#i see 1 magic circus and go feral

[demonboydaydream]

I desperately need a night circus/desperado podcast nova circus crossover

#is this too niche #i see 1 magic circus and go feral #desperado podcast #the night circus #erin morgenstern

[wolfeyedwitch]

1, 4, 10, & 17 for the Weird Questions for Writers! <3 - TheCityThatDoesntSleep

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

I used to write in Book Antiqua, because I like how it looks. Then I stopped switching from the default in Google Docs, which is Arial, and it turns out I write so much faster when what I'm writing doesn't look like a finished book about to be published? I have no idea why. I just happened to learn that during Whumptober 2021 when I was writing too fast to bother changing the font, so now that's what I use.

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

Irregardless. Just writing it out makes me grind my teeth a little. It's just wrong. In the sense that it literally is wrong, gramatically, but also that it just hurts my soul.

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

The pieces of writing that are coming to mind are books: Ballad by Maggie Stiefvater, and The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern. To me that means they've stuck with me through the years as something that still strikes home, still makes me feel so intensely. They both give me this intense longing for something, like a homesickness for a place I've never been.

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

So the only WIP that has this amount of detail and history to it is one I haven't discussed too much. It's my OC Corva's story. It takes place in the same universe as "No Prisoners"; I actually started writing "No Prisoners" as a way to help troubleshoot some worldbuilding that was not cooperating. And this got long, so it's going under a readmore.

As for what won't make it into the text? Heck if I know; I'm still doing a shitton of research for how to write the damn thing in the first place. Corva's backstory is lab whump, but it's a lab that actually has rules and regulations in place. Which means I need to figure out the way the rules and regulations fall short of actually helping her, because her start in life isn't actually all that great.

Corva is actually a clone, magically created in a lab. (This world is a horrifying amalgam of sci-fi and fantasy and I will drag you all with me as I descend into madness writing it.) The elven experimenters had a willing participant who allowed herself to be cloned, because she was interested in being part of the research team too and being a human on an elven research team is a difficult task to accomplish. So she signed all the necessary paperwork to let herself be cloned.

Here's where things get complicated.

Cloning is not actually a difficult process. People have been doing it for centuries in this world as a way of testing medicines on themselves-but-not-themselves, if you get what I mean. The problem is that artificially created beings are basically empty shells. They're in a persistent vegetative state. No brain activity.

No soul.

Magic in this world works because of hand-wavey connections between souls and spirits that I'm not going to explain here (but will probably explain in "No Prisoners" in the not too distant future of that series, so. Eh.). The point is that souls give off energy that they can detect magically, and mages' souls are tied more loosely to their body than mundanes'. The experiment was to see if the mage that they cloned could create a connection with a similar soul to her own, and basically pull it into the empty cloned body that they had ready for it.

Well, the mage managed to pull a soul. It just didn't go into the cloned body.

It went into the mage's own body.

So, where did the mage's soul go? No one is quite sure, because the cloned body should by all rights have a soul in it. It was a nice empty vessel right there for a soul to inhabit! No one is quite sure why it didn't work! The cloned body is displaying different readings than before, but not nearly enough to be considered anything but comatose.

That body gets put into long-term storage. (Basically cryo.) Now the attention turns to the actually inhabited body.

See, the researchers were expecting to get back their research partner/experimental subject of the mage, and have a docile, confused new consciousness that they could interrogate talk to and study.

This is not what happened.

The being who would eventually name herself Corva woke up scared and in pain, strapped down to a table (for safety reasons for the mage, of course, wouldn't want her injuring herself if something happened during the experiment), surrounded by people she didn't know. She immediately panicked.

Her magic responded to the panic by attempting to destroy what had scared her. Aka the lab.

In this world, there are 6 elements that a mage can control. The four basic elements—air, water, earth, fire—are by far the most common. But there are two others that occur very rarely. Like once in a generation rarely. The mages of these elements are generally stronger than typical mages, and their elemental control allows them to live for (at least theoretically, because it hasn't exactly been tested) forever.

These elements are light/life, which is seen as a good omen, leading to light mages being almost worshipped. And shadow, which is connected to death. People are not all that tolerant of shadow mages; there was actually a purge not too long ago (a few centuries) where all the known shadow mages were found and killed.

This is, of course, ridiculous. Light mages can be horrifically destructive, and shadow mages can be excellent healers. It's all about the angle you approach the problem from. Cancer is just life that's out of control, and who better to hold off death than a mage that controls it?

Yeah, that argument hasn't made much headway in popular opinion.

So. Corva is a mage. Of the six elements, guess which type.

If you guessed the one that automagically makes people hate and fear her, you guessed correctly! She's a shadow mage.

But wait! There's more!

See, not only is Corva a shadow mage, she's a shadow mage without a familiar. In this world, all mages have a spirit as a familiar. The spirit is of the element they can control. So if you see someone doing magic without a familiar? The assumption won't be that the person is a mage. The assumption will be that the person is possessed by a spirit.

So yeah. There's a large number of people in the lab that straight up think Corva is a demon. There are even academic papers published on both sides of the argument, whether she's a demon (the colloquial term for a spirit possessing a mortal body) or a really, really strange mage.

Hey, they were messing with forces they didn't fully understand. Why wouldn't they get something new and strange out of it?

Being an untrained and very powerful mage, Corva can't exactly be set loose in the community. She's held in the lab—for everyone's safety, including hers, of course! And once she's learned control? Well... that's when the loopholes and everything come in.

(Aka more research needed. I need to research more. But yeah. They aren't just going to let their most interesting research project of the millennium just leave.)

---

All of which is a very long-winded explanation of who Corva is, and why she has sooooo many issues. Anyone who made it this far, great job! Wanna learn some more about the world and its inhabitants as a reward?

The world, called Arcadia, is a hotspot of magic because it's the pet project of the six major spirits of the world, the aspects of each element. They're not gods, and they don't have the same morality as mortals (catch-all term for non-spirit sapient beings). But they are endlessly curious and enjoy seeing how things play out. They made this world a torus, basically a donut shape. Theoretically it could happen naturally, but it's extremely unlikely to be stable in the long run, though there are stable toroidal configurations for planets.

(Did I spend a long time searching about this? Do I have an entire folder of bookmarks about this research? Yes. Yes I do.)

So the planet is shaped like a donut because the not-actually-gods wanted a more interesting shape than just another sphere. Their interest and meddling in the planet is what makes it more likely to have mages born there than anywhere else in the universe.

Toroidal planets have more areas of temperature differences (4 poles and 4 hot regions, with enough axial tilt to the planet) and just really fascinating fluctuations in gravity compared to spherical ones. This led to a large variety of life evolving on the planet. There are two main sapient life forms that evolved. One is a short, stocky species that lives in the higher gravitational areas and tends to reside underground. They are known as the dwarves. The other is a tall species that lives in the lower gravitational areas, braving the harsh weather and placing strong values on community and survival. My working name for them is the tarashi, but often in my head they get referred to as the not-orcs because well, they're not orcs, but there are a good bit of overlapping features!*

*(Okay what actually happened is that the worldbuilding originally was done by a friend of mine, and I just inherited it. He wanted to have more typical fantasy races: trolls and orcs, along with the dwarves and elves and humans. I decided that was too much, collapsed his ideas for both species into one, and have been trying to find a better name for them than not-orcs since then.)

But Lunar! I hear you say. That doesn't include elves or humans, and you already talked about those!

Yes, well spotted dear reader! That's because neither elves nor humans originally evolved on Arcadia. I haven't worked out all the details on this, but they originally evolved elsewhere and have a common ancestor. (Yes, this means that half-elves are possible. Half-dwarves and half-not-orcs are not, not without some serious magical DNA manipulation, because the species are not related to humans at all.) They... didn't get along all that well. Elven experimentation on humans has a very long history, and it used to be even less ethical than it is now. (Toying with the idea of humans formerly being used as slave labor for the elves, but I would have to make sure that's written sensitively and I'm not sure I'm up to the task.)

How did they end up on Arcadia? I don't know. Haven't decided. But the planet they originally came from has been forgotten, or destroyed, and this fact will probably never show up in the actual writing.

---

This story is near and dear to my heart, and I've done a lot of work researching and planning and building for it. But I want to give credit where it's due: none of this was originally mine. I had a friend who dreamed all this up when he was back in high school and kept building on it from there. He sadly committed suicide a little over a year ago, and left his world in my care. I swing wildly between wanting to keep it preserved like a shrine to him, and gleefully tearing down stuff that he didn't think through very well and replacing it with my own work built off the same ideas but better planned because if he didn't want me to do that, he should have stuck around!!! I will probably never be able to say what's entirely mine and what's entirely his, because he had invited me to be a co-author on his book set in this world even before he passed, and I did a lot of brainstorming and worldbuilding with him while he was alive.

So yeah. This story means a lot to me, but it can also be really hard because of all that went into me getting here.

#worldbuilding #writing #writing is hard #ask game #asks answered #corva the shadow mage #corva the lab rat #arcadia #arcadia worldbuilding #arcadia rambling #mentioned human experimentation #mentioned suicide #irl shit #long post

[nonobadcat]

Yandere Mr. Compress X F! Reader

Rating: Explicit - for readers 18+ only 8 chapter story

Summary: Six months into your relationship with the "Incredible Mr. Compress", your future seems as bright as the stage lights under which he makes his name. However, your best friend, Harada Yumiko, has her doubts about this "perfect" stranger who seems to have magically appeared in your life. While he continues to shower you with increasingly serious affections, Yumiko's words make you start to ponder one thing: How much do you really know about Sako Atsuhiro?

TW: Rape, breeding/pregnancy kink, condom failure, unwanted pregnancy, discussions of abortion, stalking. A consensual relationship that devolves into non-con.

Dedicated to Miss_Mystery3

Chapter 1 Excerpt:

"So then tell me, my friend..." Her eyes flashed. "When were you going to tell me about this new man in your life?"

You gulped and sunk back into your seat. Your eyes rolled to the floor. "Ummmm…. Eventually?"

She tapped the table hard enough to make her manicure click. "I had to find out from my driver that my best friend was dating some sort of actor." She laid her head upon her forehead and swooned like a grandmother confronted with a store-bought version of her best dish. "Do you know how that made me feel?"

You twirled your thumbs around each other. "Sorry… you've been so busy lately..."

She smacked the wooden veneer and sneered at you. “I demand details!” She pointed a finger at your nose and narrowed her eyes. “Where did you meet him?"

You cast a thumb over your shoulder. "At a little bar down the street."

She frowned. "A bar? Didn't anyone ever tell you that you'll never meet a good man at a bar."

You shrugged. "Well, he was performing and then he asked me out later." You scratched your cheek. "So it wasn't technically in the bar..."

She fanned herself. "I cannot believe I'm hearing this." She grasped you by the shoulders. "He sounds sketchy! Break up with him, now."

You laughed. “Yumi-chan, you don’t even know him!”

She crossed her arms and huffed. “Is he even cute?”

You licked your lips and a gooey smile appeared on your face. Your cheeks glowed with embarrassed heat. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your cell phone. The lock screen background was a picture of yourself and a handsome man. The two of you had sappy grins on your face. You were making two V-shaped hands just beside your jaw and pouting your lips. He flashed a single set of bunny ears behind your head. His cheek was leaned into your scalp and the other arm was wrapped around your shoulders. His face was a perfect heart with boyish piles of soft brown waves piled on his head. Chocolate brown eyes seemed nearly molten in the hazy light. Instead of looking at the camera, they were looking at you.

Yumiko looked utterly dumbfounded. She stared from you to the picture and back again. Then a sullen frown tugged the corners of her mouth down.

You giggled. “I know, right? He’s super hot.” You rocked from side to side, clasping your hands together. “I still don’t know what he sees in me but I feel stupid lucky to have him.”

She handed your phone back to you and rolled her eyes. “There’s a catch.” She waved her hand dismissively and gave you a wicked side-eye. “I mean, sure he’s hot and all but don’t the circumstances seem a little suspicious to you?”

You cocked your head. "What do you mean, Yumi-chan?"

“I mean you met this guy at a dive bar right?” she asked.

“It wasn’t a dive bar!” You turned your head and poked your index fingers into each other until they arched. Embarrassed eyes found their way to the floor as you shuffled your feet. Out of the corner of your mouth, you muttered: “It was an open mic night.”

“Oh gee, open mic night.” She rolled her eyes. “So much classier.”

You shrugged sheepishly. “Look, I know your ex-”

A dark cloud fell over her face. She gritted her teeth and growled. “Can you just not?”

You winced and waved your hands apologetically. “Sorry! Sorry!”

Your friend crossed her arms and stared down her nose at you. “...besides, we’re talking about your love life, not mine.”

Your lips fell into a frown and your eyes rolled to the side.  It wasn’t like you really wanted to talk about it. She was the one that brought it up all of a sudden.

“How much do you know about him anyway?”

Your eyes sparkled. You began to tick off your fingers "Well… he's blood type B; he used to be part of a circus act with his grandfather." You grinned into the palm of your hand and practically squealed. "Oh my gosh! The third time we went on a date he pulled a bouquet of red tulips out of a hat! How romantic is that?!"

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I mean, how much do you really know about him? About his family? His friends?

You paused, mouth drawing tight. “...that’s…” You forced a grin to hide the queasy feeling flopping around in your stomach. “I mean…” You flipped your hand back and force as an uneasy laugher cracked from your throat like a bull frog’s croak. “Well… you know I wanted to take things kinda slow-”

“Are you having sex with him?”

Your fake smile froze on your face.

She groaned. “Oh, honey... If you’re doing the deed he isn’t taking it slow.” She narrowed her brows. “If the guy gets the milk without buying the cow-”

You gripped your upper arm and pursed your lips. “Yumiko,” you whined. “That’s super sexist!” You prodded your fingers. “Besides, the sex is fine with me. The part I wish he’d slow down is how serious he is about us.”

“What do you mean?”

You frowned and leveled her with a serious stare. “He told me he loved me after only three dates.”

Yumiko set her mimosa down and sat up straight. “That’s a bit fast.”

You nodded and ran your hand through your hair. “I told him it was too much-”

Yumiko cut you off. “And let me guess? He was all like…” She threw her voice into a fake deep murmur which made your IQ drop by several points. “...but baby because I love you I just wanna try anal once. Plleeeeeaassssseeeee.” Then she scoffed and took a large gulp of her drunk. With a dark glower, she snarled: “Men really are animals after all.”

Your eyes went wide and you waved your hands frantically. “Oh no! Nothing like that!” You folded your hands into your lap and squirmed in the chair. Your thumbs danced around each other like two cats in a fight. A warmth filled your cheeks as you bit your lip. “Actually, he was super understanding. He said it was in his nature to live fast but that he would absolutely respect my feelings on the matter.”

Yumiko’s jaw dropped. “You’re not serious?!” She slumped into her hand and groaned. “You actually believed him?! No guy is really that nice!”

Read the rest at Archive of Our Own

@awkward-confused @raygard-elvets @somechick30003 @thicchaco @shigashigashig @teachillvibes

@sadlynikki @the-midnight-slasher-thot @questylousqueer @lynaminroll @crackheadwithtoes @crispyathletepurseduck @shadyfarmcookiefish @bouncing-bunnie @serenesong @kirishimaisthatbitch @oikawascakee @brialoveskbtbb @lisajamie99 @lilypadofthelake @softdumpling @neutralchaosintheworld @asianchubs @lovely92sworld @feral-creep @arie1107 @razormoon

@serenesong @edensblog101703 @all4one @wifeofhandvillain @fallen-baron

@rare-yanderes -though Idk if this is rare enough for you

#yandere x reader #yandere Mr. Compress x reader #yandere mr. compress #yandere sako atsuhiro #yandere sako atsuhiro x reader #second person pov #yandere x you #bnha x reader #bnha yandere #mr. compress #bnha x y/n #mr. compress x reader #sako atsuhiro #sako atsuhiro x reader #bnha x female reader #reader insert #bnha x you #mha x y/n #yandere mha #yandere bnha x reader #female reader

[theleagueof13]

Rewriting the Entirety of SGE: The School Years

All of this is solely up to my own preference. Yes, some parts may be messy because I am inexperienced. I don’t even know what a plot is. Here we go.

I didn’t have any major problem with Book 1 until Agatha’s Glow Up, so we’re starting there.

Canon: Agatha realizes she was beautiful all along and literally two minutes later Tedros falls in love with her.

However, I think it would’ve been so much more impactful if she simply changed her perspective on her “ugliness” from a negative light to an objective standpoint.

We already know that Agatha is badass, so I think she should view herself that way. Insecurity is nothing if she amounts her features to the raw human ability that they possess. Her frame is tall and skinny because she’s athletic, her big eyes serve her the purpose of seeing. Agatha may not be pretty, but every bone in her body was made so that she could eat, breathe, laugh, fight, do parkour around School for Evil.

It’s obvious that Ever Girls only care about their appearance because they want to impress boys (in School for Girls, they are shown as letting themselves go). Agatha is characterized as having no interest in boys, and therefore she doesn’t need to be pretty in the first place. Now, I know that princesses need a prince in order to have their fairytale, but Agatha already thinks that’s bullshit -- why not go against it?

Also, this is extremely minor, but I'd rather have Agatha have some kind of deformity, like a cleft lip or crooked spine. It would really sell the idea that she was different. As a kid, even if Soman screamed in my face that Agatha was canonically ugly, I couldn’t imagine how she could be if the features she was described with were SO normal. Of course, her deformity remains throughout the book, because that is Not Cool if it’s magically removed.  

I’ve said this before in my I Don’t Really Like Agatha post, and I’ll say it again. She is ungrateful for the opportunity she could have at School for Good. I’d literally kill to be there, I’d sit through every mind-numbing, subtly sexist class about smiling and posture just so I could practice magic, and I’m sure a lot of people think the same.

[edited: didn’t mean to sound so callous, it’s only an opinion]

Agatha isn’t even using this to expand her power. She uses her wish a total of 2 times in this book, and it’s not like she didn’t have time to use it. It’s disappointing.

So, imagine that Agatha just GRINDS in her school-work. Sure, she fails the challenges related to Strategic Blushing and Matching Outfits, but everything else she excels. At first she just didn’t want to be turned into a plant, she was only studying to survive. Now, it’s more than that.

Agatha is introduced as having a fondness for villains, and it’s apparent that beauty is irrelevant in their success stories. Although she is hurt when Sophie alludes to how she’d “fit in” with the immature, trigger-happy Nevers, she can apply those values of dismissing outer appearances while still being Good. It’s not as if Agatha is greedy or deceitful. She saves the Wish Fish, forgives Sophie countless times, and doesn’t do anything outright vicious. There’s no reason to question that she’s NOT a Never. She can be ugly and an Ever at the same time, wasn’t that the original message?

Hypothetically, she gains more knowledge and strength in spells and potions and such, and just like Sophie, even if everyone doubted her, she could rise through the ranks. There’s no point in worrying about your looks when you’re the most powerful girl in school. (Did I make Agatha too close to Evil? Maybe. But she doesn’t need to push people down to bring herself up, she’s just a natural like that.)

Also, if she needs a boy to ask her out to the Snow Ball, she 100% hates that. She could just talk to Dovey, are they really gonna fail the baddest bitch there?

No. They’re not.

Okay, here’s the biggest part that everyone will hate me for. No Tagatha. At least, not until TLEA.

When Agatha comes out of the Groom Room having just kickstarted her self-esteem and everyone’s drooling, Tedros is attracted to her instantly. I guess that’s fine. Reasonable. But consider this:

Agatha doesn’t love Tedros back.

When Tedros asks her out at the Circus of Talents, she declines. Because if she really knew her own worth, she wouldn’t say yes before making friends with him first. That’s only fair. Actually, I’d say a part of insecurity is settling for any guy who gives you attention (aka Tedros). Y'all are gonna hit me with the damning “We accept the love we think we deserve”.

EVEN IF SHE BELIEVES SHE DESERVES HIM NOW, IT DOESN’T MEAN SHE’LL JUMP AT THE CHANCE TO DATE HIM. THAT’S MESSED UP.

Okay, I know Sophie threw her bitch fit because Agatha was being a hypocrite and dating Tedros. So, tweak that and have Sophie throw a bitch fit simply because Tedros asked Agatha out in the first place. That still makes sense with her entitled selfish personality.

In the stupid war of Evers and Nevers, (which was like, strange considering they’re kids but they’ll have a similar conflict for the next two years), Tedros and Agatha are not together. You could throw in a bit of “Tedros wants to prove to Agatha he’s a hero” but for god’s sakes we are NOT putting in that little chauvinistic “how dare a princess question me”. That one line gave me a bad feeling about Tedros — foreshadowing for AWWP? And it’s crazy that Soman wrote that, along with his lack of brain cells. Are you trying to make readers bully him in memes and instagram group chats? Not from personal experience.

Oh, and this is more of a complaint. But, why did Soman make Sophie bald, pockmarked, and toothless in her transformation of embracing Evil? I thought this was about breaking stereotypes.

The Evil stigma that’s drilled in their heads about being pretty and in general taking care of yourself, is completely inane to me. I can’t believe that Sophie’s “trickery” of Tedros was so revolutionary. None of the Nevers, in 200 years, thought of that?

Instead of her beauty regressing, I’d actually want it to be heightened. It’s what set her apart from the Nevers the moment she walked in. It should be the icing on top of the cake. When Sophie is at her peak of power, she’s a princess. Who could kill you.

If you’re worried about reducing women to be pretty objects or seductresses, stop. It’s okay. Sophie has other powers like summoning ravens, wasps, locusts, bats, using her singing voice for torture, and she is skilled in curses and death traps. In short, the Hot Evil Lady trope works for her. (I think. Someone correct me.)

At the end of SGE, Agatha chooses Sophie over Tedros. Needless to say, Tedros feels betrayed. If you wanted to make him an idiot, with anger issues, daddy issues, and an inferiority complex, this is the easiest way out. He’s under the misguided impression that Agatha belongs with him simply because 1. He loves her. 2. He’s the prince of Camelot, damnit. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?

Not to mention that his father pressured him not to make the same mistake. And Tedros thinks that School for Good is his pool of suitors since Arthur married his classmate Guinevere? There is no line of logic in this man at all, did you miss the part where Guinevere cheats and runs away? Maybe Ever Girls isn’t the only place you should look! There are thousands of other girls in the Woods and you intend to find your soulmate at 14?? Goddamn. 

In conclusion, Tedros’ hurt feelings continue to AWWP. Easy.

And if y’all gonna come for me about how Tedros is easily swayed by looks (he’s convinced that Sophie and Agatha are in the wrong schools for half the book) I’d want to make him a bit smarter. I know that’s impossible.

In canon, Tedros turns on Sophie because her true colors showed, and her witchy phase gives him that confirmation bias. He goes feral with testosterone and heroism, as we know.

I’d like him to understand that just because his solely physical attraction to Sophie grew when she’s evil and pretty, it doesn’t mean that she’s not any less dangerous. If Tedros, of all people, learns the difference between appearances vs reality, it would really drive the point home.

All right. You’re still here?

Here’s some extra headcanons you could add in here and here.

In the meantime I’ll think of more.

If there were any hard-hitting themes I was supposed to include, please tell me, I usually gloss over them while reading. 

But anyway, thanks for reading this far.

#The School for Good and Evil #School for Good #School for Evil

[bards-anonymous]

Feasting On A Lord Session Recap [2/5/2021]

SOOOOO

Todays Session was so much fun and I loved it BUT OH IT WENT SO MUCH WORSE THAN I THOUGHT IT WAS GOING TO.

Also, if you are reading this, HI ZACH [ @general-van ]

TO START, the party got separated, Darius and Phineas went one way and Harriett another. All of us dressed in different jumpsuits with NONE OF OUR GEAR. SO like....off to a fantastic start

WITH Phineas and Darius here is what happened

First they are taken to what is a really weird circus-esque version of bottle street.

They are taken by a man to a building where they are told they will need to rest up for later and that a pamphlet is in there to explain things.

On there way there they see some really odd eyeless clown like guards meant to remember the city watch.

THE SECOND they are left alone, they start to go off and look for Harriett, they end up come to a wall of light and are stopped by one of the monster like guards.

They toss said guard into the wall of light (The real MVP of the Session]

The other guards are rightfully mad about it but are also tossed into the wall of light.

Phineas....almost falls into the wall of light but is burned pretty bad for getting too close to it

They book it and hide somewhere until the guards pass them, once they are sure they are in the clear they start to head back to the building they were told to go to.

On their way they find Annie, unconscious. They pick her up and take her with them. [That makes 1/4 Npcs that we needed to find]

She wakes up and tells them a little information but before long a intercom goes off saying that all Miners should report immediately. Which Phineas and Darius were

Annie tells them to go as if they don’t they will be looked for which is very un-good. Say also says that she will try to think of something while they are gone.

They head to the mine and are told to collect 10 pounds of silver and the first 15/50 groups to do so will be rewarded. HOWEVER they are also given weapons to protect themselves....which is a red flag already.

So they head in and come across two creatures that are weeper like but not. They fight them and Phineas gets down to 1 Health....

Darius is able to dispatch them and Phineas is able to get back on his feet. The two collect the bit of silver they found and they move on. 

They take some times to listen ahead and they hear commotion and fighting..... SO they creep forward with caution. 

They find 2 guys picking up silver and a third being up someone off in the corner and on the ground was a dead body.

Darius and Phineas kill 2 really quick with 2 shots and the third turns around and looks at them panicked.... .which is fair given the situation.

The random guy starts to try to reason with them HOWEVER Darius and Phineas look over and see that the person who was being beaten up WAS THE NPC WE LOVE DEARLY, her name is Rebecca [This means 2/4 NPCs have been found!]

So...The OBVIOUS ROUTE was now VIOLENCE, for reasons stated above.

He tried to run away but Phineas using his void magic yanked him back over and he was quickly killed. [Which was what he deserved for being any amount of mean to Rebecca]

After picking up Rebecca and some more silver, they head forward to get to the exit. 

They move on to another area and Rebecca hears something so the party goes and stops for a moment. 

They look and up ahead is several dead bodies, a ton of silver and 2 of those zombie weeper things.

Rebecca and Darius shoot one, killing it. [woooooo Go REBECCA] Phineas shoots the other one, but it is still standing. 

Rebecca swings on it but misses, it takes its turn to swing and hit her back, and knocks the ever loving daylights out of her.......[NOO]

Darius, mad about that, kills that last creature and finds that they had been guarding an elevator. 

They collect their silver and BOOK IT out of the mine.....cause damn.....

SO HARRIETT HAD HER OWN HELL OF A TIME.....

This is what happened with her....

Her cart dropped her into some water where she blacked out. Already a fantastic sign....

She wakes up in a prison cell. Chains are attached to the wall, a blanket sits on the floor and a dog bowl sits on the floor as well. 

Harriett picks up the bowl and looks at it. Inscribed on the side is “Lion #3″ [NOW the second I heard that, I was like oh no oh no oh no oh no......It was panic time.]

As she is looking at this she hears yelling from outside her cell. She knows that voice.... ITS HAZEL. [3/4 npcs we were missing were found] 

The two talk and Harriett takes a moment to try and figure out a plan. She looks back to the chains on the wall and figures if she can pull it free, she can use it as a weapon.

UNFORUTNATLY.... she makes a lot of noise and one of the clown guards spiders its way down to look at her and its opens her cell.

WHEN I TELL YOU SHE WAS MORTIFIED, SHE WAS MORTIFIED

Harriett already has some issues with weird void magic monster [which is about to become 10 times worse, just you wait] but this does not help to sooth her fear. 

The creature moves away and start to open other cells, and then calls everyone to the center.

After a small banter, Harriett and Hazel fall into line.

A man, a ring leader looking type starts to make little announcements and around them is a whole circus full of these clown guard creatures. Harriett is terrified and Hazel points it out. 

The man pulls out a dice and rolls for the first event and Harriett is called forward. 

It is an obstacle course. 

of course it is. but this one has acid and long falls and clown guard monsters that attack you. 

Harriett and 2 others race and JUST BARELY HARRIETT WINS 

she falls back in like and nearly hyperventilating. 

Hazel gets called next and has to fight all these creatures. Harriett warns her to not be cocky. [anyone wanna guess what she was]

At first she does pretty well for herself but the last fight she start to lose and uses her void powers to help her. WHICH IS SO UN GOOOOOOD

The ring leader says its a shame she had to cheat to win, which angers her and she gets in his face

and.....and she swings on him.

UNFORUTNATLY, on impact the sword breaks.....and he smacks the life out of her with the staff he had in his hand. 

She fell back to the ground, un moving [WHICH IS NOT GOOD AT ALL] 

Harriett is watching in horror absolutely frozen. 

The ring leader tells the guards to take her away and to make sure she cant do that again.....which means....she is probably gonna lose her arm....

THis leaves HARRIETT ALL ALONE [ back to 2/4 npcs found....]

The ring leader sends them off sayign they need to rest for tomorrow.

SO now Harriett is at half health, 2 slashes across her cest, all alone, no gear, near panicking

So this is very character changing actually, cause now Harriett is away from her friends, surrounded by the thing she fears the very most, and she feels hopeless. 

She is gonna go feral. Harriett is gonna have to go after Hazel because that is the only person she know where they are and she won’t leave her behind. She has 2 plans and she HATES BOTH OF THEM

OH OH OH and something I noticed, Hazel acts a lot like Harriett did at the start of the Campaign. Harriett sees herself in Hazel and WANTS TO HELP HER. Harriett knows what that sort of doom and pride mentality can bring and does not want to see Hazel die. She actually kind of likes Hazel’s company even if she is kinda snarky.  

She is just a little street girl, she has never dealt with something like this before. She has never felt fear like this before and its messing with her bad. Because of the 2 painting incidents, the last one being the worst, Harriett is scared of the void monsters and such. AND NOW SHE IS ALONE SURROUNDED BY THEM. 

I made a post a while back, about how with all the stress, Harriett’s hair would start to grey. Depending on what happens, I might have it so that this series of events cause her hair to grey out of stress and fear. 

Worst part is, she’s scared to die alone. She has so much to tell Phineas and Darius, She has SO MUCH to tell Joseph but in her mind, she may never see any of them again. So now she has no idea what to do in what feels like a hopeless situation to her and she has NO IDEA how to deal with and handle this fear she is feeling. [which she has never felt at this magnitude.] She is gonna break down...

SO ITS BEEN A CRAZY SESSION.....Harriett is not doing well at all. Phineas and Darius are alright....And we still have no idea where Zed is at.....so I CAN NOT WAIT FOR NEXT SESSION AT ALL!!!!!!

#GOD THIS SESSION omg.... #IT WAS SO DAMN GOOD #I was so nervous and at the edge of my seat.... #I am so damn excited for thursday #I really wanna see how this goes #dishonored rpg #ttrpg #ttrpg stuff #ttrpg recap #dishonored ttrpg.

[faveficarchive]

Summer's Circus: Part 1

By Barbara Davies

Pairing: Xena/Gabrielle (uber)

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: Summer Walsh owns a struggling circus with a dark history. When journalist Alison Carmichael walks through her Big Top, though, things might just start looking up for the distant Ringmaster.

It was late Wednesday evening when the last trailer finally limped on site. Summer watched anxiously as it eased its way between the other trailers, caravans, and vans to its designated spot, its tyres leaving huge ruts in the turf.

So much for 'Flaming June'. Rain had soaked the work crews as they pulled down the Big Top and loaded the unwieldy poles and sections of canvas onto the long trailer kept specially for the purpose; rain had streamed down her van's windscreen every second of the journey by tortuous, winding B road; and it was *still* raining, the hills surrounding Cheltenham almost invisible through the downpour.

She sighed. At least Cox's Meadow had turned out to be a proper field, she consoled herself, not one of those derelict building sites that were all most councils could seem to spare these days. She wondered who Cox was and what he would have made of the meadow that was rapidly turning into a swamp. For this they were paying £1,000 a week? Tomorrow they'd have to get the boards out - couldn't expect the public to wade through mud. She rubbed her forehead tiredly.

"Headache, boss?" Pyotr Dyakonov had come up behind her, unheard in the pelting rain.

"Yeah," Summer confessed. "Just the usual 'Will we be ready in time,' 'Will people like us enough to pay to see us' kind of headache."

"We always are; they always do," said the acrobat complacently.

Summer raised an eyebrow. "I thought Russians were s'posed to be pessimists."

He shrugged. "Things always seem to work out OK when you're around, Boss."

Summer snorted. "Yeah, right."

"It's true," protested Pyotr, stroking his moustache.

"Tell that to Uncle Tommy," she murmured, too low for Pyotr to hear. She turned away and began the tricky process of picking her way carefully between the ruts and puddles towards her caravan.

***

Alison replaced the telephone receiver and let a broad grin plaster itself over her face. "Tomorrow, I'm going to the circus!"

For a moment she allowed herself to feel the excitement she had felt as a little kid, even hopped up and down a bit, then she sobered. This wasn't for pleasure - well, maybe just a bit. This was her chance to prove she could hack it, to call herself 'freelance journalist' and mean more than the book reviews and column fillers that were the only things on her CV so far.

She paced up and down, hardly seeing the little sitting room, considering what to take with her. Her camera, of course. The article would be nothing without pictures, but she was good at photography - she could probably come up with something colourful and spectacular. Her tape recorder. Some spare batteries, a pen and notepad, just in case.

If all went well, she'd be interviewing each of the performers, maybe even the owner of the circus herself. Summer Walsh; what an unusual first name. Alison crossed to the table and rechecked her notes. Yes, it *was* Summer. And not many British circuses were owned by women, according to her research.

Would that make the interview harder, she wondered suddenly. Men were so easy - you just dressed femininely, batted your eyelashes, and simpered. Her Mother had taught her how to flirt with them from an early age, and then been devastated to learn it had been a waste of time. She sighed, remembering how difficult it had been coming out to her mother, how she had wished that her father had been alive to take her part as he always had.

She shook off the melancholy memory, and her doubts. "I can do this," she told herself. "I *will* do this." After all, all circus owners, regardless of their gender, would welcome a chance of free publicity, wouldn't they?

Alison remembered the circuses of her youth, full of horses, elephants, tigers, and lions. These days British circuses without animals were the norm - unrelenting pressure from animal rights protestors and the RSPCA had seen to that. She wondered if the show could possibly be as magical without animals.

Well, tomorrow night she'd see for herself, wouldn't she.

***

"Out of the question." Summer glared at the man who had barged into her office five minutes earlier, and who, rather disconcertingly, reminded her of an orangutan. (It must be the ginger hair and long arms, she decided.)

"I don't think you quite understand." His earlier affability had vanished.

"What's to understand?" she demanded. "I have all the permits and licenses I need. Why should I want to spend more than I have to?"

So far she had managed to keep a tight rein on her temper, but it was getting increasingly difficult. Especially since she was exhausted from helping the work crews to assemble the tiered seating inside the Big Top.

"For a quiet life," he said. "For oiling the wheels of progress -"

"For greasing your palms, you mean." If he thought the sunglasses and leather jacket made him look cool, thought Summer, he was wrong.

"Call it what you like, Ms Walsh. But I think you'd be very unwise not to -"

"I said 'no'. I meant it."

"I see. That's unfortunate."

Summer stood up, placed her hands firmly on the desk and leaned forward, fixing the man with a feral glare from which, to her satisfaction, he flinched. "You're just running a glorified little protection racket, aren't you? Well, no deal." She bared her teeth at him. "You haven't met Tonio and Marcello yet, have you? They're strongmen, they perform under the stage name Men-o-War. I'm sure, if you met them, you'd understand why."

Her visitor was already backing towards the door, looking anxiously through the glass as though expecting the two strongmen to be waiting outside for him. Which, if she'd known he was coming, they would have been, she thought sourly.

"This is probably the worst decision you've made, lady -"

"What happened to 'Ms Walsh?’"

"- in a long, long time."

As he disappeared, like a rat up a drainpipe, she wondered gloomily if he might not just be right.

***

Alison halted just inside the tasseled blue-and-white marquee that was the Big Top, and surveyed her surroundings. It would hold about four hundred people, she judged, but it was barely a quarter full. She checked her watch. There was still ten minutes before the performance was scheduled to begin, but she was doubtful the place would fill up.

She tried to get a sense of the kind of people that had come to the circus. Some were parties of adults only, chattering excitedly to one another; some were adults with children, the parents wearing longsuffering looks; and some, like herself, were alone, their wistful expressions indicating a desire to recapture the magical experience of their youth.

Alison suppressed a smile and searched for Block D. Ah, there it was - the far side of the tiered seating, near the ramp that led from the ring to backstage. She eased herself along the row of tip-up seats until she came to the one that matched the A9 on her ticket stub then sat down gratefully.

She made herself as comfortable as possible on the very basic seat then opened the brochure, emblazoned: 'SUMMER'S CIRCUS', that had cost her a pound. As she had feared, it consisted mainly of advertisements for ice-cream and hotdogs - but a loose sheet of A4 itemized tonight's running order.

She closed the brochure and leaned back, squinting first at the apex of the Big Top high above, then at the trapezes, wires and safety ropes a little below it, then at the ring itself - not covered with sawdust, these days, she noted - which was a lot smaller than her childhood memories had led her to expect. Not bad, she decided, feeling pleased with herself - she should be able to see the performers close to as they came up the ramp into the ring. She pulled her camera from her pocket and hung its strap round her neck ready.

A group of well dressed people - businessmen and women and civic dignitaries by the look of them, one overweight man even wore a chain of office round his neck - approached her block and began to take their seats in the front row. A rather striking dark-haired woman was directing them - her scarlet jacket had wide lapels and tails, and she was wearing a matching bow tie.

The woman smiled brilliantly and said, "I hope you enjoy the show." Alison eyed her with interest.

"I'm sure we will, Ms Walsh," said the man with the chain.

So that was the mysterious Summer Walsh? Well, well.

As the scarlet-clad woman strode away, Alison found that she was suddenly looking forward to interviewing the circus owner.

***

Summer made her way backstage. It was chaos; organized chaos - at least she fervently hoped so.

"Five minutes to the Overture," she yelled. "Everyone okay?"

"Okay, Boss," came the chorus of replies.

She stepped over the pile of baseball bats that looked like wood but weren't. They belonged to Egor and Maks who were due on first after the Overture. As she negotiated the clowns' other props: a foam rubber hatchet, a scrawny looking chicken, and a huge inflatable ball that after the Intermission would be bounced off the audience's heads to screams of fear and delight, her mind returned to the mayor's party.

"Pompous ass," she muttered. He had insisted on complimentary tickets for his wife and colleagues too. "Does he think we're made of money?"

Summer knew the figures all too well. Just to survive, the circus needed three thousand customers a week. Paying customers, like that little blonde who had been sitting just behind the mayor and his cronies. Her thoughts dwelt pleasantly on the woman's interested green eyes for a moment, then she remembered her intention to see how the Ticket Office was getting on.

She was heading for the office wagon at breakneck speed - she had barely ten minutes before she was needed in the ring - when she noticed that a weaselly little pickpocket was working the queue.

With a growl of anger, she somersaulted neatly over the goggling members of the public and launched herself at the man whose hand was about to delve into an unsuspecting customer's coat pocket.

He took one startled look at her and tried to bolt - but by then she had him by the back of his coat collar.

"'Ere, what d'ya think you're - Ulp!" His protest became a strangled squawk as an arm strengthened by years of trapeze work held him effortlessly six inches above the ground.

"Going somewhere?"

He struggled briefly then stopped and concentrated on simply breathing.

"You have a choice, sunshine," growled Summer. "You can spend this evening down the nearest police station...or..." She lifted him higher and watched him think through the implications.

The thief smiled rather glassily at her. "No harm done, lady," he babbled. "I was just looking after a few things for their owners. Know what I mean?"

She lowered her arm, and saw relief wash over his face as his feet touched the ground again. Then she released her grip on his coat collar and held out her hand meaningfully. "Give."

Reluctantly he reached into deep raincoat pockets and began to pile purses and wallets and wristwatches into Summer's hands. From the Big Top came faint music, the first bars of the Overture, reminding her that time was passing.

"Need a hand, Boss?" Tonio and Marcello had joined the little crowd of bystanders watching the proceedings as though it were part of the evening's entertainment.

She nodded, relieved to see them. "I'm due in the ring. Make sure these -" she pushed the pile of purses and wallets into Tonio's huge fists "- are returned to their rightful owners. Most'll have some kind of ID or photo in them, I expect. The rest - well, you may have to ask members of the audience to check if anything's missing."

She rubbed a hand tiredly across her forehead, annoyed at the extra work the thief had caused. If she reported him to the police, even more time would be lost. No police, then. Unless...Suddenly, she remembered the orangutan who had tried to sell her protection.

"You," she turned back to the thief. "Who are you working for?"

"No-one. I'm strictly freelance."

Summer put on her best scowl and took a threatening step towards him.

"Honest." He raised a shaking hand in defence.

She nodded. "Okay. One other thing."

The still unnerved thief looked expectantly at her.

"If I catch you in my circus ever again, I'll let these two - " she indicated the strong men examining the stolen booty "- tear you to pieces. And have no doubts, they can do it, too." She glared at him. "Do I make myself clear?"

The thief winced. "As crystal."

"Now, get out of my circus."

The thief needed no further urging.

***

The Overture ended with a flourish (*Also Sprach Zarathustra*, if she wasn't mistaken) and Alison clapped appreciatively. It amused her that such a tiny orchestra - two men, a drumkit, and what looked like a steam powered synthesizer - was capable of generating music with such power and volume. Circus people, she was rapidly learning, were nothing if not resourceful.

The ringmaster had just stridden into the ring - she recognized the dark-haired woman in the scarlet jacket immediately - when Alison became aware that a big man in black sweatshirt and jeans was easing his way along the row of seats towards her. She frowned.

"Excuse me, Miss," he said politely, as he got nearer, easing her fears, "but is this yours?" He was holding out a wallet similar to the one she owned and pointing to a strip of passport photographs.

Abruptly, she recognized the unflattering snaps she had had taken at the Post Office photo kiosk last week. She gasped and felt for the pocket where she usually kept her wallet. It was empty.

"That's mine. But how did you? I mean - "

The man smiled and handed her the wallet. "Pickpocket was working the Ticket Office queue," he said simply. "The Boss caught him. Persuaded him to return the stolen goods."

There was a subtle emphasis on the 'persuaded' that piqued Alison's interest, as did his accent, which was, she realized, foreign. She checked the contents of the wallet, and was relieved to find that nothing was missing. "'The Boss?’ You mean, Ms Walsh?"

"Yes. Everything there? Sorry to rush you, but I've got several more owners to locate."

"Oh, sorry. Yes, everything's here, but -"

But the man was already turning to go. "Enjoy the show, Miss," he called back to her.

Still feeling rather stunned by this turn of events, Alison turned her attention back to the ring. The attractive ringmaster had disappeared and two short men with unwieldy moustaches and red noses, dressed in appalling yellow-and-black checked suits and bow ties, were starting to hit each other with baseball bats.

***

The trouble with seeing the show from the inside, thought Summer, was that, unlike the appreciative audience - who were clapping wildly at every little thing - you were all too aware when things didn't go right.

For example, the music had started off slightly too fast, but Ruud and Jan had quickly corrected that. Then Egor had tripped over one of Maks' big feet but had deftly turned it into an extra piece of ' business'. And Grigori had almost dropped one of his flaming torches, but an extra flourish distracted the audience from his mistake.

The ringmaster sighed. No matter how often and thoroughly they rehearsed, it was always the same. First-performance-in-a-new-town nerves. But as the evening progressed, she could feel the nerves calming, the professionalism of the performers taking over.

But it was time to announce the next act. She strode out into the ring, fixed a smile on her face, and clicked on the microphone.

"And now, for your enjoyment, Summer's Circus presents, all the way from Greece: the *stupendous* Miss Clio."

She gestured extravagantly towards the maroon velvet curtain that hid backstage, and, right on cue, a petite figure in a pale pink leotard appeared and bounded up the ramp to join her.

"Break a leg, Clio," she murmured. Her reward was a dazzling smile.

Summer withdrew, and watched Clio go into her act.

First came the smile and wave to the audience, then the Greek woman reached for her little ladder and began to climb, adjusting her balance constantly so that the unsupported ladder would remain vertical. When she was settled, Andor, her young male assistant, appeared, carrying a pile of cups and saucers, and proceeded to throw them to her one by one. Almost nonchalantly, Clio would catch each cup or saucer and then throw it up so that it landed on the top of her head. Gradually a stack of alternating cups and saucers grew.

Summer had had no doubts at all, when she'd first seen Clio's act, that she was a must for the circus. On paper, catching cups and saucers while balancing on a ladder was a nonstarter, but in real life there was something about the precision and skill displayed by the young Greek woman that made the audience hold its breath.

As Clio caught yet another saucer, and was greeted with wild applause, Summer's thoughts turned inwards.

It looked like her gamble that the affluent Cheltonians would flock to the circus hadn't paid off - the Ticket Office receipts had confirmed what her squinted glances into the spotlights told her: the Big Top was only half full tonight. What with the appalling weather, the orangutan demanding protection money, the pickpocket ripping off customers, and the question of what would happen when Uncle Tommy discovered his least favourite niece was back on his patch. She sighed.

A teaspoon landed with a loud clink in the topmost saucer, and the audience went mad. Clio's act was winding down. Almost time to announce the aerialists, thought Summer, rising to her feet.

The Finale had met with sustained and enthusiastic applause, and the two man band was playing music calculated to get the audience heading for the exits, when Summer went round backstage congratulating the acts and patting people on the shoulders. There had been no major mishaps, and everyone was feeling relieved.

She was looking forward to a shower, a hot meal, and an early night, and was half way to her caravan, when she remembered she had rashly agreed to see a journalist - Alison Carsomething - about a possible article on the Circus.

She groaned, and trudged over the waterlogged ground towards the trailer that housed both the Administration and Ticket offices.

A blonde woman was waiting for her outside the Admin office. She looked vaguely familiar, thought Summer, traipsing up the short flight of steps.

"Ms Car-" She trailed off.

"Alison Carmichael," said the woman helpfully. "And you must be Summer Walsh." She held out a hand.

Summer grunted, gave the hand a perfunctory shake, then began to unlock the door. "Come in."

She switched on the light, and crossed the office to the battered old desk. The journalist followed her inside, glancing at the dingy interior assessingly. Hmmm, thought Summer, having noticed the camera around her visitor's neck, I don't imagine you want to take a photo of *this* for your article, Ms Carmichael.

She dragged a plastic chair from its place by the wall and indicated it before moving round behind the desk. The journalist sat down. Summer did likewise.

"I really enjoyed the show tonight, Ms Walsh."

"Thanks."

After a moment's silence, the blonde woman realized Summer wasn't going to say any more and picked up the conversation. "Um, we spoke on the phone, about the possibility of my doing interviews with you and with your performers."

Summer nodded.

"So, I was wondering..." The journalist bit her lip.

Summer glanced at the message pad where she had written details of their telephone conversation and frowned. What had she been thinking? "I don't seem to have made a note of which paper you write for, Ms Carmichael," she said apologetically.

"Oh, well - " A slight flush covered the blonde woman's cheeks. "I'm a freelance, but several publications have expressed an interest in the article -"

Summer realized abruptly that there was no point in continuing this conversation. "Then I'm afraid it would be better if we didn't waste each other's time, Ms Carmichael," she interrupted.

The look on the other woman's face made Summer aware that her bluntness had been misinterpreted as offensiveness.

"By the time you've written it and placed it, probably with a local paper," she explained, "the circus will have moved on. Such publicity will be of no benefit to us." She groaned inwardly, realizing that she had only made things worse.

A red spot now burned in each of the blond woman's cheeks. "But, you said on the phone..." Green eyes flashed with indignation.

Green eyes, thought Summer suddenly. Of course. The row of seats behind the mayor's party. Another headache was lurking behind her eyes. The sooner this was over, the better.

"I've changed my mind," she said, sounding more curt than she'd intended. "If you'll excuse me?" She stood up to indicate the interview was over.

Lips pressed in a grim line, the young woman snatched up her gloves and stalked off.

I could have handled that so much better, thought Summer regretfully as she watched the young woman stomp down the steps outside. She sighed, then switched off the light and locked the office door behind her.

As she walked down the steps herself, she glanced absently at the distant figure walking disconsolately towards the carpark. The rest of the paying audience had gone home, and a single pale green Fiesta remained. One of the carpark floodlights was out. Summer made a mental note to get it replaced, then noticed movement in the shadows. She stopped, her senses on alert. A mugger, or worse. And Alison Carmichael, her mind on other things, was heading straight for him.

The rush of adrenalin banished her tiredness and incipient headache instantly, and she broke into a run. "Look out," she called, even as she realized that running wasn't going to get her there in time and launched herself into a series of somersaults and flips.

The journalist had halted near her car and was looking back at her, mouth open in amazement. Summer growled as the figure in the shadows chose that moment to attack, and forced herself to move faster, feeling her muscles burn with the effort. The attacker - a man, by his build - had got an arm round the journalist's throat and was tugging her back into the shadows when Summer flipped over his head.

As she landed behind him, he glanced round, and the momentary distraction enabled the blond woman to break his grip round her throat. One punch with all Summer's weight behind it was enough to send him flying, and two kicks, one to the stomach, one to his unshaven jaw, rendered him out for the count.

Summer stooped over the man and checked his pulse. He was still breathing - she wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. She straightened, and rubbed her bruised knuckles ruefully, then became aware that the journalist was standing beside her.

"He attacked me!" mumbled the blond, her voice shaky, her breathing uneven. "Oh my God, if you hadn't -" She began to cry.

For moment, Summer stood frozen, then she pulled the sobbing journalist into an awkward hug. There was a moment's startled resistance, then Alison sagged into her embrace.

"It's okay," said Summer. "I've got you." She rubbed a hand soothingly over the other woman's back, encouraging her to cry herself out, her own mind churning. My fault. All my fault. If I hadn't been here...For Summer had no doubt at all that the attacker was working for the man who had tried to sell her protection that morning.

As the sobs dwindled to sniffs, and the tension in the muscles beneath her hands eased, her thoughts turned to the state of her ringmaster uniform. It hadn't been designed for people to cry on.

"Do you still want to do that article on the circus, Ms Carmichael?" Summer was as surprised by her own words as the journalist appeared to be.

"But you said -" The journalist took a step back, and Summer released her.

Colour had returned to the pale cheeks, and bewilderment, coupled with hope, had replaced the fear in the green eyes.

Summer smiled, partly in relief, and shrugged. "I've changed my mind."

The journalist considered for a moment. "What if you change your mind again?" she asked at last.

A fair question, Summer admitted, since from the journalist's point of view, she'd changed her mind twice already. "I won't," she said firmly. "If you want the interviews you asked for, you can have them."

A moment longer, then a smile split the blond woman's features and she nodded eagerly. "Please."

"Tomorrow, then, 10am," said Summer. "I'll give you a guided tour."

"Great."

They stared at one another for a long moment, then Summer sighed and glanced down at the still unconscious attacker.

"In the meantime," she said, "I suppose I'd better see about calling the police."

***

"It was great, Mother. There were clowns, and acrobats, and trapeze artists, and a woman who balanced at the top of a ladder while catching cups and saucers on her head...Yes, that's what I said. Um, it looked like real china from where I was sitting."

Alison could tell her mother wasn't impressed by her enthusiastic description of the circus. Opera was more the older woman's 'thing' - so much more 'adult'. No doubt her mother's opinion of the circus would sink even lower, if that were possible, if she told her about the pickpocket and the attack in the carpark...

She sighed and changed the subject to her coming interviews, then wished she hadn't.

"You're not still intending to be a journalist, are you, dear?" Her mother's tone was disapproving. "My goodness! I thought that was just a fad."

A fad! thought Alison. In fact, the dream of being a reporter had been with her since she was a child, but it was only recently she had decided to do anything about it. Coming out - to herself and to other people - she realized suddenly, had been the catalyst. It had strengthened her determination to live her own life not let others live it for her.

"No, Mother," she said evenly, "it's not a fad."

"It's not as if you need the money, dear."

Alison sighed. It was true that the Life Assurance from her father's death had left them both more than comfortably well off. But she wanted the satisfaction of paying her own way for a change.

"Mother, we've been through this."

"Well, if you *must* occupy yourself, dear, why don't you do some voluntary work? It's so much more...respectable."

"Mother." Alison had reached the end of her patience, and some sign of it must have travelled down the phone line because her Mother went quiet.

"Well, dear. Perhaps you know best." The tone made it clear her mother thought exactly the opposite. "It's past my bedtime, yours too if you're sensible. So I'll say goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mother." Alison replaced the phone receiver and sighed.

The flat that was her pride and joy, her first taste of independence - she was twenty-seven, for heaven's sake; other people left home at eighteen - suddenly seemed drab and pokey. Perhaps it was the contrast with the Big Top and its colourful performers, not least among them the tall ringmaster.

Once more Alison heard the distant shout and turned to watch the ringmaster somersaulting towards her across the carpark. Once more she felt disbelief and bewilderment that the woman who had just dashed her hopes so rudely should be following her in such a spectacular way. Then came a jolt of terror as someone wrapped his arm around her throat. Followed by sheer relief, as Summer tackled the attacker and then held Alison close.

Alison swallowed over a suddenly dry throat, then laughed wryly at herself. What a strange evening it had been! And now here she was feeling gratitude, hero worship, and, if she were being honest, straightforward attraction for a woman who until this evening had been a complete stranger.

Even more ironic, being rescued by a circus owner would have made a *great* story, but Summer was concerned that a mugging might keep paying customers away. Since the policeman who took their statements didn't envisage any further involvement for either Summer or Alison (Alison, though severely shaken, hadn't actually been hurt, and the still groggy attacker had quickly realized it was in his own best interests to confess) Alison had agreed to keep the incident quiet.

Which was probably just as well, she thought sleepily, as the seesaw of raw emotions finally caught up with her. Because then, her mother wouldn't learn of the incident and come rushing over ready to sweep her daughter up and take her back to the claustrophobic home from which she had only just escaped.

Alison had feared the mugging would prey on her mind, but as she got herself ready for bed, she found to her relief and slight embarrassment that her head was full of the music of Strauss and images of clowns and acrobats and a tall, striking ringmaster with blue, blue eyes.

***

"It's going to be muddy, I'm afraid." Summer ushered the young journalist out of the admin office and down the metal steps.

"That's all right." Alison smiled back at her. "What's a little mud between friends?"

Summer raised an eyebrow but said nothing. They walked across the boggy field towards the Big Top.

"We call this the Back Yard." Summer ducked under the cordon that marked the area as off limits to the public, and began threading her way carefully between stakes and guy wires, generators and storage bins.

Alison hurried to keep up. "So," she said, holding out a small tape-recorder. "What made you decide to own your own circus, Ms Walsh?"

"If we're friends, you'd better call me Summer." The tape recorder, she noted absently, was voice-activated.

"Then you'd better call me Alison, or Ali."

Summer caught the faint hesitation. "Which would you prefer?"

"Alison, if you don't mind."

"Alison it is."

Summer held back the tent flap and waited for Alison to duck under it. "We call this the Back Door - it's the performers' entrance." She followed the journalist, her pupils adjusting quickly to the dim lighting of the backstage area.

"Hi, Boss." Egor came somersaulting over and stopped in front of them. "Who's the beautiful towny?"

The little clown's interested gaze was resting on Alison, who blushed. It suited her, thought Summer, suppressing a grin.

"That's what circus people call outsiders," she explained. Then to Egor, "This is Alison Carmichael. She's a local journalist, so be nice - we don't want any bad publicity."

"I thought any publicity was good publicity, Boss." Egor winked at her.

"Yeah, well you thought wrong."

Alison shot her a glance. "You don't have to worry," she said reassuringly. "I really loved the show last night."

"You did?" Summer felt her slight tension ease.

She guided Alison towards the maroon curtain separating backstage from the auditorium, then paused. "I should warn you before we get near the ring," she said, "don't, whatever you do, sit on the edge of it facing out."

Alison stared at her. "Why not?"

Summer shrugged. "It's bad luck."

The journalist leaned forward eagerly. "Oh! So you have your own set of superstitions, like theatre people do?"

"I suppose so. Peacock feathers are bad luck too. And whistling in the dressing room."

Alison's eyes danced and her tone was mock serious. "Okay. No whistling or peacock feathers, and no sitting on the ring's edge facing out. Got it."

Summer started to say something in defence of circus traditions then decided against it. She pulled back the curtain and they walked through.

The Dyakonovs were rehearsing their trapeze act high above the ring, and she stopped to allow Alison to watch. After a long moment, Alison tore her gaze away from the graceful flips and twirls, and Summer gestured towards a row of ringside seats. They covered the distance quickly and sat down.

"I noticed last night that most of the acts in your programme are foreign," said Alison. "Is that coincidence or policy? Or is it simply that Brits don't make good circus performers?"

"Hey! Are you saying I'm no good?" Summer smiled to remove the sting from her words. It was a good question, and she considered her answer. No need to mention that Uncle Tommy had made sure no British performer would work for her anyway, she decided.

"It's a question of cost, actually." Alison glanced at the sound level meter and moved the tape recorder closer to Summer's mouth then her gaze drifted upwards again. Summer smiled. She too felt the magnetic pull of the trapeze.

"When the USSR collapsed," she continued, "so did its circus funding. At their height, they had seventy permanent circuses, you know. That's about fifteen thousand performers."

Alison's startled gaze met hers. "Fifteen thousand?"

Summer nodded. "Which means that now the Russians are desperate for work and -" she spread her hands expressively "- very cheap."

"So *that's* why most of your acts are Russian?"

"Mmmm." Now it was Summer's turn to gaze up at the Dyakonov Troupe. Cheslav, she noted absently, was clasping Irisa's ankles in his brawny fists. "Though actually, the circus band is Dutch." Alison chuckled at the mention of the two musicians, and Summer glanced curiously at her. When no explanation was forthcoming, she let it go and continued. "The strong men are Portuguese. And Miss Clio, of course, is Greek. I take it you'd like to meet the company?"

"Please."

The journalist's obvious enthusiasm pleased Summer. Maybe it was because Alison was a freelance, she thought, and hadn't yet reached the embittered 'just going through the motions' stage.

A faint stomach rumble reached her ears, and she noticed Alison was blushing again.

"Haven't you had any breakfast?"

"Um, yes," admitted Alison. "But it was a couple of hours ago. I wouldn't mind a cup of coffee and a biscuit, if you have them."

Summer rose to her feet. "I'm sure we can rustle up something." She was amused by the look of gratitude that flashed across the blond woman's face.

"Follow me."

***

The trailer that Summer called the 'cook wagon' was hot and fuggy and smelled absolutely wonderful. Coffee and doughnuts, thought Alison, identifying the aromas. Her stomach grumbled more loudly and her mouth began to water.

"It's help yourself in here," instructed the tall woman, busying herself with heating water for two cups of instant coffee. "Just take what you fancy."

"Okay."

While Summer carried their coffees to an empty table, Alison inspected the cardboard box of goodies and chose a large sticky, sugarcoated doughnut. Then she joined Summer and sat down opposite her. She placed the tape recorder on the table between them, and gazed at their spartan surroundings.

"So, this is where you all eat?"

Summer took a sip of coffee than nodded. "We can connect the wagon up to the mains water and power supplies. Not all sites provide access though, so then we have to make do with Calor gas and bottled water."

"I expect you've got moving between sites down to a fine art?" While she waited for an answer, Alison picked up her doughnut and took a bite. Brilliant red jam squirted down her chin and across the table. Fortunately, it didn't reach the ringmaster.

"Oh!" Alison's cheeks felt hot with embarrassment, but Summer just chuckled and reached for a paper napkin.

"I'm always doing that," she said consolingly. "Here."

"Thanks." Alison took the napkin and wiped her chin with it. "Um." Her mind had gone blank and the confusion must have shown on her face.

Summer took pity on her. "To answer your question, yes, after you've been on the road for a while - and this circus has been touring for years now - you get to know the drill." She took another gulp of coffee. "Circus people are pretty tough. Everyone helps with the build-up and pull-down."

"But the circus can't always run smoothly," prompted Alison.

"No. We've had our share of accidents, and some of our vehicles are aging - they're always breaking down. Fortunately, Grigori is a top notch mechanic as well as a juggler. What else?" Summer looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, two years ago, a generator caught fire - we were lucky it didn't burn down the Big Top. And last year we had a blowdown - that's when a storm blows the Big Top down."

Alison would have whistled but remembered their earlier talk of superstition and thought better of it. "That must have set you back a bit."

"Yes. Luckily we got it back up double quick - only missed one matinee. We can't afford to miss many performances."

Alison finished off her doughnut and wiped her hands on the napkin. "You're that close to the line?"

For a moment she thought the other woman wasn't going to answer, then Summer tapped the tape recorder pointedly and said, "Off the record?"

"Oh, okay." Alison pressed the pause button.

"Things are pretty tight at the moment. If they don't get better soon ?" The ringmaster's gaze was suddenly bleak.

"Can't you put up ticket prices?"

"We're already as high as we can go without putting audiences off." Summer shrugged. "Trouble is, we've got so much to compete with these days - TV, video, cinema - football. People just aren't as keen as they used to be on circuses. Especially circuses without animals." She grimaced. "It's a no win situation. If we use animals - we get attacked by the animal rights protestors; if we don't use them - the audiences stay away."

Alison frowned. "That's not fair."

"No, it isn't." Summer sighed.

The journalist suddenly remembered the tape recorder and pointed at it. Summer nodded, and she resumed recording.

"So why do you do it?" asked Alison.

"Do what?"

"Own your own circus. Keep on touring."

"It's in the blood," said Summer simply. "And," she gave Alison a wry smile, "I don't know how to do anything else."

As if regretting her sudden candour, the ringmaster looked away. "Have you had enough?" She indicated the empty plate.

"Oh, yes. That was great, thanks."

"Good. Because we've got quite a few introductions to get through, not to mention photographs."

Alison stood up at once. "Point me at 'em," she said brightly, pleased when the remark earned her a laugh from Summer.

The dark woman led the way out of the cook wagon.

***

Summer managed to prise Ruud and Jan Dekker away from their instruments and get them to talk to Alison. At first wary, the brothers soon opened up under the journalist's genial questioning, revealing a sheepish passion for Country and Western music that was news to Summer. Tonio and Marcello were glad to take a break from rehearsing, and were soon posing and flexing their rippling muscles while a suitably awed Alison took photographs. And Egor and Maks abandoned their discussion - heated, as always - of ways to improve their act and were only too happy to educate Alison in the intricacies and history of clown makeup.

Summer found watching Alison work relaxing, and she was letting the good natured banter flow over her, when Pyotr came running up, breathless.

"It's Cheslav," he said, without preamble. "He's sprained his wrist."

"Shit!"

"What's wrong?" Alison had come over to see what the aerialist's gloomy expression and Summer's unguarded exclamation were about.

"One of the catchers has sprained his wrist," explained Summer.

"Catchers?"

"A trapeze artist who catches," she said absently. Pyotr was looking expectantly at her. "The routine's the same?"

He nodded. "We added a few frills, but the basic moves are unchanged."

"Okay. Give me five minutes."

Summer regarded a bewildered Alison. "You'll have to look after yourself for the next hour, I'm afraid. Is that going to be a problem?"

"Uh, no. But...um, Summer, what are you going to be doing?"

"Taking Cheslav's place."

Alison's eyes widened. "Up on the trapeze? But I thought you were the ringmaster."

"I have many skills," said Summer nonchalantly.

#xena #Xena Warrior Princess #Xena/Gabrielle #uber #uberfic #mature #author: Barbara Davies

[sterek]

Hey! So I’m new to the fandom I watched Teen wolf seasons 1-6 within 4 days lmao, but I was just wondering could you recommend the best sterek au fics? Your blog is amazing btw!

Sorry it took me a while, but here you go! These are my favorite AU fics in no particular order :) (and thank you boo

A Crooked Way to Fly by andavs [14k G]

“We can’t just leave him here to die.”

“He’s an emissary, Scott.” Derek tried to make his tone empathetic, but Scott’s tendency to fight back on everything always grated on his nerves. “His pack is gone, he won’t survive more than a day or two either way.”

“Then we should stay with him.”

Derek sighed as he studied the man for a moment; he was too pale against the fur rim of his hood, almost grey from lying out in the snow, and his cloak was stained with dark dried blood around a protruding arrow shaft. It was unlikely he would even last the night. They would probably be able to carry on in the morning with little time lost, if any.

It wasn’t a horrible idea, Derek decided reluctantly. They hadn’t been able to set up a real camp for a few weeks in the open foothills, and they were all on edge from sleeping in exposed areas. A defensible place to sleep would be good for them, even if they were surrounded by death. They would be able to give the pack proper burials, at the very least.

“Fine. One night,” Derek relented, already moving away to check on Isaac. “He’s your responsibility.”

Put Down in Words by paintedrecs [203k, M]

“Oh,” Stiles said, his voice coming out low and breathy, “fuck me.”

“I don’t think that’s on the syllabus, but we can check to see if there’s a spot open in any of his classes,” Scott said, grinning.

“This isn’t an actual professor, though,” Stiles insisted, unable to resist brushing his thumb over the sharp line of the man’s bearded jaw. He was laughing at something off-camera, the shot taken in three-quarters view, his coat collar casually rumpled and opened to reveal a sliver of a simple grey t-shirt. The whole thing was deliberately calculated to lend him a more accessible feel, and god help him, Stiles was falling for it.

*

When Stiles signed up for Dr. Hale’s intro to history class, he had two goals: knock out the credits his advisor was bugging him to complete before he graduated, and spend a few hours a week daydreaming about his sexy professor’s salt and pepper beard.

Derek, a few months away from turning forty and not sure when his life had started feeling so damn lonely, had never encountered someone like Stiles before. Bright-eyed, sharp-tongued, determined to throw Derek’s carefully cultivated world into disarray…and absolutely the last person Derek should be falling in love with.

Cupboard Love by mklutz [32k, G]

He’s carefully balancing the sandwiches and the two biggest tupperware containers he could find that both had functioning lids when the front door opens and he almost drops everything right there in front of the stupid fountain.

If that’s Derek Hale, he’s definitely not a mountain man.

One life stand by Vendelin [84k, E]

Stiles is used to selling himself to make ends meet. But it's getting harder to keep those ends meeting, and there's only so much of Stiles to go around. Until a too-fancy car shows up in his neighborhood, and he meets Derek Hale.

All Derek wants is Stiles's time, someone to stay on his arm for events and smile for the cameras. It's the easiest job Stiles has ever had, the best-paying one he's ever had, and he's more than happy to sign up.

Derek is everything and nothing Stiles expects him to be, with his tailored suits, sharp mind and his quiet way of caring. But it's just a job and Stiles never meant to fall in love.

In Other Words, Baby, Kiss Me by primroseshows [61k, E]

Stiles has simple goals in life. To successfully complete his secret radar project without getting fired, to get a cottage on the Moon, and to untangle his mess of feelings for Moon Station 3 deputy, Derek Hale. Heck, he'll even settle for two of the three.

The Circus at the End of the World by mikkimouse [91k, E]

Three hundred years ago, the world ended not with a bang or a whimper, but with magic.

Since then, magic has been outlawed, and the world has clawed its way back to some kind of stability, with people and shifters alike divided between living within the walled safety of the Havens, or the small, less protected outposts dotting the frontier.

Derek Hale and his sisters, Laura and Cora, are the proprietors of Hale's Circus of Magic, Monsters, and Mystical Wonders, known colloquially as the Circus at the End of the World. They and their ragtag pack ride the rails between the outposts and the Havens, performing for those who can pay (and some who can't). Their circus is a small haven in and of itself, a place of safety for those who have nowhere else to go.

It's a quiet life...until Stiles Stilinski joins the crew.

The circus has something Stiles needs—a ticket into the Haven of Santa Francesca. His father has been abducted, and Stiles is determined to get him back no matter what he has to do.

But Stiles has another secret, one that puts him and every member of the circus in danger. And if he's not careful, it could get them all killed.

The Silent Fury by andavs, rosepetals42 [31k, M]

Derek is about to leave, content with the smell of blood as proof that the Fury is dead when he hears it.

A heartbeat.

It’s faint and uneven and even with its help, it takes Derek a full minute of scanning the clearing before he finally spots the small heap that must be the human. It’s down on the far side of the canyon, almost completely hidden by a tall oak tree and–Derek jumps down before he thinks about it.

He knows what he has to do. Furies are dangerous. Furies are fire and smoke and a funeral he barely remembers. He lands almost silently and makes sure his hands are fully shifted into claws and then slowly moves forward.

Or, a How to Train Your Dragon AU

Kindred Spirits by Stoney [104k, E]

Anne of Green Gables/Teen Wolf AU.Stiles is the adopted son of the Sheriff, brought to Beacon Hills to hopefully stay for good. A family, a best friend, school, Jackson as Josie Pye (because who else could he be?) and the mystery of a dark haired, green-eyed boy which leads Stiles to discovering a secret within himself.

Sell Your Body to the Night by Dira Sudis (dsudis) [121k, E]

"No," he repeated impatiently. "I'm not a cop. I'm someone who wants to exchange my money for your sexual services. I was told you were in that line of work."

"I, uh, yeah, sorry," Stiles said. He glanced around again and then up--the full moon was almost directly overhead. Just one of those nights, maybe. "Yeah, I am. I do that."

But Then What... by Stoney [24k, E]

Senior year is almost over, and all Stiles needs to do is keep his head down to survive. A teacher calls in a favor, leaving him stuck tutoring Derek Hale, one of the most popular jocks in school and a member of a group of douchecanoes who have bullied Stiles for years. He's someone Stiles totally hates. Totally. Like, doesn't like him even a little bit. DEFINITELY isn't attracted to him.

Except that is a total lie. Fuck his life, seriously.Senior year is almost over, and all Stiles needs to do is keep his head down to survive. A teacher calls in a favor, leaving him stuck tutoring Derek Hale, one of the most popular jocks in school and a member of a group of douchecanoes who have bullied Stiles for years. He's someone Stiles totally hates. Totally. Like, doesn't like him even a little bit. DEFINITELY isn't attracted to him.Except that is a total lie. Fuck his life, seriously.

Little Wild Animal by DiscontentedWinter [61k, E]

Derek Hale finds a feral human on his pack's property.Humans are supposed to be extinct.But then, Stiles is full of surprises.

(also read the other work in the series, it’s more original fic than sterek but i adore it!)

I Know Where Babies Come From, Derek by DiscontentedWinter [51k, M]

Stiles finds a baby on the porch.

It looks exactly like him.

Well, this is awkward.

Don't Speak by fatale [68k, T]

The Alpha pack has systematically attacked Stiles and his friends for months, testing their strengths and weaknesses. When one of the Alphas goes after Stiles, he awakens in the hospital and realizes that something's wrong. Very wrong. All sounds seem to hurt him, he can't understand what anyone is saying, and when he tries to speak, it's gibberish. How is he supposed to deal with the fact that he's lost the ability to communicate with his dad and his friends?

Without his ability to talk, his sarcasm, and his wit, what does Stiles even have left? Enter Derek, the only one who seems to make it better.

Occam's Razor by MissAnnThropic [49k, E] [and also read the sequel!!]

When Stiles goes to sleep, he’s a junior in high school. He wakes up in a world where he’s twenty-four and married to Derek Hale. Stiles just can’t seem to catch a break.

Specialized Technical Intelligence and Logistics for Earth and Space (S.T.I.L.E.S) by Yiichi [63k, NR]

“What the hell kind of a name is Stiles?” he asked.

“You know, a series of sounds spoken in a particular sequence that represent my identity, primarily, referring to me?“ the AI – Stiles – answered cheekily, crossing his own arms in front of his chest, mirroring Derek’s position.

“Ooh, this one’s feisty,” Peter smirked.

Tiny Houses by ohmyjetsabel ]77k, E]

"So this is what Stiles does. He lies in Scott’s bed and waits for Melissa to say she’s found someone to get it out of him, to cure him of the wrongness and the bad, and he dreams.

God, he dreams.

He dreams of fire and swollen bellies and that scene in Alien, of giving birth to jackals through his urethra, the whole horrific nine yards. His head is a terrible place to be, he can’t imagine his stomach is much better, why anyone would want to put a thing inside of it."

Stilinski's Home for Wayward Wolves by owlpostagain [35k, T]

“At least your puppies knock first,” Stiles snorts. “Here I thought their alpha raised them to be well-mannered.”

“There’s a sign,” Derek responds stiffly.

Stiles, whose curiosity outweighs even his hardest of grudges, abandons his chilly façade of nonchalance in a heartbeat. He jumps right up and all but pushes Derek out of the way in his effort to get to the window, and sure enough when he leans outside there’s a laminated strip of cardstock duct taped to the vinyl siding:

DON’T FORGET TO KNOCK Stiles gets cranky when we scare him

---

Or, in which Stiles Stilinski moves to Beacon Hills for his junior year of high school and accidentally adopts a pack of teenage werewolves.

The entire Bodice Ripper 'Verse byStoney!!!

Fly a Little Faster by mirrorkill [32k, T]

Everyone knows when you go back in time, you shouldn't step on an ant, just in case you accidentally kill your own grandparent or something. But what happens when you go back in time and, uh, accidentally interrupt the one event that apparently made the Grumpiest Alpha in Town into a ball of mindless manpain?

Well, if Marty McFly can do it, so can Stiles Stilinski. All he has to do is get Derek and Paige to fall in love before he gets pulled back to his own time. And before he makes anything worse. That's easy as pie, right? Right?

Enemy Lines by qhuinn (tekla) [149k, E]

This is the story of werewolf Derek Hale and human Stiles Stilinski: two people who grew up in the same town but completely different worlds, their realities split by the war between men and wolves.

Years later when Derek returns to Beacon Hills, he does it as Alpha of a military pack on a mission to capture those responsible for the region’s resistance. With his main objective, Sheriff Stilinski, out of sight, he settles for the next best thing: his son, Stiles.

Neither of them suspects they’ll need to trust each other if they want to make it out this alive.

an exaltation of larks by llassah [25k, E]

There are times when he feels as if they could fall into bed together, easy as breathing. If Stiles were not highborn, if he were an omega without connections, Derek would be sorely tempted. As it is, he resists. Derek wants, he yearns, but he resists. Still, the sight of Stiles in his cot is enough to test him, even now that it is familiar. At the end of each lambing season, he sleeps for a week, worn down by months of hard work, of relentless struggle. He doesn’t know how he’ll feel by the time Stiles leaves, how he’ll feel after long days and longer nights spent resisting the insistent tug of Stiles’s scent and the inclinations of his own foolish heart.

All Derek wants is to get through the lambing season with his body and spirit intact. He had thought that the blizzards would be the main danger, not a highborn omega with beautiful eyes and a stubborn streak.

Move A Mountain by ZainClaw [69k, E]

Stiles goes camping with his friends in New Mexico after graduation where they befriend a biker gang led by Derek: a guy whom Stiles can’t decide if he will be either relieved or devastated to never see again once their week is up.

The Importance of Turning Around Three Times Before Lying Down by otter [31k, M]

It’s like this dog has walked out of all of Stiles’ childhood dreams and into the real world just because Stiles wanted it hard enough. He is the most awesome dog ever, and he and Stiles have a bond. A deep, unbreakable bond because this animal is his soul mate, obviously. Now he just has to convince the dog of that. 

Stiles's Story Time by trilliath [125k, E]

Where Stiles is a librarian who is in charge of the kids' reading hour and such. And Derek is 6-year-old Scott's adoptive dad. And Stiles has his own take on Stories and Scott loves wolves and Derek tries not to admit that he likes the way Stiles's face looks in those glasses.Or something like that.

Not Your Disney Romance by Rawren (Zimothy) [42k, M]

After a long-forgotten agreement of an arranged marriage between Derek and the daughter of another pack's alpha resurfaces, Stiles takes it upon himself to become the most amazing fake fiancé that a clueless, desperate alpha werewolf could wish for.

There is a Brotherhood by minusoneday [21k, E]

So far, college has taught Stiles three things:

1) Eight am classes are cruel and unusual and should be avoided at all costs, even if it means having to enroll in something truly hideous instead, like Econ 101.

2) Dorm security is just as tight as Stiles’ orientation leader had promised it would be, and the dude guarding Scott’s dorm in particular does not respond well to bribes.

3) Mrs. McCall clearly had no clue what she was talking about when she’d insisted that Scott and Stiles needed to branch out and room with strangers, so it’s all her fault that Scott ended up with a total dick of a roommate and Stiles got stuck all the way across campus with some guy who has a girlfriend two towns over and is thus never around.

Or, the one where pledge brothers Stiles and Scott start a prank war with Derek Hale's fraternity.

Prince Among Wolves by Rawren (Zimothy) [101k, E]

Looking for full day/evening sitter. 2 twin boys age 4. Must have exp. w/werewolves. Must be human. No pedophiles. No teenage girls. Pay negotiable.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation by grimm [118k, E]

There's something weird about Beacon Hills that Stiles can't quite put his finger on. The way everyone in town knows his name the day he arrives. The way they insist the melancholic howling that echoes through the forest every night is just a dog. The way his dad denies getting a dog, even though Stiles comes home to find one sprawled across his bed, some big black thing whose eyes gleam red in the right light. The way that massive oak tree out in the woods vibrates under his touch, pulsing with sickly life.

There's something weird going on in this town, and Stiles is determined to get to the bottom of it.

Cornerstone by Vendelin [83k, E]

Suffering from PTSD, ex-Marine Derek Hale moves back to Beacon Hills to open a bookshop and find a calmer life. That’s where he meets Stiles, completely by accident. Stiles is talkative, charming and curious. Somehow, despite the fact that he’s blind, he’s able to read Derek like no one else. 

[Not!Fic] Random Craigslist Missed Connections Derek/Stiles Not!Fic of Doom by fire_juggler_writes (fire_juggler) [17k, T]

An AU in which Stiles is lonely and addicted to the Missed Connections page on Craigslist, Derek is a hermit with a persistant sister, Scott gives unexpectedly good relationship advice, and it all ends happily-ever-after.

Trust Fall by Stoney [144k, T]

Stiles is fairly certain that a case could be made for every bad thing in his life coming back to Peter Hale. This time it's pissing off a powerful witch, who retaliated by swapping Stiles and Derek a la Freaky Friday, because sure. That makes sense. Um, there are GPAs on the line, not to mention the whole thing where his dad wants to shoot Derek on sight. Except who he sees as Derek is actually Stiles, and Stiles did not sign up for filicide.

Great. Wait...does this mean he's the Alpha until they figure this out? Holy. Shit.****

Derek had stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a few minutes trying to control the panic as he saw himself as Stiles. As the loud mouthed human friend of the pack. He was going to kill Peter. He was going to kill the witch, then he was going to kill Peter. Maybe even resurrect him again just to kill him all over.

They were going to have to play this cool. They would have to stay calm and focused. Which is of course why the universe threw him into this situation with someone who physically couldn't be calm and focused.

Of course.

Stand Fast in Your Enchantments by DevilDoll, Rahciach [76k, E]

"Stiles knew damn well what a pissed-off wolf sounded like, and every hair on the back of his neck was telling him that somewhere in this room was a very pissed-off werewolf." An AU in which Derek is feral, Stiles is magical, and they eat a lot of fast food.

Safety in Silence by Survivah [66k, M]

It's perfectly understandable. Even Derek wouldn't want to be Derek's soulmate. 

Where The Inevitable Isn't by Survivah [41k, M]

Stiles has a magical thingamajig that's supposed to get him out of danger. Trouble is, it took him really, really far out of danger. Like, to the point where he isn't in the same universe anymore.

"A part of Stiles had been thinking that he’d come home, and just go, 'hey, Derek, are we mates and you just haven’t said anything about it?' and Derek would reply, 'now you mention it, we are indeed! Now come to my bedchamber, where we will have super hot sex and then cuddle after!'"

"Pretend this is our den, kay?" by Survivah [16k, M]

In which Stiles is raised by (were)wolves, and he and Derek are childhood sweethearts that never stopped. Also, Kate Argent is a homicidal maniac but a very helpful plot device.

The Boy and the Beast by Dira Sudis (dsudis) [116k, M]

In which events in Beacon Hills go rather differently from the start, and a Beauty and the Beast (ish) story ensues. (Scott is not a teacup and no one sings about their feelings.)

#sterek #eternalsterek #recs #rec list #i'm missing some that sadly were deleted but! #Anonymous #asks

[bloodybenjamin]

I’m very very excited about the update to my precious Circle living heavies. I wanted to take this opportunity to give you, my opponent, a rundown on the changes!

Feral Warpwolf

The Feral, along with every beast in this list (that didn’t already have it), now has Pathfinder. This is a massive quality-of-life change that is in tune with the Circle Orboros identity. The Feral also dropped from 18 to 16 points, but received no other changes besides this.

Its role was to provide the Primal animus and to fight in the late game. I don’t believe this will change, but with its reduced point cost I think you’ll most likely see riskier early game activity from time to time, especially since it is now a more efficient trade into battle engines.

Pureblood Warpwolf

The Pathfinder change on the Pureblood is a huge deal. Up until now, the Pureblood, with its ability to warp Ghostly, was so frequently deployed behind and sent into rough terrain and walls. Since warping Ghostly means you’re not warping STR, this has always made the Pureblood a poor brawler at base P+S 14.

The Pureblood is now also RAT 6, making its extremely strong spray a little more accurate. These changes will make its role a little more flexible, as it won’t be relegated to terrain duty, and its inclusion a little more attractive.

Warpwolf Stalker

The Stalker dropped from 19 to 17 points. The Stalker already had Pathfinder, and now gets to run in the rough with its pack mates.

Crucially, the Stalker is now STR 11, making its sword base P+S 17 and fist P+S 15. It was already the hardest hitting non-character beast, and now gets world-class hitting power after warping STR. Its role will remain exactly as it was, but will now have more a little more game into Collosals and Gargantuans.

Ghettorix

The changes to Ghetorix are -extremely- compelling. He now has Pathfinder, he dropped from 21 to 19 points, and while he lost the Warpwolf chassis’ ability to regenerate, he picked up Rapid Healing, which lets him heal D3 whenever he gets damaged.

Ghetorix was already the heavyweight Warpwolf that is good at killing all things, but as a Spiny Growth carrier with Rapid Healing, he now has extraordinary tankiness. I predict you’ll see him more often standing in rectangular zones not giving a fuck about a lot of things.

Rip Horn Satyr

The Rip Horn received, what I believe, is the perfect update. The Pathfinder is wonderful, but the additional POW on its fist weapons (now P+S 16), the extra 4 boxes (from 26 to 30), and the Ornery animus (Retaliatory Strike on the spellcaster) make it a great budget scenario brawler.

Where it didn’t really have a role before, he now has a place in the zone. At his native ARM 19 and Retaliatory Strike at P+S 16, he is an un-ignorable speed bump.

Shadowhorn Satyr

The Shadowhorn is now the weird budget disruption piece it was always meant to be. Its still SPD 6 with a 5” jump, but the Pathfinder addition makes it far more likely to get into an actionable location. It now has native beat back on its fists, and its animus is now Elusive (the spellcaster gains dodge). This is remarkable because it still is DEF 13 with Set Defense.

I’m unsure what is going to happen with the Shadowhorn, but I’m sure players will find a way to exploit its movement and positioning shenanigans. At 12 points, a spam list will be inevitably be developed that is a jumping circus nightmare (see Kaya 3).

Gnarlhorn Satyr

The Gnarlhorn received Pathfinder and one more STR, leaving it with 1 P+S 16 and 2 P+S 15’s. It otherwise didn’t change.

I’ve never been sure what its role was other than a carrier of the Earth’s Blessing animus, and I’m not sure what will change. Seems like a mere quality of life change, which is appreciated!

Brennos The Elderhorn

Brennos has become very interesting! Dropping to 15 points and gaining Pathfinder is a big deal in itself, but his magical changes are the real meat here; he now has an animus that prevents enemy channeling within 10”, and a spell that heals every living friendly model within 8” for D3. As if that wasn’t enough, he now has battle wizard, which will encourage his combat participation. And at his new DEF 12, he will take defensive buffs much better. Additionally, Morvahna can now channel spells through him.

I think he’s been opened up in a really cool way. Obviously Morvahna loves his changes, but his allowance in Call Of The Wild means he gets to play the role of a healer, artillery carrier (he still has his awesome magic nuke), and channelling denial for any good beast warlock that wants to include him. Very excited about him now!

Storm Raptor

The day has finally come; the Storm Raptor has become enticing! Dropping to 34 points and going up to MAT 6 is butter. But it gained Deceptively Mobile (reposition 3”), reload 2 and sustained attack on its gun, and its animus cost dropped to 1, which means it now has a much more threatening ranged presence, and the ability to slide back a bit after shooting makes a difference. But it also gained a passive ability called Flying High, which reduced the RNG of guns targeting it by 3”. Ultimately, this extremely squishy gargantuan is now far less likely to die to dedicated gun fire.

Its most significant change is a new star action called Energy Pulse, which auto-hits hits everything within 6” of its front arc with a POW 12 electrical damage roll, or POW 14 if its animus is up. This is obviously extraordinarily threatening to troop swarms, but since the pulse triggers sustained attack on its gun, it also gets incredible assassination potential!

It simply didn’t have a role before, and now the sky is the limit. I cannot -wait- to flex this piece on the table and see what it can do.

Notable New Synergies & Cascading Effects

As I mentioned before, I think Kaya 3 is going to do something special with Shadowhorn Satyrs. Imagine a frontline of Shadowhorn’s sitting at DEF 15 with Dodge under her feat. Then they jump around, utilize Synergy, and make a huge mess.

Una 2’s RAT 6 Pureblood’s with Hand Of Fate are going to be very scary. A skillful cycling of Hand Of Fate very turn means 2 Purebloods can reliably spray down a -lot- of things they weren’t previously going to.

Kromac 2’s feat turn Ghetorix is horrifyingly difficult to kill. At ARM 21 with Rapid Healing, you will need a huge commitment and flaming hot dice to get Ghettorix out of the way. And the increased amount of hits he can take means the more times your heavy gets hit with Spiny Growth damage.

Una 2 utilizing her feat to give the Storm Raptor SPD 9 is enormous for obvious reasons. 1 auto-hitting POW 14 and 2 auto-hitting POW 16′s threatening a caster from 14” away is completely un-ignorable.

Brennos’ ability to pick something off in melee and fire off an AOE heal or a magic artillery attack is awesome. Being able to un-cripple beasts takes a non-trivial fury load off your caster, and lubricates your order-of-activation problem so common in the late game.

Ghetorix’s ability to Rapid Heal off the damage from a crippled spirit is a luxury not afforded to the other Warpwolves, as they need to force to heal.

And more! Get out there and flex those living beasts, and tell me about anything cool you’re doing!