argentisms

[argentisms]

Needless to say, Allison hadn’t gotten much sleep over the last forty-eight hours. Between Scott leaving, Lydia almost being killed, Melissa and the Sheriff being taken, and her father being on the metaphorical chopping block — She’s got a lot on her mind, to say the least. Given that Stiles is practically glued to Lydia’s side, Allison opted to stay at her parent’s home. (As if sleeping in her old bedroom would prevent her father from being sacrificed by an evil deity) A hot shower proved to be a decent way to calm her nerves, pulling her away from the edge long enough to get a good night's sleep. That had been the plan, at least — She stops dead in her tracks as she enters her room, immediately spotting the open window and slight movement of the curtains.

Her blood runs cold, tensing as she slowly crosses the room. The carpet makes her footsteps silent as she moves, grabbing the knife from her bedside table. With her free hand and all the energy she can muster, she grabs the shirt of the dark figure in her window, throwing them to the ground before a knee presses against their chest and the knife to their throat in one swift move. Admittedly, Allison half expected to run into Isaac, or one of the twins going rogue -- Instead, she's met with Scott, all wide eyes and hands held up in surrender as he announces himself. "-- Scott?" Her confusion is evident, though she can't help the relief that fills her at the sight of him. Removing her knee from his chest, she sets her knife to the side and sits back on her knees next to him. "What are you --" She shakes her head, everything she's wanted to say to him attempting to come out all at once. Rather than word vomit, she grabs him by the shoulders to pull him in for a hug, grateful to know he's not in pieces somewhere in the Preserve. "What's going on? What are you doing here?" She begins her stream of questions as she holds him in a bone crushing hug, reluctantly letting go and pulling away to quickly examine him.

Once she can see that he's unharmed, her hand comes up to smack him in the chest. Hard. "What the hell is wrong with you, Scott?" She whisper-yells at him, not wanting her father to hear them. The last thing they need is for her father to walk in on the two of them alone together. "Where have you been? I --" She pauses for a moment, before letting herself admit what she'd been thinking. "I was worried you were hurt. Or worse."

WHO ― @argentisms

WHEN & WHERE ― after leaving deucalion, argent house

The past few weeks felt like a fever dream. Allison coming back, werewolves dying, an alpha pack, the motel, people being taken by an evil druid, and now this whole true alpha thing. It was a lot to process. He’d gone with Deucalion for answers. His mom was missing and Noah Stilinski, not only his best friend's dad but in many ways he'd been the only father figure Scott ever had. That meant there was someone else that still needed to be taken and he had a pretty solid idea of who that someone could be. Chris Argent was likely going to be the hardest to take, to be fair. Regardless, Scott wanted to check in with Allison— both to see how she was doing and ask her about her dad. If anyone had a plan on how to defeat Darach, it was likely to be the Argents. 

Of course, what he didn't take into account is the fact that Allison would probably be on edge. He realized he should've texted or called her first when he was on the ground and a silver edged blade was pressed against his throat. ❝ Whoa, whoa, Allison it's me! ❞ Scott held both hands up, eyes wide hoping she would stop before she went any further. Is it bad he finds this hot? He shook the thought off and forced a smile. ❝ Lesson learned, I’ll call next time. ❞

[argentisms]

WEB WEAVING + scott & allison, 3a.

i love you, it's ruining my life.

[argentisms]

One step forward, three steps back. Every single time Allison starts to think they’ve figured something out, that they’ve solved a piece of this never ending puzzle — A new, worse complication arrives and makes her head begin to spin. “It wouldn’t be the first time they knew something we didn’t.” She points out, though they both know Stiles is right. Allison can’t stop the sinking feeling that’s threatening to pull her under, telling her that this is where it ends whether they like it or not — They may truly be at the end of their rope. She knows now is not the time to let herself fall into that emotional trap, not when they’re still in the middle of this fight. Ignoring the knots in her stomach proves to be more difficult than she’d like to admit.

It’s reassuring to know the FBI won’t be knocking on her door asking about the incident at the hospital, it gives them time to work on finding Melissa and the Sheriff without Scott’s father barging in. Taking a deep breath, Allison forces herself to follow Stiles' lead — Work on solving the problem. Her mother’s voice finds her, adding: Clinically, and unemotionally. She can cry later. Right now they need to figure this out. Something. Anything. She follows Stiles train of thought, still finding it strange the helpless, confused Jennifer Blake was the Darach — But then again, Gerard had been skilled at manipulation too. Brows furrow as he pulls a crumpled piece of paper from his bag, naively hoping for a brief moment that maybe it’s a note from Scott, though the thought passes quickly.

She stares at it for a moment, reading the words over and over. Parent or Guardian. Guardian. Just like it said on her father’s desk. The gravity of that reality begins to sink in, threatening to pull her under. Argent being on elevator doors scared her, but this only confirmed what they already knew was coming. Her father would be the last sacrifice. Alongside Melissa Mccall, and Sheriff Stilinski. The thought makes her sick, the realization that they would all most likely end up burying their parents. Allison’s eyes don’t leave the paper as Stiles speaks, suggesting a police detail for her father. It takes everything in her not to laugh at the idea, knowing the police won’t exactly do much in this situation.

Instead, she forces herself to swallow the lump in her throat, and takes a deep breath as she hands the paper back to him. Clinically, and unemotionally. If they want any sort of chance to save their parents, she can’t let herself succumb to her fear. “We both know that’s not going to do much.” Allison points out, more defeated than anything. It’d be so much easier if this could be handled by a few deputy’s standing by the door. “Besides, there’s more of an arsenal in my parents garage than the police station. I don’t know that a police detail would do much more than put more people in danger.”

“Hm, yeah,” Stiles said, rubbing his chest, trying to push the hollow feeling away and out of him. “But that really depends on if the Alpha’s know where they are and I doubt that they do.” Scott had acted on an impulse that Stiles understood. His mother was in danger as well, and he wanted to help everyone. So somehow in his mind, teaming up with Deucalion made sense. But Stiles wasn’t in the right headspace to be able to parse the situation out the same way. So here he was. Duct taping the loose shards of himself so he wouldn’t fall apart in front of all of them. 

It being a calling card was a far fetched idea, but well. At this point, you couldn’t really discount far fetched ideas. “Alright,” He said, pocketing his phone after making a note about it. “I told Scott’s dad I had no idea what that was about. Told him I was trapped inside the elevator so I obviously couldn’t do all that…I don’t think he knows that you guys were there yet. So we’ve got some time.” Stiles was trying to get into work mode. When he was trying to untangle a case, he could keep everything else out of his mind, and usually he could lock the bad away when he needed to, he kept tiptoeing back to the moment his father just disappeared in the middle of the classroom. So gathering his thoughts was almost impossible. 

“The problem is,” Stiles said abruptly, “The alphas were…busy, right? So I think we’re looking more at…Jennifer…being the one that did it.” Opening his backpack, Stiles pulled out a crumpled form. Completely empty except for one line that was circled so many times in a sharpie, the ink still hadn’t dried an hour later. “And I think I know what the last category is.” Pushing the form toward Allison, he knew she’d catch on. Parent or Guardian. 

Guardian.

His dad, Melissa Mccall. Chris Argent. 

It would complete the circle. But he didn’t want to just throw that at her with no sort of solution. “I think we should talk about getting your dad a police detail. Which...I think we both know he'll hate." Stiles admitted with an arched eyebrow.

[argentisms]

❝ would you rather it be your thigh? ❞

[argentisms]

How long is it really fair to ask him to do that? It's a logical question, one Allison finds herself wondering about Scott. She hadn't told Lydia the details of their break up, that he'd said he'd wait for her, that he knew they'd be together. She decides it's better not to mention that detail now, considering she and Scott are... God, Allison has no idea what they are. And it just keeps getting messier. When it comes to Stiles, he'd wait for as long as Lydia needed without complaint -- But it's fair to ask where the line should be drawn. Allison wants nothing more than to see her best friend experience genuine love, to be with someone she can be her real self with. She wasn't naive enough to think that'd happen overnight. "Honestly? I don't know." The brunette settles with, sincerity in her answer. "But this is brand new," She points out, nodding her head towards Lydia. "Maybe right now you should just let yourself feel it out, you know?" Allison suggests, shrugging a shoulder. "Try not to get caught up in what could be, and enjoy what is, before you start freaking yourself out too much." It's advice Allison should follow herself, but hasn't. Both her and Lydia are masters of getting in their own heads, letting what ifs and potential scenarios cloud their vision.

She wrinkles her nose as Lydia speaks, knowing there's truth to her best friends advice -- Allison is young, her problems should involve school, dating, and when her next girl's night is. Not whether it's her responsibility if someone lives or dies, if she's living by some centuries old ideal. Trying to meet somewhere in the middle was proving more difficult than she'd like to admit, fully staying out of it was only making it worse. "I don't bite my lip that much." She rolls her eyes, knowing she's essentially been chewing on her bottom lip for the last twenty four hours straight. She's not certain where her father is about the code these days -- They haven't spoken about it, aside from her insisting she's not getting involved, since they were in France. He'd been secretive, still navigating their new circumstances. "I don't know how I'd even bring it up." Allison adds, having a feeling that the conversation will end up happening regardless of how ready she feels. A nod follows Lydia's blunt words, knowing she can't keep this up. Allison doesn't want to lead him on, or live in this terrible limbo -- It's cruel, complicating things even more. With a sigh, she glances over at Lydia. "Do you ever get sick of being right?" She tries to bring a bit of levity to the conversation to alleviate the tightness in her chest. "Once I know he's not dying..." A pause comes with that sentence, her jaw tightening at the thought. "Then I'll deal. Promise."

Lydia simply hums in response to Allison's reassurances. She feels like she's lagging behind. She has felt like she's been lagging behind for years, but especially now when it comes to her romantic life. While her friends had been making plans for babies and marriage, almost every day in Lydia's relationship had been a fight. While she and Jackson had outwardly portrayed the perfect couple — for a while, at least — they had been the polar opposite behind closed doors and eventually in public too. Lydia doesn't think that anyone really has any idea how bad they were at their worst, even now. In order to survive it, she'd had to steel herself — become something rigid and cold, clawing back against Jackson and giving almost as good as she got. She wasn't sure she would ever be able to get back from that — to be someone capable of accepting a love that's soft. To be able to reciprocate that. "He can wait, but how long is it really fair to ask him to do that?" An unspoken question lingers behind her words, insecurity and vulnerability prying her rib cage open and squeezing her heart in a vice grip. How long until he gets tired of waiting? Until she scares him away?

Her eyes roll at Allison's comment. I have a responsibility. The whole thing with the honour code and the moral responsibility is dramatic as far as the redhead is concerned. "You're twenty-five, Allison. The only thing you have a responsibility to is a night time skincare routine. And to stop biting your lip so much — that's how you get jowls." Lydia has had a ten step skincare routine since she was thirteen, her mother putting the fear of aging into her far earlier than she needed to. But she figures when she's forty and still looks thirty, she can send Natalie a thank you card. "Right, but that was last year," Lydia reminds her with an arch of an eyebrow. "A lot has happened since then." It goes without saying, she means the death of Victoria and the betrayal of Gerard. She can't imagine that after all of that, Chris is still stubborn (not to mention stupid) enough to walk that same extreme line he had back then. "I know you love Scott and he loves you too, but you can't dangle it in front of him like this. You guys either have to find a way to make it work or you have to let each other go until it's a real possibility." She's not trying to be harsh, but it's the truth. "You know I want to see you happy — but I don't know how this back and forth does that."

[argentisms]

scott mccall & color association: yellow. | @mccallsmemaybe

[argentisms]

WEB WEAVING + scott & allison, s1/2.

i used to get sad & lonely when the sun went down but it's different now 'cause i love the light that i found in you

[argentisms]

lydia martin & color association: pink. | @girlwaiiled

[argentisms]

WEB WEAVING + lydia & allison.

together -- or not at all.

[argentisms]

Allison can only imagine what's going through Stiles head right now. Scott and the sacrifices are one thing -- But his father becoming part of the latest trio of sacrifices surely has his head spinning. She knows if she were in his shoes, she'd barely be able to contain herself. It isn't often that they broach the topic, but Allison knows that his mother's death cuts deep. It haunts him the same way her own mother linger in every corner of her life. The idea of losing her father to something they've tried and failed to stop multiple times... it makes her sick to her stomach. Allison doesn't ask the obvious, having a feeling it'd send him over the edge -- And based on the look on his face, Stiles is holding on by a thread.

Approaching him slowly, she wrinkles her nose at the mention that there was no other updates on Scott. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Allison nods slowly, setting the sweatshirt in her hands on the counter. She'd rip the piece of fabric in half if she kept twisting it in her hands. But he said he find my dad. "Good," She starts, trying to hold onto the hope that Scott has some kind of plan. "That's good." Allison repeats the word, trying to get herself to believe it. The moment lasts seconds before he's sliding his phone to her, brows furrowing as she looks at the photo. There it is, clear as day. Argent. Her blood runs cold, heart beginning to race at the thought of what it could mean. Is her father the next sacrifice? Is he somehow helping Jennifer?

A million questions begin to run through her mind, but she knows better than to fire them off right now. Allison tries to remind herself that she'd been on the phone with her father barely twenty minutes ago -- He's alive, and well, and accounted for. For now. "I had nothing to do with this." She clarifies what feels obvious, before adding: "It's not a calling card. And my father was with me all night, there's no way he did that." A sudden wave of defensiveness starts to settle in, feeling like she's about to have to start twisting the truth to make her family not seem like bad guys. It reminds her of a Kate, which doesn't help the knots in her stomach. "I -- I don't know what this means."

He was so tired. The sluggish grief that he tried so hard to stifle was crawling back up his spine, and Stiles’ mouth was dry from throwing up in the bathroom of a destroyed hospital room after explaining to Rafael McCall that he didn’t know where his father was. it felt like his body’s immediate reaction to being in the room when his mother died. The same shaking feeling of being completely alone when he was waiting in that stupid plastic chair for his father. Like his subconscious was already preparing him for the mourning period. Like he had officially lost his father. 

He’s not dead. An echo of a phrase that, while varying from person to person, was said to him a lot in between moments of violence the past few days. A we’ll find him, from Derek, a don’t give up now from Chris,  and a you’re not alone from Melissa. Stiles knew they meant well, he did. And he appreciated the effort. But he felt absolutely hopeless. And standing here, looking at Allison Argent in his living room, a physical reminder that his best friend had in fact left with the enemy, it all crashed down on him. “Not really,” He said, collapsing most of his weight onto his elbows on the counter, staring at the dripping faucet. “Deucalion didn’t really give him a chance to chat, y’know? But he said he would find my dad.”

It’s not Allison’s fault. None of this is Allison’s fault. But he was spiraling, and her reaction just snapped something in him. Yanking his phone out of his pocket he pulled up the photo Rafael let him take for his own evidence and slid it across the counter at her. “I mean,” He said, squeezing the counter to remind himself to breathe, “Someone put your name on the elevator. The feds found it while they were questioning me, had to happen after all the shit went down. Didn’t know if there were hunter calling cards or some shit”

[argentisms]

stiles stilinski & color association: green. | @stylinskies

[argentisms]

THE EDGE OF SEVENTEEN (2016)

[argentisms]

⭐️⭐️⭐️

SEND ⭐️ (OR MULTIPLE) FOR A HEADCANON ABOUT OUR MUSES.

⭐️— Scott is the first boy she's ever brought home to meet her parents. Allison's dated other guys before, though none ever lasted long enough to be long term, or were serious enough to introduce to her family. Allison knows her family is intense, and hasn't felt the desire to have the two meet until Scott. She naively hoped that her over-protective parents would like him, which was quickly proven to be untrue. ⭐️—While they were together, Allison would often leave Scott little notes. It's cliche and romantic, but quickly became almost routine for them. She'd write him a little note, something short and sweet on a piece of scrap paper. stick it in the pocket of his jeans or jacket, and wait for him to find it that afternoon. Scott often returned the favor, and Allison still has every single one -- Tucked into a shoebox at the back of her closet. ⭐️— Allison grew up on homemade meals, only going out to dinner or getting take out on special occasions. So, almost as soon as they began dating, Allison and Scott started cooking together. What started as an attempt to be romantic on date night quickly turned turned into commonplace, and became something she loved. Much to their roommates dismay, her and Scott have nearly burned a few meals due to being distracted by each other.

[argentisms]

allison argent & color association: blue.

[argentisms]

But what would you do if I went to touch you now? What would you do if they never found us out? What would you do if we never made a sound?

[argentisms]

📱

SEND📱FOR A VOICEMAIL MY MUSE LEFT YOURS.

[DELETED] Hey... It's me. I know I probably shouldn't be calling you, considering, you know -- I know I'm the one who called things off but... I'm sorry, Scott. Can we talk? I.. This is a bad idea, isn't it? I just -- I love you. I don't know how to make this whole thing less complicated, but I don't want to let go of us. I'm leaving for France tomorrow night. I know it's probably crazy, but I want you to come with me. That's insane, right? I'm being insane. But maybe we could leave Beacon Hills and just... I don't know, we can figure it out at as we go along. Forget the code and packs and everything. That -- God, this is a stupid idea. So stupid. I'm sorry.

[argentisms]

👤+ erica

SEND 👤+ A MUSE NAME FOR MY MUSES' OPINION ON THAT MUSE.

Before she was bitten, Allison had never crossed paths with Erica. She'd seen the blonde in the library a few times, but they hadn't interacted. After? Allison can't stand her. Between the fact that Erica had tried to kill Lydia, as well as 'steal' Scott -- Allison isn't a fan. She doesn't feel bad for having tried to kill her, nor did she mourn Erica's death. Sure, she felt sad for the people the blonde's death effected, knows if it hadn't been at the hands of the Alpha pack, it probably would have been by one of the Argents.