worst creatures

Charlie Weasley Headcanons
  • Charlie Weasley being ambidextrous
  • Charlie Weasley having really small handwriting
  • Charlie Weasley using his left hand to bump elbows with the person he has a crush on
  • Charlie Weasley making the worst Magical Creature puns
  • Charlie Weasley always being the first to class
  • Especially Care for Magical Creatures
  • Charlie Weasley giving teachers compliments that have a hidden dis
  • McGonagall secretly knowing all of the hidden disses and smiling in her knowing way when Professor Sprout said that Charlie Weasley said he liked her new hat
  • Charlie Weasley always playing with a Golden Snitch
  • Charlie Weasley giving the same inspirational speech before every Quidditch Match
  • Oliver Wood copying that speech
  • Bill Weasley always ruffling Charlie’s hair
  • Charlie Weasley secretly wanting to grow his hair out like Bill
  • Molly cutting off his hair before it could get too long, muttering under her breath about Bills long hair
  • Charlie Weasley always tagging along on Bills dates 
  • Charlie Weasley never being invited to tag along on said date
  • Charlie Weasley sneaking out to the Forbidden Forest at night to see interesting creatures
  • Charlie Weasley being the most chill prefect ever
  • Charlie Weasley befriending the metamorphmagus Nymphadora Tonks
  • Being best friends with said Hufflepuff
  • Charlie Weasley failing his Apparation test the first time and Tonks teasing him for it
  • Charlie Weasley trying (and failing) to sabotage Tonks’ Apparation test
  • Tonks failing it anyway
  • Charlie Weasley being good friends with Hagrid
  • Charlie Weasley talking with Hagrid all about how he’d love to have a dragon one day
  • Charlie Weasley being the shortest out of all his brothers
  • Charlie Weasley trying to befriend the garden gnomes at the Burrow
  • Charlie Weasley being a terrible cook
  • Charlie Weasley taking care of baby Ron and baby Ginny
  • Charlie Weasley supporting Percy’s dreams and planting the seed for him wanting to be Minister of Magic someday
  • Charlie Weasley being really close with Molly, but having the best inside jokes with Arthur
  • Charlie Weasley being super supportive of Bill when he wanted to marry Fleur
  • Charlie Weasley exchanging letters with Ginny
  • Charlie Weasley being the reason why Ginny started to play Quidditch
  • Charlie Weasley sending his nieces and nephews cool things from Romania
  • Charlie Weasley being especially close with Victorie and her having a dragon plushie that she calls ‘Charlie’
  • Charlie Weasley being terrible at giving Victorie relationship advice
  • Charlie Weasley being everyone's favorite uncle
  • Charlie Weasley being Charlie Weasley
The Mysterious Girl (Loki Laufeyson x Reader)

Request: Hi can a request a fluffy Loki x reader fic where the reader is in a situation where she cannot talk often (maybe her voice causes glass to crack and shatter and people to fall unconscious) instead she uses actions to convey her feelings. when Loki arrives with his brother for redemption he tries to get her to talk by annoying her to no avail. They’re alone one time and the reader snaps telling him to stop; he falls unconscious and she cares for him until he comes to. Please and thank you!!

Requested By: Anonymous

Word Count: 1, 988

Warnings: None (I think)

A/N: First Loki imagine, wooo! I hope you all enjoy, especially all you Loki fans out there. It was a refreshing change to write about him, so I’m glad I got the chance! If you would like to be added to my Tag List for all future updates, just let me know! FYI, (Y/E/C) means ‘your eye color.’ Enjoy!

Tag List: @mp938368 @gcneral-organa @thatgirlsar @jumperswellies @quicksoldier @kitkatgaming @marvelfandom-stuff @itsmaytimetosaygoodbye @agentraven007 @marvelgoateecollection @thaniya82


Originally posted by avengers-of-mirkwood

Loki was not happy. Not happy at all. Why wasn’t he happy? Because he was on Midguard. And what was wrong with being on Midguard? Thor, his brother was there. And he was stuck with him.

“Brother, do not worry. I’m sure that my comrades will not hate you. That much,” Thor comforted, slapping his brother on the back.

Stumbling forward, Loki looked back at his brother and scowled. “Oh, yes. I’m sure those mortals just love me after all that I did.”

Sighing, Thor looked at his brother. “You knew not what you were doing. Besides, you are repentant.”

“Am I?” Loki sassed back, earning a disapproving look from the ‘better’ sibling.

“Well, you will be. At least once they are through with you.”

Rolling his eyes, Loki trudged along beside his brother, looking up at the building. Sure, it was impressive for Midguard standards, but not for Asgard. If that was even his home anymore.

“Welcome, to the Avengers,” Thor announced, pushing open the glass doors with ease.

This will be just great, Loki thought to himself as he followed his oaf of a brother inside.

Well, could be going a lot worse, Loki thought as his brother’s teammates glared down at him.

“Why do we have to keep him here again?” Clint asked through gritted teeth, glaring at Loki. Hand tight on his bow, he never removed his eyes from the god.

“Look, I’m not excited about reindeer games being here either,” Tony grumbled.

“But there is no other option, apparently,” Nat finished the sentence, remembering all too well what she had to do to her best friend to get him out of his head.

“He is my brother,” Thor started, looking them all down. “You will be courteous to him, even if he is deserving of your hatred and spite.”

“He destroyed New York with an alien army,” Steve said, glaring at Loki.

“And tried to take over the world,” Bruce added.

“He’s adopted,” Thor said sheepishly, to which Loki rolled his eyes. Bored, Loki began to look over his foes- allies. Most of them Loki remembered. Some, were new. Like the man with the metal arm, the red man, the girl with glowing-red eyes, and many more. As Loki skimmed over his subjects- friends, his eyes landed on one girl in particular. She was odd, but not in the bad sense. She was odd in the sense that she was quiet, odd in the sense that she distanced herself from others. Curious, Loki continued to look at her, until she noticed and began blushing prominently. Her eyes darted towards Clint, and he saw immediately.

“You stay away from her,” Clint almost growled, moving in front of the odd girl. Loki did not care though. He was intrigued by this girl and wanted to know more. Wanted to know what she liked and disliked, why she was here. One way or another, Loki was going to know that girl.

Two months have passed since Loki arrived at the Avengers compound, and things were a little better. The others were talking to him now, and Loki wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. The company was nice from time to time, when they weren’t glaring at him. Loki always brushed them off though. Some people just don’t understand that he had changed.

Mainly, for her.

Loki had tried everything to talk to the girl. Anytime that he nearly got close to even saying hello, the mother hen swooped in between them.

“No way,” Clint growled one day, standing in front of the girl once more.

“I just want to talk to her, I’m not bad anymore,” Loki had pleaded.

Laughing, Clint shook his head. “Yeah. I’ll believe it when I see it. And good luck talking to her anyway, she-”

But before the mother hen could even finish his sentence, the girl had tapped on his shoulder. The girl had obviously communicated to the arrow man, Loki just did not understand how. She didn’t move her lips, but rather her hands. When Loki first saw this, he thought she was doing magic.

“Are you a sorceress?” Loki had asked in amazement, to which Clint glared him down, offended.

“Out.” He demanded, and Loki quickly made his way out, not wanting to find out what would happen to him if mother hen got any angrier.

So Loki’s quest to talk to the mysterious girl continued, always trying to get close to her. Over the two months that he had been there, he had learned three things about the beautiful and mysterious girl:

1) She did not like mornings. Her face scrunched up in the cutest of ways whenever she was woken up before 9 a.m.

2) Her favorite color was green, or so Loki assumed. She always wore some article of green, whether it be the oversized green sweatshirt she stole from the man with the metal arm or her green shoes, which she wore everywhere. 

3) She loved movies, more than life itself apparently. Whenever Loki was looking for her to talk to her (before mother hen showed up), she was sitting in the room with the screen, a different movie on it each time he saw her. Some days it would be little cartoons dancing and singing across the screen, others it would be miniature people falling in love. Without fail though, Loki noticed that every Friday night she watched the same movie, over and over. One with a half fish-half human hybrid and her colorful fish friends.

With each new little tidbit of information about the girl, Loki grew more and more interested. Loki not only thought about her all day, but even dreamed about being able to talk to the beautiful girl, face to face. Just when Loki was about to give up on all hope of ever speaking to the girl, a bit of luck was finally in Loki’s favor.

The heroic team was heading off on a mission, one where they needed almost every member, except for the mysterious girl. Loki, jumping at the opportunity to speak with her, helped pack everyone’s bags that night. To the team, he seemed just a bit too happy.

“Are you sure we can leave him here, Thor?” Steve had asked, glancing at Loki.

“Believe it or not, he is acting a lot better,” Thor commented as he put everyone’s luggage onto the quinjet.

“Yes, but he will be here all alone,” Tony added. The girl, apparently did not like that for she stomped her foot in defiance.

Thor had saw her little foot stomp and smiled. “He will not be alone, (Y/N) will be here.”

Aha! Her name! Loki thought, adding another piece to the puzzle.

Laughing, Clint put his supplies in the quinjet. “Yeah, if anyone can handle him, it's  (Y/N).”

This seemed to have made (Y/N) happy, for she nodded her head in triumph.

“I’ll be good,” Loki started, causing everyone to look at him. “Promise.”

“We shall see, brother,” Thor said, clapping his hand on his brother’s shoulder, causing Loki to lose his footing for a moment. “If not, well, you’ll be in for a shock. (Y/N), take care of him for me. Don’t let him get into too much mischief.”

(Y/N) smiled and nodded at Thor, waving the team goodbye.

“That’s no fair,” Loki grumbled to himself. “I’m the god of mischief. It’s literally what I do.”

As soon as the quinjet had disappeared over the horizon, (Y/N) had went back into the compound. Not wanting to lose her in the maze of halls and corridors, Loki followed right after her.

“So,” Loki started, falling into step with her. “Just you and me.”

All she did was quirk up an eyebrow at him before continuing on her way.

“Right. Silent treatment. Well, that has never stopped me before,” Loki continued as he followed her into the room with the screen. Lighting up at the opportunity, Loki walked over to the shelves full of discs.

“Shall we watch one?” Loki asked, digging through the movies. “I’ve never actually seen one of these ‘movies.’ What do you recommend?”

He was met with silence. Smile faltering a bit, because literally the girl of his dreams would not talk to him, he turned back to the shelf. Finding something somewhat familiar, Loki held out the case to her. “How about this?”

Looking back, her whole face lit up and she nodded enthusiastically, causing Loki to smile. “Okay,” Loki said, looking at the title before putting the disc into the strange contraption. “The Little Mermaid it is.”

Moving towards the couch, Loki sat down next to her. Trying to control his breathing, he constantly found himself looking at (Y/N) throughout the movie, committing every detail of her to memory. Loki did this so often that he ended up missing the movie.

“Wait, why is the fish-girl having problems with her father?” Loki asked. No answer.

“Why is the crab singing to her? Life is not better down where it’s wetter. You’re wet all the time. Plus there are sharks, nasty little creatures. Worst than bildshnipe, I hear. Or at least Thor tells me.” No answer.

“OH NO, A SHARK!” No answer.

“Don’t go near the evil squid lady. Why would you go near the evil squid lady?” No answer.

All this time, (Y/N) never answered. She did seem to be getting more and more annoyed, though.

“Wait, why does she need to kiss the Prince? To get her voice back? That is highly unlikely, magic does not work like-”

“WILL YOU JUST SHUT UP ALREADY?!” The girl shouted. A ringing noise sounded through the room, and before Loki even knew it, he was out cold.

Blinking away the black spots in his vision, Loki was met with a pounding headache. Staring up at the ceiling, Loki started to feel alarmed until he felt something moving through his hair. Looking around, Loki was soon met with the most beautiful pair of (Y/E/C) eyes he had ever seen. What made them even more beautiful was that they were your eyes.

“What happened?” Loki groaned, trying to sit up. He was soon pushed back down by (Y/N) so that his head lay on her lap. She held up a finger as if to say ‘one moment’ and grabbed the nearest notebook and pen she could find. Sprawling out her message with one hand and combing through his hair with the other, she finally had written out her message:

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to knock you out. I’m an enhanced and my voice knocks people out, especially when I yell. I didn’t mean to make you pass out.’

Reading the message, Loki began to smile. “It’s alright, Love. You didn’t mean to. I’m just glad that we are finally communicating.”

Blushing at his words, she began to write out another message.

‘I get that, now. I mean, who talks during a movie?’

It was Loki’s turn to blush now as he read your note. “Sorry, I am not familiar with proper movie etiquette. But I’d love to learn.”

Smiling, she wrote down her next message.

'I’d love to teach you, if you gave me a chance. Then you can ask all the questions you want, whether about me or the movie.’

“Sounds absolutely, perfect, Love,” Loki said with a smile. The pounding in his head had finally stopped, and Loki was able to sit up now, but he didn’t want to leave her gentle caresses just yet.

'Can you sit back up yet?’ She wrote out, quirking another eyebrow up at him.

“No,” Loki lied. “Not yet. Still hurts.” She nodded at his answer and continued to card her fingers through his black hair, leaving Loki in a bliss. Well, he was the god of mischief, after all. What else was he going to do, except lie a little to stay with the girl of his dreams?

the worst thing about stefan’s death. the worst thing eVER, is that he died, believing that he deserves it. he welcomed death like something he wanted so much. he wasn’t sad, he wasn’t forced into it. he wanted it. he walked willingly into. i loved stefan’s guilt and pain from the beginning cause it gave him so much goodness and depth. but i think that somewhere in my head i just expected that it will be handled at some point. i mean it has to? one day, stefan salvatore will see that he isn’t the worst creature and that there’s something good in him. one day he will believe all the things caroline said. but he never did. till his last breath, stefan salvatore, believed that he deserved nothing but death, that the world would be a better place without him. and that truly hurts me.

To Love and to Lose II

Apparently I can’t stop. First Part found here.

Amarantha stood entirely frozen in place, staring blankly at the manor and the two pretty girls tending the garden. One catch of his scent that blew in the wind had told her that the human had lied to Rhysand, or he had lied to her, she didn’t care, she would deal with that later. The house she had originally sacked had not been the right one, the girl they had taken innocent in all this, well as innocent as any human could be. Her blazing red hair billowed in the breeze behind her as she assessed the human filth before her. The scent of Tamlin clung heavily to the one with the blue eyes. There was a sad and broken look about the girl’s face and Amarantha drank in the expression greedily, savouring the thoughts that she was miserable. She had lost her composure entirely when Rhysand had told her Tamlin had won a human heart, that he may have given his to her too. Her Tamlin, who had promised to marry her, to love her. Tamlin who had broken her heart to run off with the winged bitch of the Night Court. It hadn’t taken much for her to convince his father to murder the half breed and everyone she had loved. Her only regret was that Rhysand wasn’t where he was meant to be that day, that he and his father didn’t pay for their roles in Clythia’s death too. No, Amarantha didn’t regret the aftermath of her actions that day, that the Illyrian’s death caused Tamlin’s heart to stone, she only wished that there had been more suffering.

She continued observing the humans, the way the blue eyed one, the one that stank of Tamlin, sat looking dejected leaning against a wall and realised that she envied her. Not for the love that Tamlin had shown her, her heart had long since frozen to such frivolities as love, but she envied her mortality. The knowledge that her life would be short and that pain would end soon. Humans, Amarantha thought, were the worst kind of creatures. Their fickle hearts only ever wanted more, they were never satisfied. This despicable creature should have been grateful for the time that Tamlin had given her, grateful for love that had been shown her. Her hand automatically flittered to the bone around her neck, the shards that still tied Jurian to this world. A part of her felt sickened when she saw the bone and the eye, the remains of him that would continue to be aware for eternity when she would never see her sister smile or pick a flower and do the things she loved again. She dropped the bone in revulsion, feeling it settle on her neck again.

Completely aware that she had vouched to torment this girl in front of Tamlin and anyone else who had the nerve to stand and watch, Amarantha still found herself unable to move. She had no feelings toward this pathetic human and knew it would take one flick of her wrist to have the manor blazing and crumbling before her but she couldn’t. Her gaze flickered to other girl, clearly the sister to the first, her features and hair gave that away but there was something fragile about her. She stared at her delicate looking body and her rich brown eyes and a sharp pang jolted through Amarantha. She watched as the girls hands deftly fussed over flowers and herbs and was so deeply reminded of Clythia it shook her to her core. The girls face was full of hope and joy and all the good this world had to offer and Amarantha’s resolve crumbled. She hated the blue eyed human for entering her world and trying to wreck her plans, but what if the other girl was her Clythia? She had come back after all, was it for her sister? To protect her the way she had once protected her own sister? Any plan she had to take the girl and destroy her world evaporated into smoke. Her thoughts trailed to the human she had already taken and decided she would have to do. Tamlin was catatonic at best since she had dragged him under the mountain and she knew he would not speak up. Lucien was too afraid of losing his other eye to even contend a damn word she said. That only left Rhysand, he had seen the girl, had spoken to her, he would know she had the wrong person. A smile, feral and cruel spread across Amarantha’s face. She knew that Rhysand would not tell her truth about the girl’s identity and she knew that it would destroy him a little bit more to watch as she peels the skin off an innocent human.

anonymous asked:

That idea of junkrat and a kookaburra laughing makes me happeh. Would probably annoy the hell out of poor Roady. Give the trash child pets, I say!

junkrat paired w a kookaburra would be like the worst combination of creatures there could be. they gonna be sleepin outside 

Angst Jason and Batman observation

You know what I just realized something awful in which no one in the fandom ever really acknowledges? Or, at least in some canons in the fucked up continuity that is DC comics. Batman straight out tried to murder Jason.

Like, to get him to drop the Joker in their first major confrontation, Batman threw a batarang at Jason’s neck. Sure, you can argue that Jason moved and messed up the targeting, but I feel that that would be depreciating Batman’s abilities and feats. A hit to the neck is always bad; at minimum it is a loss of breath and at most is death. No matter what, aiming for the throat is an attempt to harm.

10 points to the first person who can tell me what a batarang -a specifically cured, sharp weapon meant more for trapping targets and acting as intimidation; or for attacking Gotham’s worst or eldritch creatures, to the neck of a normal human would do? Spoilers: A blade sharp enough to cut the common carotid artery would no doubt lead to almost immediate bleeding out, especially in a situation of high stress, shock, and adrenaline. 

And no one ever talks about this? A lot of fanon artists and authors will even draw or mention the scar, but not what caused it. First of all, this is a hella lot more sympathy to Jason. After all, to him: he was picked up off the street after his mom OD’d’ killed; his killer walked free; awoke from the dead and wondered Gotham for years braindead; was thrown in the pit; found out that he had been replaced literally 6 months later; and then his adoptive father not only didn’t kill his killer, but purposely saved him and risked Jason’s life to make sure that his killer was fine. Like goddamn.

But it gets worse. The thing is, the fandom and Batman aren’t the only ones not to bring it up; Jason doesn’t ever mention it either. It’s never really brought up amongst anyone. When Jason does go on a rant about Batman, this is never mentioned.

It’s never mentioned because Jason doesn’t think it’s worth mentioning. Jason doesn’t see his almost-murder by Bruce a big deal. Someone he loved and prayed for in a coma-like state. Someone that took him off the streets and into a home. Someone that became not only a mentor, but a father tried to murder him and Jason doesn’t even think twice about it.

After all, his first father beat the shit out of him. His mother OD’d. His birth mother was an accomplice to his murder. Why would his adoptive father be any different?

Gravity Falls Episodes In One Sentence
  • Tourist Trapped: We barely know who these people are but we are in love.
  • Legend of the Gobblewonker: What a harmless old man that will never be important again ever.
  • Headhunters: Dipper hits Nixon in the crotch and that's all we need to say.
  • The Hand That Rocks the Mabel: Mabel encounters the worst creature of all - the Nice Guy.
  • The Inconveniencing: The episode where we realise that this show might be a bit disturbing you know?
  • Dipper VS Manliness: I AM A MAN *punch* *fail*
  • Double Dipper: He's up all night to get Wendy.
  • Irrational Treasure: 10/10 best potus
  • The Time Traveller's Pig: A nice goofy episode containing a pig and SOME MASSIVE FORESHADOWING
  • Fight Fighters: Take me to the Soviet Union!
  • Little Dipper: The Nice Guy returns and Dipper feels inadequate about his size not in that way
  • Summerween: We need to do a Halloween episode but the series takes place in June.
  • Boss Mabel: Mabel cosplays Margaret Thatcher.
  • Bottomless Pit: Treehouse of Horror but not a shriveled corpse like the rest of modern Simpsons.
  • The Deep End: Mabel saves Strong Bad from a pool while the fandom lusts for the red bikini.
  • Boyz Crazy: Darn beautiful men always going through my trash
  • The Land Before Swine: *tragic memories of littlefoot's mum*
  • Gideon Rises: Gids digs giant robots and WHAT WHERE DID THAT PORTAL COME FROM
  • Scary-oke: As we all knew all along, karaoke will save us all.
  • Into the Bunker: Wendy is best character
  • The Golf War: Mini-golf is evil and Pacifica is slightly sympathetic.
  • Sock Opera: You'd be surprised how much comedy you can have out of hurting children.
  • Soos and the Real World: Giffany is one of the most disturbing characters but also has like the most Rule 34.
  • Little Gift Shop of Horrors: Stan makes sh*t up then mugs a guy.
  • Society of the Blind Eye: Oh McGucket *cries*
  • Blendin's Game: Come for Blendin Blandin, stay for Soos' backstory!
  • The Love God: I EAT KIDS
  • Northwest Mansion Mystery: Pacifica becomes amazing overnight and I want to bodily harm Nathan Fillion.
  • Not What He Seems: Everything you know is wrong.
  • A Tale of Two Stans: In a story about two brothers falling apart, the fandom heaps all of the blame on just one of them.
  • Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons: The mysterious Author turns out to be a nerdy goof and I love it.
  • The Stanchurian Candidate: I'd vote for him.
  • The Last Mabelcorn: Things Ford Probably Could Have Avoided If He'd Just Talked To Somebody
  • Roadside Attraction: A spider seduces Grunkle Stan.
  • Dipper and Mabel VS The Future: Bill violates Blendin's temple and begins to destroy the world while Ford accidentally the twins is that bad
  • Weirdmageddon Part I: Wendy is queen of the apocalypse.
  • Weirdmaggedon Part II Escape from Reality: Dippy Fresh is my nemesis.
  • Weirdmageddon Part III Take Back the Falls: what is this wet stuff in my eyes
About Revised Gravity Falls AU

So Youthful Falls is based on Wendy, Ford, Gideon Jr., Stan, Rodin, and Tammy. Wendy and Dipper’s, Mable and Gideon’s and Tambry and Robbie’s kids and the strange Bill Cipher (AKA William), and everyone well known Dream Demon Bill Cipher. 

The Gleeful, Pines and Valentino children are all around the age of twelve-years-old and are always looking for adventure and a lot of the time getting into trouble or putting themselves in danger whether that is fighting against their worst enemies or strange creatures hand in hand or fighting off an annoying Dream Demon who stuck in the Mind Scape who is trying to find a way out. But either way, you will (or I hope you will) have fun following the Gravity Falls youthful batch of almost, basically and newly teenagers.

Please, please forgive me for the way I write this story it will not be the best as you will see it is the first draft or as I like to also call it a dirty draft and I am not fully sure whether I will go back and rewrite this first/dirty draft or not I just feel like writing something easy without really worrying about fixing every grammar mistake or strange sentences. So, in other words, this is most likely going to be a horrible first draft that I am probably not going to put too much effort into writing it like a masterpiece and that I am I hope you will enjoy the story. XD

The Enemy of my Enemy \closed

For billions of years, Earth has thrived creating being after being, some of whom have gone extinct, and some who are still just trying to get by.  Humanity in their naivete likes to believe they’re the only sentient beings on the planet, but for those who know how to look for it, there’s a completely separate world full of awesome creatures humanity could only dream about. 

The supernatural world, just like the human world was comprised of both good creatures and bad creatures; creatures who preyed upon humanity in the worst of ways, and creatures who were happy to live among them, blending into their world. For those creatures who decide to make humanity their midnight snack, there were Hunters. and the Hunters have an organization who specializes in knowing about, studying and eradicating anything that poses a threat, though somewhere along the way, that organization became xenophobic turning away the possibility that anything non-human deserved the right to live. 

Hunter’s pretty much lived by one code of law, if it wasn’t human, it would be exterminated. The backbone of the Hunting world was an organization called the Men of Letters, these men’s and women’s sole purpose in life was to study the supernatural world and come up with easier and more effective ways of killing the creatures Hunters went after. 

Dean had spent centuries avoiding the Men of Letters, keeping to himself and blending in with humanity the best he could until one day he didn’t and he was caught. Demons weren’t rare, but typically the smart ones were harder to catch, and Dean prided himself on being one of the smart ones. Always one step ahead of the Hunters, always on his toes, always searching the area for hidden Devil Traps and disabling any warding he came across. The Men of Letters though, were getting sneakier, and one night, in April 2014 Dean was caught. 

His time with the group was spent largely between taunting them through the door to his cell and them interrogating him for information on Hell. The interrogations didn’t work all that well though since Dean hadn’t actually BEEN to Hell in nearly 200 years. He hated that place. 

It was just another Thursday night where Dean was contemplating his existence and counting the mold spots on the ceiling when he heard clanking, got a face full of holy water and when all was said and done, Dean was left staring at a guy who looked more like a tax accountant than something supernatural. With a second look, Dean realized the dude was an angel. 

“Shit,” Dean breathed looking at the guy, eyes wide, “they actually managed to capture an angel.”


Dawn to Dusk (1/?)

I said I was writing a Gramander AU fic where Graves ran the mafia and here is the first chapter. He *spoilers* hasn’t actually started running it yet but you will see what goes down there next chapter. Hold out for it please, I swear it is all planned and it will be better than what is here, I am just very very tired and the clock has just struck three am as I write, which means this was all written in about 3 hours. Also, can you tell I am not a very practiced writer? Please give constructive criticism if you want. Without further ado, here we go. Chapter one. 

Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six


“The inheritance ceremonies for those pure of Magic, whether Dark or Light, is a matter of some dispute amongst those not directly involved in the process. What is known can be summarised thusly; that there are two types of magic to be inherited: the Lordship and the Heirship, that the former outstrips the latter in magnitude and variety of Magics, and that the inheritance thereof is precipitated by th emergence of a certain trait distinctive to each bloodline of import. The training of these magics and the exact skills they impart unto the fortunate few who gain access varies considerably ‘tween Families, and are unknown to those uninitiated in such deep magics as these. Surely the hopes our our community rest upon these few people’s shoulders, those who hold the balance of Law and Order; indeed it is this author’s belief that the restriction of their use is causing the present unrest in our glorious Britannia. Of the strengths of our cousins over the oceans I know not, they ever hold secrets in their hearts…” - Excerpt, “On the protection of the Wizarding Community and Our safe continuance within the Fiefdom of Lady Hecate.” by William Urquhart


The chill of a New York October hit Newt first. As he stepped off the boat, his blue coat wrapped tightly around his thin frame, he instinctively huddled down into himself, one hand hand tightening around his cases handle. Passing through customs was a matter of activating the muggleworthy section of his case. Thankfully, Newt’s magic was not acting up for once in his life, and he got through without any unexpected plant growth or animal attraction. He loved all animals, he really did, but when one got accused by wealthy women of carrying catnip around to entice their doubtless horrifically smothered cats away for the fifth time, one got rather tired of all the attention that a posse of animals following him around brought.

A shudder shook his shoulders. He should find some kind of lodging for the night, before the sun sunk too low and he was out on the streets after dark. Newt ended up wandering the wide boulevards, passing by the imposing Woolworth Building that housed MACUSA to pick up his wand permit from a sour faced man on the sixteenth floor, and in a stroke of good luck, found board from a flyer in the lobby there. By sundown, Newt had moved into a shabby room above a bar. He could taste copper on the back of his tongue as he settled his friends into their homes for the night. His dear creatures seemed to sense his failing body; Pickett whined on his shoulder, gently patting his hair and clinging to his ear and the mooncalves whimpered at him, gently nuzzling their oversized heads against his legs. Even Aziza let him administer the weekly tonic that stopped her breath filling with transmittable disease without much complaining.

It was, much to his surprise, Dougall who was the least worried, which gave Newt some heart. He had just stared at Newt, the blue of his eyes shining with foresight, and then wandered off quite happily. Perhaps that meant some kind of remedy for whatever was wrong with his magic would be found in New York. Once he had settled his baby Occamies in the hatchery, his limbs abruptly seemed to fill with lead and he headed off to bed, exhaustion pulling at his frame. Collapsing into the cot by his shed, his eyes closed into an inexorable sleep so deep he missed the wave of magic that uncoiled from his torso, its passing marked only by the sudden lack of tension in his slumbering body.

Director of Magical Security Percival Graves did not have that luxury. From his office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (or the DMLE for short), he was wrecked by a shudder as his magic tried to calm the frantic energy it was getting bombarded with. It failed miserably, his own magic was far too unsettled at the intrusion to try to calm down that of his unknowing assailant. All he could do was weather the storm, and as the assault on his magic diminished he began to breathe more freely. What in the name of Hecate was that? The ribbons of fractured light fluttered into the visible spectrum as the urgency of the foreign light was swallowed by its seeming joy at having found what it had been searching for.

Sitting back heavily in his seat, Graves raised one hand to caress a golden-rose band of pure power, dispelling his own magic as navy-black smoke to surround the tangle currently trying to curl itself into his core. As it calmed under the buffering of the Graves Heirship Magic, it disintegrated into small rivulets and slid deep into the astonished man, saturating itself utterly with Graves’ magic. That magic seemed to lift weight from his shoulders, his crushing loneliness checked somewhat by the flecks of sunlight running through the Dark. His magic gently folded back inside himself as he hoarded that precious Light to himself. This had been no accident. Someone out there has magic that was completely complementary to his, someone who, from the taste of their magic, was scared and alone and didn’t understand what was happening. His lips curled up one one side, his eyes darkening to near black as he dispatched a few wisps of his own power to settle back into the unknown wizard. He would find them.

Newt awoke feeling a hell of a lot better than he had since entering the outback of Australia, where he had spent a thoroughly unpleasant two weeks baking under the sun in full dress, studying the habits of Fire Salamanders. He felt well-rested, his magic was purring like a happy nundu, and he had arranged to meet the supplier of some dittany plants in the afternoon; leaving his morning free to spoil his creatures and let them play a little. Charlie, the mischievous bugger, had been quite eager to get out and play ever since the halfway point of the voyage from England.

He absently fed and doted on all his creatures, his children really, as he transfigured a little minefield of fake golden nuggets for Charlie to enjoy hunting down. The five little occamies whom he had yet to name chirruped and nuzzled into his body while he cooed at them as he let them climb up over his shoulders to watch the ecstatic niffler stuff his pouch full of transfigured fake gold. Charlie liked shiny things, he didn’t really care about the worth of the treasure so would be just as happy when the transfiguration wore off and they became glittery paper once more. The clock struck midday while he was mucking out the mooncalves’ enclosure, the owl eyed creatures eyeing him through the twilight of their habitat as if weighing up the likelihood of more cuddling and games of ball once he was done with clean up.

Sadly, he was due to meet his supplier at 1pm, and had to reluctantly leave. He bundled himself into his best outfit for it; that is to say, he put on a new shirt, polished his boots and ensured the cleaning charms on his waistcoat and peacoat had done their job. He carefully locked his case as he left the room, leaving it under heavy disillusionment and notice-me-not charms to ensure nobody would think to steal it away. Heading off to the little underground bazaar where they had arranged to meet, Newt considered the letters they had exchanged. When he had inquired of his usual contact about getting actual dittany plants rather than just the distilled essence thereof in a quest to become more self-sufficient, they had gone quite quiet for some time. Only two weeks after his initial enquiry had they directed Newt to the person he was going to meet that day, and the tone of their letter had been somewhat odd, as if they were not quite happy with their choice. Upon initial reception of the letter Newt had written this apprehension off as disgruntlement regarding his choice to switch suppliers, but as he approached the door to the market in the side of a dingy alley, his instincts flared wildly. This was not safe.

Nevertheless, something urged him on. The flame of his magic tugged him forth, as he dropped down a ladder and entered what he had come to realise was most certainly a Black Market in a daze. Once he saw what was happening inside, a burning rage took hold of him. Stalls were set up in a labyrinth of illegal goods; plants from every nation, artefacts that he was sure were cursed and worst of all, tortured creatures in tiny cages being used for their blood and bones, their feathers, fur or horns. Newt could feel them crying out to him; his magic swelled and ignited as he swept through the crowd, soothing the terrified animals and freezing the sellers as he went. Silence fell for a moment as he halted in front of a brutalised fwooper on an open perch, its feathers half plucked. The poor tiny bird cringed in his hand but remained silent, utter terror cloaking its mind. The tension broke.

Pure magic emitted from him in a wave as he was lit from within by the force of his fury. Sellers of all species tried to portkey away in vain and the magical blast shattered glass, ripped through the wooden stalls and threw the immobilised black market dealers to the floor. Newt himself was shaking with anger as he picked up the ring of keys from the terrified hags belt and unlocked the cages of all the birds she had confined. As he opened the last one to reveal four half dead jarveys and one rotting corpse, he lost any remaining semblance of control. His magic, gentled by the grief-inducing sight, swept the room, burning locks into melted sludge and sliding doors open to free the creatures imprisoned behind bars, trying to heal their wounds and calm their minds.

He did not notice the arrival of the Auror department. They had had their eye on the market for a long time for the trade of illegal goods through the USA, but the surging spikes of power emitting from the subway tunnel it was located in was unusual enough that headquarters was contacted. Graves perked up at the patronus report. A wizard with a power unlike anything Auror Slayde had felt before had entered the market - that had to be the man behind the mysterious magic last night. Rising from his desk, he immediately issued orders via communication mirror for anti-portkey and anti-apparition wards to be put in place while he got a team together. As he swept through the main office space for the DMLE, he hit an alarm and barked his orders.

“Slayde has blocked off the Black Market in quadrant four, we have reason for entry. Shafiq, Fleamont, Brandt, gather your teams we are doing a sweep and clean. Ricci, Moore, I want your teams on frontal assault. We have powerful pissed-off wizard in there and I don’t want to risk anything. I will run point. Let’s go people, we move in two minutes.”

The department behind him was a mess, people running this way and that as the four man teams lined up, summoning their dragon hide armour and secondary wands in preparation. Within the time limit, they were ready to portkey out to the coordinates Shayde had given.

Once in the field, they fell into their practiced habits, the frontal assault teams joining Graves and the cleaners waiting further behind, expanded sacks at the ready to tag and bag the contraband they would find. On Graves’ signal they moved. Senior Auror Johann Brandt blasted the boor open and they immediately entered the disused sewer-cum-market, only to halt at his outstretched arm, falling silent. Now Graves was certain it was the magic from the previous evening, the little tendrils he had sent out to mark the source of that power were reacting to his presence, urging him closer to the man who from the back seemed silhouetted by Light magic so powerful he felt compelled to- to sweep him close and let their power mingle, become one whole rather than two halves, to meet the magic that could complete him and bask in their glory.

A breath on the back of his neck brought him down to the realities of the present. With a hand gesture, Graves indicated the teams forward to collect the contraband items and detain the immobile sellers. He himself approached the wizard. As he stepped closer he took a gamble and carefully unleashed a little of his aura in the other man’s direction, just enough to get his attention. The copper head spun round from where he was intensely focussed on the small animal cradled in his hands to stare into his eyes, their colour the blue of the sky as the sun rose. Graves took another pace and unravelled more of his power at him, making sure to keep it away from the Aurors in the background. Familial Magic was rare and he was not known to be the Heir of the House of Graves; it would not do to reveal himself now.

As he entered the wizards personal space, the man turned fully to face him, his visible magic obviously attuned to the lure Graves was putting out. Graves barely had time to take in the blood trickling from the other’s nose before he collapsed  forward into the Aurors arms, whispering pleas into his ears to save the creatures as that beautiful magic cut out with the man’s consciousness.


Next Chapter

Comforting Pal

Summary: The reader goes to Dean when she needs a safe place. 
Word Count: 975
Warnings: Mention of physical assault.
A/N:  Fourth part to Cuddle BuddyGuy Friend, and Trusted Companion. This is offically a multi-part fic; one more part after this!

@spnfanficpond @aprofoundbondwithdean

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a few remus lupin headcanons
  • Waltzes into massively important exams fifteen minutes late, doesn’t study, does a really slapdash job on the exam, and still manages to do reasonably well in school. He does better in the subjects he actually cares about. I see him having a mild interest in ancient runes (and defense obvs), but there’s always this nagging feeling of ‘none of this is really going to matter since i’m never going to be able to be employed in the wizarding world’. He likes the quiet pride that comes from finishing an interesting book, though.
  • McGonagall gets him to snap out of it during his career advice session. “Mr Lupin, I will personally make sure you have job security for the rest of your life if it’s the last thing I do.” (Remus cries in front of her and is embarrassed about it for weeks.)
  • Has literally never done anything ahead of time. Always saves things for the last minute. Most of his “lesson plans” around the time of PoA are just him mentioning information that he has off the top of his head about the dark creature in question. He probably skimmed the textbook once, but he’s a fountain of knowledge and minutiae, and he has a ton of practical experience (and loves letting the students get a bit of practical experience as well) so he’ll offhandedly mention “i once saw a boggart turn into half a slug” / “there was this one time a rogue mountain troll went amok at a tibetan monastery” / “back when I was investigating a series of lethifold-related deaths in Borneo” and the whole class will be like, UM…MORE INFO PLEASE?!
  • What did Remus do between the wars? Traveled the world with a wizarding tent and his suitcase, obvs, seeking out dark creatures for research and to save as many people as he could, partly due to intense survivor’s guilt. Basically, he actually did Gilderoy Lockhart’s job.
  • His lectures are peppered with muggle pop culture references. Dean Thomas’ immense crush on him only deepens as time goes on, and he’ll often go like “ayyyy” and point at Lupin and Lupin will give him a little wink complete with THOSE SMILE LINES DEAN LOVES, like “yeah that was for you, dean”
  • He was a truly awful prefect. He lost his badge within 20 minutes of opening the envelope, barely showed up to any of the mandatory meetings, and often ditched patrol to do seedy things involving a magical map. On the plus side, his prefect-ness was a great asset to the Marauders, and he would use his dubious influence to get them out of trouble.
  • Owns a plain-ish wooden pipe. Was usually stoned during his hogwarts years, because it helped with the pain. (I think he’s always in some amount of pain, just because you can’t exactly tear your bones and muscles to shreds every month for 30 years and emerge completely fine, but it gets worse the week of the full moon. He walks with a cane on bad days.)
  • James and Lily gave him the ‘professor rj lupin’ suitcase as a joke, and also because they accidentally lost his luggage when they all went on holiday together right after they graduated hogwarts. Sirius used to call him RJ to piss him off.
  • In all aspects of his life, he strives to be as unmemorable as possible. He dresses plainly (except for during his buzzcocks phase in the 70s, but I guess counterculture was sort of the norm for youngsters back then), speaks evenly, doesn’t have a very commanding or menacing presence. He’s just sort of…there. And I think all of this is very, very deliberate on his part. He wants to draw as little attention to himself as possible, wants to appear as mundane and human as he physically can. In PoA, Rosmerta remembers James and Sirius as “ringleaders” of their friend group, because James and Sirius have very memorable personalities, and they’re loud and boisterous and about as subtle as a slap in the face. Remus is quieter, darker, snarkier, extremely funny, extremely clever and outgoing… but only around people who know him. James and Sirius and Peter all get to see this side of him, because they know him, they know the secret, and there’s no point trying to avoid leaving an impression. But Remus always has to live with the terrible knowledge that he’s not human, he’s the worst kind of dark creature imaginable, he’s the very thing that he’s learning how to defeat in his defense classes. I think all of this self-loathing bubbles to the surface during the shrieking shack scene where Remus is like, “time to just own it. I’m throwing in the towel. I’m going to fucking murder Peter Pettigrew.” which was a really bad move because Sirius is still at large, and if they kill Peter, they can never clear his name. Never let anyone tell you that Remus is the logical, rational marauder.
  • He and Sirius would often launch into impromptu acapella renditions of Bohemian Rhapsody while living at Grimmauld place together. Mrs Black hated it.
  • He would fall asleep in front of the fire in the common room all the time and James and Sirius and Peter would always get into these weird competitions to see who could put the most random junk on Remus Lupin. He would wake up covered in little screwed up bits of paper and playing cards and wizard chess pieces, with Bertie Botts Beans in his nostrils. Eventually Lily got in on it too.
  • He and Lily and Snape shared a boat on the way across the lake to get sorted. He didn’t meet James and Sirius until a bit later, during the feast. He was a little intimidated, and also jealous of their immediate friendship. Little did he know that James and Sirius were secretly fascinated with him. When Remus somehow managed to get James and Sirius out of a detention their first week of classes and cause Slytherin to lose house points at the same time, they shared a look and were like “come on, buddy, welcome to the club. See James, I knew we picked a good one. Yep, we sure did.”
  • He was sorta friends with Lily first and second years, but their friendship petered out over time as Remus started hanging around James and Sirius and Peter more. By the time they were prefects together, Lily was always like, UGH, not LUPIN, he SKIPPED THE FLOOR MEETING yesterday to get STONED ON GILLYWEED in the forbidden forest. But then she remembered that he was actually a genuinely funny and kind person. When she found out about James’ loyalty to him despite his condition (luckily, being muggle born, she had very little of the wizarding prejudice against lycanthropes) she was like DAMN I WANNA BE FRIENDS WITH ALL THESE PEOPLE even though they are OBVIOUSLY LOSERS
  • Has never lost a bet. Always ends up winning card games and strategic-type things. A veritable strip poker god. Pits James and Sirius against each other, and then they both end up owing him money.
  • James and Sirius are the ones to really instigate the pranking, but Remus is the one who upholds it. He never forgets. James will be walking on eggshells for weeks after pulling a very elaborate prank on Remus, who will lull him into a false sense of security over time. “Huh, guess he’s not going for retribution here,” James thinks. “Maybe he forgot?” And then WHABAM GOTCHA when James is least expecting it.
  • Also, in this vein, the more frustrated his enemies become, the more cool and passive-aggressive Remus becomes. It is absolutely infuriating to lose to him in anything, because he’s so calm about it. Snape in particular often loses his fucking mind trying to one-up Remus. Remus practically feeds off of that negative energy. The more fanatically irritated Snape gets, the more impassive Remus becomes.
  • Sirius inherited his family’s intense hatred of “half-breeds”, and often went on prejudiced tirades during his first few years at school, when he hadn’t realized the extent of the Black family’s fucked-up-ness. Remus always held his breath and didn’t say anything (not that it would have done him any good at that point). James was the one who actually called Sirius out on it.

Originally posted by imaginehux

Request: “A Kylo X reader where the reader is basically being hunted by him. He uses the force on her, Kinda like the scene where he finds Rey and takes her to interrogate her. But instead he really likes her. Maybe she’s scared of the first order so that’s why she’s running? Idk really how I want it to go. But something cute and with that if you could. :) thank you!”

Summary: The First Order is accumulating more and more territory as the spread their reign across the galaxy. Looking to recreate an Empire much like his grandfather’s Kylo decides to regain loyalty from/take military resources from/claim Ryloth for the First Order. In his raid he barges into the royal palace, seeing something far more interesting that he decides he must have for himself.

A/N: I gotta be honest guys, I chose Ryloth cause it’s different and the image for it on those tumblr edits is of Petra which I have visited and LOVED, so it was super easy to invision a story like this there, lol. So if you want visual references for this, Google Petra! Also side note, Wookiepedia is super useful for fan fic writing for sure!

The sun was finally setting as the bustling of people around the kingdom was dwindling down, the loud voices slowly growing softer as the lights of peoples homes started illuminating. Balancing a full basket of vegetables at your hip, you wiped the sweat from your forehead. It had not only been one of the hottest days in recent weeks, but one of the longest. The number of times you had been sent to the market to fetch something was taking its toll on the soles of your feet, now soiled by dust and dirt. Between that and the hours you spent running around the kingdom at your masters beckon call, you were ready to pass out. 

Entering through the back alley that had been carved out for your master in the valley walls, you made your way back to the same grand entrance. Bowing to the guards they simply gestured for you to enter. You weren’t sure how these humans had wound up being fortunate enough to get out of slavery by the Twi’lek people, but somehow they had managed. Of course, unlike them, you actually had a home in the palace. Though it was in a cavern behind the palace where not many could see, it was at least guarded and fairly clean.

Approaching the grand hall you winced your eyes closed as you could feel the blisters on your feet practically screaming at you to simply stop. With a few more steps you finally heard the familiar sounds of the kitchen. Water boiling, knives chopping on the stone tables, fire crackling. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you walked in and set the basket down on one of the tables.

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astralbattles  asked:

*sits down on the floor of your inbox eating plate of pancakes that I still haven't shared with you* do you think wendigos are the worst creature to ever exist, or could there possibly be something scarier than a wendigo?

Wendigos are actually scary as heck but clowns are still at the top spot for me. I hate them. And EVERY TIME I TYPE THE WORD CLOWN THAT CURSED EMOJI POPS UP ON MY KEYBOARD DHSHSH

The Hunter's Daughter

Vampire Michael AU

“NO! No, baby don’t leave me please! I love you, no please! You and me for eternity Mer, you promised! God, no please don’t be dead.” Michael sobbed into Meredith’s torn shirt, grasping at her hair as he pleaded for her life. It had just been them two for as long as he could remember. She had been there for him when he turned, during his first feeding, the first time he took a human life. And now she was gone, and at the hand of a human no less! “I’m so sorry baby. I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you.” He whispered into her ear, burying his head into his dead lover’s neck. A small scuffling sound awoke him from his sorrowful trance. Looking up, his eyes became dark as he saw him. The hunter who had slain his beloved Meredith, running for his pathetic life away from Michael. No. He would not have that. Pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead, he laid Meredith’s body on the ground and in the blink of an eye, sprinted after the disgrace who had taken his love from him. Catching him, he grabbed him by the neck, throwing him to the ground and kicking the stake that was Meredith’s murder weapon out of his hands. “YOU KILLED HER” he roared. Michael was absolutely shaking with rage. All self control that Meredith had taught him was gone. In its place was pure hatred and with it, an uncontrollable lust for blood and destruction. 

“That filthy vampire deserved to die and so do you.” The hunter spat at him from the ground. Michael leaned down so his face was inches away from the man’s. “You are going to pay for what you have done. I am going to make you suffer so that you are begging for death.” 

“Go ahead and do your worst, creature. There is nothing you can do to hurt me. I am more than my physical body.” The hunter hissed. 

“Oh, I know that.” Michael chuckled. “I know that family is the most important thing to you hunters. I also happen to know that you have a daughter, whom you seldom allow to accompany you on these trips. Trying to protect her, mate? Trying to protect your little girl like I tried to protect my Meredith?” Michael could see the fear seeping into the hunter as he continued. “Oh I know all about her. Word gets out when there is a hunter in the area, human.” He grabbed the man by the scruff and spat “I know that I am going to kill her. Slowly. I am going to drink every last drop of her blood as I watch the life drain from her eyes and that it will still not be enough to repay Meredith’s life.” Michael raged, fangs bared. 

“You will not touch her!” The hunter screamed.

“You should have thought of that before you staked my mate in the heart!” Michael growled. “And now your daughter will pay the price for your foolishness.” 

“No please, I beg you. Kill me! Torture me, drink all of my blood but please don’t touch her. She is only 18!” The hunter pleaded. 

“You are in no position to ask me to spare her. Think on your sins. I’m sure your daughter will be.” And with one flick of his wrist he silenced the hunter forever. 


Moving swiftly through the forrest, Michael set out to find the hunter’s daughter. She was said to have been living with her father in the old cabin near the outskirts of the village. He would kill her, yes. Kill her to avenge his love. Nearing the old house he slowed, sniffing the air for any sign of life, yet he smelled nothing. Approaching the door he slipped inside, soundlessly, like only a vampire can. Slinking around the house he continued to hunt for the girl. Entering the kitchen area, a small, slightly crumpled piece of paper caught his eye. It read. “Y/N, I have gone to hunt the dangerous vampire couple that has been terrorizing our town. If I am not back by noon, pack up what you need and go to our place. I doubt I will be able to kill them both and if I only kill one, the other will likely go after you. Stay safe and stay smart. Evade this vampire at all costs. With love, dad.” 

Michael checked the clock. 3:00pm. He had seriously underestimated these hunters. They had obviously taken the time to study him and Meredith enough to know that if one of them was killed, the other would avenge them in every way possible. So the girl was gone. This would make this harder. Michael had never been a great tracker, that was always Meredith’s job. But he would find her. He would find the hunter’s daughter and kill her. It was the only way he could avenge Meredith. 

Your POV. 

Clutching the steering wheel of your dad’s old truck, you drove towards the place that your father had instructed you to go. You knew this would happen if he kept hunting these monsters. You could only hope that he had managed to escape and would be meeting you at the old apartment you two had, which was your designated meeting spot, as soon as he could. Your dad had been hunting vampires for years but would never allow you to take part, or even learn, the art of hunting, always saying it was too dangerous and that he would protect you so there was no need. But if there was one thing you knew how to do, it was how to run away. Whatever was coming after you, you knew it would never find you. 

If only it was going to be that easy. 


Part two 



There were places in the Isle of Skye where magic still reigned supreme. The large swaths of mountainous terrain inhabited by creatures that outsiders had not seen for centuries. Rumors spread of caves upon the black mountains where wishes could be granted but the fog itself was noxious. None of Skye was faint of heart, nor indeed were most of the Hebrides. People rarely visited, and those who ventured into parts unknown were not that likely to return sane, if at all.

It was in the black mountains that the worst creatures roamed. There was rumor of dragons, of werewolves and skinchangers. There was rumor of magic, ancient and twisted and places where the fair folk still flew their flags. There was rumor even of the pooka plying their devilish trade and selkies on the shore. If fairies indeed ruled the land they did not ken Oberon their fair King, but something else entirely. This was a land as cursed as it was beautiful, and through the dark of the foggy night howls split the ears of all who listened and tugged at their heartstrings.

It was in this lawless land that a creature now laid broken. It was an overlarge wolf, bloody pawed and ravaged. Blood leaked from its nose, and one ear hung ragged. It breathed still, breath another bit of fog in the cold of the night. For now, it didn’t rise. Rumors had abounded of this, a wolf where for over a century now all had claimed the species absence. Its silver fur looked odd, partially curled in places, and thin. If this was indeed the last wolf in Scotland it did not look as if it would live much longer.