#next week of course

[starrenati]

So uh, yes. I don't have anything for my defence, this chapter strays as far away from comfort as possible, also unexpected guest. Yippie?

Chapter VI

"Understanding?"

Hurts. Hurts. Hurts. Hurts. Hurts. Was going over and over in Alice’s mind. The pain was pushing through the tsunami of thoughts and voices that attacked her brain. The last two days were terrible, but today it was reaching a whole nother level. She was just sitting in the chair, curled up and looking at one spot with completely unfocused eyes. Hurts. Hurts. Hurts so bad. Hurts. It was hurting to even breathe. The pain of her mind spreading through her whole body, making every breath and her ribs expanding feel like they were breaking. Every time her hands trembled she felt like someone was cutting her joints open and tying her tendons together. Why was it like that? She used to have quite bad flare ups due to her mind being overwhelmed but it was never this bad. Almost like her body decided to die on her while her mind was still forced to live. She closed her eyes, her eyelids feeling like they were on fire just from that simple movement. Even swallowing her saliva felt like someone just poured liquid fire down her throat. She needed comfort somewhere far away from here. Somewhere away from this universe, but lately she couldn’t even fall asleep at all which deprived her from being able to enter the other reality. As much as she hated it at first, now it was all that she wanted. Her mind was so calm there, completely silent. Well, not counting those few moments in which the mysterious female voice spoke. 

Need comfort. Need away. Now. Silence. Shh. Shut up. Comfort, need comfort now, need silence. Hurts, hurts, hurts. Away. Need away. 

She opened her eyes hearing someone walk into the living room, but still couldn’t really catch who that could be. Everything was blurred, like hidden behind the thick fog. Every sound was distorted to the point she couldn’t recognize a thing, and everything was hurting so bad. All that she wanted was to sink, deep, away from this all to a place where her mind is silent. Where it doesn’t hurt at every possible step. She slowly leaned her head slightly back, sharp pain traveling through her whole spine like someone just threaded a bullet through it, aiming for her mind where the pain remained in the end. Someone speaking something to her, looking at her, directly in front of her yet she couldn’t catch a single word. That someone grabbed her face, turning it in a different direction. Alice could almost swear that her neck snapped a few times along this and somehow she didn’t die. Her skin was burning in places where there were someone's fingers just a second ago. Who? Why? What about? Nothing. Just a weird hum and the screams inside her head. That’s all that she was able to hear, nothing more and nothing less. Who was that? Logan? Wade? Laura? Cass– No. No, no, no. Maybe it’s all just a nightmare? 

Alice couldn't even pinpoint a moment when she entered that someone's mind. It was cold here and way darker than in the living room. She slowly got up from the chair. There was less pain, she could move without feeling like her body was about to fall apart or explode. Slowly she made her way ahead towards the faint sparks of light that were there. It felt familiar. Warm. Almost fuzzy. Slowly, the darkness started to fill with light and various furniture, with frames with photos she couldn’t yet see, blurred colors, but something was there. Could it be someone's memory storage? Possibly. She hadn't visited one before, so it was something completely new. Up until now, she was only roaming in her own memory storage, which looked like a never ending wall with memories put into folders, but maybe that  wasn’t the case for everyone? Maybe every person has their own way of storing their memories? That was fascinating.  

She turned when she heard some whispers behind herself, but it disappeared as soon as it showed up, only like a ghost of another person disappearing into thin air. The memories were alive there? Interesting. She walked ahead, strangely drawn into one specific direction. To the doors, right corridor, third door on the left with an ever changing number on them. Yes, there. She had to get in there. Her steps echoed through the halls that were empty, but also strangely filled with distant laughter and fragments of conversations. What do they call you? "Wheels"?  She chuckled at that, not sure why. It came from somewhere away but sounded so damn funny even without context. Whoever was the object of that joke, for sure wasn’t happy about being called like that. Or maybe they were? Hard to say. 

Finally she reached the door, but stopped with her hand on the handle. So that’s why it was familiar. It’s the mansion that she heard so many stories about from Logan. The X-Men legacy of some sort. And to think for him it’s still an anchor to his memories, that’s impressive. She looked at the corridor for a while more, watching the passing ghosts of other x-men, young mutants and so on, pass there, mid conversation, mid fight, filled with strong feelings. She could feel all that. It was overwhelming to some degree, but also calming. She could’ve lived here if she wasn't born at the wrong time… 

Shaking her head, to get away from some more unpleasant thoughts, she pushed on the handle and entered yet another room. It looked like a library, with sections and different colored books, seemingly never ending bookcases on each side, each one of them with a tablet that read the name of someone. Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Wade Wilson, Alice Solace… Oh. She earned herself her own shelf here as well? That was heartwarming for sure. There were of course many more shelves, many more names, nicknames, some slightly blurred. Time is taking a toll on everyone after all, not even the mighty Wolverine can be safe from it. She walked ahead, looking around, trying to remember all of the names that she just saw, until she reached one of the shelves that had a completely broken tablet. Falling to pieces and already overgrown with moss, but the writing still looked clear and fresh. He didn’t forget, but he wanted to. Was there ue in trying to read it then? Maybe. Instead she walked ahead, touching one of the books, the cover was rough, slightly torn, stained with what looked like blood or red wine. She slowly took it off of the shelf and held it in her hands. Open or leave it? What will happen if she opens it? Will it help? Being here helped so this… This might help as well, right?

 Slowly she opened the book, and shifted through the pages, her mind filling with so many memories. The forest, a kid, woman, concentration camp, everything was passing so fast in front of her eyes. Anger, grief, happiness, sadness, rage, pure unbridled rage, love, purest form of hatred. It all filled her mind so fast, she felt like she was about to suffocate. Alice didn’t even notice when she closed her eyes, almost like she wanted to protect herself from it. 

Slowly she opened her eyes, the familiar light rough on her pupils. Cold breeze dancing in the air, distant buzz of bees, and familiar feeling of cold earth under her feet. She was back, but this time she wasn’t alone. Quickly turning around, towards the strong presence she could feel without a doubt. Now she stood face to face with him. Erik Lehnsherr. Magneto. So that… That’s the person that Logan wanted to forget. Which was weird but not really that surprising considering the fact that their shared past didn’t look very friendly. He didn’t either honestly. For the first time, after appearing on the never ending meadow she felt threatened and it was only because she was getting stared down by someone. She cleared her throat, straightening up while looking at the other mutant, trying to understand his motives and also why the fuck he was here in the first place. 

“I take that you have no idea how I ended up here either.”  

Well, that cleared up a lot. So he wasn’t here because he wanted to be here. Something had to drag him there. Maybe it was her? By reading that book? Wasn’t he supposed to be dead by the way? This thing made less and less sense. 

“Yeah. Very much actually. I mean, I’m not sure how I ended up here, let alone you. I’m pretty sure that your variant in my world is either way older than you right now or already dead. I’m not sure.” 

Nothing like speaking her mind to its fullest. Seeing his confused expression she just waved her hand. 

“That’s a long story and a very complicated one. Nevermind it.” She took another deep breath, mulling over her options. “So… I probably saw your memories? I guess.”

Weird way to start a conversation for sure, but what else was there to speak about? Maybe she just should've remained quiet and not talk at all? It seemed that every option had more lows than actual highs. 

“So you’re like him, huh?” Him? Oh… She could feel who he meant. “Now you’re going to try and convince me that the world changed for a better place for mutants or something?”

He said that with almost scoff. She was looking at him. It wasn’t real Magneto for sure. Yes, the memories were there, but what was presented was just bits glued up to create a character that was but a mere weak variant of Magneto. What was her purpose in all that? Maybe to soothe those parts of this broken soul, so they would come back to their whole? 

“I’m not like him. I mean, yes I am a telepath, but that’s probably that in means of similarities. The world also isn’t better for mutants, probably never will be. I mean, humans struggle with accepting different sexual orientation, let alone someone being able to read their minds or bend metal. I doubt they’ll ever comprehend that.” 

She looked around and motioned for him to follow her to sit down by a pond that appeared there. He looked angry and in pain. Once more she went over the memories she was shown not long ago. Right now they were filled with voices as well. With cries and screams that found their solitude in her mind right now, adding to the never ending chaos that was in there. No wonder he carried so much anger. 

“Getting rid of them would-”

“It wouldn’t fix a thing.” She cut his words short, looking down at the calm waters. “Killing humans is not going to change anything. Mutants would murder one another then. There’s no such thing as a bright future of understanding each other, because we don’t even understand ourselves.”

She looked at him, her eyes remained soft, just like they always were when talking to someone else. It was something natural for her at this point. Something she always did without thinking about it. Maybe years of collecting feelings and memories of others changed her into all that? Maybe. 

“I would like to say I understand where your anger is coming from, but I can’t. My family fled their country years ago, before I was even born. They fled Poland in fear of facing the things you did face first hand. I learned the history from them, the nightmares they still saw. And on top of what happened there… All of that.”  Her voice started to shake a bit. “Your anger is understandable, but it won’t fix a thing. It’ll only destroy you, while humans don’t even bat an eye. They will always see mutants as heartless and mindless monsters. While in fact they’re the cruel ones. But it’ll catch up to them, one day, one day it’ll all end on their own wish.”

His presence started to waver. Like it was about to disappear. Was it all that he needed? Not a speech about eternal peace, not a promise of a better life, not someone trying to force some idyllic view on him, but some sort of understanding? If so, she was happy to provide it. 

“It was unfair, what you faced. And you have every right for the hate you’re carrying. You do.” She spoke softly. “But you should rest, you know? You can’t battle restless…” 

Those words just slipped off of her tongue, as she watched him fade away. It wasn’t much, a weird encounter. But if it made her soothe a soul, then it was worth it. She turned back to the water, suddenly her mind filling once again with screams and cries. She frowned, squeezing her eyes tight. Oh god, it hurted badly. She almost felt the world around crack, fall into pieces and that weird dark liquid to seep into it once again. She pushed both of her hands against her temples, trying to contain it all, to silence it enough to breathe. Alice felt like she was drowning right now, and she couldn't even scream for help. 

Then, an unfamiliar coolness spread through her mind…

[swivel-seat]

So as it turns out, my storyboards look better when they're on the whiteboard than they do on paper. And, the black marker on the whiteboard is better than my pencil and pen on paper. And my favorite pencil sharpener just broke so I have to conserve pencil lead-

Are you telling me I should have just- been using my whiteboard this WHOLE TIME?!

Anyway lookit this Heizou, he looks amazing, and I drew him in under 5 minutes

[starleska]

behold: a non-exhaustive list of Date Everything! characters i'll be feverishly romancing next week 😳💖

we have: 🕯️ Scandalabra (the Candelabra) 📺 Telly (the Television) ⚡ Volt (the Breaker Box) 😋 Mitchell Linn (Food) 🪞 Amir (the Mirror) 📖 Lyric (Literature) 💦 Johnny Splash (the Shower) 🎲 Chance (the D20) rate or roast my choices 😂💖

[screeching-painter-witch]

imagine you get a fancy new job and move into a fancy new neighbourhood. you want to meet people so you join a local book club. it is hosted by yue qingyuan and shen jiu

[egophiliac]

he's coming

I'M NOT READY

[heartorbit]

i just wanted to draw the ave mujica outfits .

[expelliarmus]

[nocofamilyau]

I sure hope Hijotee is doing well wherever they may be... (21/24)

[iceclew]

"Stop grieving already... I told you I'll be back..."

Quick. Get that out there before I start to hate it!!!!

I took a sketch from one of my upcoming doodle pages. Since I liked it I thought I might as well refine it. The blue/orange hue is so satisfying for my eyes, I almost love the non coloured version more...

Drawing shadows with lines at an almost meditating pace did the trick for me again i guess.. I could kinda relax while doing this, which is basically a big as goal achieved on it's own right now...

I am so tempted to critic the shit out of it again.. BUT I'm not gonna do that.. I will not let my fucking brain ruin this hobby for me again..

Not. this. time.

[ahhrenata]

for @hamartia-grander ‘s fic Another Time 🧡

this scene in the epilogue got me 🙃 i love them.

[foldingfittedsheets]

Becky Chambers knows what’s up.

[tennessoui]

wine party au morning after ficlet

thank you so much to the person who donated to my ko-fi and asked for a wine party au ficlet in exchange!! this fic takes place the morning after obikin's first meeting (and after they've fucked) - i hope you enjoy!!! (also btw i'm still doing fic trades for donations on my ko-fi because it's really stupidly expensive to get my laptop fixed and i need it for school stuff as well as fic stuff but im flat broke)

The first thing Anakin notices when he wakes up is the pleasant ache in his muscles along his back and in his thighs. It’s the sign of a good night, that feeling, and Anakin can admit it’s been a while since he’s felt it.

He wants to roll over on the disgustingly soft mattress, languish in the warm morning light wrapping around his bare shoulders, tangle his legs in the sickeningly plush duvet, and sleep for several more hours. It’s what he deserves after all he did for the owner of this bed last night.

Or, all he let the owner of this bed do to him last night. Whichever.

But he can’t, because the moment he cracks his eyes open to peer across the expanse of the  mattress, he realizes that he’s alone, the other side of the bed gone cold.

The lack of Kenobi makes Anakin wake up all the way, one part indignant and another part…worried. Or, not worried, really, but something like it. His chest gets tighter as he scans the large room for signs of the other man and comes up empty. Doesn’t Kenobi know the first thing about sleeping with someone? You don’t let them wake up alone, unless you’re just an incredible asshole.

Which, well, Anakin knew Kenobi was, but he’d thought maybe Kenobi knew the basic etiquette of fucking someone.

He’d certainly pretended to last night, at least, after all the other guests had left and it was just Anakin and Obi-Wan sitting on the white patio furniture by the pool. It’d been almost a masterclass of unnecessary seduction, the way Kenobi had taken the wine glass from Anakin’s hand and set it on the table by his elbow; the way he’d slid closer, thigh to thigh, and tucked a loose bit of hair behind Anakin’s ear; the way he’d rested his hands so lightly on Anakin’s waist when he’d given the urge to swing himself into Obi-Wan’s lap…. 

It’d been weird, the sex. It’d been surprisingly gentle, when it happened, nothing at all like Anakin had expected by the way they’d treated each other fully clothed. He’d been the one to initiate, the one to push Obi-Wan into grabbing his hair and tugging him to his knees, manhandle him up the stairs to his bedroom. Kenobi had almost seemed like he’d be content with heady kisses by the poolside, sipping at his mouth like he’d sipped at the wine all night.

But it hadn’t been bad, the sex. Anakin can admit that in the safety of his mind and with Kenobi wherever he is. It had been good. All of it. Even when Kenobi touched him carefully, wouldn’t fuck into him without first opening him on four fingers, wanted him on his back with his legs around his waist instead of on his hands and knees like Anakin had been expecting since he met the man.

It had been good, and Anakin had gone to sleep still vaguely tipsy from the wine with Kenobi’s spit and come drying along his inner thighs and he’d felt fine. He’d felt good. Satisfied, the way only a really good one night stand can make him.

But all of that’s gone now, bled dry and wilted under the morning—early afternoon?---sun, scattered away the moment Anakin woke alone. 

It’s just bad etiquette, Anakin thinks to himself as he grabs a shirt from the floor and pulls it on. It’s Kenobi’s, the same dark oxford he’d been wearing last night. It doesn’t fit, too tight in the shoulders, and Anakin doesn’t even try to button it up properly. The idea of stretching out one of Kenobi’s perfect shirts, probably tailored to his weirdly proportioned frame—lithe and muscular, defined chest and narrow shoulders, thick arms, thicker fingers—makes Anakin smile as he finishes dressing and leaves the room.

Kenobi’s house is as big in the daytime as it had been last night, maybe even bigger. Anakin has to take a double staircase down to get to the ground floor. Anakin didn’t even realize grand foyers even existed outside of palaces and movies anymore. To think, a house like this has existed in his town all this time. It’s disgusting is what it is, all this white paint and marble and—and sandstone.

It’d seemed beautiful last night, winding these corridors from the kitchen through the sunken living room, the foyer, then up to Kenobi’s bedroom. Obviously that’d been the wine and the lust talking, Anakin can see that now in the morning light. It’s just a waste of space and money now.

Obi-Wan probably doesn’t even use half this house. Certainly not the elevator.

Anakin’s made a list of twelve cutting remarks he can’t wait to tell Kenobi by the time he makes it to the kitchen. 

All of them die on his lips the moment he actually enters the room and sees Kenobi there amongst the luxury, moving about among the appliances like this is his true home. He’s shirtless, clad only in a pair of loose pants that hang on his narrow hips like the only thing keeping them up is a wisp of a prayer. Anakin’s mouth goes embarrassingly dry as he watches Kenobi’s forearm flex as he mixes something in a bowl.

“Uh,” Anakin says, groping around in his mind for something to say. This Kenobi is not a Kenobi Anakin had expected to find. This Kenobi, with his soft, unflattering hair falling into his face, wearing thick-framed glasses and no shirt, humming to himself—it’s not any kind of Kenobi Anakin wants either. “What are you doing?”

Kenobi looks up at him, eyes soft and face unguarded for a moment before it smooths out. He arches an eyebrow. “Making breakfast.”

Anakin glances at the bowls around the man, taking another step into the kitchen and crossing his arms. Kenobi tracks the motion carefully, probably concerned over the state of his shirt. 

“What, are you making the cereal from scratch?” Anakin asks, peering at the counter. He wrinkles his nose at the bunch of spinach sitting in one of the sinks. 

Kenobi wrinkles his nose in return. “Don’t tell me you actually eat that,” he says in such a snobby manner that Anakin is pretty sure no jury made of his peers would actually convict him if he drowned the man in the yellow sauce Kenobi’s got in the bowl.

“What, should I be pairing it with a sauvignon blanc? A merlot?” The words taste awkward on his tongue, and he’s sure he’s butchering the pronunciation. Not that it matters. To be honest, Anakin’s surprised he remembers these names, surprised he learned anything at all last night. He’d spent half the time staring at Kenobi from various points in the room and the other half making fun of the room full of snobs in his head.

But he’d also apparently spent at least some of that time learning something about wine. Like its types.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kenobi is saying, but he also deposits the bowl on the counter beside his hip and crosses his arms over his bare chest. It’s distracting. “Your average cereal is so packed full of sugar, you’d want a dessert wine.”

His voice is scathing, but it’s like he’s speaking another language for all Anakin understands him. “Well, the average cereal’s about three bucks a box, so unless you’re about to offer me a job or whatever, I’ll stick to my Lucky Charms.”

Kenobi’s eyes narrow and he mouths out Lucky Charms as if the words personally offend him. “Eggs Florentin,” he finally says, which is a nonsequitor and also definitely not English.

“Is that another kind of wine?” Anakin asks, wary. He can’t imagine spinach and alcohol going well together, but maybe rich people have discovered a new level of hedonism.

“It’s breakfast,” Kenobi says. “It’s my understanding that one usually serves breakfast to their partner the…morning after.���

It’s Anakin’s turn to narrow his eyes as he looks from the counter to Kenobi and back to the stove. It looks, to his quite discerning eyes, like Kenobi has decided to make breakfast from scratch. Which is—not what one usually does.

The last time Anakin had had a one night stand, he’d slid the guy a bowl of cereal from across the counter, feeling all fancy that he could offer him either oat milk or regular milk.

“Oh,” he says. He was raised to be polite, but he doesn’t know what counts as polite in this scenario. He so obviously probably shouldn’t be touching anything, and it’s not like Kenobi needs help. It looks like Kenobi’s made his own bread. How long has he been up? How long has he been cooking? For Anakin?

His chest feels weird, and he rubs at it absentmindedly. “Alright,” he adds. “Cool.”

“Cool,” Kenobi repeats, eyebrows raising up again. 

“Well, I’ll just—I mean…do you want…?”

Kenobi keeps his face unreadable, arms crossed, unhelpful and snobbish and incredibly attractive all the same.

“Help,” Anakin finishes lamely.

“That looked like it hurt,” Kenobi says, lips lifting like he’s trying to smile but only remembers how to smirk. Anakin sneers back automatically. It’s weird, being around Kenobi. Weirder than any other one night stand Anakin’s ever had.

Mostly because it feels like there’s still a fire burning under his skin, thousands of ants crawling all over him. Mostly because he thinks–he still wants to touch Kenobi. Usually he sleeps with someone and that’s that. It’s out of his system and he can treat them the way he’d treat a roommate, a stranger on the street. But with Kenobi, it’s like his hands are begging his brain to be allowed to touch him again and it’s weird.

“Well, fuck you then,” he says faux-cheerfully, tugging at the edge of Kenobi’s shirt in hopes of stretching it out further and ruining it beyond repair. “I’m gonna take a shower. Still got, you know. Stuff. On me.”

“Please do,” Kenobi agrees, voice tight, turning his back on him as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. “It’ll be on the table in twenty.”

Anakin doesn’t think he’s ever been so summarily dismissed in his life; he’d be impressed if it didn’t send him reeling into a foul mood.

Fine, maybe Kenobi understands one-night stand etiquette, but he definitely doesn’t understand how to be human. How to not be a dick. Treat others the way he wants to be treated and all.

Anakin doesn’t even know where the fucking bathroom is, let alone a towel. And he’s not gonna ask, that’s for sure.

Maybe it’s better if he doesn’t take a shower, he thinks as he stalks away from the kitchen. Maybe it’d serve Kenobi right to have someone dirtied up with dried sweat and come sitting at his pristine table. He’s probably never had to deal with that before. Serves him right.

Two wrong turns take him out to the poolside, where the party had been last night. It looks…well, familiar in a way that settles something in Anakin. Maybe he can’t help Obi-Wan making a fancy breakfast and maybe he can’t navigate his way through this fancy marble mausoleum of a mansion, but this—he knows this. This is what every morning after a party looks like, in the history of the world maybe. There are empty bottles of wine laying about, pieces of litter and dirty plates. Cups still, on the side tables, displaced cushions on the ground, someone’s forgotten sunglasses discarded on a sofa.

Maybe Anakin doesn’t know anything about wine; maybe he doesn’t know anything about making bread from scratch. But he does know how to clean up after a good party.

So he starts doing that instead.

An indeterminable amount of time later, he’s interrupted by a throat clearing behind him. He sits up on his knees, abandoning his effort to sweep under one of the sofas, and turns his head up to look at Kenobi.

“I have people for that,” Kenobi points out, eyebrows furrowed as he stares down at him. There's something considering in his face, like Anakin's genuinely surprised him.

“Wasn’t doing anything,” Anakin mutters with a shrug.

It’s hard not to think about the last time he was on his knees in front of Kenobi, just last night. It’s hard not to think about what happened. About how it felt to reach up and untug Kenobi’s belt from his pants, unbutton them and roll his briefs down his hips to free his cock.

Kenobi clears his throat like he’s having a hard time thinking of anything else too, and Anakin’s eyes flash up to his.

The fire beneath his skin is back.

“I’ve plated the food,” Kenobi says. “We can eat out here, if you would like.”

Anakin blinks and clambers to his feet. He wants to ask Kenobi if this is it. If, when they’re finished with breakfast, Anakin will be kicked out the way Anakin’s kicked out all of his own one-night stands at the conclusion of the post-sex meal. It’s the etiquette.

It doesn’t feel like enough.

Anakin wants more of Kenobi. More of his touch, more of his sneers and smirks. He doesn’t have the words to ask for it though. “Yeah,” he says. “I mean, I just cleaned though. So you can’t be messy or spill anything on the cushions or anything.” 

Kenobi blinks, and then his face lightens, his mouth tugging up into a smile as he recognizes the same words he’d said to Anakin the night before. “No promises,” he says.

[shroomerr]

Oh, help me God, this hellboy got me coming back for more

reblogs super appreciated !!! close-ups under the cut !

[lunameimei]

"Are we gonna have a problem? You got a bone to pick?"

[acourtofthought]

Elain shrinks into herself when Lucien is around?

This girl gets flashes of the future. You know there's been images of:

Their bodies slick with sweat

His teeth on her inner thighs

His voice moaning her name

His hands tangled in her hair

His mouth on her.... well, everywhere

Her knees on the forest floor looking up at him.

Her crying out his name, again and again

Looking at Lucien would bring those images racing back and we all know that a shift in her scent could be detected, the reddening of her face would easily be spotted.

Elain was raised to behave like a lady.

Lucien brings about very unladylike thoughts.

Hot Mate + Seer Powers = Elain having no need to read a smutty novel for inspiration because she's now already seen things she never realized were a thing and you know she'd be struggling with how much they intrigued her since as Nesta said, humans were taught primness.

It's really that simple. Sarah didn't call Lucien her love then remind us over and over of how hot he is, how Cassian, Amren and the king noted his good looks, how Feyre thought of his warm bare chest, broad hard shoulders and gleaming hair (while already mated to Rhys no less), for one of the daemati twins to tell us all about the bedroom habits of the Autumn Court males only for his own mate not to notice the exact same things.

[haletostilinski]

Best Teen Wolf Ship: TOP 10

Hey all! To round out the best teen wolf ship tournament, I'm going to give the rankings of how every ship placed of the 128 ships included in this competition. How I'm ranking them is going by the rounds. So the ships that didn't make it past the first round are the lowest, then second, third round etc - within each round, they're ranked by how many or few votes they got.

So if a ship made it past the first round, I'll put their total votes just to see how many they got throughout the whole competition, and just for those who might be curious - but total votes don't have any bearing on their placements. So a ship might have gotten a lot one round and very few the next round, but have more total votes than the ship ranked above them because that ship got more votes the second round.

I know this ranking isn't full proof, but I'm just doing this for fun, so again let's not take it too seriously. This way just made the most sense for how each ship should be ranked. Also I will highlight a ship's vote count red to indicate that it was eliminated that round.

So, without further ado, our top 10 ships! (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)

#10-#1

10. Morey (Mason/Corey) - 315 votes

(Round 1: 292 votes | Round 2: 284 votes | Round 3: 255 votes | Round 4: 315 votes | Total Votes: 1,146)

9. Scallison - 325 votes

(Round 1: 278 votes | Round 2: 302 votes | Round 3: 320 votes | Round 4: 325 votes | Total Votes: 1,225)

8. Scallisaac (Scott/Allison/Isaac) - 95 votes

(Round 1: 471 votes | Round 2: 407 votes | Round 3: 402 votes | Round 4: 480 votes | Round 5: 95 votes | Total Votes: 1,855)

7. Boyd/Erica/Isaac - 185 votes

(Round 1: 472 votes | Round 2: 391 votes | Round 3: 275 votes | Round 4: 496 votes | Round 5: 185 votes | Total Votes: 1,819)

6. Scisaac - 388 votes

(Round 1: 375 votes | Round 2: 411 votes | Round 3: 415 votes | Round 4: 534 votes | Round 5: 388 votes | Total Votes: 2,123)

5. Petopher (Peter/Chris) - 450 votes

(Round 1: 410 votes | Round 2: 421 votes | Round 3: 454 votes | Round 4: 405 votes | Round 5: 450 votes | Total Votes: 2,140)

4. Berica - 76 votes

(Round 1: 584 votes | Round 2: 458 votes | Round 3: 497 votes | Round 4: 593 votes | Round 5: 393 votes | Round 6: 76 votes | Total Votes: 2,601)

🥉3. Allydia - 458 votes

(Round 1: 364 votes | Round 2: 438 votes | Round 3: 328 votes | Round 4: 551 votes | Round 5: 409 votes | Round 6: 458 votes | Total Votes: 2,548)

🥈2. Steter - 906 votes

(Round 1: 452 votes | Round 2: 469 votes | Round 3: 415 votes | Round 4: 2,129 votes | Round 5: 567 votes | Round 6: 682 votes | Round 7: 906 votes | Total Votes: 5,620)

🥇1. Sterek - 3,173 votes

(Round 1: 762 votes | Round 2: 750 votes | Round 3: 761 votes | Round 4: 966 votes | Round 5: 727 votes | Round 6: 789 votes | Round 7: 3,173 votes | Total Votes: 7,928)