So are the packs villains? They read sorta rapey & abusive to me (to other women at least) & id hope Ashley don't fuck with men like that
THE PACK- VIKTOR / CASSIUS / PERSEUS
Okay. Okay —— Your point and concerns are 1000% valid. Initially, I did have The Pack to fill in that type of villainous role —— then they decided to develop some sense of morality and personal depth that makes me want to shatter my skull against a role. Villains? Initially. Questionable ... everything? God Yes. Rape-y / Abusive? No.
Honestly? The Knights of Walpurgis lean into darker territory but, I'm still working them out in general.
In my last post, I mentioned that I made these three for the premise reason of confronting Artemis and propositioning her for questionable activities —— I'm going to expand on this a little more and talk about these three in general so !! Hopefully I can clear up some worries and miscommunications !!
I think I'll start off talking about The Pack themselves;
The Pack became a unit in third year, although none of them would name it that way. It started the way most Slytherin alliances do—mutual benefit, shared enemies, the recognition of complementary skills in a house that treated loyalty as currency and betrayal as sport.
Viktor had already been watching both of them separately. Perseus Rosier, the largest boy in their year, who used his fists when words failed and felt most alive when someone was foolish enough to challenge him. Cassius Flint, the prettiest boy in their year, who talked circles around professors and left a trail of broken hearts that never quite knew how they'd been dismantled. Two weapons. Different edges. Same hunger.
The alliance crystallized over a shared target—a seventh-year who'd been foolish enough to insult Viktor's sisters and arrogant enough to think his blood status made him untouchable. Viktor planned the retribution. Cassius got close enough to learn his schedule, his habits, which corridor he walked alone. Perseus was the consequence.
They never discussed forming a pack. They simply recognized that they operated better as three than as one, and that recognition calcified into something closer to instinct than agreement. By fifth year, they were inseparable. By seventh, they were feared.
In Slytherin, they're known as a unit. Not three men who happen to be friends, but a single entity with three faces. Women talk—about the charm, about the size, about the patience, about the nights that left them unable to walk and unable to forget.
Some women seek them out. The reputation precedes them, and there's a certain kind of person who wants to know if the stories are true. The pack accommodates these volunteers with the same strategic precision they bring to every encounter. Viktor reads what they're looking for. Cassius provides the fantasy. Perseus provides the reality.
Others avoid them — the ones who recognize the trap for what it is. The ones who've heard the stories from friends who smiled while telling them but cried later, alone, because no one else had ever made them feel that wanted and that disposable in the same night. The pack doesn't apologize. Doesn't explain. Doesn't pretend to be anything other than what they are. They hunt. They catch. They consume. They move on.
After, there's a kind of casual indifference. Not cruelty—just finality. The night happened. It was good. It's over. Cassius might send flowers. Viktor might offer a massage if he sees tension in the corridor. Perseus might nod in acknowledgment.
But the door doesn't open again. They move on.
The women never quite forget. That's intentional, though none of them would admit it. They leave marks—physical and emotional—that linger long after the night ends. Cassius's whispered filth echoes in quiet moments. Viktor's hands become the standard by which all other touch is measured. Perseus's bite marks fade but the memory of his weight doesn't.
They're good at it. Unfairly, devastatingly good. Viktor's patience, Cassius's charm, Perseus's force—three different kinds of devastation that combine into something no single person could replicate.
As for Artemis? It depends on what initial interaction I decide to go with —— the initial meeting that I had was heated and I tested out two different directions; one that was smutty and spicy, the other which left things on a neutral state but had tension in the air.
The second initial interaction — which is what I'm leaning closer toward — is when Artemis is confronted by a very mouth Ravenclaw who basically calls her a slut / whore / slut shames her because she's always with the four Slytherin Boys. Honestly, this was very, very fun to workshop and play around with (because Tom is also watching this interaction and Cedric — fucking — Diggory is just 'oh she's amazing— I'm going to marry her' much to the horror of his two friends beside him )
Why? (Honestly I'll go through the entire scene but;)
Because Artemis is sitting on Mattheo Riddle's lap, patching up his wounds and she fucking YAWNS.
Artemis — fucking — Milford.
The Muggle Observer — who can't use magic — looks at this man dead in the eye and basically says; "Okay. Say if I was fucking them — Then what? It's all consensual and we're adults." and then very dramatically; "God fucking forbid a woman has a sex drive."
Understanadbly, all four of her orbit are wheezing internally because that was brutal.