as he predicted, but in a completely different form.

He could see you and Lupin in front of him, mouths agape. He was about to say something when he found his vocal chords only allowed him a gruff whine. Shocked, he lifted his head, which felt much heavier than he'd last recalled, and as he looked down at himself he was taken aback to be met with a pair of hooves right beneath him. He staggered to his feet on wobbly legs, of which he now had four. As he tilted his head he could see the shadow of a pair of antlers twisting into brilliant shadows on the grass.

“Potter, you did it!” you exclaimed, “you actually did it!”

“Well how about that,” Remus chuckled, “a stag.”

“It fits him, I think,” you grinned, looking over at Sirius and Peter who looked determined and terrified respectively. “Well go on, it's your turn now!”

Sirius braced himself for the jump, but somehow he found no fear in his system. After seeing James shift in the air right before his eyes, he knew he could do it. He looked over at Peter who was nearly shaking.

“Come on, Peter,” he said, “we'll go together.”

“I-I don't know about this, Sirius,” Peter said, “I'm not ready, I don't think I can do this.”

“It's just a little jump,” Sirius said encouragingly, “you can do this.”

After a few nerve wracking deep breaths Peter gave him the smallest nod one could manage.

“We'll go on three,” Sirius said, “Ready? One—”

“AaHH!”

Sirius shoved Peter off the ledge, knowing he wouldn't jump on his own, before taking the plunge himself. Peter's screams became higher and higher pitched as he shrank at an alarming speed, almost an undetectable size by the time he hit the grass. A small brown rat scurried across the field towards you and Lupin.

The stag in front of you made a sound, dragging his hooves across the grass in what you could imagine as James' unadulterated laughter at his friend.

Sirius began to morph almost as soon as he left the ground, something you were surprised by. He landed on his hind legs, landing gracefully as his front two followed, and a shaggy black dog looked back at you with mischief in its eyes.

You couldn't help but go over and pet him. You laughed as he nudged you with his nose, a resistance that was quickly halted as soon as you started scratching him behind the ears.

“I have to say, I didn't think you would actually manage that on your first try,” you said, secretly prouder than they could have known, “but if anyone could have done it, it's you three stubborn goons.”

James huffed as he saw you continue to pet Sirius, using his antlers to prod the dog out of the way. Sirius barked, lunging at him playfully. It was quite a scene to see the two interact.

“Honestly, this is a pretty solid group,” you said, “you've got James who blends perfectly with the surrounding wildlife so he wouldn't be suspicions, Sirius who could probably do a fair bit of damage as a dog if he needed, and Peter who can fit through small spaces and snoop around the castle virtually undetected.”

“Quite an odd pack,” Remus chuckled.

“Definitely,” you agreed, “but a pack nonetheless.”

And that very week, Remus Lupin was able to spend his first night as a werewolf with his four friends by his side.

__________________________________________________________

“So, how did we choose which animals we turn into?” James had asked you the next day at breakfast, “I specifically tried for a dragon.”

“You don't get to choose,” you rolled your eyes, “You're a stag, that's the end of it. It's pretty much up to chance.”

“I'm sorry, you're telling me I could have turned into a fish and died right there on the ground?!”

“If only,” you sighed dreamily, earning you a playful shove from James. “Alright, it's not completely random, but you're definitely in the unknown the first time you turn,” you went on to explain, “and once you turn for the first time, that's it. That's your animal. A wizard takes on the animagus form of whatever animal most closely resembles their personality. So, a horny bastard for James, a loyal little puppy for Sirius—”

“A bitch for you,” Sirius quipped.

“Never heard that one before,” you scoffed, purposefully messing up his hair.

“Hey, watch it!” he shoved you off him, twisting each of his curls back into form.

“Well, look who's a high maintenance pup,” you chuckled.

Around the same time that year, you finally completed the map. It came together beautifully, each different way of folding the paper revealing a different level of the castle for easy navigation. You'd included the surrounding forests as well as the parts of Hogsmeade that applied for the secret passageways, all of which were marked with symbols and the unique names you'd all come up with. Every student and staff member at Hogwarts had a tiny scroll with their name that appeared in their location. Remus had added the nice detail of including footprints at the last second, so you could see which way they were facing and walking as well. It was fireproof, rip proof, and prone to insulting anyone else who tried to read it. It was the pinnacle of your magical (and slightly illegal) achievement.

“We should write our names on it,” James said, looking down proudly at the finished map, “it belongs to us, after all. We don't want anyone else taking the credit.”

“Yeah, fantastic way to get caught,” Sirius rolled his eyes, “what if Filch comes across it? That's like leaving your signature at a murder scene.”

“You should use code names, then,” you suggested, “I know you guys call Remus 'Moony' as a joke, but I kind of like it.”

The scarred boy blushed lightly at the compliment, a brow raised to his other three friends.

“Alright then, I guess you should all say hi to Rudolph over here,” Sirius said, jutting his thumb in James' direction. The bespectacled boy narrowed his eyes before shooting back.

“Right! And this is my good friend, Snuffles.”

Sirius lunged at him and James swatted him away in laughter.

“Come on, you two,” Remus said, “or we won't put anything down for you at all.”

“I've got an idea for Peter,” you piped in, “When my mom used to garden she said she didn't mind having rats there because their tails resembled worms, which were an old a sign of healthy soil, I know it's odd, but I think Wormtail sounds pretty cool.”

Peter seemed to perk up at your acknowledgment and nodded. It suited him somehow.

“Should we pick animal features too, then?” James mused, “I guess Antlers doesn't really sound that cool. What's another word? Horns? Give me some analogies, guys. What else do they look like?”

“Yours honestly kind of look like a couple of bent forks,” you snickered.

“Prongs?” Sirius snorted, the laughter that followed nearly splitting his sides.

“Oh, go on, what have you got then?” James scoffed.

“I was thinking Padfoot,” Sirius said, “like a dog's paw prints.”

“You know, for someone who was just making fun of code names a second ago you sure have given a lot of thought to yours,” you teased.

“Shove it,” he smirked, “What about you? Can't very well have a second Moony.”

You stared at him in momentary disbelief.

“Me?”

“Well, yeah,” Sirius chuckled.

“We couldn't have done any of this without you,” Remus reminded you with a smile.

“I think you've more than earned an honorary title as one of us,” James said.

“That is, if you want to,” Peter said timidly.

You looked at the four of them, genuinely touched.

“I. . . I don't know what to say,” you smiled.

“You could say 'yes',” James piped up.

“Alright, you loons,” you laughed, “if you leave Severus alone for good, then yes.”

“Hey, I think we've been pretty good about that lately,” James pouted.

“Yes you have,” you admitted, “It's the only reason I bothered to give you the time of day, but this time it's a promise.”

James rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face was undeniable. He'd never admit it out loud, but being friends with you was more fun than messing with Snape ever was.

“Alright, fine. (Y/n) (L/n), I solemnly swear that I will leave tormenting our dear old friend Snivelus behind us forever,” he said dramatically, putting a hand up at his pledge.

“Oh, bother,” you laughed, “the only thing you'll 'solemnly swear' to is that you're up to no good.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.”

“Then that's settled,” Remus smiled, “you'll need a code name too.��

“Let's see,” Sirius hummed in thought, “What other defining features do wolves have besides. . . well, their. . . fangs?”

“They're canines, you numbnut,” you huffed.

“Close enough, I'm writing Fangs.”

“Oi, I didn't agree to that!”

“Too bad, I'm already writing it~”

“Okay, well if that's the stupid name I'm getting saddled with them I'm going to write it myself,” you said stubbornly. You actually didn't mind the name at all.

“Well that's it, then,” James said, “Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs, and Fangs. We could join the bloody circus.”

“All we need is a group name,” you said, half joking.

“We've already got one,” James said proudly.

“Oh? Let's hear it, then.”

“The Marauders.”

“. . .”

You kept your face straight for exactly three seconds before you burst out laughing. The four boys flushed with embarrassment.

“The Marauders?” you chortled, “what are you, pirates?”

“It's what McGonnagall called us the first time we got ourselves into proper trouble,” James defended himself, his cheeks reddening, “You rowdy mob of marauders, she'd said.”

“Huh,” you chuckled, coming down from your laughing fit, “Well, then I suppose that would make this The Marauders Map. I'll admit, it actually kinda has a ring to it.”

And despite your group's joking quips and bickering, they couldn't agree more.

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

“Wait,” Harry said, eyes wide at your story, “So, my dad was an animagus too?”

“Sure was,” you smiled warmly.

“This whole time I thought 'Prongs' was just because his patronus was a stag.”

“Your animagus form is usually the same animal as your patronus,” you explained, “In some very rare cases they can be different, but they work in the same emotionally driven vein of magical ability, so it would make sense that they'd be linked. Your father was extraordinary at both, because as much as he would deny it, he felt everything very deeply.”

Your eyes drifted to the wall opposite you in the living room, and a small but sad smile graced your features.

“Love is often the most powerful emotion a witch or wizard can draw from,” you said softly, “but you already know that.”

Harry followed your gaze over his shoulder. There, posted on the wall among a collage of photographs from the Order was a picture of his mother and father. It was one he'd seen a hundred times, and one he had his own copy of: them in each others' arms in a London park, autumn leaves swirling around them as they danced without any music. Even from this distance he could see the emotion in their eyes as they looked at one another— like they were the only two people in the world.

“Yeah,” Harry said, wiping a stray tear from his eyes, “I do.”

Read chapter 7 here!

Taglist: @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy @calaryssia @aleksanderwh0r3 @juggysgirlfriend @beautifulsweetschaos @kattirin @mialupin1

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squadron-of-damned-writes · 3 years

Text

tagged by @thiswaycomessomethingwicked. Found this sitting in my drafts after third of a year later. No time like the present, right?

Rules are: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line.

(how convenient that AO3 shows 20 works per page by default!)

1. It most certainly is a morning and the doorbell rings. Like the beginning of a horror movie, Sam thinks as he makes his way from his room to the front door. (The Night In Gale, 2019-10-11, Good Omens x Supernatural)

2. The remnants of the stained glass creak and shatter under the heavy plate sabatons. The men clad in deep red robes watch the armoured figures walk through the raided monastery in careful silence. (Moon And Destiny, 2019-08-24, Les Misérables x Wizardry)

3. “Alright squad! Who are we doing this week?” (One Gay at a Time, 2019-08-31, Les Misérablex x Queer Eye for the Straight Guy)

4. Light. Everything is is spinning. Light, even behind closed eyelids. It’s omnipresent. Radiant, blinding, magnificent light. (Like A Teen Girl,[1] 2019-11-15, W.I.T.C.H.)

5. Witches have pricking in their thumbs, Varen had his stomach worms, and Lyris had her teeth. She could feel them vibrating in her gums. It usually went away with a couple of flagons of mead, but apparently not tonight. If anything, it made it worse. So here she was, Lyris called Titanborn, tipsy but not yet drunk, sitting by the campfire with the two of Companions and a growing feeling of dread as her teeth planned to run for the hills. It made her only more irritated. (Mind How She Goes, 2019-11-30, Elder Scrolls Online)

6. “Well, are you going to stand there the whole night?” (The Past, the Present, the Death, and the Devil, 2019-12-19, Les Misérables)

7. There is this thing they don’t tell you about dying – it gave you mother of all headaches. In all those tomes and epic sagas there could had been at least once mentioned that the brave heroes and mighty beings who returned from the Other side felt like a horse kicked thorough their head. This terrible pain was usually why your freshly resurrected dead scream in agony and want to destroy things. (The Many Deaths of Me,[2] 2017-04-30, World of Warcraft)

8. As strange as it was, Lyris finds an odd sort of peace here. It is not her old home – she doubts she could ever return there – but her cabin near Riften is a new home. At first it was a house, but she made it a home. It was a hard work to get there, and she is rightfully proud of it all. (To Be Found, 2019-12-09, Elder Scrolls Online)

9. Say what you want about the Tribunal and Vvardenfell, there is something that draws a good hero to the city of Vivec. That something might be a divine presence, but most likely it is simply the presence of a quarter with publicly accessible forges and looms in the close proximity to a bank and the drop site for commissioned works. (The Battlespire, 2020-05-09, Elder Scrolls Online)

10. “Your Majesty, a message for you.” The chamberlain presents the envelope on a silver tray with a gentle bow. Queen Ayrenn picks it up with her delicately manicured fingers, and the soft warm breeze of early autumn attempts to snatch the piece of creamy paper from her as it hurls large honey and amber coloured leaves before finally settling them on the ground. (War Ends, 2020-07-26, Elder Scrolls Online)

11. “Allow me to ask you again for clarification, Your Ex-” “Charles, dear brother. Simply and plainly Charles, for we all are equal in the eyes of the almighty God.” “- Charles: I have died.” (The Man Who Saved A World, 2020-08-12, Les Misérables)

12. So that’s it, you suppose. You are going to sit down on this chair, because someone has to. (The Tale of Two Fates, 2020-09-05, Death and Taxes)

13. There is a saying in Ferelden: When you think you’ve reached the bottom, the Maker shows up with a shovel. Like most farmer wisdom, even this one applies in Orlais. (Land Turned Red, 2020-12-29, Dragon Age)

14. So you come to the supermarket on Friday morning and in the ice-cream isle is a poorly paid and even poorerly shaven retail worker unloading boxes of frozen pizzas, eyeing them like man who’s missed out on breakfast and his contract doesn’t include lunch break. (Observations of an Unconcerned Bus Driver, 2021-03-07, Stardew Valley)

15. They are giving him that look. He knows it well and hasn’t seen it in a long long time. It is the look that says: “I can’t believe that out of all the people in Thedas, he was the one to save us.” (Fine Literature, 2021-03-14, Dragon Age)

16. A young woman stands in a garden. It is a beautiful garden, very lush in spite of all damnation raining from the sky lately, now that the Veil is gone and… And all that. (Houserite, 2021-03-29, Dragon Age x Homestuck)

17. If you asked Solas, it was the most predictable outcome, blatantly staring you in face, shoving middle finger into your nose and blowing a raspberry. However, nobody asked Solas and even less people cared for his issues with Sera’s behaviour, and thus when Dorian goes missing, almost everyone is surprised. (The Excellent Week of Dorian Pavus, 2021-04-09, Dragon Age x Doctor Who)

18. Talent. A short and complicated word. What is a talent? (Necromancer’s Virtues, 2021-05-06, Dragon Age)

19. Fucked.That’s what they are. Fucked. Completely and thoroughly. The Trade Tongue is a limited and insufficient language and lacks any imagination whatsoever when it comes to cusswords. (The Wolves Breach Through, 2021-05-29, Dragon Age)

20. There are a lot of ways to tell that you’ve woken up the wrong way in the morning, and I was pretty certain that I’ve hit three of them at least: Every fiber of me was aching, two men were looming over me with worried expressions, and the sky was dark. Especially the last bit was extremely worrisome, since I was fairly certain I fell asleep in my bed at home under a solid ceiling above which is mum’s room and after that is the attic and after that is a roof and only then you get to see the sky. (Real Feeling of Sharing,[3] 2021-01-10, Dragon Age)

Observations:

I use the opening lines of a story like most people use headlines; luring in the reader by making them think “Hold on, what’s going on?” and hoping it ignites strong enough curiosity for them to read further to figure it out. For that reason more often than not the opening lines are not exactly related to the story.

A surprising amount of mu openings also clearly say: “The story you know is over.”

Also very specific thing which is less about opening lines and more about the trope of my fics: A suspicious number of beginnings based on the fact that the person of focus is dead or implied to be, or implied to be really close to it.

I also don’t like long introductions to the story, so it’s either “Things are happening now, figure it out dear reader” or “This is a thing I am going to focus on because it’s my thing, deal with it, plot will come later.”

Favourite opening line is from The Wolves Breach Through, especially because it quickly evolves into a rant about langauges. The Night In Gale is a close second, because I love to take a piss on the source material. For this reason The Battlespire also comes close to the top, although the fic in itselfwas shit.

[1] Like A Teen Girl should get renamed, because the story evolved from “Parody of the Magic Highschool Girls premise” to “Drama With the Lads”, but I eh, who cares anyway, right?

[2] The Many Deaths of Me deserves to be rewritten by older and more experienced me. It could be a great fic.

[3] Probably going to get renamed to Original Real Feeling of Sharing, but only when I start the next story from the series.

tagging: @timesthatneverwere @thewronglong

#writing

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artistic-writer · 4 years

Text

The Contract :: CS Omegaverse :: Ch 8

Title: The Contract Rating: E Summary: Emma had never wanted much in her life, despite being married to one of the richest men in the world. For ten years she has felt like a prisoner in her own marriage, denied the one thing she wants the most, but her husband cannot help but bargain her want like a cheap business deal. Enter Killian Jones, the Alpha her husband has hired to make sure she gets what she wants. And then some.

AO3 - Ko-Fi (100% of coffee’s bought go towards buying @adognamedkillian toys and treats!)

A/N: Ooooo! It’s here! THAT chapter (if you have heard me talking about this chapter you’ll know what I mean.) I’m very excited for you all to read it, and I really hope you enjoy it!

Artwork by me, @artistic-writer and beta’d by the lovely @shardminds who deserve all the love you guys can throw her way. And as ever, thank you to all the ladies in Discord! Thanks ladies!

This is an Omegaverse fic featuring A/B/O dynamics. Whilst this varies from fandom to fandom, for the purposes of my fic, there will be no mpreg. Just so you know. There will however be knotting, breeding, heats and other delicious things that come along with A/B/O. If you do not know what A/B/O is, feel free to message me :) Many thanks to @hollyethecurious @shardminds @kmomof4 @darkcolinodonorgasm @resident-of-storybrooke and @ineffablecolors for letting me bounce my complicated ideas of you lol

If you wish to stay away from this fic, blacklist the A/B/O tag.

Taglist: I’ll be honest, i have lost my taglist for this fic, so if you want a tag, please message me here on on discord (Salem #5158/ [email protected]) and I’ll add you! I’ve tagged the following people i KNOW want to read this, but i don’t want to accidentally tag you if you do not like ABO.

@hollyethecurious @shardminds @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @darkcolinodonorgasm @thisonesatellite @xemmaloveskillianx @hookedonapirate @teamhook @winterbaby89 @carpedzem @courtorderedcake @profdanglaisstuff @itsfabianadocarmo @donteattheappleshook @ultraluckycatnd @jennjenn615 @melly326 @klynn-stormz @stahlop

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Killian never liked to cancel on clients, especially when he was giving up the opportunity to sleep with someone as beautiful as Emma, but it seemed his rut had other ideas. It had arrived early, his already frenzied mind sent into overdrive at the thought of not having her, even if her husband was insistent she go away for a week. She would be back before it’s end, but he didn’t want to risk her seeing him that far into his rut, so before she had even arrived home, Killian had told her husband he would be unable to see her until otherwise notified.

He should have known his rut was approaching when, during their last sexual encounter, he had found little things more precise, her scent more enticing, if at all possible, than before, and her body reacting to him more like an Omega than a Beta. One minute they were fucking, and then, before either of them knew it, he was knot deep in his favourite place in the world. It came without warning, his body so tuned into hers that he didn’t know what was happening until it was too late and her body was clenching around his bulb and drawing every last drop of his soul out through his orgasm. It shouldn’t have been so easy to knot a Beta without prior lubrication, but somehow they fit together like puzzle pieces, Emma cut exactly right so that he would fit inside her.

Alpha’s could control their early rut, it wasn’t hard, unless they were a few days in or there was a reason. Emma was a Beta, so there shouldn’t have been a reason he had felt so incredibly starved of her that he had acted so possessive. No Omega scent coaxing out his ultimate arousal, although Emma’s scent did things to him he couldn’t explain, or rut frustration unsated by the woman beneath him. Killian was confused, his mind foggy and in a daze so much that he almost didn’t hear the soft tapping against his apartment door.

He was ripped from his thoughts by the scent first, the absolute sweetness of it wafting under the thin gap under his front door and straight into his nostrils. His body reacted instantly and he stared at the heavy door wide eyed and unable to believe what he was sensing. The smell caused a tickle to stir in his groin, the pit of his stomach falling away from him as he was overcome with the need to fuck, but something else held his attention for a second, something that confused his already rut addled brain.

Emma.

Killian took a tentative step towards the door, the gentle knocking echoing through his apartment once more. The closer he got, the stronger the scent became, and his brow pulled together with his last coherent ounce of thought.

“Killian?” Emma called softly through the door, her voice riddled with agony.

Killian gulped hard, another scent coating his taste buds as he swallowed it down and it sent a ripple of excitement over his skin. He reached for the door, pulling it open quicker than he thought he would, half scared by what he would find on the other side.

Emma looked up at him slowly, her face puffy from her tears and her hair dishevelled like she had been grabbed. She was dressed in just some leggings and a camisole top and was barefoot, despite the temperature outside being almost freezing, and she was covered in a fine sheen of sweat that took Killian’s breath away. He only just stopped himself from growling out loud when he noticed a dark red swell under her right eye, the skin there split open in a small line that had stopped bleeding but was probably going to need a stitch.

Her hands trembled, her fingers interlocking in front of her as she fidgeted, her entire body shaking under his gaze. It felt like forever before one of them moved, Killian finally, against everything reasonable screaming inside his head, reaching out, grabbing her arm and pulling her into his apartment. His hand on her skin was the most calm Emma had felt all day and she let out a sigh, almost thankful for the lightest touch that had somehow eased her pain.

Before the door even closed behind her, Killian was stalking away from her, putting as much distance between them as he could. It was only the first day of his rut so there was minimal control left over his urges, but he had to try to resist them. Emma was clearly here for a reason but as much as his head was telling him to take her, fuck her, breed her, claim her, his heart won out as soon as he saw she had been hit.

“What happened?” He said finally, putting the couch between them and neglecting to look at her, brushing his finger across his own cheek to indicate the reason for his question.

“Graham,” Emma whimpered, her body flushing hot once more. Killian caught the new wave of her heat from the other side of the expansive lounge area of his new apartment, his back pressed to the huge floor to ceiling glass window that looked out over the city. Not even the frozen pane could cool his body, and he rubbed a sweaty palm over his already damp forehead angrily at the man’s name.

How could a man hit his wife? How could Graham have even dreamed of hurting something as precious as Emma? Rage boiled inside of Killian and he tried to focus on that rather than what his rut was telling him to do. He was in such a conflict, his brain telling him she was his when really she wasn’t, urging him to make it so, when he couldn’t. He looked up to her again, the pathetic looking woman in front of him sniffing away her last tears as she met his darkened gaze, his eyes flitting to the pulse point in her neck where he now knew her scent gland was.

“Emma-” he began through ground teeth, her name nothing more than a warning to stay back that she ignored.

“Killian, what’s happening to me?” she pleaded, stepping away from the door and her body instantly feeling the AC in his apartment blasting down onto her skin. It was cool but not enough, the slick between her legs making her even hotter as she felt pulled towards him. “I can’t-”

“You can’t be here,” he warned her darkly, his face contorting as if he was fighting a voice in his head.

“I have nowhere else to go,” Emma said sadly, her voice breaking at the realisation that she was homeless. Her fight with Graham had escalated to abuse, him yelling at her to get out and never come back. Everything she had ever known was a lie, her entire life a shit show with her as the star attraction.

Killian took a deep breath again, raking his hands over his face as he tried to think. He couldn’t kick her out, there were other Alphas living in this building and even he could smell she was unclaimed. It would be like throwing her to the wolves. And he couldn’t leave either. The fury he felt would undoubtedly take him straight to Graham and then to a prison cell, exactly the opposite of where he wanted to be right now.

Where he needed to be.

“The bedroom,” he grunted, nodding behind her to a door. Emma followed his gaze and looked back at him confused. “It’s the coldest room in the apartment, and you can lock it from the inside.” He lifted his gaze, locking her stare with his. “You’ll be safe there.”

“Safe?” Emma asked dumbly. “But I-”

“NOW, OMEGA!” Killian barked, hating himself the second the words left his mouth. Emma flinched, rushing to the door before she had time to question why she was acting so obediently at his tone. It was harsh, demanding and something inside of her was aroused to the point of pain, the throb between her legs intensifying and a new wave of slick coating her underwear.

Killian was on her heels, the newly excreted slick drawing him like a shark to blood in the water, and Emma slammed the door in his face, turning and fumbling with the key in the lock. She gasped a squeaking sound, covering her mouth to hide the fear laced adrenaline coursing through her body when Killian pounded a fist against the wood in rut induced annoyance. Another bang made her jump back away from the door, her eyes flicking to the key that was only half turned in the lock, and she surged forward and twisted it completely until she felt the mechanism slide into place.

“I’m sorry,” Emma cried, unable to stop the tears again.

Killian sighed, his entire body sagging against the other side of his bedroom door, his fingernails scraping down the surface as he regained some semblance of his control. He rolled his sweltering forehead against the surface, cursing his lack of power when it came to his rut, his feral insides feeling like they were in a tug of war with the rationality of his brain. Emma was scared, she clearly didn’t know what was happening and here he was, like an animal, trying to get to her simply because it was the first day of his rut and something had been wafted under his nose. He wasn’t that kind of Alpha and he never wanted to be.

“Emma, I’m sorry,” Killian whispered softly into the surface of the door. “I can’t-”

“What’s going on?” Emma whimpered back, her voice muffled in his ears. “I came here for your help and instead you yell at me.”

“Emma, I’m so sorry,” Killian told her quickly. “As soon as I smelled you, my body-” He began, unable to form the words. How do you explain to someone, who always thought they were a Beta, that they were actually not? For a second Killian was so preoccupied with his own wonderings that he nearly neglected to ask Emma the most important question. “How is this possible?” He muttered. “You’re Omega,” he said, confused by his own words that were more of a statement than a question.

“Tell me about it,” Emma laughed hysterically, shaking her head at her own predicament. “I can’t even fucking think straight right now. One minute I’m at the spa, then Ruby tells me there is a baby, so I rush home, leaving everything behind, including my medication, and then Humbert drops this in my lap!”

“Medication?” Killian asked, his eyebrow bouncing up on his forehead with intrigue. Had Humbert been suppressing his own wife? Had the entire Humbert clan been using heat suppressants and scent blockers on her since she was a child? The thought made him recoil in fury.

“Yeah,” Emma nodded, turning her body until her back hit the door and she slid down the cold wood to the floor. Even the floor felt cool against her skin but she was still roasting, wiggling out of her leggings and tossing them aside. The AC in Killian’s room hummed gently in the background, almost invisible but Emma felt like everything was more alive right now. All of her senses were sharper, her world less muted than before, including her insatiable need to be fucked. “Long story short, I’ve been sick my entire life, this week I didn’t take my pills and I’ve never felt so alive. Apart from these damn cramps and sweating and-”

“And need,” Killian finished for her, his voice laced with a dark passion that made her even more wet than she was.

“Yeah,” she breathed, sighing in relief like his words had been his hands on her, soothing her aches and fixing her insatiable appetite for him.

“Emma,” Killian began gently and she looked at the door as if it was him. “You’re Omega and you’re in heat.”

Emma looked down at herself, skin tacky with sweat, her entire body feeling like it was on fire and there was something inside of her trying to claw its way out. She looked the same, but she felt infinitely different, like she finally had the answer to a longing question she had never been brave enough to ask. It explained everything. The cramps, the want, the never ending need to be filled and it also explained why, before anyone else, Emma had sought out Killian.

“But-”

“You came here because I am Alpha,” Killian explained, his words strained as if he was fighting against his urge to knock down the door. “I’m what you need.”

Emma’s breath caught in her throat, his words taking on a dark, sultry tone that had her skin itching and her clit throbbing. Graham had been right, she was what he had told her, and for years that snake of a man had been trying to suppress her nature because he hadn’t become the Alpha his family thought he would. He was a coward, and a liar, and if Emma wasn’t in an agonising heat right now, she would march back to their house and punch him right in the face.

But she was in heat, a doors width between her and the Alpha she had begged her bastard husband to find her.

Emma ground out a moan, baring her teeth as she clutched her abdomen and doubled over when another wave of pain shot through her. Her body was screaming out for something to make it stop, drawn to the door where she curled against the hard surface and pulled her knees to her chest. Her red cheeks pressed to the cool door, and when the first wave passed, she relaxed her body with a sorrowful sigh.

“How do I stop it?” She whined.

“You can’t,” Killian said firmly. “You can only make it feel better for a time.”

“How?” Emma ground out. “God, please tell me how.”

For a second Killian was thankful for the door, and for the last amount of restraint he had left because when Emma begged him, the primal creature inside of him reared its insatiable head once more and wanted her like nothing else. He needed to fulfill his own desires, ease his own need, and Emma’s begging further cemented his Alpha need to claim her as his Omega. He wanted to take away her pain, soothe her aching bones and look after her like she deserved, but he also knew this was all new to her and a full rut could scare her away.

“Emma,” he whimpered desperately, his hand finding the door handle and his fingers closing around the cold steel. He pushed down on it and the mechanism slid open, but the locked door did not budge, a sigh of relief leaving his lips. “The chest, at the end of my bed, open it.”

Emma’s gaze wandered to the chest he described, the darkened room barely light enough for her to see it before she dragged herself towards it. Her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting quickly once she had stopped pinching them closed, and her body followed his direction obediently without her even realising. Emma traced her fingertips over the lid, his initials etched into the wood right above the latch, which she grabbed and pulled it open.

The chest was deep, filled halfway with what she could only imagine were rutting toys for Alphas without a mate. Her eyes scanned the selection, her throat dry where her mouth hung open, thoughts and images of Killian fucking each and every one of the tiny holed silicon toys making her excrete yet more slick. A tiny moan deep in her throat escaped involuntarily before she blinked her vision clear.

“Okay,” she called out to him in a shaking voice. “Killian, these are-”

“Clean, I promise,” he chuckled. “In there you should see something that looks like a penis but a the base there will be two huge-”

“Got it,” Emma announced in a whisper. She lifted the toy in her hand, the mottled silicone feeling so lifelike in her hands that she felt another rush of arousal pound her core. It was big, much bigger than Graham and a little bit wider than Killian, and as Emma inspected it further, she frowned. “It’s hollow,” she said softly, almost to herself, but Killian answered immediately.

“It’s wearable, love,” he cooed. “I bought it to knot you with. Under the contract, I couldn’t naturally, and until we...I had never-” he paused again, her floral scent clinging to his taste buds. If he didn’t get her to orgasm soon, he was going to lose his mind.

“Was I your first?” Emma asked timidly, her own voice foreign to her ears.

“Aye,” Killian growled, the thought of knotting her again making him even harder than he already was. “Too many too quickly. I think you induced my rut.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma said softly, turning her attention back to the hollow dildo in her hand. It was cold against her skin, slightly too soft for her liking but just looking at it was making her even more horny than she had ever felt.

“If you...fuck yourself with it,” Killian sighed heavily, his words faltering. “It will feel better, I promise.” He turned away from the door, needing to distance himself from the pull of her scent. It wasn’t just her slick, but Emma’s scent gland was spiking each time she felt aroused, which right now was every time he talked to her. He was rock hard in his lounge pants, his erection pressed painfully to the inside of the cotton, and he was almost certain his knot was straining to escape the confines of his body.

Killian made his way to the couch, dropping his lounge pants until they pooled at his feet. He kicked them away with a sigh, running his hands through his hair and thanking any higher power who was listening that he could contain himself in these early stages of his rut, his usual feral nature not exposing itself until at least day three. Naked he felt cooler, if only for a second, before he wrapped his hand around himself and began the familiar regime of coaxing out his orgasm to satisfy his rut related urges.

If he was quick he would beat Emma to hers and she would be safer. He already knew what it felt like to have her heat envelop him, so his hand was a poor substitute, especially when he heard Emma moan from the next room. His ears pricked up, straining to hear the sound he yearned for again, and when she crowed a second time, he couldn’t stop himself rushing to the door, flattening his hands over the wood and pressing his ear to it eagerly.

“Killian,” Emma sobbed desperately, the sound of her lubrication against the toy between her legs watery and turning her on even more. She drove it into herself again, the friction delicious but so obviously fake that she groaned in anguish.

Killian ground his teeth, the muscles in his jaw ticking under the length of his stubble, and he balled his fist, pounding the door in frustration.

“Killian, please,” Emma whined, her voice barely there above the breathy sigh that followed. “It’s not enough,” she pleaded despairingly, now realising hy she had become almost addicted to the welcome stretch and burn of Killian’s knot.

“Emma, you don't know what you’re doing,” Killian grunted, headbutting the door. “What you’re asking-”

“Alpha-” Emma begged in a whisper, the hurried plea tumbling from her lips before she even registered what she was saying.

Early rut or not, Killian couldn’t contain himself any longer. He grabbed the door frame, fingertips clawing the paintwork as he leaned back and pounded his bare foot into the hard, immovable surface. The door gave a little, the wood bowing away from the hinges, but it didn’t give.

“Hurry, Alpha, make it stop,” Emma begged again, her words filling Killian with more rut induced strength than he had ever had, his foot colliding with the door one more time before it swung open and sent the key flying across the room. He righted himself in the doorway, eyes scanning the darkness before he finally laid eyes on his prize. She was beautiful, gloriously naked and prone on his bed, lying on her back with the toy in one hand and her breast in the other, kneading her aching flesh with a soft cry.

Emma wasn’t even shocked when he burst through the door, instead thankful for his scent. It filled the room, powerful and intoxicating, sending her into a lust fuelled spiral that had her tossing the toy aside and clambering to the end of the bed on her knees to meet him. Killian’s hands on her felt like water when she was thirsty, clawing over her skin like he needed to get inside, and despite his dark, aggressive stare, he was as gentle as anything.

Emma clawed her way up his body, fingers dancing through his coarse chest hair, and clutched his face in her hands. She pulled his lips to hers, crushing their faces together as she kissed him. He was her salvation, the only one who could make it all better and when he kissed her back just as fervently, she arched her body into his even harder. Still standing at the foot of the bed, Killian leaned over and without even breaking the kiss, he gathered her up into his arms, holding her thighs around his waist. Emma gasped, breaking the kiss for a second, when his length touched the wetness that coated her almost entirely.

“Oh, Emma,” Killian purred, conflict in his voice, his tip brushing her slickness as he held her. He rested his forehead on hers, eyes tightly closed as he paused, contemplating the ramifications of having Emma in his place. She was married and there was no going back from this, but nothing would satiate his rut like he now knew she could. Like only she could. “What have you done?”

“I don’t care.” Emma shook her head, her slightly damp hair tangling in his fingers as he combed his hand through her locks.

“You say that because you’re in heat, love,” Killian rationalised, the fact he was holding her body to his calming the beast and letting him see sense for a second. “You’ll say anything for an Alpha’s knot.”

Killian couldn’t believe what he was saying. He felt like two different people, torn between what he wanted and what he knew was right. The Alpha in him wanted nothing more than to claim, mark, make her his own, but the man in him knew that even though Graham wasn’t Alpha, he felt like she belonged to him. Graham was a force, and he had no doubt the man would never give Emma the divorce she so eagerly craved, especially now. She was a prisoner to her own life and he had no doubt he would have to fight for her.

“I don’t want any Alpha’s knot,” Emma cooed. “I want yours.”

The touch of Emma’s soft fingertips on his cheek roused him from his inner dispute and he opened his eyes to meet hers. They had softened, the hazel edges to her hues less intense as she stared, boring straight into his, but they were filled with something he had not seen before. Emma had something else behind her desire darkened eyes that he had put there, something that made him realise that she hadn’t just sought him out because of her heat.

Killian saw compassion, the willingness only an Omega could show to an Alpha. Emma had love in her eyes and it was all for him.

“You don’t understand what it means to be Omega,” Killian told her gently, his hand sliding to find her face, his thumb tracing the outline of her lips. The memory of them on his body made his cock twitch and he felt his resolve fading.

“So show me,” Emma purred and the look that she gave him made Killian snap.

When Emma hit the mattress, she had hardly any time to react before Killian was towering over her and sealing her lips with his. He kissed her, hard, like he had wanted to before she had gone away. Like she was the most important thing in his life. In a way she was, deserving to be cherished much more than she ever had before, the way she needed to be.

Killian slid his lips from hers and kissed along her jawline, nipping the flesh as he went. He was already to a full knot, Emma’s newly expressed scent sending him into a frenzy as he neared the gland in her neck. He thrust his hips against her, collecting the nectar she had given in response to him on the tip of his erection, testing her for a sign of hesitation.

Emma whimpered, her arms clutching his body, hands splayed across his broad shoulders and pulling his body down against hers. She needed him close, wanted him so far inside of her she couldn’t take it, and her skin ignited from the contact with his, nipples hardening even further against his chest.

“Omega,” Killian sighed against her shoulder, inhaling her scent with a nuzzle of his nose. “I’m going to fuck you like you need, don’t worry.” He reached down between them, the bulb of his knot rock solid in his hand as he gripped himself at his base and glided into Emma’s scorching core. Her body reacted instantly, fingernails digging into his flesh, head thrown back into the comforter and thighs clamping around his hips like a vice. He hadn’t even moved yet, and Emma was gone.

“Killian, please,” Emma cried, her words catching in her throat. “I need you to move.”

“God, I want to fill you up so badly,” Killian said through gritted teeth, his hands skimming over the smooth curves of her lithe body until they found her behind. He shifted his weight, Emma gasping when he filled her more, and he tucked his hands underneath her buttocks, holding her steady as he shuffled forward even closer to her. Emma cried out again, her pleasure filled moan sending him into a primal state and he turned his mouth towards her ear. “I love you like this, open for me, begging, Gods, I want to breed you, my sweet Omega.”

“Do it, Alpha,” Emma pleaded, turning to skim her lips over his. She pawed at his face, smoothing her thumb over his cheek and searched his eyes that were asking, not for permission, but for reassurance. Emma smiled warmly and gave him a knowing nod. “Trust me. It’ll all be okay.”

Killian seized her lips for another fiery kiss and his hips began to move against hers. She was held in place by his powerful grip, his thrusts long and deep, each one making her cry out as all of the air left her lungs. She was caught between gasping for breath and using what little she had left to call out his name, her nails tearing into the flesh of his back in a desperate attempt to hold onto him as he relentlessly pounded into her.

“Fuck, Alpha,” Emma whimpered, her thighs shaking against his hips as he tore his lips from hers and buried his face into the crook of her neck, his pace increasing tenfold and the bed banging against the wall. “Oh, Killian, yes, you feel so good.”

“Tell me what you need, Emma,” he demanded darkly. “Make me knot you.”

“Fuck-” Emma gasped again, her eyes rolling back in her head.

Her hand found the back of his head and clutched his hair between her fingers, instinctively guiding his lips to the spot on her neck where her scent gland was hidden beneath her milky, smooth skin. Killian’s brow pulled together as he fought to bite down. He wouldn’t until she asked him to, even if she felt like that was what she wanted right now, Killian knew it was just her automatic reactions to her heat. Her body was telling her to do these things, and he wouldn’t make the decision for her.

“Tell me you want my knot,” Killian growled, needing to distract himself from the overwhelming urge to mark her as his own. “Say it, Omega,” he barked, needing to press into her a little deeper, his knot now fully revealed.

“Give me your knot, Alpha,” Emma sighed, tugging his head until his lips were back on hers and she was staring directly into the stormy blue of his eyes between feverish kisses. “Make me come.”

Killian kissed her hard, grinding himself into her with enough force to push his knot inside, her walls clamping down around the painful intrusion that sent her skyward. Emma came hard, her orgasm taking her to heights she had never felt before, the pin prick dots behind her eyelids like stars in the night, a calm serenity following. Killian stilled, their bodies locked together again, and he lifted himself to watch her intently, her body almost paralyzed in euphoria.

Emma started quivering, his orgasm triggering another, and her hand flew up to flatten against his chest. It was a silent plea, his hips only shifting a little but enough to make her roll hers against his knot, eager to draw out every last drop of pleasure from their tie. Her fingernails raked down his chest, clawing through his chest hair and assuredly leaving bloody lines in her wake. As she calmed, her back resting back to the mattress, she let out a soft whimper.

Killian kissed her again, his tongue slowly massaging hers with a gentle caress that had him humming contently into her mouth. Emma’s lips turned up into a smile and she finally opened her eyes, relaxing the grip her thighs had on his body with a blush. The boyish grin Killian gave her back told her she had no reason to be embarrassed, even if she had said things she would have never dreamed of, because there was only one reason for how Killian was looking at her right now.

For the first time in his life, Killian felt complete. Emma’s inner muscles clenched around his knot once more and he gasped, shooting her a smirk when his overstimulated length twitched inside of her and released another load of his seed.

“You’re a naughty Omega,” he teased, kissing her eyelids tenderly. He framed her with his bulk, resting on his elbows and combing her messed hair away from her face.

“Am I?” Emma smirked up at him, nuzzling the tip of his nose with her own. Her hands found his face once more and she toyed with the shape of his ears as he nodded, the elfen tip slightly hard under her fingertips.

“Do you feel better now, love?” Killian asked her, arching his neck into her odd, but very satisfactory grooming technique.

“Much,” she nodded. “The cramps are gone and so has the sweating.”

“For now,” Killian offered tentatively. “Your heat should last about a week-.”

“A week?” Emma squeaked under him.

“Aye, I’m sorry,” he offered whole heartedly. “More often than not it’s only a few days once the hormones settle down.”

Emma scrunched her nose. “How long does that take?”

Killian pinched one eye closed as if trying to recall something he had been told a long time ago. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “Usually this happens to kids in their teens, but in your case it was suppressed for so long, I’m not sure I can give you an answer.”

Emma sighed and Killian felt his heart break. This was all new to her and he wished he could help her through some of the more specific questions she had, but truth was, it was all new to him too. He had never been with an Omega before, let alone one who had been ingesting heat suppressants and scent blockers for so many years. Who knew what kind of damage that had done to her and Killian’s jaw clenched at the mere thought of making the Humbert’s pay.

“What I can tell you is that I’ll be here, for however long it takes.” To emphasize his point, Killian nudged his knot into her further and Emma shuddered in pleasure.

“Oh God,” Emma whimpered, her eyes rolling back in her head.

Her back arched off the bed and she felt Killian’s calloused hands slide over her upper thigh and lift her leg over his hip, allowing him to sink into her even more now she was wide open for him. A fresh wave of slick made their tie slip and Killian growled, diving into the juncture of Emma’s neck where her newly discovered scent gland was emitting all sorts of fresh, sickly sweet aromas that had his heart racing. He could mark her. His body was telling him to. It was right there, throbbing just below the surface but Emma’s hands were on his head once more, nimble fingers tracing the edge of his ear once more and shaking him from his scent induced daze.

“You can’t just turn up to an Alpha’s apartment like this,” he scolded her lightly, rolling his head into her touch. “You should have called.”

“Would you have invited me over if you’d have known?” Emma asked innocently. Killian declined to answer, an eyebrow quirking up on his forehead. “I didn’t think so,” Emma purred, pulling his lips to hers again.

Killian rolled his hips again as they kissed, causing Emma to groan into his mouth. “Stop,” she giggled, unable to hide the grin from her face.

“Or what?” Killian challenged weakly.

“Or we’ll never part,” she smiled. Killian gave her another look, one telling her that maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Emma blushed under his gaze, rolling her bottom lip under her teeth coyly.

“You’re so beautiful when you smile, Emma, you know that?” He complimented her softly. His fingers brushed over her brow and passed the swell under her eye as he followed the trail of his hand down over the pulse in her neck. “He should pay for this.”

“Don’t,” Emma warned, her smile fading instantly. She grabbed his hand away from her scent gland, rolling her head away shyly.

“I hate that he hurt you,” Killian continued, his blood beginning to boil again.

“Please stop,” Emma begged.

“I hate that I wasn’t there to protect you from this, Emma.” Killian fingers gingerly traced over the purple-pink bruise developing under her eye again before Emma shook him off and turned away again. “I should have been there.”

“Please don’t mention him,” Emma sighed into the pillow, forcing the tears that pricked at her eyelids back inside. She wouldn’t give Graham the satisfaction of making her cry ever again.

“Hey,” Killian coaxed, hooking his finger under her chin and pulling her gaze back to his. “I just want you to be happy, my love,” he told her lovingly, giving her a quick flash of a smile.

She returned it weakly. “I am happy. Right now, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

“Good.” Killian leaned forward and pressed his lips to the tip of her nose. “Me too.”

#the contract #A/B/O dynamics #A/B/O #cs fic #cs au #alpha!killian #omega!emma

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rileybraxton · 4 years

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Name: Riley Braxton Nickname: Brax Age: 34 FC: Paul Wesley Occupation: Tattooist at Scorpion Studios Side: Wicked Wolves Length of stay in Charming: approx. 14 years Positive traits: + loyal, + crafty, + brave Negative traits: - damaged, - suspicious, - hotheaded

triggers: parental adultery. drug abuse. addiction. crime. needles.

✚ middle child ✚ due to his mother having an affair ( for years ) he and his elder brother share different fathers. however, he and his younger brother share the same father ( the guy mamma cheated with ) ✚ he was always a reckless child. it only worsened when he hit his teens and fell in with bad crowds ✚ staying out, doing disappearing acts or coming home drunk, if not drugged up too ✚ to be honest, his entire attitude stunk. he showed little to no respect for his parents, or older brother who he considered a bit of an uptight snoot ✚ if he’s honest, the only person he wasn’t a total asshole to was his younger brother ✚ he was 16 when he came home and caught his mother in bed with another man. not just any man, but his fathers best friend. the truth was exposed, it turned out that the affair had been going on for years ✚ his mother begged him not to tell and promised to end it and he agreed. asshole so he was, he didn’t want to be the reason his father crumbled and his brother ended up with a broken home ✚ his motive may have started out purely but over the months, his bitterness? it only festered. his behaviour worsened, the disrespect began to have an impact on his parents relationship. the father just couldn’t seem to understand why his wife was seemingly letting him get away with everything he was doing ✚ he’d ask her for money which he only went out and spend on drugs. small things at first, a pill here, a spliff there. somewhere along the way he managed to get hooked on heroin, though amazingly he did manage to hide his needle poked arms ✚ it was amidst a drugged up haze that he felt some kind of penny drop. he was sat on the rooftop, watching his parents, his brother and his fathers best friend when he noticed something he hadn’t before ✚ the similarities between his man and his brother, between this man and him. the more he sat and stared, the more he couldn’t see a trace of his “father” in his own features, nor his younger brothers ✚ all it took was one out-loud thought and his mother confirmed everything with the simple look on her face. it was a lot to process, too much in-fact. which is what lead to an explosive dinner that same evening ✚ his “father” was laying into him, which wasn’t unusual. shaming him for being such a fuck up. usually he’d sit silently and take it, but this time? the words came flying out his mouth before he could think to stop them “who the fuck are you to talk to me like that? you’re not even my father. ain’t that right, mom?” ✚ the truth came out in a hateful splurge. everything from how the affair had been going on at least 17 years, straight to “oh, and the guy? sitting right next to you” aka, the best friend ✚ so, his not so biological father ended up focusing that betrayal back onto riley, which resulted in the pair of them going toe to toe, breaking everything in sight as they threw their punches ✚ being a little shit, he was fully egging him on, “come on. that’s right. hit me. your wife’s a whore and you’re laying into me? makes perfect fucking sense” ✚ it wasn’t until he managed to get him on the floor that he noticed his little brother on the staircase, pausing the punch he was about to land on his fathers face. a simple “shit” under his breath ✚ he got up instantly, all that rage on his face disappeared and replaced with a soft warmth that he reserved only for his brother. he left to take him back up to bed, leaving his parents and the not so decent best friend to fight it out between themselves ✚ in the end it turns out they decided to stay together and try and work through it, but it only served to create a toxic environment ( more so ) ✚ riley was 20 and fully hooked on drugs when he got himself arrested for grand theft auto and it was the icing on the cake for both parents ✚ they didn’t exactly kick him out, but they made it clear he wasn’t welcome unless he cleaned his act up ✚ surprisingly, he did try, but only after he packed up and moved in with a friend. he went cold turkey and yes, that shit fucking sucked. it was basic agony for at least three weeks before he began to feel like he was getting better ✚ rather than return home, he did perhaps one of the shittiest things a person could do & he stole his mothers jewellery that were basically family air-looms, pawned them for a few grand, bought a car and hit the road ( not before saying goodbye to his little bro and promising him he would call and visit all the time. ) ✚ in truth, he wanted to take him, but he knew it was selfish, especially when he didn’t even have a secure home ✚ he ended up in charming, fresh faced and sober. he stayed in a motel for a few months, saving money from odd jobs and focusing his energy on building a life for himself ✚ he’d always been creative, drawing & sketching came so naturally to him that he decided to train up and become a qualified tattoo artist ✚ at 22, he finally got his own place to rent and things were looking up. he’d passed his courses with flying colours, made a couple friends and even met a girl who he fell head over heels for ✚ the only trouble was, this girl was just as reckless as he was and their entire relationship was something like a beautiful tragedy. they’d party most nights and for the first few months, everything was fine. he managed to say no every time she’d offer him a pill, every time her friends offered something stronger. truth be told, he’s not sure exactly when he slipped up, or even why. but he did, and there he was once again sticking needles in his arms and wasting away. ✚ he ended up breaking up with his girlfriend and she hit the road with a couple pals not long after - he’s never seen her since ✚ he did a good job at hiding his problem, still managing to hold down his bar jobs to pay his rent, at least for a few months. everything changed when his 14 year old brother showed up on his doorstep with all his bags ✚ once again, he forced himself to go cold turkey. if his brother insisted on living with him, riley didn’t want him to watch him destroy himself. so really, he’s quite thankful that his brother showed up when he did, who knows, it probably saved his life ✚ back on track and finally in a good place, he fell in with the wolves and quickly realised that’s exactly where he needed to be ✚ some may say it’s tempting fate, running drugs considering he’s an addict, but he vowed the day they accepted him into their fold that he’d never make them regret it ✚ fyi, he hasn’t. whilst he has fell off the wagon twice since, he never did the wolves dirty. anything he took, he paid for, any job they gave him, he completed ✚ he probably drinks more than he should and he still enjoys a spliff, but he’s never touched any other drug in 3 years and to be honest, he’s very proud of himself ✚ he got a secure job at scorpion tattoo studios 2 years ago & he really enjoys it ✚ sooo, he’s clean, he has a job, a home, a family in the form of wicked wolves and a good set of friends. life is pretty sweet ✚ that’s not to say he’s not still very hot headed & impulsive. probably quite fuckin’ damaged too, but hey, all the best people are ✚ thanks for reading my novel

wanted connections:

✚ younger brother - CLOSED ✚ oldest brother(who’s probably a cop or smth straight shooting) - OPEN ✚ friends - OPEN ✚ old/new enemies - OPEN ✚ friends with benefits - OPEN ✚ the original ex girlfriend mentioned above - OPEN ✚ maybe a repeat client who lets him tattoo him/her with his own designs? - OPEN ✚ someone who knows he’s a recovering addict maybe? since i imagine he doesn’t typically share that info, it could be someone who’s seen him attend a meeting, or is even a recovering addict themselves - OPEN ✚ literally anything!

#charming.intro #about #tw drugs #tw crime #tw adultery #tw addiction

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nemossubmarine · 4 years

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Warhammer 40K: Wrath & Glory RP #35

We pick up right where we left off, Gorm chasing Knut into the webways, Gimlet and Saef hot at his heels (although Gimlet falls behind a bit after they get into the webways). Gorm catches up with Knut, who knocks him down with psychic energy. Saef knocks Knut down with his psychic energy in turn, so Gorm has time to get his hands on him, tearing his strange form into pieces.

Unfortunately, despite his brother’s passing, Gorm is not seeming any less wolfed out, and in fact he rushes back towards where they came from, shouting about needing to make sure all of Knut is destroyed. Only, he can’t find the entrance anyway, so he just takes off in a random direction, Saef and Gimlet shouting at him to stop. Gimlet tries to get people to go to a certain direction, though Gorm is not in much of a listening mood. Finally Saef shouts at him that Gimlet has seen something.

Gorm is still running, on all fours, still very much a wolf, and Saef and Gimlet try their best to keep up. They come upon a walled off castle of sorts, and Gorm jumps the wall and then starts climbing the tower wall. He spots a woman in the window and smashes through it, pinning the woman on the ground. The woman is understandably quite scared. Someone shouts at Gorm to get his hands off their mom, and then Gorm is hit with a chair. It doesn’t do much, and Gorm grabs the offender, a young man and pins him down as well. He shouts at them about getting out of the webways, and they direct him towards the “Lord” upstairs. So Gorm goes there and busts down the door into a study where an older man resides. The man turns out to be an Imperial Navigator by the name of Adelbert Valance, and he doesn’t take kindly to interruptions. Gorm threatens him a bit, but he seems unmoved, asking Gorm to calm down. Gorm lets the Navigator know he needs to get out of here, and Valance starts looking at some maps.

And while all this is happening Saef and Gimlet merely see Gorm smash and jump through the window and then hear a woman screaming. Saef picks the lock on the door of the gate and he and Gimlet rush the tower and find the scared occupants, and then, eventually, Gorm, standing in a doorway, talking with someone on the inside. Gimlet and Saef ask Gorm to please calm down, which he doesn’t seem to be in the habit of doing. Saef tries to intimidate him into calming down, which goes about as well as one might imagine (I mean, Gorm is intimidated, but that only makes him more aggressive). Gimlet says he would like to see the person inside the room Gorm is standing in front of. Gorm says that situation is under control and asks people to move, as he has promised to fix a fucking door. Gimlet refuses to budge and Gorm start to get proper threatening, reaching for his chainsword. Then there's a knock on his shoulder and he turns to face the navigator, gazing right into his third eye which knocks him right out. The navigator returns to his work, advising someone to give Gorm first aid. Gimlet does so and Gorm comes to with the worst hangover of his life, not remembering much anything what happened. Gimlet and Saef clue him in on what happened and where they are, and the trio finally introduces themselves to navigator Valance.

Gorm asks after Uffe and Saef attempts to contact the vox transmitter that was given to the Harlequins with his own. What they hear is… not great. They hear a person shouting, clearly in agony, and recognize the voice belonging to Uffe, they hear metal cutting flesh, and the laughter of the Haemonculus. Saef closes the channel. Gorm is understandably rearing to go, but Valance says it’s not that simple, if the Haemonculus has locked the webway gate from the other side. Easiest way to get there would be getting their hands on few personal webway gate creators made by the Harlequins, so a trip to the Black Library is in order. Unfortunately the webways are near impossible to navigate, which reminds Navigator Valance, how did you guys find here anyway? Gimlet admits that he may have something to do with that, as he, kind of, feels something, relating to this place, more specifically the navigator himself. Valance looks at Gimlet for a long time and then asks “Demetrius?” and Gimlet says yep, that’s his name, any chance Valance might be his dad? “I didn’t recognize you,” Valance says and starts crying. Gorm and Saef quietly exit the scene, leaving Gimlet and his newly-found dad to catch up.

It is a confusing and emotionally wrought situation all around. Valance asks after Cara, and Gimlet has to let him know that Cara is dead. Valance apparently had lived 20 years in the dark about the fate of his wife and son, about whether they just decided not to come back, or whether they died. The short version of Valance’s and Cara’s story is that Valance was supposed to marry the daughter of Paternova Shaneka Locarno of the Navigators, but instead married her servant, Cara, which is the reason the Paternova declared house Valance renegade. Inquisitor Tanner Valance doesn’t know personally, apparently he was for some reason after Cara who is an abhuman same as Valance (as all Navigators are, he has some extra growths), though she didn’t look like it. The refuge, aka the castle, they are currently in, was originally made for psykers by the Harlequins. Valance made a deal with the Harlequins, so they taught him to navigate the webways, making it possible for the others to go outside (to get food from Pomegranate Blossom’s planet), but making it so that he is unable to leave. Valance shows Gimlet some childhood drawings of his and a picture of the family together (which he lets Gimlet keep). Regarding Gimlet’s strange skills, it was apparently some latent Navigator genes Valance and Cara activated when Gimlet was a baby. Cara was very insistent in getting her hands on Gimlet’s genes, something regarding her own mutations, the nature of which Valance doesn’t know exactly. Originally Gimlet could only locate Valance himself, so he has no idea what the other thing Gimlet feels is, maybe something relating to his mother? Gimlet asks about Valance being stuck here, and how to stay in contact, and Valance can’t really offer much as cell phones won’t work and neither will vox transmitters in and out of webways. Obviously Gimlet could always attempt to renegotiate the terms of Valance’s contract with the Harlequins, though they don’t have much of a leg to stand on in that front.

While this is happening Gorm and Saef go downstairs to meet Jani and her son Yesukai. Jani offers them apple pie, and Gorm a hang-over cure (which Gorm pours down the drain). Yesukai asks if our heroes could take him (and his mother) out of here while they’re at it. Yesukai, a rather pale man, has apparently grown up in the webways, and would very much like to get out. Gorm asks Saef to check in on Uffe. Luckily(?) there seems to be a pause in the torture, as they only hear very labored breathing.

Gimlet is about done with his dad so Gorm and Saef join them upstairs to see what they need to do, which is to say to go to the Black Library of Chaos and loan some Harlequin stuff. Valance teaches Gimlet how to use his inate Navigator-ish skills to navigate the Webways to the Black Library.

And off they go! Gimlet apologizes for taking time. Gorm says that they’re friends, so no need to apologize, and Saef points out that they all have family issues, so it’s fine to take some time to resolve stuff like that.

As they walk, the conversation turns to what happened to Gorm. Gorm explains that that is something that can happen to Wolves because of their unstable geneseed. Uffe has the same problem, worse than Gorm actually (re: eating that Chaos dude). Gorm apologizes for that happening, and instructs how to help him de-wolf, holding him down might work, but that’s probably best left for Uffe, reminding him of who he is, telling it’s safe, or knocking him out. Saef asks if showing like a picture of Layla would help and Gorm says probably, they agree that Gorm will send a pic of Layla to Saef and Gimlet once they’re out. Gimlet asks if this was night training, and Gorm says yes, Uffe has a bit of a problem, with Chaos nightmares. Saef asks what is night training, and Gimlet says he thought Gorm and Uffe were fucking, but apparently it was just wolfing-out problem. Gimlet also asks if Vivek got the data disk of Kuru, and Gorm says yes, but he was planning on giving the original back to Gorm once he had copied it into himself. Saef is like what? And Gimlet and Gorm apologize and hug him for him being out of the loop (“Vivek probably just didn’t have the time to tell Saef about it”), Saef says is fine.

Saef mentions that he has seen the Webways before, in a dream he had while he was being carried by Uffe. As he explains the dream, Gorm recognizes it as one of Uffe’s nightmares. Saef isn’t sure why or how he got it, but he recognized the demon that he saw in Ivar as being part of it (thing Uffe never saw), and mentions piece of Ivar’s soul that he has. Gorm is excited to see the piece and is keen on keeping it, but Saef warns that the soul has attempted to escape few times, so best let Saef keep it. Gorm agrees, though mocks the soul a bit before handing it back to Saef.

#nemo roleplays #wag rp #wag rp writeup #campaign tag: the great off road webway adventure #well that was proper emotional #surprise its ya dad #i wonder who's dad we find next sesh #nah the proper question is how much of an emotional whiplash will it be #to go from gimlet being reunited with his dad and listening to a man being tortured #to having to deal with harlequins :D with their funny lil accents #and general antics #well that is up ahead tomorrow #no idea how long this will take

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dark0angel13 · 5 years

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Awakening: Come At Me

Each step sent agony racing white hot through me and I could hear my pulse in my ears. The sun had long ago set and by looking around it was clear that I had no fucking idea where I was. Nothing looked familiar, nothing smelled even remotely like home and it was entirely too quiet for any feelings of hope to surface. I was on my own and unless I found a town or hospital soon, I was well and truly fucked.

My knees gave out sometime later and I hit the ground hard, pain radiating outward in waves as I held back a yelp. Laying there I took stock and willed a plan to come into existence. My head was bleeding steadily and pain flashed within my skull with each beat of my heart as if someone where in there with a jackhammer. My vision came in and out of focus so I had no doubt that there was at least a small concussion. There were bruises littering my body but none of them gave off much pain. The majority of my injuries were my ribs. At least three cracked if not broken all together, if the pain I was feeling was anything to go by; each inhale had me on the verge of tears.

There was a semi fresh bullet wound on my right shoulder but it felt like a through and through so no worry there. Three large gashes ranging from my left cheek, down my stomach, and across my right thigh were deep and still trickling blood but other than that, and some minor cuts on my legs, those were all the injuries I had sustained. Wolves could take a beating that was for damn sure. I could at least start to heal most of it with a shift but the cuffs around my wrists and ankles were silver and I had to thank whatever God was out there that they were plated with aluminum or else the burning would have been much worse.

After another minute of catching my breath and steeling myself for another round of torture I stood and ran on, the chain catching on almost every rock until I managed to stumble on a road. Thank fucking Christ! I almost danced but survival still held control so instead I jogged on, praying to come across a house sooner or later.

I wasn’t sure how long I had been running but the burning in my lungs and the shakiness in my legs were giving me fair warning that if I didn’t stop to rest soon I would pass out and that was the last thing I needed right then. I slowed to a walk and put my hands above my head, fully aware of the cold wind on my skin. All I had to cover myself was a dirty shirt and men’s boxer briefs that I took when I broke out of the cellar I had been in. Not the most comfortable clothes on the planet but I was not about to start complaining. The road was quiet for the most part but every car that I heard coming up had panic rising and I dove for the woods with every flash of headlights.

After the fourth car passed me I could see a sign up ahead and the closer I got, the faster my heart beat. Fuck yeah, Portland thirteen miles. I stopped and did my best to cross my arms. Why the fuck would I be in Maine? Dismissing the question from my mind I trudged on and by the time I made it to the first exit my body was at its limit. I needed to rest or I would keel over right there on the side of the road. I stumbled off but tripped last second over a root and took the slope face first, shouting as I went down. I hit the ground with a grunt and rolled until I hit the bottom with enough force to jar my entire body.

“Fuck me…” Where the only words I could come up with at that time but the sound of running water erased the fog of pain and I was scrambling to my feet in seconds, following the sound until the water came into view. It was a small creek and I could have cried at that moment as I dropped to my knees and took in the fresh water gulp after gulp; only slowing down when I nearly choked to death. I was tempted to just lay there and the let the frigid temperature chase the fever from my skin but I needed to find a phone and bolt cutters or something, then get my ass back down to Boston. It was a hard choice to leave that creek.

I did my best to keep to the shadows, knowing full well that any normal passerby would be hesitant to even come near me once they saw the cuffs. Last thing I needed was local police involvement. Staying away from the main road was my best bet and lucky for me about half a mile up a turn off for a small neighborhood. About fucking time something went my way.

I knew better than to go for the first house because let’s be honest that’s the first place someone will look. No I needed something less stand outish, if that was even a word. There were three main roads and many side streets to this neighborhood but thankfully most of the streetlights were either broken or far enough down the way for me to be seen. Just to be safe I left a trail of blood to the first house and covered the open wounds with mud to try and cover them long enough to get to another house. Plus it couldn’t hurt to cover my scent a little, even if it was in vain.

Stumbling up to the fourth house I knocked almost too hard and the wood splintered under the force. My right leg chose that moment to give out and I fell forward, cursing in the process as sound met my ears from the other side. There were at least two people inside and neither was moving.

“Please, I need help I’m badly hurt.” Which wasn’t a lie, and who doesn’t fall for the damsel in distress act? There were hushed whispers that I couldn’t make out and then shuffling before the door opened and I all but fell through the frame.

“Holy shit are you alright? Lisa call nine-one-one.” The man was panicked as he dragged me into the house.

“No! No police!” I was in his face in seconds and I swear I could smell his fear. I’m sure to them I moved as if my wounds didn’t bother me as I closed and locked the door, pulling the pistol from the band of the boxers in the process. The woman screamed and the man stood protectively in front of her and yelled.

“Who the fuck are you and what do you want?”

“Keep your voice down unless you want to draw unwanted attention to us.” I hadn’t intended on snapping but right then the last thing I needed was for him to try and play the hero.

“Please don’t kill us we have a baby sleeping upstairs.” Lisa was balling as she gripped her husband for dear life and part of me ached for these people. They were just innocent bystanders falling victim to a much larger war they knew nothing about.

“No one is dying on my watch so don’t worry. I know I don’t look it, but I’m one of the good guys here.” I did my best to smile but neither looked convinced.

“What do you want?”

“Got any bolt cutters?” I held up my wrists.

“Toss me your gun and we’ll talk about that.” He wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“Do you even know how to use one of these?”

“No, but right now I have no idea if you’re telling me the truth and I have a family to protect.” His voice was deep. Sighing to myself I slid to the ground, grunting as I did so, and opened the slide. After ejecting the mag I took the weapon apart until I had the firing pin before reassembling it and handing it to him. Hey may not trust me, but it was mutual.

“There, now no one can use it. I meant it when I said I wasn’t going to hurt you.” He took the weapon quickly and told Lisa to go get his tools.

“You got a phone here?”

“You got a name?”

“Is this going to be a thing where we trade questions?” I chuckled but gave him my name.

“Okay Sarah, you mind telling us why you showed up on our doorstep?” He got right to the point didn’t he?

“Long story.” Was all I said while he snapped the chains at my wrists and ankles in two, then the ends to leave just the cuffs. I sighed in relief and stretched my legs and arms. “Thanks, I owe you.”

“Here.” Lisa handed me a wet towel and a cell phone and I swear I could have kissed her. I wiped the blood and dirt as I dialed.

“Grayson.” Lacie’s voice rang in my ears and I almost cried. Almost.

“Lacie.”

“Jesus fuck Sarah where are you, Rachel has been freaking out for the past sixteen hours after she saw your apartment.” Had it really been less than a day? It felt like so much time had passed. I shivered.

“I’m worse for wear but alive. I’m in Portland but I don’t know how secure this line is. I can’t guarantee they won’t find me before you get to me so listen and listen good because I’m only going to say this once…”

I watched Lisa and her husband as I spoke, keeping an eye on their reactions and movements before Lacie cursed loud enough for them to hear.

“What have you got on you?”

“My charm and good looks.” In other words, jack fucking shit.

“Glad to see they didn’t beat that sense of humor out of you.” I could practically see the smirk on her face.

“I got a glock and one clip. Other than that only what I can find in this house. I would be in better condition to fight if I could get these damn cuffs off but it seems I only get so much good luck per day.”

“I’ll be there in an hour. Crush the phone, do what you can to get those cuffs off and prepare yourself for a fight. I have a feeling who ever took you isn’t far behind.” She hung up before I could say anything else.

“Sorry for this.” I had the phone on the ground and crushed under my fist before the woman could even protest.

“Rick what the hell is going on here?” Lisa was frantic and I couldn’t blame her.

“You two need to get your child and get out of here.”

“Like hell we are! This is our house you can’t just waltz in here like you own the place and start bossing us around.” Rick was seething as he stood and balled his hands into fists. I was on my feet a heartbeat later, ready for anything he might try.

“I’m not here to hurt you but there are men coming who do want to hurt me, and you being here will only put you in danger. If you don’t listen to me now then you are all going to die.” I kept glancing out the window as I spoke, the towel now wrapped around the gash in my leg to slow the bleeding as I simultaneously searched for a bobby pin or something.

“Maybe we should listen to her honey…” Yes, fucking listen to the person trying to save your life!

“What’s going to happen even if we do leave? They’ll just hunt us down if they can’t find you.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m in no condition to take part in another major fight. If I could get these cuffs off maybe but right now I’m too injured to put up much of a fight. But I can use what you have in this house to at least take some of them down.” My eyes drifted to the houses behind this one and my heart stopped. There, driving too slowly down the street was a large SUV. They had found me already.

“Fuck!”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Get away from the windows. Rick where is the gun I handed you a little bit ago?” I was moving out of instinct now, locking the windows and turning off lights as I went before he handed me back the pistol. After putting the firing pin back in I turned back to them, “Get your son and get in the basement. Stay low and stay quiet. They found me already, there’s not time for you to run now.” Lisa started crying as she raced upstairs and Rick let out a string of curses and ran his hands through his hair.

“How much time do we have?” His voice was calm even for his racing heartbeat.

“Five minutes, ten tops. They can track my scent. I did my best to cover it and left a trail to another house before stumbling to your doorstep but these men are not beginners. They know how to track.” Lisa came back down as I spoke and I motioned for them to go as I rummaged through the kitchen for whatever I could get my hands on.

The house was too silent as I stood by the door waiting, my own pulse racing in my veins while my eyes scanned the road. Sure enough within a few minutes the SUV stopped a few houses down and five men piled out. I clenched my jaw in both aggravation and anticipation. Five guys? That’s all I was worth? Bastards.

They talked for a moment then broke off into groups, three of them fanning out while the other two scouted the house. I held my breath when one of them looked up and sniffed the air before his eyes landed on the small drops of blood in the street. Fuck, fuck, fuck! My mind was racing as I checked the number of bullets I had. Seven rounds. Great.

I moved so fast it left me breathless, swapping shirts for one of theirs and leaving mine in the kitchen, hoping that it would distract them long enough for me to take at least one or two down. I swallowed hard as boots pounded up the steps and I took a deep breath.

The door crashed open and two came rushing in and straight for my old shirt. They didn’t stand a chance really. Two bullets later they hit the floor with a thud and I turned back to the door only to get sideswiped. I hit the counter and grunted, cursing after when the gun I had was flown from my grip. A punch buried itself into my stomach and I winced but returned the favor with one of my own. The man howled angrily before taking a fist full of my hair and swinging me around and slamming me into the floor. The impact had my ribs radiating with pain and I screamed. Seconds later hands wrapped around my throat and it was a battle to breathe as black encroached on my vision.

“Ease up we need her alive.” The voice that met my ears had me stiffening and following the sound. He was tall and his sandy brown hair looked almost black in the moonlight. From here I could see the blue of his eyes and my heart sank.

“Drake…” I couldn’t keep the surprise from my voice as he sauntered up and crouched before me, a smirk on his face.

“I gotta hand it to you Sarah, you’re smart. Too smart almost. It took me a long time to get you to trust me but hey, shit happens. I’m not Drake though I do look like him, or he looks like me I should say. We are twins after all but I came out first.” He winked, “But don’t tell him that. My name is Dale by the way, it’s about time we officially met.”

“You bastard!” I moved just fast enough to drive the knife into the skull of the man above me but no sooner had I done that did Drake have me off the ground and into the wall.

“Poor Drake was so worried for you Sarah, how could you just abandon him like that?” The punch came faster than I expected and the impact of it had my head snapping to the left and I saw stars. Pain exploded and I groaned but countered with a knee to his groin. He mewled and let me go, dropping to his knees before I let my own fist fly. It hit him square in the jaw and his head snapped to the side but the only thing it managed to do was break a couple bones in my hand and I cursed.

When he laughed I couldn’t help the rage that flooded me. My foot slammed into his face and this time he grunted and hit the floor with a loud thud. I had the knife to his throat seconds later and my hand fisted in his shirt.

“Okay asshole time to answer some questions.” Lacie would have been proud of the venom in my tone.

“Instead of asking me questions you should be asking yourself one, like where the last man is. There were five of us and you’ve only killed three. I’m right here but where is the last guy?” His smile of arrogance had my blood running cold and I only had time to sniff the air before pain ripped through my body. Every nerve ending was on fire and my muscles were seizing even before I hit the floor. From there I could see the last man in the doorway, his hands still holding the taser at the ready should I need another hundred thousand volts.

The room spun and consciousness faded in and out for too many heartbeats before settling on in, and I held back the bile that rose up. Dale had a gun to my head and the knife from my hand before I could even breathe.

“Now let’s try this again shall we? This time I ask the questions and you answer.” Both he and the last man stiffened when the sound of crying rang out and I sucked in a breath.

“Find them.” Was all he said, dragging me up and down the hallway.

“Leave them out of this.” I growled before I was face first in the wall.

“You’re in no position to demand anything here bitch.” He twisted my arm tighter behind my back and I cursed.

“It’s coming from the basement Sir.”

“Lead the way.” Was all he said. I nearly fell down the stairs and at the last step he shoved me hard and I met the concrete with an audible thud. There, in the corner, was this family and my heart broke for them.

“Kill them.”

“No!” I was on my feet and rushing Dale but I fell short when another wave of electricity ripped its way through me. I screamed again and collapsed.

“Again, you’re in no position to demand anything.”

“You so much as lay a finger on them and you won’t get a god damned word from me.” I met his glare with one of my own.

“Why do you even care what happens to these people?”

“Because this is between you and me. Leave them out of this.”

Dale growled low in his throat and waved the man off, “Zip tie them and radio in. We are going to need a cleanup team here when this is over.”

“Dale these people are innocent! You’re beef is with me!” I only had time to steel myself before his fist flew and I yelped.

“Once I’m done with you and we have you on your way back to the compound they will be dealt with.” The iciness of his voice made the woman start crying and the baby screamed louder in her arms.

“Please we have a baby!”

“Shut your mouth!” He had the gun in her face in seconds.

“Stop it! I swear to God Dale if you hurt them I will rip you apart with my bare hands.” I just needed to keep them busy with me until Lacie showed up and I prayed it would be soon. I wasn’t prepared to face another round of interrogation.

“You should be more worried about yourself rather than these humans.”

“You don’t scare me. Whoever you work for wants me alive remember?” I smirked but bit back a scream as another wave of electricity raced through me.

“Stop it you’re hurting her!” Bless Lisa for trying to stand up for me but how stupid could humans get?

“Yeah, that’s the point here doll face.” Dale’s voice was at my ear and just staying conscious was a challenge right then, let alone struggling as they zip tied my hands to a pipe.

“What the fuck did she do to deserve this?” Rick spat through clenched teeth and I shook my head. Just shut up before he kills you!

“What didn’t she do? Killed a Federal Agent, stole top secret information, impersonated a police officer…the list goes on. Are you sure you want to defend someone like her?” That fucking bastard was lying about everything.

“That’s bullshit and you know it! That was y-!” His fist connected before I could finished and pain exploded in my skull.

“Lying to save your own skin again? I figured you’d have learned by now.” Another fist buried itself in my stomach and I would have doubled over had I not had my arms tied. I grunted but said nothing, instead looking to the small family in the corner. Neither looked like they believed him but it wasn’t going to help me any time soon. They didn’t deserve what was going to happen and a deep down, part of me wished I could turn back time.

“Now, where is Max?”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” Which was only half true but he didn’t need to know that.

“Bullshit!” Another punch, more pain. “Where is he?”

“I said I don’t fucking know.” I spit blood in his face but he just turned toward Lisa and growled.

“You there, where is your silver?”

She looked genuinely confused. “What?”

“It’s not hard to understand bitch! Most families have special dinnerware for certain occasions. Usually silver so where is it?” He was in her face and the look on this woman’s face was pure horror. When she said nothing he back handed her and she yelped.

“Just tell him.” I gave her my best ‘don’t worry about me’ smile but to be honest I wasn’t sure if she could even see it in the dim light. He reeled back to hit her again and she winced, shouting the location desperately and a part of my stomach dropped. This was not going to be pleasant.

“Lance.” He only needed one word and the burly man was moving.

“While we still have some time before things get messy I’ll give you another chance. Where is Max?” His hand fisted in my shirt and I winced.

“I said I don’t fucking know. So either shut up or kill me and since you can’t kill me why don’t you just shut the fuck up?” He nearly turned red with rage and his finger drove into the barely healed bullet hole in my shoulder. It hurt, and I screamed but it was nothing compared to what was coming. A heart beat later a blade was at my throat and the silver burned but I remained quiet.

“Last time. You don’t start giving me answers I start cutting.” I could only swallow hard. “Fine.” There was no warning before he plunged it into my stomach. It stung and I could smell the burning flesh and couldn’t stop the pained yell that came from me.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed but after a while my consciousness started to fade. There was a pool of blood under me and no amount of stillness eased the pain within me but I just had to hold out a little longer. Surely Lacie would be here soon and this fuck would get what was coming to him.

“Sir, anymore and she will pass out.” Lance was smarter than I gave him credit for.

Dale growled and grabbed my chin, the knife only centimeters from my face but I didn’t care. The pain was getting to be too much and part of me just wished he would get it over with.

“May I make a suggestion Sir?”

“What?”

“We need to get her back to the compound so the Doc can fix her up. She needs to heal a little before you continue unless you want her dead.” I could have kissed Lance right then, I really could have. The grip on my chin tightened and the smell of leather invaded my senses before it was gone.

“Today is you’re lucky day bitch.” Everything was blurry and it was hard to focus but when something crashed above us Dale cursed and I couldn’t help the smirk that grew on my face.

“I guess you’re right…today is my lucky day.” I could hear Lacie shouting from upstairs and tears welled in my eyes. Thank fucking Christ.

“Shit!” Dale knew he had no time. It was either leave me there or die and he was too much of a coward to stay. I heard him retreat and shout to Lance as footsteps pounded closer before he was back before me.

“Until next time.” Something covered my mouth seconds before agony ripped through me and I screamed through the tape. There was another crash and shots rang out before a thud sounded somewhere to my right but the only thing I could focus on was the pain. It was everywhere, burning, spreading. Shouts rang out soon after but I couldn’t hear them anymore, instead listening to the rushing of my pulse and feeling the numbness start in my legs. A sharp pain across my face brought me from my agony filled haze and Lacie’s features came into view.

“Stay with me girl I got you.” Her voice echoed around me as she ripped the tape off my mouth but the only thing I could do was keep shouting. The pain that was inching its way through my entire body was not something I would wish on my worst enemy. I could feel the tears stream down my cheeks and Lacie grabbed my face.

“Talk to me Sarah.”

“Silver…take out…please.” Her hands roamed over my body but the confusion in her tone only had my stomach twisting further.

“I don’t see any silver honey.” She almost sounded frantic. I screamed again and my knees buckled under me. A voice sounded off to my left but I couldn’t make out the words and then Lacie growled low in her throat.

“Oh fuck…” Yeah pretty much summed up my life right then. “Rachel go find anything to get those cuffs off her now!” Another muffled noise and footsteps echoed but the only thing I could focus on what the vampire in front of me.

“Please…” I was begging now and the pain was only getting worse and spreading along with the numbness. We were running out of time and she knew it.

“This is gonna hurt but I’ll do what I can to help ease the pain…” She trailed off and gripped my chin, “You tell anyone about this and I will kill you myself.” She was only half serious I hoped.

There was a sharp pain in my neck before a heat unlike anything I had ever felt washed over me and I couldn’t stop the moan that left my lips. But as soon as the pleasure hit me Lacie was everywhere and then the agony kicked up what felt like a million notches and I screamed as loud as my lungs would allow me to and seconds later the sweet sensation of unconsciousness claimed me.

When I woke next it was to the wonderful realization that my cuffs were gone and the agony had gone down to manageable pain. Everything hurt but it was at least something I could handle and I sighed and looked around.

“Welcome back.” Rachel’s voice drew me to her form sitting to my right, her hand clasped around a coffee cup and a smile on her face. “How ya feelin’?”

“Like total shit.” I croaked out and managed to sit up. My shoulder was bandaged and I had on decent clothes this time.

“Yeah you look like it too.” She laughed and I shot her the bird.

“Where are we?” This was not a room I recognized that was for sure. The room itself was small, fitting only a bed and chair by the window. The walls were a cream color and I could see a bathroom off to my right.

“This is Lacie’s house. You should feel honored not many people have been here but it’s the safest place we could bring you while you recovered.”

Just the mention of her name had me burning up with embarrassment. I hung my head in shame and winced when my ribs protested.

“Fuck my life…” I shot Chel a glare when she laughed, briefly contemplating throwing the pillow at her face.

“Sarah Blackwell I always thought you were a lady. Never in all my years of knowing you have I ever heard a noise of that caliber leave your lips.”

“You can drop it now and never, ever, bring it up again.” I growled as the door opened and before us stood Lacie and it took everything I had not to look away from her. I owed this woman more than just my life and she knew it. She said nothing as her eyes traveled from me to Rachel and back again before she casually leaned against the frame.

“Please someone tell me that was a nightmare and I’ve been here the entire time, not embarrassing myself in front of a thousand year old vampire.”

“Afraid not.” Lacie said matter of fact as she walked up and gripped my chin tightly. “You tell anyone, I mean anyone about what happened, and you’re going to wish you were dead. Got it?” This woman was terrifying when she was angry.

“Yes Ma’am!” I was sweating nervously when she let me go and turned back to the door.

“There is food waiting for you in the kitchen. Come down when you’re ready and we can talk about what’s going to happen next…” She trailed off and turned back to look me over one more time and this time I swear I could see a slight red in her cheeks. “Your blood…you’re a potential.” She walked out before I could respond and I was left very confused.

“What now?”

“She means your blood tasted good. Most vampires avoid drinking from wolves because they can taste the gaminess of the animal within but Alphas and even Potentials have a different taste. The blood of an Alpha is very desired by almost all vamps because of the properties it has.” Rachel explained what she could but after a minute she smirked and said we would talk about it later. I could only nod absently before my stomach let out the loudest growl I had ever heard it make and I realized then that I could literally eat a horse.

END

It’s long but I hope you all enjoy reading this :) I’d like to give credit to @fairywithajetblackheart for being my beta reader before I posted this. Without her I would have missed a lot!

#Awakening #Come at Me #my personal project #someday Ill be published #writing #syfy #werewolves #vampires #spookiness #violence is the answer to everything

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donvex · 7 years

Text

Tattoo/Flower Shop Stenbrough

Bill was always voted the most artistic

Whenever the teacher needed something drawn on the board, he could almost hear the comically cartoon-ish whipping of everyone’s heads in sync

He had learned young that while he could not always rely on his voice, that didn’t mean he couldn’t rely on his words

He started with stories, stories of ghosts and wolves and adventure

He eventually turned to comics to tell his narratives in color and action

at some point, the pictures take over the comics, and soon Bill is spending just as much time drawing in sketchbooks as he is writing out small novels in his journals

He takes to watercolor in particular, beautifully layering the ink

He goes to community college for writing, but he also knows that he needs a more stable income, too

So Bill searches for a more practical use of his talent, at least in his mind, and somehow ends up in a small tattoo parlor in Jersey

Tattoos weren’t even his passion when he found himself there, but then he starts as an apprentice, and he’s enthralled

Because every person that comes into that shop is the narrative, they are the story, and he gets to help them tell a piece of that story

His love for watercolor is definitely present in his work, he prefers color tattoos over black and white

And after a few years, he’s grown close with the owner, and taken over the shop with two other guys. with all the playful banter between them while at the shop, they kind of feel like brothers to him

(Older brothers, he thinks. or brothers of the same age. He doesn’t dare think of younger brothers, or why it was he ran from his home in Maine in the first place)

The town is cozy and familiar, he walks the same path to work each day

There’s lots of commercial stores, but the small mom and pop shops are really what stands out to him

The bakery on 7th, where every middle school girl in their town dreams of working

The organic shop that specializes in hand made soaps and fresh jams

And then there’s the flower shop, right on the corner of broad, busy and bright and always a warm welcome

Bill passes the shop, expecting to wave to the old man that runs it, but has to catch his breath instead

There’s a beautiful boy inside

That’s it, that’s all Bill can describe that moment as. a beautiful boy

He wears a light blue sweater that’s loose against his collar, with neat shoes and beige pants, and his curls

All Bill wants to do is pet his hair

And this boy looks stern, lips pressed together into a line, but if you look at his eyes you can see them sparkle

(Yes, Bill is going with sparkle.)

He lights up as he looks at all the flowers, and Bill wants to stay to find out which flowers he ends up choosing, but he can’t

He has to get to work, and he’s been stood still on the pavement in front of this flower shop for far too long to just be waving

All day at work he thinks of that boy, and to every customer that comes in without a reference, he suggests flowers to

Most of them laugh, because they know Big Bill, and Big Bill knows them - knows that flowers aren’t their style, thinks he’s pulling their leg

It happens again once later in the week, and a third time the week after

After the first, Bill looks back to see if he can catch a glimpse of a bouquet, but every time the man leaves his hands are empty

Five weeks in, Bill let’s his coworkers know he’s gonna be a little late. He’s only ever seen this man on his Monday and Wednesday morning walks, but once he knew what he was looking for, Bill starting noticing him there on those same days every week

This time he walks slowly, stops at a shop to grab tea

Coffee never really suited him

He leans against the wall next to the flower shop, pretend for a second he could be smooth, and waits for this mystery guy to come out

“Y-y-you’ve been in t-there how many times, and you n-never get any f-flowers”

The boy turns around, eyes raised and mouth flat, somehow managing to look surprised and completely exasperated all at once

“I’m sorry?”

“How am I sup-po-po-posed to know which f-flowers to buy you if you n-n-never leave with any”

Bill has never called himself smooth, but he has always been steady

He looks determined while he talks, and smiles openly

Bill is rewarded will a short “tsk” but the boy is smiling back at him, so it’s definitely a win, right?

“You don’t even know my name.”

“So t-tell me.”

“Stan.”

It’s definitely a win.

They start walking together, somehow, away from Bill’s work and back towards a cafe that Bill knows is popular for large windows and a beautiful atmosphere

“How come I’ve n-never seen you in there be-f-f-for?”

Turns out Stan was running from his own past, had only started working there three weeks ago. Before that, he was still being interviewed - as if the old man didn’t already love Stan from his flower knowledge alone

They talk for two hours, and it takes them until midway through for Bill to realize he never gave his own name

When Stan asks him what he does, Bill smiles and rolls up his sleeves, getting to show off some of his favorite pieces

Most of them are sentimental. Vague symbols that depict different parts of his life

Stan’s eyes go wide, and he enthusiastically starts asking Bill about the individual illustrations

Bill can’t believe Stan is so interested in his story, but he happily answers all of his questions

“and the ghost?”

“He thrusts his f-fist against the p-p-post, and s-still insists he sees the g-ghost”

Stan looks cute when his eyebrows scrunch together

He holds up his hand as if to signify Bill to continue.

“Just something my m-mom had me practice to t-t-try and help my s-stutter”

“It obviously worked well”

There’s no malice there, and Bill laughs, he can laugh, because here’s someone who doesn’t skirt around him, who pushes back, while still being genuinely interested in what Bill has to say

When they do leave, they shake hands, as if this was a formal meeting instead of a happenstance meeting

By the time Bill actually gets to work, everyone knows something is up, and he tries not to listen to his friends fuss over him

They know

They’ve met “flower shop boy”

Told him alllll about Bill

And Bill’s first thought is that Stan still pretended he knew nothing about Bill, nothing in the slightest

“T-that little shit!”

Everyone is laughing, and everyone is happy for Bill, because boy is Bill happy

He meets Stan again two days later, and boy, just one day seemed like agony

They start going on regular dates at casual places around town

Stan brings flowers over to Bill’s shop once every two weeks, because he knows no one else is there taking care of the plants, but the shop looks so much better with flowers in it

Eventually Stan brings over bright blue and purple succulents in addition to the flowers

Sometimes, when the schedules get flipped, Stan will bring flowers over on a day where Bill isn’t there

He’s always hesitant to leave the flowers, as if Bill won’t see them when he comes in the next day, won’t know that it was Stan that brought them over, but pride keeps him from taking his flowers and leaving

(Bill thinks this is incredibly cute, when he hears about this. He’s so far gone on this flower boy, it hurts)

When Stan hesitantly asks Bill if he’d like to accompany him outside the city to do some bird watching, Bill’s heart just fucking melts

The entire day is peaceful, and both feel like they’ve completely left behind their regular life

Bill asks Stan at some point if he’d ever get a tattoo

Bill gets a solid ‘maybe’

He asks Stan what he would get, and Stan tells him he’d get a small Bohemian Waxwing

Bill was definitely expecting a flower

But a waxwing was the first bird Stan ever identified when he was little and in the boy scouts. He’d just gotten his book, and he’d spent days outside in the cold winter air looking for birds. But there were hardly any out, and he could only flip through the pages so fast, and he definitely didn’t know birds well enough yet to not need the book

Bill is smitten

Absolutely smitten

He leans over slowly, and rolls his eyes at the slow pace before leaning in himself to meet Bill halfway

That’s their first kiss, in the gentle end-of-summer breeze, warm wind and orange sunlight dancing across their skin as their lips touch

They’re both in love, and they get to stay that way for their rest of their lives

Happy, in love, and together

#stenbrough #stanley uris #stan uris #bill denbrough #it 2017 #my writing #I was so excited to write this!!!

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joemerl · 5 years

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Julycanthropy 2019

Hey, anybody interested in the novel that I’m writing? No, guys, come back.

So, this year I learned about Julycanthropy, which is where you use a bunch of prompts to draw werewolves each day. I found several people who instead decided to use them as writing prompts, and since my novel is about werewolves it seemed like I should try something myself.

Basically, this is backstory, starting about twelve years before my story begins and ending a little before the present. Read if you’re interested, and I hope that you enjoy.

Word count: 2,865.

New Moon

Roger turned into a wolf for three days every week. It had nothing to do with the moon, as evidenced by the fact that it was almost invisible tonight.

He didn’t need the light—his wolf eyes could see excellently in the dark, and he barely even needed them with how strong his ears and nose were. But he missed the moon when it was gone. It made him feel even more lonely.

On the hunt

It was several weeks of practice before Roger first managed to take down a doe. He spent three days gorging on it before leaving almost half of its meat untouched. He felt kind of guilty about that, and afterwards mostly restricted himself to rabbits and mice. They were easier to catch, anyway.

Meal

“Can we please not talk about this during dinner?” his wife Carla asked, cutting up food for their younger son, Curtis.

Roger gave her a wooden smile, then turned back to six-year-old Randall, who had started the conversation.

“I eat rabbits because a deer is too big for just one wolf,” he said, trying to sound lighthearted about the whole thing. “But maybe I’ll catch one for the two of us once you start to change.”

There was a loud CLANK of cutlery as Carla looked up at him, nostrils flaring. Both boys recoiled in their seats, but Randall turned back to his father with cautious but curious eyes.

He forced a smile again. “...Of course, it’s always nicer when I get to eat your mom’s delicious cooking at home.”

Run

Carla was livid. “I don’t care!” she said. “I don’t want you talking about this in front of them!”

“All I’m trying to do is get Randall prepared!”

“You’re scaring him! It’s bad enough that you disappear half the week, Curtis keeps asking where you are, and Randall—”

“You can’t keep running from the facts, hon! His birthday is less than a month away! And after that—he needs to be prepared for after that,” he muttered, looking down at the floor. “He’s gonna start changing, whether we like it or not.”

She stared at him with her dark, furious glare. “And whose fault is that?” she spat.

Magic

Once upon a time, there was a mean old witch. One guy who lived in her neighborhood didn’t believe in witches. One day, he did something to make her mad—Randall didn’t know what. But the witch was so mad that cursed the man to turn into a wolf for three days every week, and then, to be extra evil, said that the same thing would happen to his sons after their seventh birthdays.

One of the girls at school said that witches weren’t actually real. Randall knew that she was wrong, just like his dad had been.

Feather

Randall and Roger got along well. They were both playful and easygoing, even now that this whole curse thing had added so much stress to their lives. Neither one of them wanted Randall to be cursed, but at least they were together for the whole week again.

Birds of a feather flock together, Roger thought that first night, as his newly seven-year-old puppy snuggled against him in their tent. Now what would that expression be for wolves?

Tranquilly

Randall had been really scared to change, even though his dad kept saying that it wouldn’t be scary. But it was scary, and it hurt, and now he was a wolf and it felt weird and he was sad that Mom and Curtis were at home while he was stuck here in the woods.

But he was with Dad, in a tent that they had constructed together back when they had hands. So he laid his head against his father’s furry chest and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the forest. His dad nuzzled his face, and slowly he began to feel safe.

Rage

One week before, Roger had been alone in the forest, getting ready to transform, thinking about his son joining him the following week. He slammed a fallen branch against the nearest tree trunk and screamed bloody murder at the sky. Even when he was in wolf form he howled and bit himself and threw himself against the ground, cursing that witch and himself for what they had done to his family.

Relaxation

Neither father nor son ever completely relaxed in the forest, trapped in bodies that were never quite their own. Randall felt much happier at home, snuggling with his parents in front of the TV or playing games with Curtis.

Bones

Roger taught Randall to hunt over the coming months, and soon deer had replaced rabbits as their prey of choice. Either way, two wolves ate a lot, and the area where they made camp was collecting quite a large number of gnawed-up animal bones.

One hunting expedition went wrong, however, and Randall wound up with a broken front leg. He hobbled on it for a day and a half, mewling in agony, before he could finally turn back into a human. He still had a broken arm, and they couldn’t even go to the doctor for it. His mom wrapped and unwrapped it each time he changed for the next few weeks, all while shooting furious looks at his father, who stared guiltily at his feet.

Escape

“But how do you break the curse?” Curtis asked shortly after his sixth birthday.

“I don’t—I don’t think there is a way to break it, Curt.”

“But there’s gotta be.”

He never fully gave up that goal.

Snarl

Carla and Roger’s relationship had never been idyllic, and the curse added an extra strain. It was a rare fight when she didn’t remind him what he had done to their children, or how it felt being abandoned for three days every week.

Over time it became clear that Curtis took after his mother. He had the same mercurial personality and the same hatred of lycanthropy. He started to acting out to Roger more and more as his seventh birthday approached, and could often be found cuddling up with Carla, the two sharing their frustrations about the family’s situation.

Claws

Curtis seemed nervous but calm on the drive down the forest, listening to his father and brother reassure him that everything would be alright.

When the change actually started, however, he clawed at his skin in agony, begging for some way to keep it from happening.

Paws

Wolves have five toes on each front paw, but only four on the back. That meant that one toe sort of just disappeared every time they changed.

Curtis counted his toes every time he turned back into a human, no matter how much his father mocked him about it.

(“Huh? I didn’t mock him,” Roger said, surprised and hurt by his wife’s accusation. “I just chuckled a little. I thought it was cute!”)

Nature

“Look, I know it’s hard. Really, I do,” Randall whispered, kneeling down to look his little brother in the eye. “But...this is just how it us for us Packwood men. You’ll get used to it soon. I promise.”

Curtis didn’t even look at his brother, just glared down at the coffee table. “I don’t want to be used to it. I want to be normal again.”

Waxing

Things got better for a while. Curtis still hated changing, even more than Roger or Randall, but he did get used to it. He spent his first weekend pretty much just lying on the ground and shaking, but after a few more weeks he would run around, wrestle and howl with the others, and they learned a few tricks to help bring him out of his shell as both a human and as a wolf.

Carla had been miserable when Curtis started to change, both for him and because of her own loneliness. Baby Con helped with that. Obviously she complained about having taking care of him alone half the week, but he kept her busy and became quite the cheery little mama’s boy as the years wore on.

Waning

“I hate hunting,” Curtis said, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

Randall forced a smile, giving him a playful push on the shoulder. “Aw, but you’re so good at it. Much better than me or Dad!”

Curtis scowled. He was only eleven, but was already in the sullen teenage phase that had largely bypassed his fifteen-year-old brother.

Things between their parents were getting bad too. They were fighting a lot more lately, with their mom often close to tears and their father just looking tired. Eventually the two separated, but Randall kept telling himself that it was only temporary. The two seemed even more miserable when they were apart; they cared about each other too much to not reconcile eventually.

Chained

Though he was no longer living with the family, Roger came over every week to pick up Randall and Curtis so that they could go into the woods to change.

Then one week, he didn’t.

Carla drove them, sighing and seething the whole ride to the forest. This wasn’t fair, she thought, glancing at her sons in the rear-view mirror. Roger was the one of who got them cursed---why did they still have to do this even when he was gone?

Howl

Randall insisted that their father had just had car trouble, or lost his phone, or something. He would be there when they got to the woods. Or show up sometime during the weekend.

“Liar,” was the first word Curtis said when they turned back into humans on Sunday.

Randall said the same thing, with less conviction, when they went to the forest the following week. And once again, their father failed to show. Curtis went to sleep in their tent, but Randall stood outside as though waiting for him to show up.

Halfway through the night, he stared up at the new moon and howled.

Sharp

Occasionally, the boys transformed at home, usually for birthdays or holidays. This time, Carla came into the living room and was shocked to see five-year-old Con stabbing Curtis with a knife.

Gently, on the front leg, as Curtis sat there and let him. As she screamed at them, Con yelled that Curtis had asked him to cut him before he transformed, because he read that making a werewolf bleed would turn them back into a human. He had been studying a lot of old legends like that, trying to find something that would finally break the curse.

Large

Con couldn’t understand why Curtis didn’t want to be a werewolf, of course. He loved the rare weekends when his brothers transformed at home, when he could cuddle up beside wolf-Randall and wrestle with him around the house. Everybody said that he might not be a werewolf, since he was born after the witch cursed his dad, but all Con wanted was to grow up and be a big-boy werewolf like his brothers and hang out with them every time they changed.

Slick

Nobody outside of the family knew about the curse, of course. Their neighbors simply thought that the boys enjoyed camping, a story which Curtis rather expertly maintained to his best friend, Dennis, who lived next door.

Of course, “camping” seemed like a pretty poor excuse to miss church every Sunday, even if they attended the Wednesday night services, so Pastor Gerig was under the impression that they visited family each weekend. Carla could even count on five-year-old Con to cheerfully keep up the ruse.

She knew she should be more worried about that, but she didn’t really see any other option.

Space

Practically every night that he was a wolf, Randall would sit on his favorite rock and gaze up at the stars. Curtis couldn’t understand how he found this so entertaining.

Clock

Sundown on Thursdays is when they transformed. Curtis spent all day checking the clock, dreading when he and Randall would have to go out into the woods, and then all day Sunday watching the sun, waiting for it to go down enough that they could change back again.

Climb

“Can werewolves climb trees?” Con asked, sitting in the boughs of the one near their house.

“Sure, little cub,” said Randall, who was sitting with his back against the trunk. “It’s a bit harder than doing it with hands, though.”

Con hung upside-down from the branch, his long hair nearly reaching the top of Randall’s head. “When I turn into a wolf, will you and Curtis teach me how to do it?”

“If you turn into a wolf one day, sure.”

Con scowled at that qualification.

Broken

One weekend, their mom told Curtis and Randall to stay home. She wouldn’t explain why, just browbeat them until they agreed.

Changing at home was a mixed bag. On the one hand, they didn’t have to go hunting, instead eating steak and hamburger (and eating so much that staying home every week wasn’t really an option). On the other, their more wolfish instincts compelled them to roam around the woods, so that just sitting and watching TV all day made them feel tense and confined.

Randall spent most of Friday and Saturday playing with Con, letting him ride on his back or having wrestling matches on the couch (which always ended with Randall pinning him and licking his face, to Con’s delight). Curtis moped all weekend because of course he did, but Con put on one of his favorite movies and read to keep him entertained. Overall Randall thought that it was a pretty nice weekend.

Until they changed back Sunday night, and their mom finally worked up the courage to tell them what the doctor had told her.

Pain

“The last thing I wanna see is one of you boys in pain.”

Curtis doesn’t like to think about the days surrounding his mother’s death.

Smoke

Randall was eighteen, and now his brothers’ legal guardian. Thanks to the curse, Curtis moving to the city with their grandparents wasn’t doable, and Con was understandably terrified at the idea of moving there alone.

The next few months were difficult, obviously, but Randall did a good job of keeping things together. He couldn’t get a normal job, since normal jobs generally require working more than four days per week, but he managed to scrounge up enough money, barely, to get by. He comforted Con when he cried. He tried to give Curtis space, though his efforts on that front were shakier than he would have liked.

With his lazy smile and laidback tone, you barely could tell how lost he felt, groping ahead as he stumbled along, his lungs sometimes burning every time that he breathed—

Discovery

Con began to accompany his brothers on their camping trips every week.

It was the first time that he had every actually watched them transform, and the first time that he had been allowed to play with them as wolves outside. It meant three days every week when he got to run around through the trees with Randall, climb trees with Randall and listen to Randall howl up at the sky. (Curtis, of course, spent most of his time moping around on the ground, because he’s boring.) Sometimes he got to see them hunt, which was scary but also exciting, and then eat, which was gross but also exciting. (Con had a backpack full of snacks and sandwiches for himself.)

Then at night he would read the bedtime story, since neither of them could talk, and then curl up beside them to go to sleep. If he got scared or sad about Mom then Randall would lick his tears away and play with him some more. It was great.

Con was counting the weeks until his seventh birthday, when he would finally find out if he would turn into a werewolf too.

Home

Con chattered happily the whole ride home as Curtis sat in moody silence. He was having one of those almost dysphoric moments that he got on Sunday nights, when his own human body felt strange after three days as a wolf.

Three miserable days with nothing to do, unless he wanted to run around and howl at the sky like his two idiot brothers.

Once they got home Curtis made a beeline for the bathroom and took a long, hot shower. Then he stumbled into his room (which used to be Randall’s room, before Randall moved into the master bedroom) and collapsed onto his mattress. He lied there for a long time, trying not to think, trying not to remember that he had to do this whole damn thing again in four days.

Full moon

Five days later, Randall was sitting on his favorite rock, looking up at the sky again.

The moon was full. It looked nice. Seemed comforting, somehow. Reminded him of when he used to sit up here with Dad.

But it also made him feel wistful. Reminded him of all those stupid werewolf stories, the ones that Curtis still vigorously tore through trying to find some cure for their curse. He envied the werewolves in those stories. They only had to change one night per month, after all.

#Werewolf #Julycanthropy #Werewolves #Bisclavret #The Bisclavret Brothers #The OTHER novel that I'm supposedly writing

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captainignatiuspigheart · 4 years

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Oosh, where has the time gone? It’s hard to figure out whether it’s the weeks or the weekends that go by faster. Either way, they’re going nuts and I’m waaaay behind on my weekly updates. I’ve noted this for the last couple of weeks, sighed, and discovered that it’s now Thursday or something equally ridiculous. And of course, the longer this goes on, the more I have to write and the more impossible it becomes. I guess I’ll have to draw a line under it… This week you’ll only be seeing the things I gave a damn about from the last couple of weeks because otherwise I’ll never finish!

A Rare Moment of Self-Reflection

What I should do is to think a little about why I’m now struggling to do this. In part it’s because this exercise was great at the beginning of lockdown, and gave me a focus. Now, of course, I have a fucktonne of work to do and things are sort of ramping up in other areas of life, like occasionally seeing people in the flesh and stuff. A number of things have helped me keep it together for the last 129 days (I think) of working at home: work, obviously, is my primary routine and aiming to go for a cycle ride beforehand really frames my day. Every Thursday for ages (forever? Who knows) I’ve been hosting a virtual pub for our MissImp weekly regulars (and folks from further afield too, which has been amazing) which has filled my regular evening out slot nicely. Then there’s been the fortnightly We Are What We Overcome webcasts, and the quick chats we have on the off weeks. That handful of regular activity has been great.

I try to keep these posts going because of something we talked about in one of our podcasts: if I’m depressed, I can’t remember any good things I’ve ever done, and if I’m all perky and up then I don’t care about remembering what I’ve been doing. Right now I’m mostly pretty chipper, largely a consequence of being busy and having acquired lots of LEGO recently, so this doesn’t feel important in the same way it did a few months ago. That’s a tricky place for me to be in, because despite occasional dips into glum days, I think I’ve been upbeat for a while now. The longer I’m upbeat, the less likely it feels that I’ll go down, or that I’ll worry about crashing. And that’s actually a decent indicator that I’m going to have a bit of a crash. Keeping track is the whole damn point! Must make more time.

Anyway… what have I been up to? Well, we’ve seen real live humans on both the last Saturdays, partly in attempt to normalise the new normal, or whatever the pre-second wave era is called, and partly because it turns out that folk want to see us, which is very nice and reassuring. Messing about with my sister and nieces at Highfields Park was a rather fun afternoon, as was eating and drinking at Dovecote Lane park last weekend. That bandstand is perfect, other than it’s brutish tarmac flooring. As I have alluded to earlier, I’m also quite busy at work as we race for the print deadlines for October titles, commission more and more artwork and do general bookstuff. It’s ace really, but is certainly filling my days tightly. We’re not likely to see the office for another month, and that’s OK with me.

I’ve been a rather busy LEGO person too, albeit more “busy” in the sense of “buying” than making much. I did join a LUG though, the Brick Central LEGO User Group. I’ve thought about it a lot over the last couple of years, and though I’m not sure how much time I could feasibly put into big displays and conventions, I’m interested in finding out. Also I got neat printed bricks and bits and pieces when I signed up, so I’m happy with that. I took advantage of the LEGO double VIP points last week to pick up a “few” things, from cute little LEGO Dots and baby dinosaurs to the massive Pirates of Barracuda Bay set. It is all very exciting! I’ve got some random builds I need to take some decent photos of and share them too.

Big Stuff

Little Stuff

Big Stuff

Watching: The Order, season 2

I can’t deny that this is a low-rent Teen Wolf crossed with the Chilling Adventures of Sabrina the Teenage Witch, themselves low-rent versions of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and so many more. I remembered nothing of the previous season, even when we saw the “last time on this thing”, and would have sworn I’d never seen it at all. Nonetheless, this proved to be effective brain chewing entertainment while eating, in the sense of it noticeably degrading one’s braincells. Daft witch academy with neighboring anti-magic werewolves (who turn out to have previously been the witches’ bodyguard or something), but the wolves have all been tricked into being witches, or something. It doesn’t really matter – the entire show is redeemed by the delightful relationship between the four werewolves, which feels very much like how I felt about my university housemates: loving, occasionally fighty and laced with sarcasm and alcohol. Shame the lady werewolf ended up in hell this season. I’m sure I won’t remember this next time either, but if I can be persuaded to watch season 3 I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.

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Reading: The Kingdom Beyond the Waves by Stephen Hunt

Continuing the really quite wacky steampunk series set in a far-future with multiple species of human (Craynarbians are splendid shelled folk, for example), steammen, and wild action adventure. I have insufficient time to summarise this one, but it covers an Atlantis-alike ancient city in the sky, infernal plots of genius industrialists to take over government, a frightening Borg-like jungle species, savage feral robots, submarine journeys, and so much more. The whole series is an absolute blast and I’m enjoying re-reading them enormously. Get on it.

Building: LEGO Overwatch Watchpoint: Gibraltar #75975

While I still have almost no idea what Overwatch is (yeah, yeah, I know it’s a game, and my friend Sam has a nice summary on Overwatch here), but I adore the LEGO sets. I’ve had my eye on this one solely because it features a gorilla in a spacesuit. Now that it’s reaching the end of its shelf-life “Watchpoint: Gibraltar” has become more affordable, and on a midnight whim (always the best time to buy LEGO) I ordered…

The minifigs are an utter delight! Check out Pharah (in blue) with that gorgeous gold visor, and Mercy (admittedly with the usual pink-printed-on-black face which never really works that well) with a lovely hair/hat element and lovely printed torso and legs, plus the rather ominous Reaper. I’m guessing he’s the bad guy. The gorilla is apparently named “Winston”. I hadn’t noticed that he’s wearing glasses, but he’s rather charming either way.

The build is pretty straightforward: you make a spaceship, which has a couple of separating sections, and the cool but not very exciting gantry/rocket leaning post thing. The spaceship itself is a satisfyingly sleek affair, with cleverly connected sections and very neat work on making the hatch fit flush. Building it felt like a wonderful flashback to my childhood, making largely flat spaceships that feel a little like this, but much less good.

The whole thing looks very pretty, but is inconveniently tall for anywhere I want to put it…

Watching: Derry Girls, season 2

Just marvelous. I can’t recommend this show enough, and I’m thrilled that there’s a third season on the way. Set in, um, Derry, in the 90s, this teenage sitcom is pretty much perfect. In keeping with non-American TV shows about teenagers, this lot actually look like real teenagers – the scowl game is extraordinary. The relationships and dialogue are brilliant, and you can’t help but love them all a little bit. The parents are savage and equally funny (finding Bill Clinton is a particular joy). The costumes are bang-on 90s-hideous and the soundtrack makes me unusually nostalgic. My only complaint is that there aren’t enough episodes. Not even close. Apparently Netflix screwed up and released this early, so it’s not available any more. Sorry folks!

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Building: LEGO Jurassic World Dr Wu’s Lab: Baby Dinosaur Breakout #75939

Jesus Christ, baby dinosaurs! How was I ever supposed to resist? Reader, I did not. Clearly.

Like many of the licensed sets, especially the Jurassic World theme, there isn’t a lot to this. That said, the build is drawn out by the usual agony of applying stickers to transparent elements, and my desire to get them mostly straight had me turning on extra lights and teasing them into place with a scalpel. The egg turning machine is pleasing, and although I was complaining about applying the stickers, this is a set where they really do shine. The details in them are lovely, from the laptop screen to all the heads up displays, they’re adorable, and I’ll have to find more uses for them.

The figures are reliably cool, and I really like the LEGO Friends elements such as the baby feeding bottle sneaking into the mainstream LEGO sets. Dr Wu has the most cunning expression, just like in the movies! But none of this matters – all shall be recycled for parts except for the ADORABLE baby triceratops and even babier ankylosaur. Just so goddamn cute. I couldn’t be happier.

Watching: What We Do in the Shadows, season 2

A show that completely revels in its own stupidity with enormous commitment, we caned this in a single sitting too. Colin, the energy vampire, continues to be my personal favourite, but they’re all pretty great idiots. I’m delighted that the main storyline has turned out to be Guillermo’s, as he learns of his vampire-hunting past and wonders about his future, killing vampires while still being a dedicated familiar. Wonderful nonsense.

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Doing: We Are What We Overcome – Fortnightly Mental Health Check-In

We reflected a little on how life has changed with a whole fortnight of being allowed to go to the pub… And here’s the link for next week’s chat.

Watching: Warrior Nun

This is dreadful. OK, that’s not entirely fair, but it’s definitely mostly fair. This is the story of a bunch of nuns who are warriors (duh), fighting demons and stuff. One of the nuns always has an angel’s halo embedded in their back, which makes them a sin-fighting superhero. When a mission goes badly tits up, the warrior nuns rip the halo out of their dead leader and stick it in a recently dead girl… She comes back to life, no longer paraplegic, but certainly perplexed about why she’s alive, why she has superpowers (kinda), and why she should give a shit about the Catholic church. Sounds fun, right. The trailer looks pretty fun too, and there are about 25 minutes of great stuff spread across the entire show, with some fun fights, laughable CGI demons, the one good character (Shotgun Mary) who appears to be in another, much better, show. But the rest of it is bogged down by impossibly tedious exposition where characters literally open books and read endless passages from them, or an agonisingly dull romance, in which the most exciting bits are them sitting on a ferry. The show almost redeems itself with a final heist episode but by that point it’s so laden with cack that I couldn’t bring myself to care. You may enjoy it though.

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Doing: MissImp’s Virtual Drop-In – Roberto Lewis

More great and splendid video content right here, on one of my favourite topics — coming in with nothing! (I mean, favourite because I cannot plan…)

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Last Week: The Order, The Kingdom Above the Waves, Warrior Nun, Derry Girls, LEGO Overwatch and Jurassic World, We Are What We Overcome and more… I’m quite behind. #books #tv #LEGO #stuff https://wp.me/pbprdx-8GV Oosh, where has the time gone? It’s hard to figure out whether it’s the weeks or the weekends that go by faster.

#baby dinosaurs #book review #Derry Girls #Jackelian series #lego #Lego Jurassic World #LEGO Overwatch #lockdown activities #Netflix #retail therapy #Stephen Hunt #The Order #TV review #Warrior Nun #We Are What We Overcome #What We Do In the Shadows

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