#p:secrets

Starter for @crxripley

The care of magical creatures’ class was one of Claire’s favorites. She always paid attention in class and made sure to not miss any information that was given. This strong focus, paired with her extensive reading about magical creatures on her own free time, was what had led her to notice that something was not quite right with Professor Nam. In the beginning, she didn’t think much about how some other professors would sport a look of disgusts on their face when subtly glancing at the meat on professor Nam’s plate. She simply assumed he enjoyed eating something that the others didn’t like.

Then a few weeks later, the always nice professor became more irritable in class, even going as far as snap at students, to the surprise of those who ended up receiving the blunt of this irritation. Again, she didn’t think much of it at first because everyone is entitled to bad days, even teachers.

It could have remained like that, occurrences that happened one time, therefore not raising any suspicion, unfortunately, they repeated. She started documenting her professor’s periods of irritation, just a simple note in her planner, along with the homework she had to do. It felt a bit wrong to keep tabs on her professor, but her curiosity wouldn’t let her leave this without getting some answers first.

Not too long after the whole werewolf scare at the school, the answer hit her right in the face. “He’s a werewolf!” she exclaimed, dropping her pen on the library desk and quickly flipping through the pages of her planner to read her notes. It made sense! She quickly shoved her books in her bag and left the library with an apologetic smile thrown at the librarian for disrupting the peace of the place. Once in the hallway, she immediately made her way over to Professor Nam’s office.

Feat: @elliccdow

Llevaban unos dos meses saliendo con Ellie y Baptiste estaba mas que seguro que ella era lo mejor de su vida y no quería perderla por nada del mundo, no le importaba su estatus de sangre o su casa solo le importaba ella. En aquella ocasión la había citado en uno de los invernaderos mas escondidos del colegio y cuando la vio llegar no dudo en tomarla de la cintura y besarla —Llevaba todo el día deseando hacer eso— la había visto en los pasillos cruzando apenas la mirada y no podía esperar a estar a solas con ella 

A small white cloud appeared from the warm breath leaving Haesoo’s lips, floating behind her as she walked quietly down the sidewalk. She was wrapped in a scarf she had bought not too long ago, arms crossed trying to keep in all the warmth from the items of clothing that she could keep. 

It was currently 3:56 in the morning. Her manager had decided to let her off the clock early seeing as they had finished all their work early and Haesoo was beyond exhausted. The only thing she hated about leaving work early was the walk back home. Haesoo never told anyone, but when it came to ghosts and spirits, she was scared out of her mind. She could put the blame on all of the scary movies she watched as a child, but it was still just a part of the spiritual world that she kind of believed in. It didn’t help that it was almost four, considering - from a number of sources, that the time between two to four was the time when spirits would wander around. 

The sound of a branch crunching behind her immediately stopped her in her tracks. She could feel her blood freezing as she held her breath, debating if she wanted to look behind her or not. Chewing the inside of her cheek, Haesoo counted to three before jumping around, only to see a stray cat pressed up against the wall of the closed shop with a broken branch underneath its foot. 

“Good God,” Haesoo released a sigh of relief before turning back. Another thing Haesoo wasn’t too fond of were cats. She was scared of dogs, but cats. They were an entirely different thing. Just as bad as ghosts and spirits with their mysterious gleaming eyes.

What they don’t get is that Stiles talking to Theo and keeping his secret is not about trust, it’s a pact of mutual self destruction. Each of them knows a secret of the other that could destroy them ( = their relationship to Scott) so they are blackmailing each other into not telling anyone. Nothing cute about it at all.

[ oxuvre ]

violet never thought that she would be taking advantage of her future stepfather’s position to get a job. actually, she had always thought she would be good enough to get a job with her own skills, but she had, apparently, overestimated the job market. things had not gone well with her when it came to recruiting for an internship, and so, she was stuck here. she couldn’t complain about it though even though the work that she did here wasn’t exactly what she thought she’d be getting. 

Mood brighter than could ever be expected for such a dark individual as Aspen, he found himself on an aimless drive around the city, absentmindedly scanning the streets for out-of-place Comity recruits and allowing his mind to wander to the past few days’ events. Somehow the track his brain was taking landed him at Malachy’s condo, the last edges of Enmity territory within his view; memorising every inch of the places they claimed as their own had been something he took pride in as a younger recruit, and now simply happened to be very, very convenient — he always knew where he was. Long strides led him to the door, which he opened unceremoniously and without announcing himself, following the shuffling sounds of life through the apartment to Malachy's room. An array of clothing greeted him, a suitcase propped on the bed, half-full of various shirts and pairs of pants. "What's all this?" he mused, throwing himself down into a pile of boxers. "Are we taking a trip? Did I ruin the surprise?"

A river of tears streamed along his tan cheeks, crying about being a boy. He untangled himself out of his sheets, running down the hall to the arms of his mother. She wiped away his wet cheeks with her sleeves. He explained the reason for his puffy eyes that may have come off as a simple joke or something of that nature. Yet, it wasn't. Mrs and Mr D'Angelo knew this was no joke. Their young boy cried into his mother's blouse— more like their young girl. 

As the years passed by, Acacia quickly developed into a fine young woman. However, she grew more sass than she did boobs or hair. Her mother called it "fire". Acacia's fire grew stronger and occasionally turned into anger. She pulled out sassy remarks to another freshman girl, Summer something. Acacia didn't care too much about her to figure out her last name. She just knew her first name from previous conversations and other's harmless gossip. Their comments turned into a throw of punches and kicks. It ended with Summer bring Acacia down to the ground and a kick to throw Summer off. Summer raised her hands and left. No words to share. 

The spicy girl brushed off any dirt from the ground. She noticed a few scrapes and scratches here and there. Acacia was left with nothing major, and that was always a good thing. On that night, Acacia stood there. She didn't head back to her bed with colorful sheets or anything like that. Instead, she lifted her head to the stars. And there came that feeling she was afraid of. That guilt she didn't ask for. For the first time since May 5th, 2004, Acacia didn't feel like a girl. 

Disgusted. Acacia D'Angelo felt absolutely horrified by this sudden rage that overcame her. Guilt flashed in front of her more than she could imagine. Hell, she stopped speaking to Nolan, because she was scared. She attacked this girl and called her names. But the one thing that stood out was Wardo. After all these years of being best friends, Acacia had yet to tell him her secret. After telling each other who their crushes were. After sharing their first kiss with each other. And helping the other out when they were down. After every single thing the two had been through, Acacia didn't even tell him she was transgender. 

As the sun came out from hiding, Acacia sulked under her brightly-colored sheets. Her mother didn't interrogate her as she walked in the house at an unlikely hour. Neither did Briar, but they both knew something was wrong. They just didn't ask. Acacia didn't want them to either. Acacia reached for her phone; her passcode was her birth year backwards. Clever if you thought about it. Well, she thought so. Her thumbs slid along the keyboard. 

"you take french, right? do you have a good grade in it"

Her right thumb helped send the message. She had hoped to lure Wardo to her house— it'd be easier for her to confess that way. Right? Acacia shouted for her mother to hear, "Wardo's comin' over, 'kay?". Nothing. She heard nothing back. Acacia rolled over to the other side of her pillow. She didn't really give a damn if her mom heard or not; Wardo was practically family. He was the perfect son that Mrs. D'Angelo didn't have, and Acacia was surprisingly fine with that.