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qunnblackthorn · 4 years

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( robert sheehan, cis male, homosexual, he/him ) rome welcomes QUINN BLACKTHORN, a WEREWOLF. they are 25/27 years old and have been in the city for ONE MONTH. they are known to be ADAPTIVE + RECKLESS, which makes sense because they’re RESISTANT about the marriages. i heard they’re betrothed to BASIL FAININ - a CHANGELING.

Hello! Let me bring you this disaster of chaos and random self-doubt. Feel free to hit me up for plots whenever, I’m always ready to throw poor Quinn into the most outlandish situations and watch him flounder around. Best of luck, he’s a first rate mess and well aware of it.

@bloodwedstuff [repost of this since the first time it apparently didn’t want to tag.]

Some people are seemingly born with madness in their blood, be it from generations or their own vein of it; they come into the world a shrieking torrent and rarely fall to silence. Such was Quinn, a problem from his first wailing breath. There was nothing extraordinary about him, or his pack, aside from the way they carried on about life. As they were not, as most other packs argued, anything near to proper wolves.

They had the gifts of course, the blood in their line surprisingly pure in fact with few humans in the mix, but it was the way they decided to live that cast a shadow upon the entire lot of them. Dogs, scavengers, city-side mongrels by the murmurers of other wolves; the Blackthorn pack had generations long history of etching out an existence right in the middle of human affairs. Or, technically, in the very midst of their towering cities. Which was no place for wolves, not when they were meant to run and hunt, to defend their territory with teeth and claws.

The Blackthorn lot did all those things and more; they adapted. Early on in their line the founders saw the opportunity for something better than lingering in the forests and never let it be said that a Blackthorn isn’t an opportunist right down to the marrow of their bones. So they became what other packs would not; city shadows and lurking creatures in the neon glow. Brilliant con artists who taught their pups the wisdom of how to navigate the humans’ booming cities and fit themselves in. Quinn was no different aside from being born into the important spot of being the youngest of the alphas’ brood; a example for the rest of the pack.

Too bad he was so very terrible at it.

Because Quinn wanted freedom, wanted everything just the way that unpredictable desire ran in the pack. He learned exceptionally well to roam the streets, to be a wolf and a human in the light of day, and he had a smile that could charm anyone. It was just never enough; he was endlessly bored. His older brothers reprimanded him, often, about pulling himself into some sort of presentable shape; even for a pack of scavenging mongrels they still held their heads high after all. But Quinn was starstruck by life, so young, so very eager to explore it all. The war fractured his wild nights and restless joy; tore everything down around him in one fatal swoop.

The pack slunk back, melded into the underbelly of the city and refused the fight; seeing no reason in throwing their lives away by picking sides. They had known good in both, humans and their supernatural kin, so they avoided the bloodshed. Many snapped and snarled that they were cowards for it but they were very swift-witted cowards, yes, and too hard to corner for other packs to bother much with. Most assumed as the cities fell the Blackthorn pack would go down with it. Instead they thrived as the world turned to dust, the true mark of a survivor is knowing when to swallow pride and stalk the vultures rather than fight the lions; better to have a full belly from stolen spoils than your throat ripped out for testing the anger of a bigger predator.

So the ruins of the city, once called London, became their playground. The world fell apart and they established a territory that even now many are afraid to venture too far into; very few want to take a chance on earning the anger of the wolves who rule over their kingdom of rubble and wreckage. It nearly became their destruction though, and Quinn will certainly claim it was his own, the strength of the pack to survive in the decay around them. As they grew larger a fracture appeared, a battle between the alpha and her brother over the state of the pack as their numbers outgrew their resources, and that weakness was exploited by another rival pack that had been lurking and mulling in their rage over the Blackthorn’s mingling in the affairs of humans and turning their back upon outsiders.

It was a vicious, terrible night that most were not prepared for, too many dead and among them Quinn’s second eldest brother and father. There was victory but the cost was a grave one and what remained was a weary, weakened pack. Then the accusations began. They had been united, stronger for it, but blood rage burned in those still alive, demanding answers. Quinn felt the intensity of it when his remaining brother turned sharp teeth on him, knowing his habit of roaming, of testing and toying with the other creatures in the dying woods and lands outside their city domain. It was his fault for tempting them, his fault for foolishly befriending them and leading them right to the pack in the middle of the power shifting between the leaders. Quinn couldn’t even properly defend himself because perhaps it was true.

It was also a noose around his neck for certain, betrayal of the pack was an offense that would not go unpunished but his mother stepped in to save him. Her command over the pack spared his life but it took his place within it away forever and Quinn had no choice but to run. And he kept running, weary through and through but refusing to allow it to show. Right up to the day he found himself in Rome, the sanctuary he doesn’t trust. The alternative has vicious teeth though, not all of his former pack were pleased with the idea of simply banishing him from their ranks, he’s felt them too close on his heels for comfort for far too long.

Rome might be the best chance he has but it won’t be an easy road.

First and forth-most Quinn will offer as little as possible about his past, shift the conversation to any other direction because he doesn’t want to speak of such things. He still suffers horrible dreams over it and still has no doubt his eldest brother intends to track him down. After seeing that anger he’s terrified of it catching up to him. The less he speaks of the past the more he can pretend it never happened, the more he can pretend the more he can exist without being wary of every shadow that crosses his path.

Quinn is exhausting. There’s little way around it, and it doesn’t trouble him very much. He’s sarcastic, talkative and generally difficult to follow in a conversation but the opinion that if he’s going to make the effort of accepting the oddities and downsides to other people they should do the same for him is one he holds strongly to. Then just as quickly he’ll tip into bland indifference, boredom plagues him. His downsides are a bit harder to navigate, he’s a dramatic, argumentative sort, sometimes to a fault and rather stubborn, but nobody’s perfect.

As it is with most wolves, Quinn values loyalty a great deal. Once his is earned, which doesn’t take as much work as it should, he’s not likely to turn his back on anyone. He might tell them to their face he thinks something they do is foolish but he’s the type to be there for whatever terrible idea it is regardless. He’s devoted to those he is close to, even if he’s just as likely to playfully push buttons as he is to do anything else.

A creature of the pack; he does not do well solitary. Quinn is afflicted by misery when alone and he does everything in his power to avoid it. His decisions are often questionable as it is but when it comes to finding a comfortable spot around others he’s a real master at worming his way into peoples’ graces because he is exceptionally earnest and accepting. He needs people, he’s lost everything else; being all alone is the worst fate he can imagine.

That doesn’t exactly extend to the idea of being pushed off onto some poor soul in the idea of marriage. It’s downright offensive, actually. Pack mentality, wolf mentality, puts a high value on the idea of connections and bonds, and mates, and frankly the idea of a stranger being expected to hold that spot? He’s still got his hackles up about it, that’s not likely to be an easy situation for anyone to walk into. He has every intention of avoiding it as long as possible.

Unpredictable tends to be Quinn’s main direction in life. He is a very sharp survivor and thinks on his feet faster than most, but his attention often wavers and he simply cannot help but fall victim to the extremes in his own emotions. Which means everyone around him has to suffer it as well, misery loves company after all. He’ll take whatever risk crosses his mind, what does he have to lose? He’s a hedonistic sort who never grew out of it, the only difference is now he has grief to haunt him and make the need to experience life all the more dire. Missing out on anything is a missed chance, he doesn’t want to leave any path unexplored.

Other wolves might know of him, the Blackthorns were rather distinct and a bit notorious for their odd ways of life. They also weren’t viewed in a very positive light and generally considered the last bunch anyone would want to trust. Those opinions don’t bother Quinn, but he does know that it keeps most other wolves at a distance. He doesn’t see rejoining a pack in his near future because he can’t fathom one would have him.

In spite of everything he’s not one to get too drug down by life, rather optimistic and unrealistic in his views that things will turn out good enough in the end. Sometimes it’s all he has left, that conviction. And why not? He’s seen what he thinks must have been the worst so things have to get better in comparison to what they used to be.

Oddly, even if he doesn’t look it, Quinn isn’t one to back down when cornered or his teeth are bared. He’s bolder as a wolf than a human, certainly, and he’s faster on his feet than he is strong but that doesn’t mean he’s a pushover by any means. It’s more the fact that he won’t stop, blood rage and blind intention, until he physically cannot take anymore. It’s the sort of brutal necessity that his pack taught; too often if other wolves challenged them it was with intent to kill. He very rarely uses that humanoid wolf form in a fight, or at all, finding it awkward to manage, and prefers to be fully human or fully wolf.

Quinn is a pack-rat. He adores collecting the oddest things and his tiny little apartment home is proof of that much; it’s a bit cluttered and something is nearly always falling over. He loses things more often than he keeps up with them, but it doesn’t matter much. He also has a fascination with books and amasses them, he’s probably read more than he can recall and is constantly curious over new stories.

Rather than take advantage of the usual comforts of his own apartment, Quinn still holds to some old habits. Growing up it was rare to stay one spot too long, even rarer to have much personal space. The excess of it, even though his place is small by most standards, feels strange. He still hasn’t gotten used to the exposed feeling of a bed, prefers to keep his matress in the closet and sleep there.

It’s usually up for debate just how it is he pays for his existence, but the truth is he’s good at finding ways to make ends meet. There’s few jobs he won’t take on, or hasn’t in the past, from the legal to the less than so degree, and he usually has enough in his bank account to stay on his feet comfortably enough. His morals are always a bit shifty though, so it’s not like answer to that question is always an answer he offers up.

Since he has little luck with other wolves Quinn has managed to end up with a few dogs, three to be exact, that share said apartment with him much to the disdain of his neighbors. The animals are actually rather well behaved, he has a way with them, and more often than not has them in tow if he’s near to home. An ancient pug named Gin, a mongrel named Bacardi, and a corgi named Vodka; they’re quite the interesting trio. He found them along the way and far be it for him to turn them away.

#@bloodwedstuff #bqhqintro #intro #quinn / headcanon #death tw

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xvangoghssunflowerx · 5 years

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Artemis Muirgel Profile

Credit for template: @hogwartsmysterystory

Identity

Name: Artemis Muirgel (nicknames are Arty by her sister. Everyone else would just use Artemis).

Gender: Female

Age: 17

Birthday: December 21, 1973

Species: Human

Blood Status: Pure blood-ish (father is a wizard, mother is a squib from a long line of pure bloods from Mexico).

Sexuality: Bi

Alignment: lawful good

Ethnicity: Latina Caucasian

Nationality: Mexican Irish

Myer Briggs Personality Type: INFJ

The Mage

Wand:

Pine wood

Dragon Heartstring core

11" 3/4

Rigid Flexibility

"The straight-grained pine wand always chooses an independent, individual master who may be perceived as a loner, intriguing and perhaps mysterious. Pine wands enjoy being used creatively, and unlike some others, will adapt unprotestingly to new methods and spells. Many wandmakers insist that pine wands are able to detect, and perform best for, owners who are destined for long lives, and I can confirm this in as much as I have never personally known the master of a pine wand to die young. The pine wand is one of those that is most sensitive to non-verbal magic."

Animagus: Polar Bear

Misc Magical Abilities:

Occlumens/Legilimens: She was able to master this ability since she was a toddler due to her fear of her mother being attacked.

Wandless Magic: Has been able to do this since she was a baby, though at random. She was able to master this at Hogwarts.

Bogart Form: A wolf being hunted by an angry mob.

Riddikulus Form: The mob turning into butterflies and the wolf happily chasing them.

Amortentia: She would smell like the ocean breeze and mangos (her favourite).

Amortentia: freshly baked cookies, and pickles/gherkins. (Chiara, I'm assuming, since this is all I have 😂).

Patronus: Polar Bear

" Polar bears are native to the Arctic region and are one of the largest species of bears. When hungry, a real polar bear can be unpredictable and vicious. They’ve even been known to eat humans in circumstances like these. A polar bear Patronus, however, would direct that ferocity at a Dementor and send it packing out of fear of getting a chunk bitten out of its creepy behind."

Patronus Memory: Seeing the ocean for the first time, playing with her sister, when she became friends with Chiara.

Mirror of Erised: She would see herself, at age 11, graduating Hogwarts. Then later sees herself and Chiara, both wearing white dresses.

Specialized/Favourite Spells:

Protego: she uses this spell when she helps Chiara on the night of the full moon.

Expecto Patronum: Learned this spell out of curiosity to find out her animal or if she could even cast one.

Expelliarmus: Loves using this spell the most to not hurt others.

Skald: Uses this as a last resort. Scalding pressurized water. (Made up spell since there's not very many water spells).

Appearance

Faceclaims: (random images on internet. Younger on left. Older on right. )

Game Appearance:

Height: 5'05"

Weight: 135lbs

Physique: A bit mascular, full hour glass shape.

Eye color: Brown

Hair: Dark brown, wavy thick. She likes having it down. She only puts her hair back if she's in potions, or herbology.

Skin tone: Fair light sand.

Body Modifications: two ear piercings.

Scarring: Left hand on her two fingers.

Inventory: Sometimes has her wand on her, usually not. Her favourite book (magic book from her mother's native people).

Allegiances

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Ilvermorny: N/A

Affiliations/Organizations:

Slytherin

Prefect

Head Girl

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Ministry of Magic

Professions:

Prefect

Head Girl

Spy for Order of the Phoenix

Ministry of Magic

Muggle Liaisons Office

Hogwarts Information

Class Proficiencies:

Astronomy: ★★★★★★★★★★

Charms: ★★★★★★★★★✰︎

DADA:★★★★★★★★✰︎✰︎

Flying: ★★★★★★★★★✰︎

Herbology: ★★★★★★★★★★

History of Magic: ★★★★★★★★★★

Potions: ★★★★★★★★★★★

Transfiguration:★★★★★★★★★★

Electives:

Care of Magical Creatures

Alchemy

Muggle Studies

Quidditch:

She loves to fly, but hates competing. She'd much rather watch than play the "brutal sport".

Extra Curricular:

Potions club (though difficult to start one, but Penny managed to convince Snape).

Herbology Club

Favourite Professors:

Professor Severus Snape: Always diligent in his class, she admires how easily he can brew potions.

Professor Aurora Sinestra: She loves the constellations and space. Therefore, she was quite ecstatic to finally have a professor dedicated to it.

Professor Silvanus Kettleburn: She loves how cooky and eccentric he is, but also loves to learn about the many creatures he's worked with.

Least Favourite Professors:

None

Relationships

Sister: Marimar Muirgel

Pureblood-ish

Slightly shorter than Artemis (1/2"), short light brown hair but died red, with brown eyes.

Sorted into Hufflepuff when she was in Hogwarts

Protective, lost in her thoughts, she's stubborn and won't back down when her parents tell her no.

Wandless Magic

Works at a store in Hogsmeade

Father: Beacon Calder Muirgel

Pureblood Wizard

Tall man, slim, blue eyes, short thick red hair with beard.

Sorted into Hufflepuff when at Hogwarts.

Fought in the 1st Wizarding War.

Prefers not to fight, but will do anything to protect his family.

Patronus: Irish Hare

Job: Auror

Mother: Tochtli Ichtaca Muirgel

Squib from a pureblood family of native Aztecs

Short slim woman with dark brown hair, sleek and straight, brown eyes.

She stayed in hiding during the first wizarding war with her two daughters.

She's very hot tempered and energetic.

She may not have magic, but she knows plenty of things from her family that she taught to her daughters.

Love Interest: Chiara Lobosca

They met in 1st year during the investigation of the werewolf on campus. They didn't become friends right away due to Chiara's wanting to keep her distance from anyone.

After a lot of convincing and help from Artemis, they officially became friends the following year.

It took until 6th year for Artemis to finally confess her feelings to Chiara. Though, Chiara rejected her, for fear of hurting Artemis, even though she does indeed love her.

Artemis has backed off, but still remaining friends until graduation. When she asked Chiara to live with her, for her protection. Chiara accepted her offer.

It took two years of living together for Chiara to finally open up her heart, much to Artemis' surprise. It happened one night, when Artemis took her to the nearby forest for the full moon. After the sun had risen, the muggle villagers, who had finally caught on to the werewolf living in their midst, prepared a gun with silver bullets which they fired at Chiara, now back in human form. Artemis had thrown herself in front of Chiara. They apparated out of the village, where Chiara healed her up, apologizing profusely. To which Artemis just looked at her with a smile, happy to see that Chiara was unharmed.

The two of them fought in the battle of Hogwarts.

After the incident in the muggle village, they moved to a cottage far away from anyone on a cliff facing the sea.

They got married in secret. Her sister, Penny, Liz, Barnaby and Charlie were in attendance.

Took Borf with them after graduating.

Best Friends:

Penny Haywood

Charlie Weasley

Barnaby Lee

Liz Tuttle

Rival:

None. She doesn't like competition.

Enemy:

Fenrir Greyback

Death Eaters

Voldemort

Dormmates:

Rowan Khanna

Liz Tuttle

Ismelda Murk

Pets:

American short hair brown and black tabby named Loki (Artemis')

Black short hair cat named Squeaky (mother's)

Fluffy ragdoll cat named Michaelangelo (mother's)

Orange short hair cat tabby named Spaghetti (mother')

White persian Himalayan cat with blue eyes named Blizzard (mother's)

Fruit bat named Waffles

Brown Owl named Cherry (family)

Closest Canon Friends:

Charlie Weasley

Barnaby Lee

Penny Haywood

Liz Tuttle

Closest MC Friends:

🤷‍♀️

Background/History

Artemis grew up in the port town of Dingle. She loved going down to the beach to watch the waves crashing against the shore. Her sister was always off doing something, so Artemis was often left alone.

She was very fascinated by the muggles in her neighborhood and always asked to borrow their things.

She conjured up the scalding water spell on her own one day, when a suspicious man tried taking her with him.

She was a precocious child, always asking questions beyond her age.

She learned Legilimens and Occlumens as a toddler due to the much hate the wizarding community had towards her mother for not only being a squib, but from a foriegn country. She would often get into the minds of people she thought were harmful or mean to make sure they stayed away from her mother.

At Hogwarts, she became fast friends with Barnaby and Penny during potions class in their first year. She made friends with Chiara in their second year as well as Liz. Then made friends with Charlie during their care of magical creatures class.

She hates causing trouble and tries her best to avoid Tulip, Jae, and Tonks. Though, occasionally she'll talk with Tonks.

Personality

Introverted: She just prefers to be by herself, with others like her or extroverts who respect her quiet nature. She'd much rather snuggle with a book all day than talk, unless she felt comfortable around that person.

She loves swimming and anything nature related. Or just staring up at the night sky.

Misc

Has Gaelic ancestry and Aztec Ancestry

Her father and mother teach her and her sister of both Gaelic and Aztec culture.

She speaks Spanish, Nahuatl, English, and Gaelic.

On her mother's side run seeresses and on her father's side run animagus.

Her love of muggles lead to her taking up a postion in the ministry in that department. Though, she finds out quickly that it is one-sided. She tries her best to see the good in muggles and wants them to coexist with witches and wizards in a friendly manner.

She ends up separating herself from her parents when they discouraged her from getting involved with Chiara. (Since graduation).

Her theme music is: Boyish by Japanese Breakfast and Tú by Maye

#artemis muirgel #hphm #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery #harry potter: hogwarts mystery #oc #character profile

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triggeringthehealing · 6 years

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Lightning Strikes

Derek/Stiles || AO3

Summary: It’s only supposed to be a camping trip to help Derek’s and Scott’s packs bond. Stiles is prepared for a whole list of possible crises. Except one -- he didn’t check the weather forecast. Rating: PG Word Count: ~5k Tags/Warnings: fluff, mentions of Hale house fire, pack bonding, camping, Spark Stiles, Alpha Derek, Alpha Scott, everyone is alive

Written for the @multifandomwritingchallenge for the theme ‘nature’ - prompts: mountain, moon, lightning, sky.

Stiles isn't sure whose idea it was to go camping. None of them ever went, not even when they were kids. Between Melissa's unpredictable schedule and John's long hours, neither Stiles nor Scott ever had a chance to experience things like this, because there just wasn't enough time. They didn't do organized camps either, not with their parents' budgets being as tight as they were.

Allison apparently has some experience with setting up tents—Stiles doesn't bother asking, since bringing up hunter training tends to be a mood killer all around—and Malia knows her way around wildlife and plants that are safe to eat, even if only for coyotes. They're lucky that Jordan is tagging along because his past army training means that they now have a fire going and their tents are actually likely to survive the night. The only other people who seem likely to survive in the wilderness are Boyd and Derek since Erica's seizures meant she could never participate in outdoorsy activities and Isaac's only been in one camp when he was about six, not that he remembers any survival techniques from back then. Lydia and Jackson's camps had none of the actual camping, obviously, and they're both not all that happy about this trip. Danny's surgery kept him away from the outdoors just long enough that he was too old for camps by the time he was healthy again.

"Look, the lantern is better in the tent," Stiles hears Jordan explain. "We've got enough light out here with the fire, we all have flashlights for any necessary getting around. The lantern is bright enough to attract… all sorts of things."

"Fair," Lydia answers, though she's not all that enthusiastic about it. "I still don't understand why we had to climb a mountain for this. We could've easily bonded as packs somewhere more comfortable."

"Except this is the one way to avoid running into trouble," Allison says, earning herself several eye-rolls. "And these guys can shift and chase squirrels."

There's a growl from somewhere behind Stiles. He doesn't bother checking who it's coming from. The possibilities are as many as there are werewolves around. Instead, he ducks into the tent that he's left his backpack in and comes back out with a sweater. The werewolves might not need to keep warm, but he's getting chilly in rather unpleasant ways. They do have the fire set up, but he's yet to figure out how to keep more than one side of his body warm,

"Here's hoping there's nothing trying to claim the forest tonight," he mutters, keeping his voice low.

Not low enough to avoid being overheard by the pack members with enhanced hearing, all of whom throw him a glare that he translates as "if you just jinxed us, I'll kill you" or something similarly cheerful.

"It's not supposed to be raining, is it?" Erica asks with her eyes turned to the darkening sky above their heads and past the crowns of the trees surrounded their little camp.

Stiles sighs. It would be just their luck to get a random unexpected rainstorm tonight, right when they're communing with nature and bonding. Hard to do either if you're stuck inside a tent and can't talk to anyone other than the poor souls trapped in there with you.

"Not here, no," Derek says, following her gaze. "The valley on the other side is meant to get hit by the rain though."

"Don't tell me your super sniffer is telling you that," Stiles quips.

"No, see, there's this little thing called a weather forecast…"

"Oh my god, can you two stop with the flirting or foreplay or whatever your bickering is," Jackson interjects, huffing.

"You're just jealous because Ethan isn't around and Danny said no sex without him here," Scott tells Jackson, a shit-eating grin on his face. "You'll have to grin and bear it."

There are some chuckles but then everyone turns quiet again. It's eerie, the silence of the space, despite so many people around. Like breaking it would summon something untoward, which Stiles really doesn't want to contemplate. After all, this is a peaceful bonding trip, one that's meant to bring together Derek's and Scott's pack so they can live in relative harmony. Stiles wonders how long into the night they can get to before someone inevitably attacks someone else, regardless of who is right.

They have been on mostly good terms over the past few years, but it's always a precarious balance to keep. At first it was only him in the space between the packs, trying to maintain that balance as an Emissary in training—that alone was a surprise to him, but apparently having a magical spark, or being one, he's not entirely sure how it works yet, is enough to be an Emissary for a werewolf pack—which only worked because Scott was prone to listen if he thought he'd lose Stiles entirely.

Derek had no such qualms or considerations, but he did appreciate the in with the Sheriff's Department that came with Stiles's presence. And he'd started to work with John on cases that had traces of the supernatural. All in all, the set up they had going in Beacon Hills worked.

Even with Isaac frequently spending time with Scott and with Kira drawn to Malia of all people. And Stiles being on the edge of both Derek's and Scott's packs, belonging to both and neither at the same time. The truth was that he didn't want to choose, not now, not ever, if he had any say in it. He just hoped—not that he had an expectation of anything—that if it ever came to revealing the reason why he was so torn between the two Alphas, Scott would understand.

This camping trip might just make everything come to a head, Stiles thinks as he watches everyone move around and put finishing touches on their circle of tents in the clearing.

"Hey Stiles, we need to get the sleeping bags sorted, you remember which one goes where right?" Scott calls out and Stiles grins when he sees him standing in front of one of the tents with a pile of sleeping bags by his feet, looking confused.

"Well, no, but I took notes," Stiles says and walks over, tugging his phone out of the pocket.

There's no coverage here, they're too far out in the woods, but his notes app loads quickly and with it the list of pack members and their respective sleeping bag descriptions. Stiles gives Scott instructions and the pile gets smaller fast and then vanishes altogether, leaving him standing in the circle and looking at the campfire in the middle.

"Right, mountain ash," he mutters as everyone starts settling onto the big stones around the fire.

They'd agreed that he'd begin a mountain ash circle for protection but not close it unless there's an emergency. He's the only one who can, still, despite Danny and Allison also being human. Danny suggested that they keep the circle closed and have one of them open it to let the werewolves and coyote and kitsune out if needed, but Stiles figured this was better. He knew that some of them didn't like the feeling of being contained in such a small space—big as the clearing was.

So he walks the edges of the clearing with mountain ash in hand and stops only a foot from where he started. It's enough that he can get to it and close it quickly, but the wolves can get out easily before he does. He already knows that they won't disturb the line if they step over it, it takes a spark to move the ash these days as his abilities grow stronger.

They don't have any plans for this first evening besides making some s’mores and hanging out by the fire. The full moon is still two nights away and they're in no rush since they're staying for the whole week. The hike to the clearing did take a toll on all of them though, so one by one everyone starts disappearing into the tents soon after. Stiles checks the mountain ash line one more time before he crawls into his tent—he's alone in it and for the purposes of this trip, he's Switzerland, the neutral zone. No man's land. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but when there's nothing but silence to keep him company, he's wondering if it was a good one. Then tiredness gets the best of him and he falls asleep, mind still full of worry.

He feels a little more settled the next morning, after a surprisingly good night of sleep—the air feels fresh and clean, like the rainstorm that did indeed hit the valley on the other side of the mountain spread the fresh scent all the way to them. But the rest of the group isn't as calm, at least not the shifters. As little as Kira and Malia are affected by the moon itself, they do feel the restlessness from the wolves and channel it in ways they don't really like to talk about.

It makes for an interesting morning with a few scuffles and a lot more glaring as they all wander down to the stream that's close to the camp they set up. The shifters calm a little once they're in the woods, but Stiles is the one who gets restless then, feeling the energy of the trees. It's not as strong as the Nemeton, but his spark still picks it up and makes him full of energy, like he should be running—not that there's anything to run to or from right now. He only calms down again when Derek sits down next to him and they both stare at the running water, not saying a word until everyone else has headed back to the camp.

"It's the Preserve," Derek says. "Mom always said that it had a mind of its own."

Stiles hums in acknowledgment.

"I thought it was the Nemeton, for a while," Derek continues quietly. "But then we fixed that and it didn't stop. It's like the forest itself feels us and makes itself known."

"Got any old Hale wisdom about that one?" Stiles asks.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Derek shake his head.

"I tried looking into it. Asked Peter," he adds with a sharpness to his voice like he's taken a bite out of a lemon. "He knows nothing either. It's probably because this land was ours for so long."

"Think your wolfy DNA seeped into the shrubbery?"

Derek turns to him with a glare that he doesn't seem to really mean if the twitch in the corner of his mouth is anything to go by. Stiles smirks at him, unable to resist the temptation of a joke.

"I mean, you guys rub yourselves on everything when you're all..." he makes pretend claws with his hands. "It wouldn't surprise me if you'd left traces of yourselves all over this place."

"For all I know, you might be right," Derek tells him and shrugs. "Or it's just because the forest is so big and there are too many things that happened here."

"I can feel it," Stiles says. "I didn't before, but now that I'm getting more attuned to the whole spark thing, it's like it draws me in."

Derek looks at him with an expression that makes Stiles think of panic. It's more subtle though, not like when he is on the verge of a panic attack. It's closer to worry and he's not sure what he's supposed to do with that. He's never seen Derek concerned like this about anyone, his own pack and family included.

"Don't let it—" Derek cuts himself off.

Stiles has a flash of a memory hitting him right in the face, the ice bath and the Nemeton and the sacrifice.... he shudders when he blinks himself back into reality.

"Yeah no, not going anywhere near sacrifices ever again," he says quickly. "Once was enough for several lifetimes. Worth it," he says, doing his best to ignore Derek's glare, "but not my best day."

"You mean you being a little dark kitsune shit was not something that came naturally?" Derek asks, sounding a lot lighter.

"Not the dark part," Stiles says.

"Don't go growing tails now either. Don't think you could get away with that in college."

"Eh, might be a nice little party trick. Kind of like you guys with the glowing eyes and all. Did you ever flash them at people when they were drunk?"

Derek grunts out a "no" but it's anything but convincing.

"Halloween has to be fun with that. Scott's claiming he's not taking advantage of the shift, but I think Kira messed with lightbulbs a few times, now that she can control them properly."

To Stiles's surprise, Derek is quiet and when Stiles looks at him properly, he notices the blush on his cheeks.

"Wait, you do, don't you? Get the fangs out, flash your eyes...." Stiles chuckles. "Oh man, the kids have to love that."

"No idea. They're usually too busy running away and screaming," Derek says.

The satisfied grin on his face is a sight to behold. Stiles does just that—he commits the image to memory. It doesn't happen a lot, Derek being relaxed and sharing these kinds of details. He's changed, they all have, but these little snippets of the Derek that he must have been before the fire, before the absolute disaster that some of the past few years were, they're still rare. Stiles cherishes them all the more when it's just them. He feels like he's being let in on a secret when he gets to see Derek smiling, relaxed, willing to just be a person rather than the Alpha.

"With great power," Stiles mutters to himself, then pointedly stares at the water again when Derek raises a questioning eyebrow in his direction.

"So, full moon tomorrow night," he says instead of reacting to Derek's unspoken query. "Please tell me we’re not going to do things like trust falls or other weird bonding things?"

"No. Just us, talking, catching food...."

"Wait, what?"

"Well, not you. Or Lydia. Maybe Danny. But mostly the wolves. We'll head out today and hunt down some food," Derek says with a completely blank expression.

"Like, rabbits? Or a deer?"

"Malia would love that," Derek deadpans. "But no, you idiot. We'll run down to town for some takeout."

Stiles lets out a relieved sigh.

"I'm all for you honing your hunting instincts and all, but I don't think anyone would know what to do with a whole deer. Or how to make it edible to humans," he says. "I'm sure you don't mind your steaks on the rare side, but I prefer mine well done, thank you."

"And I'm pretty sure we can't go hunting for curly fries anyway," Derek tells him. "Not the right season for potatoes."

"Oh ha ha," Stiles says, starting to get off the stone he was sitting on. "Come on, let's get back to the hungry horde before they start eating each other. I think the deer might be a better option than that."

Derek nods and gets up too, then walks by Stiles's side all the way to the camp, where the rest of the packs has settled around the campfire that someone managed to get going and boiled water for coffee. Stiles ignores Scott's curious glance, then Lydia's knowing smirk, and he focuses on the mug that Allison hands him instead.

"Wow, this is a business venture in the making," he says. "If one of you settles in San Francisco in the future, I bet you could make a living selling campfire coffee to hipsters."

"Beats a job in Starbucks," Jackson grumbles.

"Hey, someone's gotta do that," Kira protests. "After all, those are people who make half of you marginally more tolerable in the mornings."

"Not everyone is a morning person," Stiles tells her. "These guys are the things that go bump in the night, after all. Can't expect them to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.... oh wait," he stops with a smirk, then ducks when Scott and Isaac both throw crumpled up paper in his direction.

"None of you shift fully," Derek chimes in. "No bushy tails for you. I'd hope."

Stiles can't help but chuckle when he sees at least Scott and Jackson fail at being sneaky about throwing a glance at their own behinds, a mildly worried expression on their faces.

"So anyway, what's the plan for tonight?" He looks around at everyone in the clearing as he asks. "It's not running after squirrels night yet, are we doing anything specific?"

"Just taking a bit of time off, away from everything," Derek replies. "I'll go run the territory borders, make sure everything is fine."

"Alone?" Stiles frowns.

Something is telling him that it's not a good idea for any of them to be alone in the Preserve, not this close to the full moon. Or ever, really, but especially at this time of the month, it feels like asking for trouble.

"I'll go with," Scott offers, surprising everyone. "I've never done the full circle, you can show me that to look out for."

It's a bit of an olive branch, an opening to what they really came here for—to get the packs together and make them work as a team. Derek obviously sees that and nods.

"Afternoon," he says. "We don't need to rush."

After that, everyone relaxes again and they all focus on breakfast. By the time Derek tells Scott it's time to go, everyone has managed to find a spot of their own and there's chatter and laughter, some quiet conversations going on in the corners. Stiles can't help but look on as Derek and Scott vanish into the woods though. He walks the circle of ash, checking that it's still in place the way he set it up the day before, makes sure he has the rest of it in his pocket, ready to use at a moment's notice.

He's not worried that either of the Alphas will attack the other, but it's like something is out there, waiting to take on all of them.

As the afternoon slowly moves towards the evening, the clouds above them start thickening—another storm approaching, like the one on the other side of the hills the night before. It's another thing that makes Stiles uneasy, especially since he's not sure if it will hit them this time.

The sky is still bright enough when the first bolt of lightning strikes, thunder following some time after, telling him that it wasn't anywhere near. Then there's another one, a little closer.

And then...

Scott dashes into the clearing first, right as the first drops of rain start falling down, the cool water sizzling as it hits the campfire in the center. Derek follows him seconds later and both of them look like they're gearing up for something. What that is, Stiles doesn't know, but his anxiety spikes immediately after he gets a good look at their faces.

"What is it?" Allison asks hurriedly when she walks up to Scott and looks at his face. "I'm gonna.—"

"No, it's fine," Scott tells her, putting his hand on her shoulder to stop her from rushing into the tent.

Stiles figures her plan is to grab whatever weapon she chose to bring this time.

"It's nothing," Derek says. "Well, nothing bad at least."

There are several faces around the clearing that make it obvious that he's not convincing.

"The storm," Scott starts, then pauses to look up at the clouds. "It's closer than we thought it would be and with the lightning...."

His voice trails off and he glances at Derek.

"Forest fire," Stiles says glumly.

He doesn't need to look at the others to know that they all look alarmed.

"We're good here, for the most part. But if it expands, it would be hard to get out," Derek says, glancing around the clearing like he's trying to figure out if there's enough distance between the trees and the tents.

There's another crack in the sky and then the rumble of thunder almost immediately after. Stiles turns towards it quickly and huffs when it becomes obvious that he won't see smoke unless a fire is too close. Then he realizes what effect being surrounded by fire could have on Derek.

"Oh shit," he says and heads for his tent.

He doesn't pay much attention to anyone who's calling his name. There are more important things to be done.

"Where is the... oh come on," he mutters as he rummages through the bag he carefully packed, then the one he hastily threw together that has clothes and other supposed necessities. "Ah!"

When he crawls out of the tent, he sees that the others are glancing up at the sky in between throwing their things into the bags they brought with them.

"You guys can go if you want to, but I can make sure we can stay," he says, loudly enough to be heard by the humans as well.

He looks up and sees no sign of smoke, but he's not convinced that if there is one, it's going to pass them completely. Or that there won't be a fire at all, because he's lived in California his whole life and he knows it doesn't take much.

"The downside would be that we couldn't leave until it's all gone. Which might be a while," he adds, glancing at Derek and Scott. "But since the full moon isn't until tomorrow, it should be okay."

"You can't hold back fire with mountain ash, Stiles," Derek says in a sharp tone.

"I wasn't going to," Stiles tells him. "But remember how Deaton was teaching me about barriers and protective magic?"

"The stuff about mountain ash and the invisible walls?"

It's Scott who's asking, his forehead scrunched in a frown.

"Yeah, but kind of a little better and holding things out rather than keeping them in," Stiles explains. "I've been learning how to raise barriers against pretty much everything. Fire included."

Derek stares at him incredulously and he's the only one Stiles bothers looking at. It's not because he's afraid or worried about the reactions from everyone else. It's because the only reaction that does matter is Derek's. After all, Stiles looked into fire protection because of Derek, because of his history and the effect out of control fires could have on him.

If anyone does ask, Stiles's rehearsed answer is that considering the past, he would be wrong to not prepare himself for all the possibilities. It's an explanation that he knows will be met with understanding nods and will just be chalked down to his tendency to dive into all possible research of anything he comes across.

When Derek doesn't show any kind of a reaction, Stiles shakes his head and then marches over to the edge of the clearing. He carefully walks the line of mountain ash while he's reciting the incantation that he's got memorized, watching his every step and making sure that he doesn't disturb anything he shouldn't be disturbing. When he gets back to the start of the line he doesn't stop a foot away. The barrier closes with a ping that he's sure only he can feel.

"That doesn't feel like a mountain ash circle," Scott says almost immediately.

"It's not," Stiles tells him. "It doesn't hold you in, it just keeps out anything I want to keep out."

"So like, attackers—"

Stiles glances and Isaac, who's frowning and looking around the clearing.

"No, that would still require me closing the ash circle. This keeps out specific things, like fire and smoke," Stiles explains. "If there was a flood, I could keep water out too, but it would be more difficult. Water is a whole different amount of energy."

He looks around the clearing and at everyone. They've all stopped packing and he squirms a little under their gazes. Then, finally, he finds Derek. He's standing behind Boyd and unlike everyone else, his eyes are not on Stiles but on the forest. Then, like he can feel Stiles's gaze, he turns to face him and Stiles barely holds in a gasp that forms in his throat when he sees the expression in Derek's face.

"You did this," Derek says quietly.

The air feels like it's frozen around them. Stiles doesn't look away from Derek when he opens his mouth and talks to the rest of the packs.

"You guys can still go," he says. "Like I said, it doesn't hold you in."

Then, like someone snapped a whip and magically teleported them somewhere else, they all scamper into their tents, leaving only Derek and Stiles in the center of the clearing.

"You.... this is a very specific spell," Derek says, barely loud enough for Stiles to hear. "I know it. Mom knew it. I always wondered..."

As his voice fades out, Stiles cringes. He takes a step forward and doesn't miss the way Derek flinches at the movement.

"Deaton told me it was because he wasn't in the house," Stiles explains, feeling the ache that Derek must be feeling. "It doesn't work from outside."

Derek nods, but it's a small, aborted movement.

"I'm sorry," Stiles says, taking a step back. "We can still go. There might not even be a fire tonight. I just... I wanted to... I know how much you..."

He stops himself. The words that were about to come out of his mouth would have given away the reason why he looked up and learned spells that protect this place and any other place from the elements. Specifically from the one element, from a fire.

"You.... this wasn't just a general precaution, was it?" Derek asks and this time it's him who steps closer.

Stiles shakes his head. If there's something he doesn't want to do right now, it's to lie to Derek. Not now, not ever.

"Why?"

There's a beat, then another one. Stiles takes a deep breath and opens his mouth, but no words come out. Not the ones he wants to say, not the ones he's deliberately holding back, not words that would give Derek an answer without giving away Stiles's secrets.

"You didn't just do this because you wanted to learn whatever protective spells you can," Derek says, a statement and not a question.

Stiles shakes his head again.

"This was about fire. About me."

Stiles nods.

"Why?"

"You know why," Stiles finally manages to say, the words heavy on his tongue. "You know why it mattered."

"Tell me," Derek whispers.

He's suddenly right in front of Stiles, having crossed the space between them faster than Stiles's mind could process.

"I can't," Stiles mutters. "There's no going back if I say it."

"Tell me," Derek pleads.

He lifts his hand to Stiles's cheek, fingers hovering close enough to Stiles’s skin that the heat of Derek's palm radiates against it. Stiles jerkily nods his head and Derek rests his hand on his cheek, then puts his other hand on Stiles's side.

"I love you," Stiles says, the words rushing out with a breath. "I looked into everything I could to make sure that I knew all the ways that I could to prevent not only hunters but also things that could bring back memories."

"Idiot," Derek mumbles, then he leans in.

He pauses before their lips touch, waits for a beat, then closes the distance when Stiles nods again.

"Oh finally," someone says from one of the tents, loud enough that even Stiles can hear it.

They don't stop kissing, not until Derek pulls away and groans, his cheeks coloring in reaction to whatever it is that he heard.

"Your idiot?" Stiles asks when they lean their foreheads together, Derek's palm a steadying weight on his cheek.

"My Emissary?"

Stiles's eyes widen, his mouth opens and then closes. Then, instead of answering, he kisses Derek again, muttering an affirmation between their lips.

"So hey, you two wanna take it somewhere inside?"

It's sometime later—Stiles realizes he's lost track of time—when the question comes from behind Stiles, Scott's voice filled with amusement.

"I mean, I'm sure Erica is all up for getting a show, but if clothes are being lost..."

"Oh shut up," Stiles mutters, feeling his cheeks burn.

He's pleasantly surprised that Scott isn't angry or disappointed, that he's not asking about the whole Emissary thing. It doesn't seem important right now and Stiles knows that he'll try to figure out a way to make it work, to not have to choose an Alpha or a pack to belong to. But in the end, if he can't, if he needs to choose, he knows what choice he'll be making.

"Hey, the storm seems to be over," Kira says then, breaking the momentary tension. "No more lightning."

"No fire," Derek whispers against Stiles's lips.

"Never."

Stiles says it with finality, with a determination that he can feel in his bones.

"Not on my watch," he adds, then chuckles when Derek kisses him again.

"Get a room!"

it's more than just one person shouting those words and Stiles blushes again. This time though, instead of staying rooted on the spot, he reluctantly pulls away from Derek after a quick kiss, then he links their fingers as Derek's hand falls away from Stiles's cheek.

"Come on, I have a tent all to myself," he says with a grin.

"Not anymore, you don't," Derek counters.

They both ignore the groans and cheers that follow them into the tent. Stiles grins when they're in and he pulls the zipper closed.

"Did you know that there are spells to soundproof a place?" Stiles asks.

Derek shakes his head, a smile on his face, then he tugs Stiles onto the sleeping bag and kisses him again.

#sterek fic #sterek #eternalsterek #multifandomwc #multifandomwritingchallenge

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holloweyed-wolf-blog · 5 years

Photo

Name: Nathan Meyers Faceclaim: Bill Skarsgard Gender & Pronouns: Cis-Male & He/Him Age: 24 Occupation: Freelance photographer Species: Untriggered werewolf Affiliation: N/A

+ Observant, Adaptive, Resolute - Unpredictable, Guarded, Sarcastic

[History]

The world is unkind to people, it offers little without a struggle. Nathan discovered that nearly from the start of his life when he was born the second youngest out of what would end up being a brood of four children, to a father with intense, blinding ambitions and a mother so entirely disconnected from normality that she claimed him to be some terrible curse on the family. There was nothing extraordinary about his birth beyond that it fell on the same night as the bloodiest the pack had seen in generations, but it was no accident or attack, no, it was simply the time of rites. They were an unsettling line, his mother's, laced with a strange madness and ancient ties to magic through centuries prior dealings with dark witches. Blood and violence, strange happenings and an air of unnatural things ran through the very existence of the group. To have a wolf born at the cusp of their rites though must have been a sign of damnation.

His father thought it nonsense but as time passed and it seemed that bad luck and terrible things kept befalling them some began to wonder if there was truth to it. Eventually it spread into nearly endless arguments between his parents, more miserable than the cold shoulder he received from many of the pack.

Nobody was surprised when she was simply gone one day, taking with her the murmurs about strange dreams and terrible monsters, the glint of fear in the corners of her eyes. Perhaps everyone was caught off guard that she took her youngest child as well, and being only seven at the time left Nathan blaming himself for the loss of both his mother and sister. Everyone else blamed him too, not only for that but seemingly everything that happened. His only escape from it was his brothers, they at least looked after him, a stark contrast to their father who was always scrutinizing and tense with anger over his plans falling short. The man was a con artist at best, a liar at worst, and poured his energy into pushing his sons to make a name for themselves to give the rest of the family a higher standing.

Nathan only found disinterest in the politics and macabre practices of the pack, a lack of desire for a place among people who speculated behind his back and called him a mongrel and a demon to his face; it was little wonder that as he grew older he refused the idea entirely of spilling the blood that would trigger his genetics. Not only that, but on some level he could not escape the words of his mother and the worry that, perhaps, there was something wrong with him that might reach the breaking point with that first change. It was why his father considered him an outright failure but he had grown numb to the man's snarling expectations and fallen into the sort of indifference that had plagued his mother before her mind had begun to slip.

It was a sudden turn of luck for the better, a random bet that actually paid off, that brought the family into unexpected wealth only a few years after being split. Finally able to leave behind that place, they cut ties and left the shadow of the Appalachian hills for the distractions of a bigger city. For a time things were good, his father was nearly kind and the pressure that had always suffocated Nathan was eased, but it didn't last long. The money did, yes, and growing up without want of anything was a stark contrast but when his father once again approached the idea of Nathan taking a more active role in a pack things between the two turned cold with the argument. It was different though, that time, his brothers were too often busy then in the city chasing their own vices and lives to give him a place to retreat to. He distanced himself in other ways but lived every day with the reprimanding presence of his father and the constant demands, he practically longed for nothing more than just to be free of the man. Everything made him some disappointment, somehow, it was all just one compounded sum of things he had to listen to lectures over constantly.With the stress came a subtle unravel in his mind, shadowy dreams and hints that, perhaps, he had inherited the madness of his mother and her blood.

The first chance he got he left, put California behind him and all thoughts of wolves, his family and everything else.

A handful of years found him traveling, picking up freelance jobs as he went and falling back on his personal wealth gleaned off the family bank accounts over time, trying to step outside the claws of what had been. He did it too well, perhaps, he had only just finished a job in a sleepy little town called Aurora when he heard from his eldest brother for the first time in years. He hadn't been shocked by the news because something had been nagging in the back of his mind for weeks, the death of his father, but surely even hating the man hadn't been enough to tip the cosmic scales towards his end, had it?

The funeral had been a blur he barely recalls, and his return to that small town felt like where he needed to be to chase away those old demons, or perhaps come face to face with them.

[Headcanons]

Yes, he is very tall, (6′4″) and one would think that a positive but Nathan lacks some coordination and chances are if there is something to trip over or hit his head on he very likely will do so. He once sprained his ankle walking down the stairs and that’s a good indication of how little he can be trusted when it comes to anything remotely more graceful than sitting in a chair. Even that he doesn’t do right, long limbs and such, never seems to be a good way to fold them out of the way.

He’s fascinated by things that many would deem dark or unsettling and always has been. There’s something about it that stems back to his childhood growing up amid whispered rituals and surrounded by the sort of trinkets associated more with darker magic than most werewolves venture around but he does see the allure in oddities and always seems to collect them whenever he settles one place for long. Same as his photography, it often showcases decay and the appeal of the darker side of life if left to his choice in subject matter. He is a product of his past in some ways, that eeriness that surrounded his life in those years is a part of him. Now, the obsession with campy and gory horror movies might just be him being weird, but he binge watches them and finds them hilarious.

Nathan has always been an extremely aware person, partly developed from a childhood of constant study of people around him in that attempt to fit in. It’s one of the reasons he’s such a good photographer, he tends to notice details that others miss. He reads body language very well and is very rarely caught off guard once he’s taken in his surroundings. It’s a very underrated skill actually, his eye for the unconventionally useful and the small details lends itself to discovering things often overlooked and understanding people better than they might be comfortable with at times.

Added into the long list of things his father enjoyed pointing out as areas where he fell short of his expectations Nathan discovered the man was of the opinion that his coming out as gay in his latter teens also didn’t fit into the family plans. That was one fight Nathan avoided though, remaining private about his sexuality for years aside from his brothers knowing, on some level it took him a long time to come to terms with such a literal part of who he was being something his father couldn’t accept.

He does have range of emotional intensity that is all over the place but rather introverted. Nine times out of ten he is far more ruffled by things than he allows others to see, masking it over with bored distance more often than not because the alternative is letting those emotions rule him and the danger in it is how little control he feels in those situations. His anger is red-hot, his pain over things deep-rooted and while he savors what emotions have to offer him because he’s always looking for something that feels real, it’s rare that he expresses anything with even a fraction of the depth he feels behind it.

Absolutely blunt at times, sarcastic enough to where most anything might come out of his mouth, easily distracted and a slew of other negative traits to go along with it, Nathan is by no means perfect nor does he intend to be. He finds perfection utterly dull, having grown up in the bubble of his father striving for it as a point of impressing others, he chases vices and desires recklessly because he refuses to exist short of the extremes it takes for him to shake off the emotional dust that is always trying to suffocate him.

Under the surface Nathan does suffer from some degree of personality and dissociation disorder. He’s never sought medical attention for it but he is at a much higher risk of mental breakdown and mood swings along with it. Oddly depression being a common issue for many people with those range of disorders as well isn’t one he is afflicted with; he doesn’t see much to get depressed over with his otherwise fairly nihilistic beliefs that things happen the way they do and there is a cycle to better and worse that people simply go through.

Nathan doesn’t bond too well with people, unless he does. There is seemingly no reason as to why some people earn his loyalty deeply and his friendship without question and others never get a chance to get anywhere close to the idea. He seeks out people for various reasons, never the same reason for more than one person and he fills in the spots with those who hold a specific meaning to him. No two people will ever be the same to Nathan, no two will ever be important for the same reason, but very few stick around him long enough to find a place and he’s come to accept that as just the way of the world.

He admits, sometimes with an amusement over the fact that borders unhealthy, that he has screwed up a great many things in his life and will continue to no doubt do so. While he could easily be an excellent liar he saves that skill for when he wants something and is rather honest about himself to others, and he expects the same. The world is hollow enough, he has no time for people who are. His words come off badly, yes, maybe he says things with too much of an edge now and then but he offers people something that is far more valuable than most realize; indifference to their faults. In the end nobody is anything more than a collection of disasters and he delights in learning the details rather than looking for the shiny parts.

[Family] Mother

Leah Meyers (Unknown location. NPC) Nathan has an uneasy view of his mother, what he remembers of her at least. She was very devoted to her pack and within it shared a great deal of delusions. After she left them he struggled with feeling it was his fault for a long time, as he grew up he saw that was less the case but instead the anxiety remains now that he knows a great deal of her issues were with mental illness and maybe even something supernatural to it as well. Seeing some of that in himself is incredibly unnerving for him and always in the back of his mind.

Father:

Jacob Meyers (Deceased) It isn’t that Nathan hated him, exactly, he just found him an overbearing misery to be around.. Being the youngest of the boys he was usually the one left home alone with his father and suffered a large share of his anger and sharp comments, his seeming lack of direction was another tense point between them that never settled well. He hasn’t come to terms fully with the idea of him being dead but it’s more from the sense of guilt of being absent during the years of decline in health for Jacob. He might have managed to make peace with his father some day but time ran out long before Nathan was ready to even try.

Siblings:

(Currently Unknown. Open Connections if anyone wants to play them - just DM/contact me) Nathan has two older brothers and one younger sister. Of them he hasn’t even seen his sister since she was small and likely she doesn’t remember any of them unless their mother made a point to tell her about the family. His brothers he’s been on fairly good terms with even though they have different personalities than his own. His oldest brother specifically is the one he’s run to for support on occasion but the two tend to argue and have a difficult time seeing eye to eye on most things. In the past year there has been more of a strained relationship between the three of them though with Nathan’s all but disappearing and lack of involvement in their father’s life as the man was dying.

#nathan [bio]#wanted connections #tw: child neglect #tw: child abandonment #tw: emotional trauma #tw: mention of mental illness #tw: death #extended bio #i added far too much to this #oops

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holdyourbreathuntilyouseelight · 7 years

Text

Bury All of You

Summary: What happens after Alec accepts Magnus' drink in 1x06, leading up to the morning after their impromptu sleepover.

Rating: K+

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Author: dylanobrienstyler

Can also be read on AO3.

Alec wasn't sure what made him agree to do this.

Maybe it was still the fiery rebellion inside his gut that had come aflame when he heard from his sister the plans their parents had laid out for them. Maybe it was that his issues with Jace was making him feel less secure in his personal relationships and fueling a desire to spend time with those outside of the Shadowhunter realm. Maybe it was that, although he was stubborn beyond words at times, Alec knew that there was something deeper pulling him to the warlock he was currently in the company of.

But whatever it was, it had led him here. To sharing a drink with the High Warlock of Brooklyn.

He had originally come because Jace had asked him to throw aside duty for Clary Fairchild's friend Luke, who had been badly injured in a werewolf power battle. He had argued with Jace on the matter at first, knowing the redhead was more trouble than benefit and that throwing aside their Shadowhunter duties to tend to all of her extensive needs was getting a little ridiculous and only spelled disaster. He and Jace hadn't been seeing eye-to-eye lately, but he couldn't deny that he missed his parabatai. And after Isabelle spouted their parents' plans for them, he knew that following the rules wasn't helping him build the life he wanted. His life's path apparently would always be chosen for him.

So Alec ran to Magnus' side, where Jace had claimed he was needed according to Magnus' specific request, and he found the warlock struggling to maintain his magic. The shaking items in the loft and intense colours swirling out of his hands made it clear Magnus had been using a lot of power to attempt to heal Luke.

Alec had bounded to his side, clasping around his middle to keep him upright as he swayed, and offered his hand for Magnus to leech his strength from.

It had been an exhausting and strange experience, but they ended up saving Luke from the alpha venom wreaking havoc in his veins, so he figured it was worth it. Even if he didn't have any alliance to the new werewolf pack leader and he was wary about interfering with Downworlder politics, a life spared from the evils of the world was always a win in his books.

After Magnus had settled Luke into the guest room across the loft in order to recuperate post-near-fatal wounding, and Clary had excused herself to speak to him before she too followed Simon and Jace's earlier farewell and raced out of the loft like she was on a mission.

Normally, Alec would care what the troublesome girl was off to likely screw up next, but he found himself ignoring his usual ambition to minimize any potential damage and deciding that someone else could clean up everyone else's messes for once.

Instead, he hung around Magnus, cleaning up the blood from the leather couch with the remnants of Luke's torn shirt. He wasn't sure if Magnus even owned cleaning supplies.

Sure enough, Magnus made a comment about being able to use magic to tidy the mess, but Alec reminded him of his intense exertion not long before and hesitantly accepted the drink Magnus offered him.

It was quite strong, making him grimace at the taste as it burned down the length of his throat, but he kept drinking it anyways. He usually wasn't much of a drinker, but he'd had a shitty enough day that he'd make an exception.

And then of course his mother called and he was reminded of all the things he was trying to forget. Including the way Magnus was hinting at something growing between them that he wasn't ready to face.

A part of him wanted to say yes. Wanted to keep going with the rebellious drive he had alight inside, but it was so much more than just disapproving parents he had to worry about. He wasn't sure he was prepared to tackle everything that came with admitting what it all would mean.

And Magnus seemed okay with that. Seemed to understand his inner turmoil. As much as he was flirty and playful, he also backed off when he sensed Alec getting spooked, and he made it clear he wasn't pressuring him.

For that, Alec was grateful.

And he supposed that was why he ended up agreeing to a second drink.

"See, I told you I'd find a drink that you'd like. Some things just take experimenting." Magnus teased, sipping at his own martini and smiling at Alec fondly from the rug in front of the couch. He had taken to sitting on the floor, taking samples of the food he had conjured up for them to enjoy while Alec sat stretched out on the couch.

Alec rolled his eyes, but his smile was goofier than usual, as the alcohol was now buzzing warmly under his skin.

"I should've had more faith in you." Alec said in mock-sombre tone, drinking more of the bourbon staining the bottom of his glass.

His phone buzzed again, but he feigned ignorance, knowing it was just his mother again. He wasn't one to defy his parents, always the rule-follower, but he needed a night off from being the model son. And he had already told Izzy he would be home late. Worst case scenario, Jace would be able to reassure their mom that he was fine, since anything otherwise and his parabatai rune would let him know.

So Alec didn't let it bother him. If his parents felt they had a right to dictate his life, such as setting him up with a politically beneficial arranged marriage for the sake of the family name, well, he could have drinks with a warlock for one night.

Alec hadn't been sure how the night would go. After all, he doubted he and Magnus had much in common. Alec had grown up in the institute, following rules, leading demon killing missions, and generally being as straight-laced as could be. He didn't have mundane experiences or wild nights to reflect on. Whereas Magnus had lived for centuries, and, with his dramatic story telling that night backing it up even further, had clearly lived a colorful life.

Yet Alec found himself enjoying the other man's company immensely. The intrigue he felt towards the warlock after meeting him only grew as the night went on. He found himself laughing more than he had in a long time, and his humour came out more than usual. Maybe the alcohol helped aid in that, but Alec felt oddly comfortable in Magnus' presence.

It probably helped that Magnus watched him as if he was just as enraptured as he was.

Magnus refilled his glass with a flick of his wrist and Alec watched in fascination as the liquid appeared out of thin air.

"That's so weird to see." Alec commented, pulling his glass so it was in line with his sight, as if studying the contents would explain the magic he witnessed. "I've only ever been around warlocks in battle. Or ones doing healing. But random, every day kind of magic is… cool."

Magnus chuckled. "I'd be happy to show you more any time. I forget that, despite your involvement in the Shadow World, you still have only been exposed to so much."

Alec sipped at his drink, brow furrowed as he got lost in his thoughts once again. What else was he missing out on? What else could warlocks do? He didn't really know much about them, besides that they could be a terrifying force to be reckoned with so you better damn well hope you don't piss one off. Usually the mission plan when a warlock came on the scene was to get out of there as soon as possible. Runes may be able to make Shadowhunters perform better and give them extra skills, but the angel blood wasn't a replica of magic. And warlock magic was unpredictably intimidating, especially with as little as they knew about it.

"You're cute when you're thinking hard about something." Magnus drawled, sly smile resting on his lips.

Alec predictably reddened. Even the alcohol couldn't save him from his own awkwardness, so he started to try to say something, but his stuttering was all he could choke out so he quickly shut his mouth.

He didn't understand why Magnus seemed so charmed by him. He was awkward, socially stunted due to being raised at the Institute and not seeing much outside of the building besides demon killing missions. It wasn't exactly a place for growth outside of skills. And he never really outgrew his shyness, since he spent most of his time with people he was closest to. Getting to know new people and be comfortable with conversation was a strange experience. He much preferred knowing what to expect.

He didn't even know if he was conventionally attractive. He figured he must be, since Jace always teased him about the odd female Shadowhunter group whispering about them, but Alec always noticed their eyes dart to his parabatai. He was the one who attracted attention, who stood high with confidence and was perfectly comfortable with being flirty and using his charm to get his way. And Izzy definitely turned heads. Alec had sent many scowls at the drooling men that watched her walk by or kick ass in the training room. If he went up against them in the next duel and added a few extra bruises than was necessary, so be it.

Magnus shuffled over so he was sitting in front of him and slipped his hand in Alec's, causing him to startle in surprise.

Looking up to see his face, Alec spotted the roundness of his eyes and the way the frown drew down his entire face.

"What's wrong, Alexander? You look troubled. Is something on your mind?"

Alec shook his head immediately. "I'm fine."

He didn't move his hand away from Magnus', oddly enjoying the warmth in his own. His gaze dropped to watch the way Magnus' thumb rubbed an arc across the back of his hand. He wondered if Magnus was even aware he was doing it.

His eyes narrowed in on the dark colour adorning Magnus' nails and he picked up their joined hands to inspect it further.

"Do you use magic to paint your nails? Izzy says it's a lot of work to get them right."

Magnus laughed. "Sometimes. I've had a lot of practice though, you know." he teased with a wink, leaning back against the front of the couch and letting Alec play with his fingers, checking out each nail. "You don't think it's weird? That a guy wears make-up and nail polish?"

Alec didn't take his eyes off their hands. "Not really. It looks pretty."

Magnus smiled and felt himself relax further. He was surprised by the answer; Alec didn't seem like he was comfortable with things diverging from the societal norm. The society, of course, being the Shadowhunter realm. Magnus was an anomaly in a place like the Institute, but for some reason, Alec didn't seem to think so.

Alec piped up again. "Were you there when they invented nail polish?"

"Well, there's a lot of history to it, and most say that it was invented long before I was alive and used in other countries like China first. But the introduction and marketing into North America I was there for, since that was the 1900s."

"Cool." Alec said, finding himself grinning. "You must have seen a lot of things invented."

"I did. Also a lot of magical innovation come to life."

"Really? Like what?"

Always one to quell a curious mind, Magnus began a long story about an experiment adventure with Ragnor Fell that left them seeking ingredients for a potion across the world. It was harder then, when they had seen less of the world so portals didn't come as easily. The ingredients weren't easy to obtain either, and the potion was one of their own invention, so there was the added risk that it would all be for naught. But they had done their research and had a lot of motivation, so it ended up being successful in the end.

Alec found himself tuning in more to the honey sound of Magnus' voice than the retelling of the tale, and soon was lulled into a peaceful slumber, body going lax on the leather cushions.

His hand never left Magnus'.

Magnus felt himself losing his audience, and sure enough, he looked up to see Alec's chest rising and falling at an even rhythm. His eyes were closed, his hair splayed across his forehead, and his face at a peace Magnus hadn't seen on it before.

His few interactions with Alec made one thing clear—he had an ability to get too caught up in his own head. So to see him with his mind at rest was refreshing. And he was even more beautiful than Magnus had anticipated.

Unable to help himself, he teased the raven hair back and watched it flop back into place almost instantly. Alec didn't stir in the slightest.

Magnus could feel his body begging him to join the slumber party, but he knew he should wake Alec and remind him that he had an Institute to get back to. He hadn't missed the frequent calls Alec had been ignoring. He only hoped that Alec wasn't solely there to stick it to his parents.

The insecure part of him, the one that was fueled by Alec's avoidance of his gaze and short remarks, had him worried for that. But tonight had been eye-opening too. Lowering Alec's inhibitions with alcohol had certainly helped them get to a more comfortable place. Magnus enjoyed his company, the way his interest peaked instead of extinguished when it came to learning more about his warlock side, the rapt attention he gave Magnus any time he was speaking, the gentle brush of his touch when he was brave enough to reach out.

Magnus didn't know what was happening to him. He wasn't supposed to be falling for anyone, much less a Shadowhunter. Not since Camille…

He wasn't going to dwell on her. He had told himself he didn't need love; it had never been an easy thing to have and keep. His track record hadn't been great, and it didn't seem to improve with age.

But Alec… Alec's soft smile he tried to hide. The ringing sound of his laugh. The way his skin crinkled around his eyes when he really let go and laughed.

He couldn't be falling for Alec Lightwood. Not when he was a straight-laced Shadowhunter who was unbearably stubborn and buried under his own internalized homophobia that had been forced upon him by the powers that be. It would never work. Not when he was part of a powerful Shadowhunter family. Not when he refused to admit to being himself.

Magnus' eyes drifted back to Alec's sleeping form, and his heart melted once again.

He was so smitten.

Which meant he was so doomed.

The sunlight peeking over the horizon and casting shadows across the tall buildings was what caused Magnus to wake in the early morning.

His body felt like molten lead had filled his veins. Every move was heavy, making him want to sink further into the couch he was sprawled across.

But he managed to sit up and wipe the sleep from his eyes. It made him realize he had forgotten to take off his make-up the night before, so he grumbled as he cleared the old and applied new make-up with a wave of his hand.

The pathetic spark that faded from his hand after he was done reminded him why he was so exhausted. His magic had been wiped pretty spectacularly the night before. He needed a lot more sleep and maybe even some remedial potions to help get him back to his usual glory.

Magnus suddenly spotted the man on the opposite couch.

Alec was still sleeping.

Magnus had halfway expected him to wake up in the middle of the night and bolt out of there. But maybe he had been too exhausted. After all, Magnus drained his strength pretty well too.

He hadn't planned on falling asleep. He was sure Alec hadn't intended to stay the night either. And despite the nonsense his Downworlder friends would no doubt throw his way if they ever heard of the impromptu slumber party, he knew it would be nothing compared to what Alec would endure. The Clave was not a fan of the Downworld, and it definitely wasn't a fan of him.

Magnus stood. It was still early. Alec could likely share a coffee with him before he ran back to the Institute. They may not have even realized he was gone all night yet.

Making sure his appearance was more than favorable, Magnus conjured up steaming hot coffee and placed a mug in front of Alec on the coffee table.

"Cream or sugar?"

He tried not to coo at the confused frown Alec sported before he bolted upright.

"Did I fall asleep?" he asked, noting the sunrise colors painting the loft.

"We both did." Magnus admitted, sitting next to him with his own mug, but Alec immediately leapt to his feet like he was burned.

So much for progress.

"On separate couches, never fear." Magnus added, a little more peeved than his previous light tone.

"I should never have taken you up on your offer for drinks." Alec said quickly, his anxiety settling into his features as he paced back and forth.

Magnus tried not to feel hurt, but it still snuck under his skin and cut into his chest. He knew it was just Alec's panic talking, the alcohol having worn off and now being faced with the daunting concept of returning to the Institute after his rebellious evening.

"In hindsight, liquor may have been a bad idea after I drained all of my magic to heal your friend Luke."

"He's not my friend." Alec cut in immediately. "He's Clary Fairchild's. I've known her five days and she's already more trouble than she's worth."

The bitterness in his tone was stronger than ever, but Magnus only watched him intently.

"You're more than just a pretty face, aren't you?"

As expected, Alec looked utterly bewildered. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Only someone like Alec would take offense to such a comment.

"You shared your strength with me to help your friend? It's rare to find a Shadowhunter with such an open heart."

Alec swallowed, absorbing his words. He paused from his spot near the door, not sure how to explain the complicated feelings he had yet to analyze.

"I trust you. I don't know why, but I do." he admitted.

It was the truth. After all, it was one of the reasons why he had come running when he asked. And why he had said yes to drinks instead of going for a walk in the city to avoid going home.

It was getting lighter out. He couldn't waste any more time.

"What time is it? I have to get back to the Institute."

Magnus' usual flirty smile was back. He clearly enjoyed Alec's comment about trusting him.

"Stay for breakfast. I conjure up a mean Belgian waffle."

"No." Alec retorted immediately. He couldn't give Magnus the wrong idea. Not again. Last night was an accident. "And if you let anyone know I slept here last night…" he added for good measure.

"Relax. My reputation is on the line just as much as yours. I would lose all my credibility if I let my people know I let a Shadowhunter spend the night."

Alec hovered by the door, confusion settling on his features. "Then why'd you let me sleep here?"

Magnus looked wistful, a half-shrug on his shoulders. "Trust makes you do strange things. Must be something in the air."

Before his words could sink in too much, Alec turned on his heel and left out of the door without looking back.

It wasn't until he was walking briskly through the throng of mundanes in the street that he reached up to wipe the stray water that slipped from the corner of his eye.

If only last night could have been something different than a mistake.

Things didn't seem much better back at the Institute. Apparently his dad had been looking for him to fill out some large stack of paperwork he had procrastinated on by skipping coming home the night before, and Izzy was sending him knowing looks like she could see into his soul, which was aggravating. Her pointed statements were only making Alec's head spin even more.

But his denial to his sister made it obvious how much he was keeping buried. That nothing had happened. It was just a business thing. There was nothing to tell.

But Alec wished he could give in and tell Izzy things like she wanted him to. Like the sparkle in Magnus' eyes when he started exuberantly telling a story and how the details he wove painted such a clear picture. How he constantly used his hands when he talked, so much so that at one point he knocked something off the coffee table and they both dissolved into laughter for a good few minutes. How much he could shut off his brain when he was around Magnus and just take a breath.

The memories made his guilt eat at him further, and he slipped into his room after submitting the completed paperwork to make a phone call.

"Alexander? Did something happen with Luke?"

Alec bit his lip. Of course Magnus would assume he was calling out of duty rather than socially.

"No, no, he's fine. Everyone's fine. I was calling to talk to you."

"Oh, well that's even better." Magnus said, voice immediately warming. Alec felt his heart pick up speed at the sound, hearing the smile on the other end of the line and the memory of the sight was enough to make his own form.

"Look, I…" He should've thought out his words better before calling. He was never good at speaking, especially when feelings were involved. "I… I was rude to you this morning, and I wanted to apologize."

There was a poignant pause at the other end of the line. "It's all right, Alec. I know it was an unexpected place to wake up."

Alec pinched the bridge of his nose, even the memory of the morning making the anxiety lick its way along his skin. "I just panicked… I knew my parents were looking for me to talk about their new plans for my future, and Jace was going to try to drag me to help Clary with her next crises, and Izzy was being roped into plans by my parents too… It just all came back at once and spending the night anywhere besides the Institute is a huge breaking of rules unless on a mission and I was already in trouble for ignoring my mom's calls…"

"I understand, Alexander. I forgive you. I know you weren't upset with me so I didn't take offense."

Alec exhaled slowly. "Are you sure? You're more angelic than any Shadowhunter I know if you really aren't going to hold my bad manners against me."

"Ah, don't be so quick to dismiss yourself. You're quite angelic when you sleep. Minus the snoring."

"Wh-what? I don't snore!" Alec practically shouted, mouth agape.

Magnus laughed, the sound tinkling through the phone line. "Whatever you say, angel."

"You're horrible." Alec grumbled, pout on full display now.

"Then why are you calling to make sure my feelings aren't hurt?"

Alec hesitated, not sure how to approach the subject.

He became serious again. "I… I did have fun last night. I enjoyed spending time with you."

"As did I."

He let out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding.

"Wh-what… um, what do you want? With me?"

Alec closed his eyes, hating his awkwardness for making him less than eloquent.

"I want to get to know you more. If you're willing."

"I am. But I just…"

Magnus interrupted this time, tone soft. "I know. You can take whatever time you need. I'm not getting any older, remember. I'll be here for you, when you're ready."

Alec didn't know what to say, so many words ready to spring off his tongue but something stronger blocking their motion.

"Thanks for calling, Alexander. Let me know when you decide what you want."

And with that, he hung up, and Alec was left standing in the middle of the room with a quiet phone line.

"I just want you." he whispered into the silent device, the ache in his chest almost too much to bear.

But that was just another thing he'd have to bury. Another feeling he'd have to treat like a mistake.

So Alec shut his mouth and walked out of his room with his head held high, swallowing the lump in his throat once more.

#malec #malec prompt #malec fanfiction #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #shadowhunters fanfiction #prompt

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octorabbit · 7 years

Text

Sheith Vampire AU

+ character details

Story starts off as Keith and Shiro growing up as childhood friends, always going on little adventures and causing mischief as little kids do. One day they get jumped by a vampire (Lotor), the vampire isn’t out for feeding, more for toying with humans for fun, involving trying to rip Shiro apart, and fully intending to do the same to Keith who tried to fight him off Shiro, resulting in an injury and oh… Never smelt such wonderfully unique blood like that before… Lotor has to have him, so he grabs Keith and leaves Shiro to bleed out and die.

Shiro survives and through meeting Coran and Allura, becomes a hunter, feeling it’s the only way to make amends for letting his best friend die. His arm is replaced with a mechanical one that’s coated in silver which is most effective when meeting people and being able to suss out if they’re human or a supernatural. All these years led him to a town where there’s suspicious rumors of people mysteriously disappearing, going around to find any information on whether people see anything or if they knew the people who’re missing, which leads him to a pub to get more leads. It’s here that he meets a woman…she looks familiar; a flirtatious little minx that he has a chat with before going after someone else who she leaves with…and that guy never returns.

Obviously suspicious, Shiro goes after this woman, unable to find her but runs into a man who looks eerily similar. Using his fake hand he concludes him to be human, and later on that night and finds the woman back again and then he realizes… it’s the guy from earlier crossdressing?? more red flags for Shiro, the crossdresser doesn’t get lucky this time in finding arm candy so Shiro follows him back which leads him into a rather large mansion just out of town which he sneaks into once the crossdresser has gone inside.

Lurking around and investigating, he ends up in a bit of a trap. Stuck in the main hall as he watched the crossdresser at the top of the stairs being fed off by that same vampire who took Keith away.Turns out after a quick exchange that the vampire is none other than Lotor, son of one of the most powerful vampires in the supernatural world (and the guy Allura and Coran had been trying to track down for years) and more astonishingly, the crossdresser IS Keith, kept alive because his blood had been so addictive and been kept as a feeder/pet for all these years.

Lotor knows of Shiro’s reputation, he won’t be getting out of here unscathed if he tries to escape, so he needs to make a bit of a sacrifice…a pity really to let something so wonderful go to waste. He ends up forcing Keith to drink his blood, and then slit his throat before throwing him down the stairs, and makes a run for it while Shiro is stuck making a big decision - Leave Keith, who he found after all these years he thought was dead to bleed out and die , or to give him his own blood, which would make Keith the very monster who had held him captive for all these years …. It was a painful decision but Shiro did what he thought was right

Random deets

Keith (19)

Spends his earlier days as a vampire detained until he’s able to settle down and think rationally again

Scar remains along his throat. He’s self conscious about t and tries to hide it with high necked clothes or scarves

Absolutely hated every time he had to crossdress for Lotor and has been promised that he’d never have to crossdress again with these new guys… a blatant lie

Feeds off Shiro exclusively out of the group, and has a supply of blood pills that only eases off the cravings for a short while. Is a messy eater

Current abilities is night vision, acute hearing, superior speed and strength, and transforms into a bat (later on becomes strong enough to become a monster-bat)

Usually only turns into a bat for spying purposes, when injured, or avoiding the sunlight (he hides in his friends clothes… except for Lance… he’d rather burn)

Full vampire mode turns his hair white as Vampires often obtain physical traits of their sires.

As a fledgling he’s very susceptible to the calls and influences of Lotor, his sire, as a loyalty ingrained into all those the sires turns. To resist is maddening and incredibly difficult for someone of his lowly rank

Shiro (23)

As the one to actually turn Keith, Shiro takes it as his responsibility to keep Keith in check as vampires, particularly fledglings, can be very unpredictable and a hazard

Found out about hunting when he was investigated by Allura and Coran when they heard about the attack and kidnapping while he was in hospital. They took him in when he begged them to let him join.

Spent over 10 years hunting and helping maintain the peace in the supernatural world and earned the title of Champion because of his impressive slaying streak.

Specializes in vampires but well versed in other supernaturals

Wears his silver laced mechanical arm on missions, downtime he sticks to a classic wooden prosthetic laced with magic so it functions like a normal hand

Has a large assortment of weapons, usually stick to handguns but has plenty of knives, stakes, holy water ect. He’s always prepared and armed to the teeth.

Usually the one who has to break Keith and Lance up when they try to pick a fight with each other

Often has people betting on him. Bets vary from how many kills on a mission, to whether or not the champion will finally fall or survives but get’s his arse handed to him… Shiro is fully aware and less than impressed

Allura (appears 20)

A very powerful witch from the infamous Altean coven that has been long since destroyed

Older than she looks… like SUPER OLD. Most people are aware of this fact and if they value their lives, will never mention how old she really is

Started a secret organization that handles in the affairs of supernatural creatures that are considered threats to both humans and other supernatural beings

Was the one to train Shiro when he began his life as a hunter

Absolutely fascinated by human culture and how it’s constantly changing and evolving over time, so it isn’t a surprise to find her reading magazines or randomly popping up in public for shopping, consuming human media or people watching

Doesn’t get to go out into the field as much as she’d like, and is usually only out when called in for emergencies

Coran (appears to be late 30’s/early 40’s)

One of the last remaining survivors of the Altean coven

Magic wielder but not overly powerful. Specializes in healing and defensive magic, and very limited offensive spells

An expert on all things supernatural, and very well versed in potions, elixirs, and charms

Always the one to make newcomers feel welcome, and often helps train newbies

Usually only goes on missions if it involves retrieval, or peacekeeping, but often get’s caught up in fights because something always has to go wrong with this lot of hunters… always

Forever struggling to understand new generation lingo, music, or why this pokemans thing is so popular

Pidge (17)

Werewolf by blood from both her parents

Tech guru of the team, but not afraid to work in the field

Especially good at tracking due to her heightened sense of hearing, sight, and smell

Actually get’s along with Keith like a house on fire in spite of Vampires and Werewolves being ‘natural enemies’. The reality is it’s a stupid myth that became very popular in the supernatural and human world, and only relevant to those involved in the Vampire/Werewolf turf wars

Has good control on her transformation, but does accidentally go wolf if she’s pissed off, and occasionally succumbs to her wolf side

Currently in the lead of the Shiro betting pool

Lance (17)

New recruit, overly eager and cocky to work in the field

Incredibly jealous of Keith due to his close relationship with his idol (when will senpai notice me?)

Gun specialist, exceptional as a sniper and often on creature control if Keith and Pidge lose the plot

Has been turned into a frog on multiple occasions because of hitting on Allura and one time because of her age

Shiro saved him from a vampire attack, which turned into serious hero worship/man crush, and stalking him out to become his apprentice

Ironically not that good with blood. Small injuries? Fine! Large amounts of blood and he’s likely to faint

Potentially has the dumbest luck. Just conveniently took a step before a metal girder crashed down right where he was standing before without knowing it was falling. These situations happen a lot

Hunk (18)

Weapons expert and engineer. Also likes to create useful tools like blood pills for Keith or a chemical that temporarily makes the drinkers blood taste revolting to vampires and other blood suckers

Also has an amazing amount of knowledge on supernatural creatures. Not as extensive as Coran but still incredibly useful.

If Pidge is in the field, Hunk takes over as tech guru. He very rarely likes going into the field if the mission is high risk

Missions he does go on he usually likes to bring back little souvenirs and knickknacks as reminders and to decorate his room/lab

Reigning arm wrestling champion of the team, even managed to accidentally throw Shiro out of his chair when competing against him

Grew up aware of supernatural creatures, his family owned a shelter for creatures in need for generations. Has a mix of many supernaturals in his blood but heavily watered down

#voltron #vld #sheith #sheith vampire au #au bucket #why did it take me this long to post? i had most of it already written up and just needed some minor changes #Hunter au

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kristie-rp · 5 years

Text

If you could not die, that’d be great

Original by @cassandra-rp / @coloredinsanity

The scythe gleams silver, moving entirely on its own: it has launched itself through the air, evading the chaos its master is currently suffering. December, the owner and master, has been launched after it, the strike from the creature she has hunted causing it. The scythe has become caught in a branch, and she catches herself on it, breaking her fall. Her own momentum is enough to swing her back towards the monster, weapon in hand.

“Thanks, Raquelle,” she mutters, an aside to her scythe. It only gleams in answer, not daring to provide any greater distraction as the master sprints towards her target.

December has vampirism in a manner that makes her purer than most, granting advantages turned individuals such as Syrus cannot dream of. She has enhanced speed and resilience, and her senses can rival the most perceptive beasts; there’s a spiffy intelligent name for it, known by Intella but not December. Apparently, it is a trait that has been lost in the last few centuries. The veins and bloodlines of anything at all are visible under her gaze, and the beating hearts around her are completely unique. She can count the number of people in a room and pick their locations based entirely on subtle differences in the beats of their hearts. It makes her a brilliant fighter, granting her unique insight into weaknesses and effective targets.

The beast she is fighting also has a spiffy long-ass name, one Paimon and Intella will no doubt use at the drop of a hat. December does not know it, and does not care enough to try to rectify that. She knows it is dangerous, and she knows it needs to die; that is all she needs.

It is possible that this is why she gets along so well with Rikku, compared to most other people. She is presented with a creature and sees it as a demonic monster, one with no intelligence aside from an urge to kill, eat, and hunt for flesh. She is presented with one such monster, and she decides it needs to die.

She has already injured it, and badly. One more good blow, and it will die: she has it lined up as she jumps again, slicing the back with her scythe. She doesn’t expect the spikes in its’ back to separate and launch at her, several impaling her, and shards of those that miss – exploding against the trees – embedding into her skin. It’s instantly painful and she can feel it burning, and it tells her exactly what it is, and that she has made a mistake in assuming it is bone.

It’s not bone. It drives her to the ground in response to the pain, to her hands and knees, already a mess. But in her defence – why would she assume some random monster has adamantium spines?

Raquelle withdraws from the scythe to check on December, who she considers both her owner and a friend. She touches her back as gently as she knows how, touch feather light, and assesses her condition. The wounds are bad, fatal to most, but December – predictably – refuses to let it show, drawing herself upright. Two of the largest spikes are embedded in her stomach, but December refuses to acknowledge them, drawing her phone before she is forced to double over again.

The phone is caught before it hits the ground by Raquelle. She knows exactly what to do: it’s moments like these that she’s glad her master made the decision to hire a lackey. December had been reasonable enough to tell Asher where she was going before disappearing into the woods, and he is not far, lurking nearby in case he is needed. Raquelle tells him to hurry up, because there’s nothing else to say.

December has a stubborn streak several miles wide. It is this that allows her to hold herself together when they reach the hospital, because she does not want to catch attention: she covers herself with a heavy jacket that hides her wounds. She is walked into the hospital by Asher, leaning heavily on his arm. Raquelle is forced to stay outside, because they cannot bring the scythe into the hospital, and because she is bound to it. She trusts Asher to get her master to where she needs to go, because Asher helped Charlie all those years ago, and knows better than most which buttons to press to take the elevator to the basement. He does not comment on the fact that December’s jacket is doing nothing at all to hide the blood trail.

The drips catch the gaze of a passing doctor. Garrett hadn’t noticed the woman, distracted with signing off something for the receptionist before he starts his lunch break. It is as he looks up from the papers that he sees it, crimson against the sterile white floor, and clearly leaving a trail. He follows it with idle curiosity, glimpsing the source of the trail as the elevator doors shut.

He’s instantly struck by her. She’s beautiful, of course, but it’s not just that. There’s something else, something entrancing, and clearly she’s not entirely human. She will be going to see the expert in the ‘secret hospital’, he guesses. He decides he needs to find out what is happening, and learn who she is. “Page me if anyone needs me, but I’m on break,” he tells the receptionist with a warm smile, ignoring her blush to head to the stairs. He takes them cautiously but quickly, two at a time as he heads down to the ‘hidden’ hospital that Vincent maintains.

She has no idea that she is being followed when Asher helps her collapse onto an examination table. She passes out immediately, blood loss and pain becoming too much for her. Asher rolls his eyes as he makes sure she is laying on her back; Vincent looks up. It is the body hitting the table that caught his attention, not the elevator chiming or the footsteps: his book is too interesting for anything less than an emergency to distract him.

His eyes are disinterested as they pass over Asher, and he completely ignores whatever words of concern are falling from the lackey’s lips. Vincent has long since forgotten human emotions and concern, dismissing them as a waste of time. He turns his attention to December as the familiar scent reaches him. His steps are near silent as he approaches, adjusting the coat to examine the wound. The adamantium spikes are immediately revealed, and he contemplates them. “Well. That’s rather unfortunate.”

He shoos Asher out of the way and reaches for a pair of scissors in the same gesture, intent on removing the bloody blouse. The scent of a werewolf – woody, warm, and dog – assaults him as the door swings, and he glances up as he sets the scissors aside. Garrett has been brought by curiosity, it seems, and his fellow doctor notes that he is entirely focused on the woman on the table. Vincent’s lips twist into the vaguest hint of a grin, which he quickly hides as he adjusts his glasses, turning to his collection of medications and ingredients. “Vampire, adamantium spikes imbedded.”

“Adamantium?” Garrett asks. He’s still learning, but from what he has been taught by Vincent and the remains he has been allowed to examine and autopsy, he is under the impression that vampires should be dead from a wound that severe, at least when made with adamantium. “Shouldn’t she already be dead?”

“You have been paying attention,” Vincent notes with some approval. “The answer is yes. Why do you think she’s not yet?” He has selected a particular liquid, a potion from his stores, by now, and pours it to neutralize the metal as Garrett considers. Neutralizing it will both prevent it from doing further damage to December, and from doing anything to harm him as he operates. Garrett is good, but he does not trust the werewolf to do what needs doing if Vincent harms himself.

“You said – before, you said something about pureblood vampires. If that causes it – is she like that?”

Vincent nots and directs Garrett to hold her and prevent her from moving, waiting until he obeys. The two are surprisingly in sync, considering how averse Vincent is to working with others. Garrett trails a hand along her arm and it sends a shiver reverberating throughout his body, something incredibly familiar in it. It feels, he thinks, like a memory – but that cuts out as he has to focus, ready to restrain her more as Vincent removes the spikes.

One is ripped away, and she tenses in response. Her body twists as if that will help her to escape the pain, and Garrett’s expression twitches in sympathy. He watches as the wound begins to heal, muscle and fat and skin slowly returning. Vincent applies some more of the liquid to speed the healing process, watching to ensure it completes. He repeats for the second large spike and gaping hole, before moving on to carefully picking the smaller shards from her torso, arms and face.

Vincent has an unfortunate tendency to be ‘quirky’. This is the nice way of saying it: the fact is, he is erratic and unpredictable. Garrett has, sadly, gotten used to this, having to make a choice between adapting and leaving. Given the number of fascinating discoveries Vincent has enabled, he’s been willing to adapt. When his unpredictability kicks in and Vincent reaches for Garrett’s wrist, Garrett allows it with a sigh. He flinches when Vincent nicks his wrist with the scalpel, ignoring all training and hazardous substance warnings they’ve been through, and guides Garrett’s wrist to December’s lips.

Asher is a completely viable alternative, but he doesn’t protest either, alternating between watching quietly and texting updates to Raquelle. In reality, Vincent probably has hundreds of spare bags of blood in the fridge down here, pillaged from haematology. Unfortunately for Garrett, they live in this reality, where Vincent puts his amusement above all else. And this? This is going to be amusing.

“Is it really okay for her to drink from me?” Garrett asks uncertainly, wide eyed and not entirely expecting an answer. She’s a vampire, after all, and he’s a werewolf.

He doesn’t get an answer, which is fine, because December’s eyes shoot open the instant she tastes blood on her tongue. She shoots upright and clutches at the hand that feeds her, instinctively careful. She does not want to damage it, after all; she knows better than that.

For a moment, she is convinced this is a dream. After all, she isn’t Paimon. She isn’t blessed. It doesn’t seem to matter how many years she searches for: the fact is, the love of her life has lived once, and has been gone ever since.

But – as soon as her vision focuses – her breath catches in her throat. Her eyes are stinging with tears as she focuses intently on Garrett. “I – it’s you,” she stammers quietly, stunned.

Garrett frowns at her, because he doesn’t even know her name, but he’s looking at her the same way he looked at April when she landed in his custody. It’s the look of someone with a loved one returned, even if they’re sure they’ve never met them in this life. He glances up at Vincent and at Asher, who he knows from his own semi-regular visits to the room, but both of them are watching him expectantly, and showing no sign that this is unusual. Asher is definitely smirking.

“Sure, it’s me,” he says at last, shrugging. He can play along.

The smile she gives him in response to that is almost worth the confusion.

#kristie writes #kwrites #kristie's writing #kwriting #ft. december #ft. asher #ft. garrett #ft. vincent

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awed-frog · 7 years

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Ladies Drink Free/Playing House

The biggest reaction I had about this episode was about Claire, but since it’s slightly wanky, I’ll save it for the end so you don’t have to read it if you don’t want to. My other thoughts generally went into a Mick direction - who the hell is he, and what are they doing with him?

Because this guy - he’s supposed to be this bookworm who’s never seen any action, but at the same time he kept a remarkably cool head around the Alpha Vampire and, more importantly, he killed a kid without falling apart at all. No hesitation, no second thoughts, nothing. He’d spoken to her mom and all, and that made no difference. So now I’m kind of wondering - of course, narratively they decided it had to happen this way to establish a Claire precedent and give them something to fight about, but Mick wasn’t disturbed, or apologetic in the slightest. I mean - he’s not a psychopath, so there was this barely there sadness clinging to him, but it’s also clear that to him, these are animals, and, sure - it’s a shame to put down the family pet when it’s got rabies, but what can you do? It’s certainly not something that’ll make you sleep any less soundly. Plus, he was perfectly capable to hold his own during the investigation, and even saved Dean’s life at the end. I think Sam and Dean are underestimating this guy - assuming he’s just a squint and it’s Mr Ketch they got to worry about - and judging from next week’s promo, that’s something that will land them into a lot of trouble.

It’s also remarkable that they agreed to continue with this alliance at all, and it’s not clear, to me, what is forgivable and what isn’t in their world. Asa’s friend and that Alpha Vampire’s sidekick were exiled, or worse, but when Mary’s duplicity resulted in another hunter’s death, nothing much happened. Here we’ve got Mick killing a young girl and potentially damaging the investigation (they’re supposed to work as a team, right? and that girl had vital information into who the werewolf was), and yet he gets a second chance because, what, he knew about a method of curing lycanthropy which should never have worked? I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it, per se, just that I don’t know where the line is anymore. Maybe that’s the point?

The other thing is, if Mick was played as a Cas parallel - in a very vague, ‘dorky and slightly unshaven guy with tan coat riding in the back of the Impala’ way, then I’m going to be superhappy that he cosplayed as one of Dean’s established crushes. I mean, Mick was wearing grey both at the beginning and at the end of the episode - he only changed into a deep blue shirt in time to be mistaken for Dr Sexy, so surely I’m not the only one who’s slightly suspicious about their motives or noticed the look Dean gave him?

I’m also happy about Dean ‘repression&deflection’ Winchester calling out Mick for not being open about his feelings (dude, seriously?).

And it was nice, as always, to see the storyline focusing on toxic masculinity and toxic heterosexual relationships and Dean being pissed at men who treat women like dirt. Someone who grew up like he did and lives a life of motels and random violence could very easily have been one of those ‘women are bitches’ fuckboys, and the fact he’s not never fails to warm my heart.

That said, time to use my mom voice and talk about Claire.

I really didn’t want to, but I’m finally calling it: I’m too old to be okay with teen heroes. It’s a sad moment, and surely some kind of turning point in life, or whatever, but what can you do? We all grow up at some point. In case you’re wondering if this is happening to you too, symptoms include a) scoffing at Claire, b) wanting to strangle Claire, c) yelling Just do as you’re told, Claire and d) Go back to school, Claire at various intervals during this Ladies Drink Free episode.

I mean - I do like her, and she’s ballsy af, and I want to hope that being an angel vessel will afford her some kind of protection going forward (who knows, maybe that’s exactly why she survived that untested cure), but for fuck’s sake.

The first rule is, like, you don’t hunt alone - not if you have a choice. And Claire’s got plenty of choices - not only she lives with Jody (and, come on, how likely is it that Jody can do ‘all the work’ during a hunt? what Claire meant by that is probably that Jody talks to people, which, considering Claire’s underage and looks about twelve, seems reasonable enough; but when it comes to driving around and ‘hitting the lore’ and fighting and shooting - even if Jody wanted to keep Claire’s involvement down to a minimum, we know how hunts go - they’re simply too unpredictable for that), but she’s got access to Cas, Sam, and Dean, and, through Jody, to a whole network of other hunters we know nothing about.

(Jody had a thing with Asa, remember? So all these people are not as unconnected as they appear to be.)

So to up and leave like that, telling no one where you are, hunting things local police will know nothing about - that’s basically a death wish. Remember how surprised even Sam was when Dean showed up at Stanford and told him he was hunting on his own? And we’re talking about someone who was trained to do that since he was six years old.

One point for Claire, though, is that she sort of understands you should maybe give a call to your loved ones when you’re dying?

(Not Cas, though, because apparently this never happens - Sam never thought about calling Cas was Dean was on the brink of death, and nobody thinks about calling him this time around, either. Not that I’m bitter, or anything.)

Unfortunately for Jody, though, by the time Claire realizes that she’s already turning, so it’s a good thing she survived or Sam and Dean would have had some serious explaining to do.

And, look, I understand most TV show out there have this dumb do or die 40 minutes format, but I’m really uncomfortable when someone makes life-altering (or life-destroying) decisions without even trying something else first. Because Claire, who insists, both during and at the end of the episode that she’s a big girl and she can do everything alone, including hunting supernatural monsters -

(look, I love her, but this is someone whose only accomplishment in this episode was to have a successful gossip with a bunch of high schoolers, remember? because everything else - she pissed off the victim’s mother, didn’t manage to make her way into the morgue, antagonized her main witness by throwing beer into his face - which, okay, he was being an ass but you’re working, Claire, so do what’s useful to the case, not what’s morally right - had a fight with someone she was supposed to be working with, stomped out into the woods with her headphones on to calm down even though she knew there was a werewolf around, got herself bitten and kidnapped and tied up - not exactly the resumé of someone who’s ready to go at it alone, especially considering this is a very dangerous line of work and no one should go at it alone)

- when push comes to shove has to admit that she’s a mess and she’s not strong enough to try and live with lycanthropy. Which, okay, fair enough, but these things can be learned? Many people (almost everyone) are sort of a mess when they’re 20 - it doesn’t mean that’s going to be your default personality forever and ever. And this line of reasoning, and its consequences (an untested medical procedure which had a very high chance to result in agony and death) are particularly disturbing if we consider lycanthropy is often used in fiction as a metaphor of some kind of disease. Like, ugh?

You know, when Claire was babbling about that, I had a flashback to this conversation I had last month with a friend who’s living with severe manic depression. This person, after a disastrous period in a mental hospital where she was medicated up to her eyebrows, is now trying a different approach (under medical supervision): she’s adhering to a very strict routine, she doesn’t drink, she doesn’t eat certain foods, she works out four times a week. For someone like her, who used to be a party animal, changing her habits in such a dramatic fashion was a shock. It’s not been easy, like, at all, and thank God she’s got a supportive family and friends who live closer to her than I do. But the thing is, it’s working.

Being diagnosed with any incurable illness - like lycanthropy, for instance - is certainly difficult and will require a lot of adjustement, but it’s not the end of your life, and maybe it’s time fiction stopped to portray it as such. The fact Claire asked her friends to kill her without seriously considering any other possibility, and the fact Sam and Dean went along with that despite knowing for a fact that lycanthropy can be managed, kind of set my teeth on edge. Again, I understand it was a big and dramatic scene and whatever, but really - ew.

#spn 12x16 #ladies drink free #spn meta #claire novak #mick davies #destiel #if you squint #some negativity #so i'll say it again #i love claire #i think she's a fantastic character #and a good kid #but when you're lucky enough #to have reasonable adults in you life #who love you to bits #maybe listen to their advice #not even teenagers know everything

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kayawagner · 5 years

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Rising Phoenix [BUNDLE]

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Three powered armor suits, new weapons, and armor upgrades expand your ironclad arsenal. Contents Suit Up! Mecha Types Using Powered Armor Using Mecha Powered Armor and Mecha Descriptions Mecha Crew Roles Mecha Wielding Weapons Scaling Combat Mecha Space Battles Datafiles HALO Infiltrator Mage Frame Spellbind Armor Praetor Vindicator Class Kaiju-Hunter Equipment Mecha Weapons Mecha Equipment Armor... Might Regular price: $6.17 Bundle price: $3.05 Format: Watermarked PDF Create the heroes you want to play! Might is an all-in-one fantasy roleplaying game without restrictive character class and race constraints. The rules within help you create the heroes you want to play and the fantasy world you want to explore. With a focus on role-playing, rather than on countless rules and supplements, Might is simple enough for beginner role-players, yet retains the depth needed for the more experienced. 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Welcome to Scarthey — University of the Arcane is the ultimate student's guide to the University of Scarthey, including everything you need for fantastic adventures in the exciting and unpredictable world of magical studies. Compatible with the Fifth Edition of the Dungeons & Dragons game, this 66 page book includes: An exploration of the tumultuous history of the University... Where Heroes Stand Regular price: $2.67 Bundle price: $0.20 Format: Watermarked PDF The peaceful village of Yamamura has had a good summer; the rice stores are full to bursting and even lord Honda looks pleased for once. So, as the momiji leaves turn to yellows and reds, the villagers gather for their annual autumn festival. Food stalls, games, gossip, the sweet sounds of shakuhachi and shamisen music, followed by colorful fireworks and dancing into the night. It will be a night to remember. Yet, for Constable Hideo there are always things to worry about; the many visitors and the ample supply of sake for one. Mix the two together and this night may not be so peaceful after all. And then there are the Inoue girls, Ame and Yuki. In a village where everyone knows your secrets, they still manage to keep the gossip fresh, and biting. Old Sanae remember... Wolf of Heaven — Lupus Caelorum Regular price: $2.65 Bundle price: $0.25 Format: Watermarked PDF Know that which appears evil, but bares its fangs against the darkness. If you've been dying to play a werewolf inspired by popular TV shows and movies, this is your chance. New racial options for your fifth edition fantasy game and a pregenerated, 6th level Wolf of Heaven character. The Wolf of Heaven race detailed here is a potent reimagining of the werewolf presented in the standard fifth edition fantasy game and the SRD. The children of heavenly beings and mortals, the Lupus Caelorum are deadly hunters and ferocious warriors, fully detailed here and ready to add to your high powered campaign. More titles from Rising Phoenix Games... ... 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kayawagner · 5 years

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Rising Phoenix [BUNDLE]

Publisher: Rising Phoenix Games

This special bundle product contains the following titles.

Total value:$35.61Special bundle price:$12.00Savings of:$23.61 (66%)

Price: $35.61 Rising Phoenix [BUNDLE] published first on https://supergalaxyrom.tumblr.com

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kayawagner · 5 years

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Rising Phoenix [BUNDLE]

Publisher: Rising Phoenix Games

This special bundle product contains the following titles.

Total value:$35.61Special bundle price:$12.00Savings of:$23.61 (66%)

Price: $35.61 Rising Phoenix [BUNDLE] published first on https://supergalaxyrom.tumblr.com

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kayawagner · 5 years

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Rising Phoenix [BUNDLE]

Publisher: Rising Phoenix Games

This special bundle product contains the following titles.

Total value:$35.61Special bundle price:$12.00Savings of:$23.61 (66%)

Price: $35.61 Rising Phoenix [BUNDLE] published first on https://supergalaxyrom.tumblr.com

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