#Allison Lin

[theiloveyousong]

my collection, boy

[g1xtchedartist]

ok but thank god alvie wasnt in “everybody dies” because i dont think i couldve taken that episode seriously if lin manuel miranda was in it.

[teenwolfpackincorrectcaptions]

Pack, favorite Disney song from the 21st century?

(I do not speak for Teen Wolf or Paramount+. This is for fun.)

[mariocki]

Night of the Demons (1988)

"Do you guys have sour balls?"

"Why, sure we do."

"Too bad, I bet you don't get many blowjobs."

[weaselbeaselpants]

The Eight Rings of Bad Internet Reviewer Hell

-Ring One: Listicle-Fever-

A source that’s better at cataloging content worth the viewer’s interest gets it into their head that they are a decent source of information and critical opinion. Bonus points: +the source is user generated and voted for without moderation, so it’s really no one’s actual opinion +article sites quote each other as a source

Examples: WatchMojo, Cracked.com, Listverse

Exceptions: PanPizza and CR

-Ring 2: Funnyman thinks he’s a Reviewer "oh god"-

While everyone's a critic, not everyone is a reviewer. This bad faith + bad take combo comes from a person who’s better at making observational jokes (riffs) at something, but then thinks said jokes are meaningful analysis simply because they occasionally point out actual problems in the material. Bonus points: +jokes are offensive and not funny +they’re actively ignoring the actual text to make jokes +deflects their own critics by calling everyone who doesn’t buy into their jokes “butthurt fans”

Examples: CinemaSins, Cracked.com, post Demo-Reel Doug Walker, ScreenJunkies

Exceptions: Rifftrax/MST3K, Retsupurae (rip), ABrandontoThePast, penguinz0 

-Ring 3: “Let’s go through the movie together :D”-

A standard retrospective-based review format; best used on contained 3-act structures. The reviewer obviously has the foresight of having watched something before they discuss it to the audience. At their best, these kinds of reviews are fun. At their worst, these videos are just validation farms designed to rip on something sillystupid. Bonus points: +performatively angry and over the top +reviewer takes the subject too seriously in a way that feels unpleasant or a chore to sit through as an audience +alternatively, they have the same trouble as the ‘Funnyman’ and holds no interest in what they’re talking about

Examples: Irate Gamer, MysteriousMr.Enter, ConfusedMathew, Doug Walker again

Exceptions: PeanutButterGamer, Jenny Nicholson, Phelous and Allison Pregler, Bad Princess Movie Podcast, Double Toasted, YourMovieSucks, ToddintheShadows

-Ring 4: Super-Fan-Fail-Theorist-

Bi-monthly theorizing about what a new plot development for a show is, or after-the-fact musing on a what ‘something’ nebulously ‘means’. Very often transforms into fan theorizing and analyzing media for conclusion’s sake. Prone to A LOT of bias of the fan reviewer’s absolutist-take. Obsessed with a product’s fringe and ultimately deeply invested in what is a shallow-insight. Bonus points: +reviewer won't parse the difference between their theory and the text +reviewer is defensive and won’t share the fandom with people who don’t share their take

Examples: Game Theory, Wisecrack

Exceptions: CinemaCartography, Jacob Geller, Sarah Zed and Lady Emily

-Ring 5: Wannabe Breadtube Retrospecterer-

Reviewer wants to be a researched, respected, ‘enlightened’ 2-hour vid maker but is really just an annoyed fan who’s lengthy reviews aren’t structured. Criticism might be valid, but is usually more about what the reviewer doesn't ‘like’ than what's actually wrong with something. Feels more like a lecture and a take-down than it is an enlightening hot take, at best. Also, it's your fault if you disagree with them and they live rent free in their critics heads- totally not the other way around! Bonus points: +incorrect, ludicrous, needless accusations tossed around at ppl they dislike +sounds like they're telling the audience how to feel, not why they feel think something is "awful and here’s why” +reviewer refuses to apologize or correct themselves if they get their facts wrong

Examples: Lily Orchard, Mysterious Mr. Enter again, half of the alt-light douchbags with hour long rants about Star Wars who ironically are all out to counter leftBreadtubers

Exceptions: Accented Cinema, Shaun, Folding Ideas, Xiran Jay Zhao, Princess Weekes, Lindsay Ellis, Lady Emily again, BenettetheSage's newest vids, Cheyenne Lin, and Sideways

-Ring 6: DNI-Danny -

Otherwise known as the “Anti". Jaded by years of abusive standom, they cling to good takes and criticism when it’s convenient for them but otherwise see fandom and critical analysis as a battlefield THEY MUST win. Very judgemental of people who don’t share their (sometimes exact) opinions; quick to gaslight/block/smear people just for association. Absolutist as a means of keeping oneself ‘safe’. Bonus points: +apologizing is NEVER AN OPTION +genuinely treats fandom takes as tho they’re comparable to politics and real morality +DNI list consists of MAPS, bigots, republicans and ppl who ship that toxic ship they don’t like +"no I didn't even watch the video, I don't have to!!" +"cancel culture doesn't exist"

Examples: Lily Orchard again and also prolly some tumblr user you know

-Ring 7: Choked on the Reddit-Pill-

Caught in a toxic dance of death with the DNI-Danny. May be the reason the former exists, but absolutely exists to counter the DNI-Danny at their bs by functioning more bs. So obsessed with being a counter argument and fighting for “actual social justice” (whatever that means) that they don’t recognize their own absolutism, centricism, or selfishness for what it is. Where the Anti counters with “think of the marginalized” the Reddit-Pill is obsessed with “well I’m not [worst case scenario] so why it is my problem that [worst case scenario] exists, HMMM???!” Bonus points if: +really love the term ‘moral guardians’ unironically +“fiction never reflects reality” +"cancel culture doesn't exist" +"some of us can tell the difference between fiction and reality"

Examples: Bad Webcomics Wiki, 4chan, half of the complacent "not me"-base that is KiwiFarms

-Ring 8: Actual Moral Guardians-

Not a jaded or concerned fan fighting for the rights of the marginalized, or for other people, at all. Not even a critic. Legit cult member working in ACTUAL bad faith. 100% unironically believes that liking (or even watching) something means you are being brainwashed/going to hell. Ostensibly has a skewed understanding of how media actually affects people (because they legit think it happens thru mind control and not emotional connections.

Never have good takes or good faith-basis of their own. They can only ever parrot criticisms from other people to fit their usually conservative-minded beliefs. Legit witchhunt. 

Examples: Jordan Peterson, The Satanic Panic, Ben Shapiro, QAnon, Breitbart

inb4: "DID YOU KNOW that the reviewer you rec actually did-"/"they don't like that other reviewer you rec"/"they won't fuck you stop promoing them"

>I'm not here to tell you the ppl I recommended in the links are saints, good people, or even the best reviewers with the one take to rule them all. I don't know them. I'm recommending them on the basis of how to see this kind of reviewing done right.

>I'm not these reviewer's moms. I don't know them. I'm pretty sure some of these people dislike some of these other people- I don't even watch every person I recommended here- but why or how is none of my business. I'm recommending ppl as a viewer.

>I'm aroace and a lot of these people are married or taken. I HOPE they won't fuck me, tbh.

If your favoritist reviewer-person ever is on the example list, barring the final rings, it's none of my business Jan. I still like ScreenJunkies tbh.

[riceballannie]

I swear, if Hikari Zhang is not half or at least part japanese AND chinese I'm going to riot because what is this name????

Hikari - a japanese name

Zhang - a chinese surname

I sure as hell hope that they have a fucking explanation for that because it's literally Cho Chang all over again and I'm sick and tired of the mediocre Asian representation in western media

[bamboozledbird]

IGNITE: A Teen Wolf S1 AU (Reader's Version) // Prev. / Chapter 2 / next.

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader (You), Lydia Martin, Scott McCall, Allison Argent Pairing: Eventual Stiles x Reader, but man are we talking slow burn Word Count: 6.7k Warnings: Canon typical gore/violence, emetophobia, parental death (rip to your fake mom), descriptions of burning, depictions of depression (apathy, dissociation, 'numb little bug' vibes) Tags: Canon has been lovingly scrapped for parts, author is a chaotic bi and it shows, prolific overuse of the em dash, the slowest of burns i fear

Summary: You can always smell ash long after the fire is gone. Perhaps, that’s why you still can’t breathe without choking on the past. It’s been four years since your mom died. Four years since she burned alive. Four years since you didn’t. You survived, but they must have buried your heart with her because most days you feel like a shadow, some horrifically sad creature caught halfway between a ghost and a lamb for slaughter. 

You can’t scrub the bitter smell of hospital from your memories, not even with denial. Maybe, that’s why death and disease follows Stiles wherever he goes now. It’s been eight years since his mom died. Eight years since he didn’t. Eight years since he decided that he wouldn’t let anyone he loved die ever again. He survived, but Scott’s new-found abilities and the murky world they’ve been dragged into is making it pretty damn hard to keep his promise. 

Time never stops turning. The grief never dissipates. Children soldier on—but in a town where all the monsters under the bed are real and old family skeletons rattle in every closet, how long can two fragile, breakable humans survive? 

Maybe, the real question is how long will they want to? Chapter Summary: After an awkward encounter with Lydia Martin, Stiles realizes that his new acquaintance might be the perfect person to jumpstart his 15-year plan. You, on the other hand, aren't interested in discussing your ex-best friend; you're much more focused on the man who was attacked by the mysterious beast ravaging the town.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the support so far. So many of y'all have been so sweet :') Comments and reblogs are love.

Monday came, and you’d forgotten about Stiles Stilinski and his sweatshirt. In all fairness, you almost forgot your essay too. Lack of sleep, maybe, or perhaps lack of Wellbutrin—you’d also forgotten if you’d taken your pills before you left for school.

You crinkled your nearly empty can of Red Bull a few times and twisted the tab in circles until it snapped off. Nervous habit. You flicked the tab into a trashcan and squeezed the can until it crumpled in on itself. Okay, you’d definitely forgotten to take your pills. However, on your list of things to forget, homework outranked antidepressants by several places, so your day wasn’t off to the worst possible start in the world. Dr. Lin always said that you should spend at least five minutes every morning changing your ‘self-talk’ to ‘gratitude, not negatude’—she also said that consistently taking your meds was imperative to your mental health, but one out of two wasn’t so bad. See. Positive thinking; you were killing it. 

It was, however, pretty damn difficult to put a positive spin on a bloodied school bus cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape. 

You lingered on the outskirts of the swarm of teenagers gawking behind the barricade that a few deputies were fruitlessly attempting to enforce. The back door of the bus was crumpled in the middle, wrenched open, and barely clinging to life with a lone intact hinge. More concerning, was the blood smeared across the yellow paint and the bloody handprints pressed against the windows. You peered through the mass of shoulders in front of you and cupped your hand over your eyes. There were four large gouges in the door and tears in the vinyl seats—claws: you realized. They were claw marks. 

Baffling. The entire scene was, in all sincerity, baffling. 

Awful, you quickly corrected yourself. The carnage was awful, first and foremost. It was awful, horrific, and totally tragic…but it was also bizarre. Animals, wild or not, generally didn’t hunt on school grounds; that honor was reserved for creepy super-seniors and perverse volleyball coaches. You chewed on your bottom lip and stewed. A bear seemed most likely, given the battering the bus took, but Beacon Hills was a long way from Los Padres. Mountain lions and coyotes, on the other hand, often strolled into small-town suburbia to snack on the occasional unaccompanied support animal. Still, you doubted they had the strength or dexterity to rip a steel door off of its hinges. 

The first warning bell rang, and it was especially shrill while you were lost in your own head. You managed to not flinch with a herculean effort and pushed through the remaining voyeurs towards the front doors. Stuffing your airpods into your ears, you turned up the volume on your phone until the bass vibrated all thoughts of coyotes, cougars, and bears out of your mind. Oh my. 

Positive: Ellie Rowsell’s ethereal vocals demanded your full and undivided attention. 

Negative: Ellie Rowsell’s ethereal vocals demanded your full and undivided attention. 

You grabbed your chemistry notecards, a few highlighters, and a fat stack of books from your locker just as an overly-cologned jackass shoved his equally pungent friend straight into your crowded arms.

Positive: You hadn’t gotten the chance to organize your notes by unit number before they scattered all over the floor. 

Negative: They were still scattered all over the floor.

Biting back a few choice expletives, you crouched down and gathered your notecards into a messy heap. You stretched across the scuffed tile for your highlighters; one brushed past your fingertips and rolled into the pointed toe of a sleek brown leather boot. You glanced up, apology ready, but your tongue went cottony when you locked eyes with Lydia Martin.

Lydia Martin was many things to many people, but you supposed the general consensus would be that she was the apex predator—regardless of what the bloodbath outside might lead a person to believe. Most students were consenting prey. Enthusiastically consenting, in fact. You understood the impulse. Knowing she could destroy you, that was the thing that made Lydia so undeniably captivating.

Lydia was…sublime. That was the only word for it. She was the duality of fear and attraction. She defined indefinable beauty—because she wasn’t just beautiful (anybody could be beautiful), Lydia was fiercely beautiful and, in the same breath, the grace of girlhood. She was…she suckerpunched Jordan Aadams in the third grade for making fun of your eyes without lifting a single manicured finger; that was the closest you could come to explaining the phenomenon Lydia Martin left in her wake.

Lydia’s thick red curls spilled over her shoulders as she looked down at the obstacle in her path. The angry pinch in her brows softened briefly once she made eye-contact with you, but she quickly corrected her slip and schooled her face into a blank expression. Returning her attention to her friend, Lydia’s heels clicked against the floor as she stepped over your copy of Metamorphosis and continued on with her conversation like it hadn’t ever stopped. Like you were just a mirage or a distorted oil-slick reflection—like you were a ghost who just wouldn’t fucking die already. You watched her go, forgetting to blink, until they reached Lydia’s locker on the other side of the hall.

Before she got extensions, Lydia liked to wear her hair in a French braid. Before she discovered full-coverage concealer, her freckles were golden against the fairness of her cheeks. Before everything fell apart, she was your best friend. 

In the end, it wasn’t a terribly dramatic thing. There wasn’t a melodramatic scene or an explosive fight; sometimes, you wondered if that would've been better. There was a certain kind of brutality to a slow, quiet death; one that lasted long after the hot water turned cold and shampoo stung your eyes. After the funeral, you could taste decay in your conversations, in your silences. The rot crawled listlessly—everything did back then—tauntingly sluggish. You saw the end coming weeks before you stopped speaking, and you didn’t even try to stop it. To be fair, Lydia didn’t either.

On the first day of seventh grade, Lydia had new friends; they all smelled like vanilla and owned matching couture purses. She’d always been magnetic, but evidently losing her only constant was her final quest before she transcended to godhood. You made her human; that must have been the problem. You were babies together. You were more than family. Now, you sat across from each other in a class you couldn’t bring yourself to care about, and you did not look at each other unless it was straight through.

You snatched the runaway highlighter and quickly sunk back against the wall, pressing into it like you could force your body through the cracks in the bricks or at the very least shed the sentimentality clinging to your skin. You darted your gaze across the hall and almost snorted when you saw the amount of people who’d flocked to Lydia’s side in the span of no more than thirty seconds. Lydia was unobtainable, unknowable—and yet ever so desirable. No one really knew her, so of course they all wanted to be her. 

Lydia only liked one of them, the new girl with shiny black hair and dark eyes; you could tell. Her top lip pursed ever so slightly when she was holding back a barbed comment and a violent eye roll. Usually, Lydia didn’t bother with niceties, but for whatever reason she’d decided her new persona should only intimidate peons with looks and confidence, never brains. It was a shame, really; her cave-dweller boyfriend desperately needed educating. 

You resisted the urge to look across the hall again and smoothed out the bent corner of a notecard until ‘alpha’ became ‘alpha particle’. A shadow fell over the pink-highlighted text, and you frowned. Glancing up, your frown cemented when you saw Stiles’s elven nose and remembered that you still had his sweatshirt wadded on your desk chair.

“Hey,” Stiles adjusted his grip on his backpack, “did your car make it home okay?”

You nodded and shut your locker with your elbow, bending with the wobbling tower of school supplies in your arms until it stabilized again.

“Cool.” He nodded a few times, mouth puckered like a duck, and scratched at the back of his neck, “So. You and Lydia, huh.”

You stared intently at your notes, “Is that a question?”

“No, it’s a statement.” He hooked his thumbs around his backpack straps and leaned back slightly, “And that episode of telepathic taekwondo was definitely a statement.” 

You glowered until ‘alpha decay’ and ‘helium-4 nucleus’ mushed together into an illegible pink blob, “I’ve got a statement for you—only two words actually.” 

“So it is a thing.” You could hear the smirk in his voice as he grabbed the books from under your arms.

You refused to feel grateful, even as you readjusted your grip on your cards and freed one of your hands, “Get lost, Stilinski.”

“That’s three words.” The smirk was deafening now.

The one-minute warning bell rang and a mass of students swarmed the hallway, effectively drowning out Stiles’s smugness with a sea of jock whooping and band geek trumpeting. You met his gaze and smiled, quick and sickly-sweet, before stepping around him, “Kindly. Choke.”

You ignored the sound of Stiles’s large footsteps following far too closely behind you. You wanted to be annoyed with him, but English was his first-period and he did have your books in his stupidly big hands. Instead of flipping him off, you focused your itching fingers on stacking cards and pencils on top of your desk until Stiles sat down in the seat next to you—without permission. You changed your mind; he was annoying. 

Stiles scooted the desk closer to yours with his feet, and the metal legs screeched against the linoleum flooring for you. “Was it like a ‘grew apart over the summer’ thing, or did some serious shit go down?”

You sighed heavily and lined your pencils and pens next to each other, first in order of length and then color, “Why do you care?”

His mouth remained open for a second, and then he shrugged a little too casually, “I’m a naturally inquisitive person.”

“You’re unnaturally irritating,” you grumbled, low in your throat, and scowled at your picked-apart cuticles like they had done you a particular disservice. 

Stiles huffed through his nose and threw his hands in the air, “Come on, I totally saved your ass Friday—very chivalrously too, might I add. I won’t even press charges for the theft.”

“Theft?” you finally turned around in your seat to face him at the accusation. 

Stiles nodded solemnly, “My sweatshirt. My most favorite sweatshirt of all the sweatshirts.”

Oh. You deflated a little; you’d forgotten about that pesky little detail again. You snatched your books off of his desk before your lives could become further entangled and replied flatly,  “I’ll overnight it.”

“No, I insist you keep it.” His smile was a little too crooked to be truly cocky,  “I’m a good guy like that.”

You tapped your pencil against your chin, eraser side up, and cocked your head to the side, “Isn’t it incredible how every self-proclaimed ‘good guy’ is exclusively terrible.”

Stiles’s face twisted into a petulant scowl as he collapsed against the back of his chair, and you were a little surprised that the desk managed to contain all of his gangly appendages without collapsing as well. “I like her, okay!” His exasperated confession carried to the next row of students, and Stiles melted into his seat when a jacked sophomore with no neck whistled lewdly behind you. Squeezing his eyes shut, Stiles lowered his voice, “Actually, I’m kind of in love with her if you want to be technical about it.”

“Oh.” You blinked and then laughed.

“Don’t laugh, asshole.” 

“Sorry,” you grinned, not sorry in the slightest, “it’s just…isn’t everyone?”

Stiles shook his head and sighed wistfully, “Not like I am.”

You turned to get a better look at him and didn’t mask the doubt in your eyes. He was wearing a brown flannel that was practically mewling for a good ironing and a red t-shirt with the silhouette of a spider embossed over his chest. Spider-Man’s emblem, obviously. If you had to hazard a guess, you’d say it was the Andrew Garfield version. Regardless, it was blatantly clear that Stiles’s homeplanet was lightyears away from Lydia’s.  

You folded your arms over your chest and leaned back against your seat, “Have you even talked to her?” 

“Technically…no,” Stiles dipped his head from side to side like a bobble head and then pressed his palms together, gesturing with them every so often to emphasize the most ridiculous words in his sentence, “but we have a deep, unspoken connection, mostly via sporadic eye-contact.”

You just looked at him, unamused and unimpressed.

Stiles held up his hands like a director and kicked his feet onto his desk, “It’s about the long-game.”

“Gross,” you pulled a face. You weren't sure if you were referring to the gray wad of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe or the pride in his long-con. It was probably a bit of both.

“Are you gonna help a guy out or not?” Stiles nudged the leg of your desk with his sneaker—the gumless one, thankfully—and sent one of your pens careening towards the edge.

You caught it before it could hit the ground and glared at him. “Hate to break it to you, but I’m not an ‘in.’” You returned the pen to its rightful place between your pencil and purple highlighter: a perfect rainbow of neuroticism. You straightened your row of writing utensils again and swallowed shallowly, “I don’t even know her anymore.”

For the first time since Stiles had popped up in front of your locker like a chronic zit, understanding clicked in his eyes. Actually, he almost looked apologetic. Stiles sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and leaned forward onto his forearms, “So…what happened? Did you not make queen bee first-string?”

“No,” you bristled. After a long exhale, you crumpled in on yourself a little and mumbled, “Yes…kind of. I don’t know. I have my version; I’m sure she has hers.”

Stiles clasped his hands together and nodded sagely, “There are as many truths as there are people.”

Your brows scrunched, and your eyes went lidded as you flipped through your mental philosophy rolodex, “Camus?”

He shook his head and clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth, “Evangelion.” 

You were startled into a snorty chortle, “Obviously you’re a weeb.”

Stiles hid his amusement behind a slow roll of his eyes, “You’re at least 1/16 weeb if you know Evangelion is an anime.”

Before you could deny such blasphemy, you were distracted by the boy who usually sat next to you—Greg something, you were pretty sure—coming to a stop directly between you and Stiles. He lingered next to the side of his desk, breathing heavily through his mouth like some kind of sick prowler. 

Stiles glanced at him with a flat expression and then looked up again, brows shooting towards his hairline, when he didn’t leave, “Can I help you?” He jerked his head forward and shook it slightly, “Need a mint?”

Greg Something stared at him, red-rimmed eyes thoroughly glazed over, and you wondered if being faded at 7:45 in the morning was worth the tortuous five-hour wait until lunch. 

“No?” Stiles waved his hand in the air; Greg didn’t even blink. “Okay seeya.”

It took him roughly 30 seconds to comprehend what Stiles was saying, but eventually Greg shuffled towards one of the remaining empty seats in the middle of the classroom. 

“Thank you,” Stiles muttered before returning his attention to the side of your face.

You smirked slightly at your notebook, doodling a little bird with sharp talons along the margins of your notes on Kafka’s thoughts on absurdism—spoiler alert: the guy who wrote a book about a dude randomly transforming into a bug was a big fan of it. You added a long feathered tail to your bird and said, “It is his seat.”

Stiles scoffed and looked over his shoulder. You both watched Greg shove a handful of Cheeto Puffs into his mouth in slow-motion for a moment, and Stiles replied, “I think he’ll live.”

“Oh,” you shook your head a little, freshly bitten lips curling around the extended vowel, “I’m not worried about him.”

Stiles clicked his pen aggressively with his thumb and pressed his mouth together until his lips disappeared into a flat line. “If you would just answer my questions the first time, I wouldn’t have to keep asking them, so, for the love of god—” fortuitously for him, he was cut off by a loud scratchy buzz before you could succumb to your base instincts and throw an eraser into his flapping mouth. 

Principal Montoya’s voice crackled through the loudspeaker, “Attention students: I know that many of you are concerned about the…incident in the parking lot, but rest assured that the police have it well in hand. Classes will proceed as scheduled as they continue their investigation. Have a productive day, Cyclones.”

A resounding groan echoed throughout the classroom and into the hallway, followed by the hum of students breaking into various complaints. Mr. Lyman thwacked his pointer against the whiteboard, and the force of his swing sent the cartoonish hand on the end of the stick into rapid vibration—effectively shutting everyone up. The quiet was only disturbed by the rustle of zippers being unzipped and papers being smoothed when he instructed everyone to turn their essays in. 

You hastily wrote your name across the top of your paper and pointedly kept your eyes on the board when Stiles leaned across his desk. “Life’s short, y’know. One day you’re a traveling salesman, and the next you’re a grotesque, monstrous insect, wishing that you’d seized life when you had the opposable thumbs for it, so—”

“A man just died; have some class,” you interrupted him, voice dry as it was soft. Stiles might not care about getting in trouble, but you’d worked very hard to remain on a no-name basis with all your teachers. 

“We don’t know that he’s dead—or that he’s a he.”

“Oh yeah,” you jotted down the daily prompt in your notebook and muttered, “I’m sure the guy just decided to go home and sleep off the mauled limbs.”

“It could’ve been an animal,” Stiles huffed, bowing his head in submission when Mr. Lyman shot him a stern look from behind his desk. He continued with his hand over his mouth, muffling his words, “And they do run off to die alone.” 

You stared at him for a long moment. “That’s cats. Are you saying a bear ripped a bus apart for a cat.” 

“Well, if you say anything in that tone, it’s going to sound ridiculous,” Stiles muttered sullenly against his palm, and you were pretty sure that he was pouting behind it too.

You opened your mouth to reply and then squinted slightly when a boy with floppy hair skidded to a halt in front of you. His mouth was slightly agape as he looked back and forth between Stiles and Greg, who was now licking the nearly toxic orange dust off of his fingers. 

 “Sit, Scotty,” Stiles jerked his thumb towards the empty desk behind him. “Good boy.”

The boy, Scott you gathered, did not look amused, but he sat down behind Stiles anyway and leaned forward to whisper something in his ear. Stiles whipped around and responded in a hushed screech.

You were distracted from her eavesdropping when Lydia’s friend sat down next to Scott—directly behind you. Her jaw could cut glass. You dropped your chin onto your folded arms and refused to let yourself frown; the end result was a slightly constipated pout. It was just…Allison had just started going to Beacon Hills a few weeks ago, and she was already completely intertwined in Lydia’s life. 

Lydia was…prickly, so you were just surprised, that’s all, how easily Allison fit into her life. More palatable, you thought as you risked a peek over your shoulder; she must be more palatable than most. A terrible, ugly thing creeped over you, and you found yourself imagining Allison choking on her beautiful, silky black hair until her beautiful dark eyes popped out of her head. Just for a moment. A brief, awful, horrible moment—until you remembered it wasn’t Allison’s fault. 

“Hey.” You flinched when you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder.

You reluctantly shifted in your chair so that you could see Allison. You just looked at her for an uncomfortable moment, and Allison smiled awkwardly, “The tests.” You blinked and licked your dry lips, at a loss for words. Allison smiled again, a little nervous but still kind, “They're on your desk.”

“Oh,” you said dumbly and reached for the pile of papers on your desk that you’d missed during your lengthy period of dissociation. You kept one and then held out the rest to Allison, mumbling, “Sorry,” under your breath.

Allison looked at you for a moment, and you didn’t like the discerning look in her doe eyes. “It’s okay. I zone-out all the time.” 

You could see why Lydia liked her; she was nice, overly so. You felt that ugly feeling slip into your mouth again, bitterness coating your tongue, and you wished that Allison was catty or at very least a vapid twit who was either too stupid or too self-involved to notice other people—like the rest of Lydia’s circle. 

“I like your necklace.” Allison nodded a little towards the black chain around your neck. 

A heavy pendant rested just over your sternum; the maze etched into the stone had eroded in places, like it had been left out in acid rain for decades. You weren’t sure exactly what it was made of; your mother never said when she gave it to you, and you never asked. It didn’t matter much now. 

“Thanks,” you finally said, because that was what normal people did when they were complimented, and you were a normal person. Mostly. You swallowed thickly and bit down on the scab in the center of your bottom lip before adding, “I like your jacket.” You did. It was simple, unadorned by gaudy zippers and lapels like so many of the other leather jackets on campus. You would wear it yourself if you didn’t break into a sweat in any temperature warmer than tepid. 

Allison’s cheeks dimpled when she smiled, and you quashed the sigh rising in your throat. Her smile was magnificent. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if I could pull it off, but my friend convinced me to—” Allison let out a little breathy laugh, “Sorry, you definitely don’t want to hear my jacket’s tragic backstory.”

You didn’t, not if it included hearing about Lydia’s fashion tips second-hand. Still, you scraped up a little smile, “As long as it doesn’t begin with a cow, you’re golden.”

Allison laughed and held up her hands, “It’s faux; I promise.”

“Ladies,” Mr. Lyman called from across the classroom, “I wasn’t aware that existentialism was so amusing.” You felt a dizzying heat crawl up your neck to your ears once you realized that the only noise in the room, other than Allison’s tinkly laughter, was the scratch of pencils on paper as students worked on their tests. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled at the same time, and Allison mouthed another ‘Sorry’ just for you before you turned around. Damn. You liked her. How incredibly inconvenient. You almost wished that Stiles was still pestering you so that you had a real reason to be upset—until you finally got a good look at the mid-term, more specifically at the thickness of it. You flipped through the lengthy test and looked at the ceiling briefly: Six essay questions? 

Positive: At least, you found a legitimate excuse to sulk. 

Negative: You felt a migraine coming on. 

Blessedly, whatever Scott had said to Stiles at the beginning of class was distracting enough to keep his, frankly obsessive, focus on him for the rest of first-period. You were even able to finish the final essay question without interruption—which was plenty difficult without being interrogated about your ex-best friend. You almost scoffed when you read the prompt: Whom do you sympathize with more, Gregor or his family? Who in their right mind would side with a pathetic parasite who couldn’t love anyone more than he hated himself? An uncomfortable, undeniable pang of melancholy sliced through your throat, and you were actually grateful for the distraction when the bell rang for second period and you had to pack up for chemistry. 

The impending chemistry midterm, however, was evidently a touch too distracting because you didn’t notice that you’d regained your lanky shadow until you were in Mr. Harris’s classroom and he stole the flashcard in your hand. Narrowing your eyes, you leaned across the lab table and rocked onto your tiptoes. Your outstretched arm shook as you struggled to even brush your fingers against the cardstock, “I haven’t talked to her in years. Lurk elsewhere.”

Stiles opened his mouth and then shut it again, head bobbing helplessly for a moment, “I was just going to ask you about…Gregor. That last question was a real piece of work, huh.”

You plucked the card out of his grasp while he was distracted by his social ineptitude, “Uh huh.” 

“Scout’s honor,” Stiles placed his hand over his chest and somehow made his big eyes rounder. His pink bottom lip jutted out ever-so slightly, but the quivering at the edges of his mouth gave him away. Sighing, he leaned his weight onto his palm: flat against the tabletop, fingers spread, and far too close to your own. He gestured erratically with his other hand, and you jerked back to avoid being smacked in the face. “Personally, I’m on Grete’s side. I mean, you can only take care of your werebug brother for so long without some kind of recognition before you snap.” Stiles shot a pointed look over his shoulder at his friend from first-period, and you thought the glare Scott returned was well-deserved. You could be biased, but probably not. 

“He was a little preoccupied by being, y’know, a bug.” You shuffled your notecards and frowned pensively at the question that ended up on top of the stack: What is the formula for Calcium acetate?  

“He could’ve said thank you in Morse code.” Stiles looked over your shoulder and added, “C4H6CaO4.”

You flipped the card over and pursed your lips. He was right. “I actually said the same thing,” you admitted begrudgingly as you grabbed the next flashcard from the pile. “Not the Morse code bit, that’s objectively insane. I did say that the best thing he did for her was die.”

“Damn.” Stiles’s forehead wrinkled as he let out a puff of air, “A little harsh.”

You picked at your raw cuticles and wished you could pull your bottom lip over your head. “It’s like you said,” you muttered as you folded your arms firmly over your chest, ducking your chin towards the divot in your breastbone, “she could only deal with his depressed bullshit for so long before she got on with her life and made new, sane, non-insect friends who actually go outside, and have fun at parties, and respond to texts.” You paused and remembered that you needed air to function when your lungs started to burn. Exhaling shallowly, you pressed your calves against the stool’s frigid legs until it hurt. Maybe, if you crushed your limbs together tightly enough, curled in on yourself closely enough, you could disappear. “And don’t, y’know, crawl on the ceiling and projectile vomit Exorcist style,” you finished weakly.

Stiles studied you for a moment, and it was like he could see every painfully tender spot inside you. You felt ants crawling underneath your skin and him seeing you, and you wanted to bolt before you came completely unstitched at the seams. “Well,” he trailed off for a moment, rubbing the back of his head, “in all fairness, being there…that’s kind of the deal when you’re friends—even if they turn into a disgusting bug.” You didn’t know that someone so caustic could sound so gentle, like ink running across paper.

“Siblings.” You swallowed and looked away from his unyielding gaze, but you still saw amber and understanding every time you blinked. “You mean siblings.”

“Sure.” Stiles smiled a little and slid his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, “Siblings.”

You swallowed again, couldn’t even manage a ‘see'ya’ or an eyeroll when he saluted you goodbye, and watched him saunter towards his seat next to Scott through your lashes with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. You felt a little sick once you realized that you weren’t relieved by his absence. It was all you’d wanted at the beginning of his inquisition, and yet…you wanted him to sit next to you. The epiphany struck you right in the stomach, and you felt a bit like one of your dad’s rare butterflies—tissue paper wings pinned to paper, fervently yearning to fly away, even if it meant ripping yourself apart. 

Normally, you thoroughly enjoyed not having a lab partner. The class had an odd number of students, and Mr. Harris either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care that you never joined another pair during labs. It was a toss-up, considering he seemed to loathe his job as much as he loved devoting his undivided attention to mocking Stiles. Speak of the bifocal-ed Devil. 

“Mr. Stilinski,” the contempt in Mr. Harris’s voice was sickeningly viscous. You imagined mucus dripping from his thin lips; it helped quell some of the righteous anger in your gut. He continued, and now he was spitting up slugs and snot, “If that’s your idea of a hushed whisper, you might want to pull the headphones out every once in a while. I think you and Mr. McCall would benefit from a little distance, yes?”

“No–” Stiles’s jaw hung open as he shook his head violently. 

Mr. Harris silenced him with a glare, and your fingers curled into your palms as you watched the condescension gloss over his smirk when Stiles complied. Your jagged, bitten-down nails pinched your skin; you quickly flattened your hands on top of the table before you did something stupid like draw attention to yourself. It was none of your business, after all, and you had a test to prepare for. 

You stared at your notes, reread the same sentence over and over again without comprehending a single word, until you felt the uneasy sensation of someone sneaking up behind you.

“Hey,” Stiles sat down on the empty stool next to you and kicked at your shoe lightly under the table. You hummed in recognition and slid your textbook over to make room for his things. 

Stiles’s face scrunched as he flipped through his own notes. You couldn’t read most of it—not that you were looking; his hand-writing was just glaringly atrocious. Everything was smooshed together and most of the letters were partially incomplete, like his pencil couldn’t keep up with his brain. You looked back at your own notebook, at the meticulously symmetrical loops and compulsively straight lines, and the corner of your mouth curled into a brief smile. 

The quiet was nice, but you couldn’t shake the irritation sticking to your fingers. You tapped your pencil against your notebook a few times, bit down on the inside of your cheek, and then said, “He’s a dick.” You spoke quietly, but Stiles still flinched. The highlighter in his hand left a long yellow streak across his textbook, and you winced. Truthfully, you were equally startled that you’d voluntarily broken a perfect moment of silence. 

Stiles didn’t seem bothered by the new mark permanently defacing his book, most likely because a good portion of the glossy pages were already more yellow than they were white. He angled his chin towards you and smirked, “Are you legally allowed to call a teacher a dick? Y’know, as the resident teacher’s pet.” 

You grinned at your notes, “I have the utmost authority, actually.”

Stiles leaned forward onto his forearms and struggled to keep his mouth impassive, “Oh, yeah?”

A loud, grating squeal of metal on tile and an even louder yelp interrupted your reply. A girl near the front of the classroom shot up out of her seat, almost sending her stool toppling to the ground, and then bolted towards the window overlooking the parking lot, “I think they found something!” 

Mr. Harris quickly lost control of the classroom as the rest of the class surrounded her, practically pressing their stupefied faces against the glass to get a better look at what, or rather whom, the EMTs were wheeling out of the thicket of trees just beyond the school’s perimeter. You hesitated for a moment before joining the stragglers. Morbid fascination dwindled after you were confronted with the reality of it—you weren't in any rush to see another dead body. 

You weren't ever supposed to actually see the photos; they were strictly evidence for the potential arson investigation. The coroner didn’t even want your dad to see the body. There hadn’t been any point, after all; it was completely unidentifiable. At the time, you thought it would help. You thought peeking at the case file while the Sheriff was on the phone might remind you of some crucial detail, hidden in the depths of your blackout—and, well, you thought it might finally make it real. Maybe, if you saw the proof, you’d finally believe that your mom wasn’t coming back. 

You’d been wrong, of course. Seeing what was left of your mom, seeing her like…that, it’d just made you puke. Your whole body had trembled from the retching, and then you were paralyzed, held hostage by a glacial streak of terror. Sheriff Stilinski had been so terribly understanding about the whole thing, like it was nothing: vomit on his office floor, trembling hands invading his private files. He’d just wiped the corners of your mouth with a tissue and rubbed your upper back in slow circles, just like her your mom did when you were sick—which ultimately sent you into another round of dry-heaving. You never felt the temptation to look again. 

You let out a deep breath when you looked out the window and saw the man on the gurney twitch. His jacket and pants were black, and his shirt was charcoal gray, dark enough to hide any blood stains. The only injury you could make out was a large gash on his face; it was still bleeding sluggishly, leaving a sticky red trail from his jaw to his neck. Your grip on your forearms tightened as your stomach lurched. 

The paramedics began to load the gurney into the ambulance, and the man surged forward without a single warning. His screams were raw, like they’d been ripped from his throat along with the flesh on his cheek, and every single one of the students crowded against the windows recoiled from the wailing. You swallowed the bile burning your throat. It was like they were watching their own, personal horror movie and couldn’t decide if they were more exhilarated or horrified—just itching for the jump scare. 

You stumbled back towards the door and bumped into Stiles and Scott. Stiles gripped your arm gently until you regained your footing.

“That’s not a rabbit,” Scott said under his breath. He looked as queasy as you felt.

“Or a cat,” you added quietly.

“But he’s alive,” Stiles nudged Scott a little, “that’s good, right? Dead guys can’t do that.”

Scott still looked like he was going to hurl all over Stiles’s white Vans, and you felt a flutter of sympathy. The only thing worse than puking was doing it in front of other people. “You might want to take him somewhere,” you spoke softly to Stiles. “He looks like he’s going to pass out.”

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded a little and wrapped an arm around Scott’s rigid shoulders, “good call.” 

His eyes darted around the classroom: big, and brown, and frantic—like a lost fawn. You nodded towards the dark corner Mr. Harris was dissociating in, “I’ll cover for you.”

“Yeah?” Stiles smiled a little, but he looked weary down to his bones as he started shuffling Scott towards the door. 

“Yeah,” your smile was a bit wobbly at the edges, “but only ‘cause I get a sick thrill out of fucking with dicks.” 

Your weak attempt to ease some of the tension in the air was semi-successful; Scott was still staring into another dimension, but Stiles looked positively giddy at the prospect of such a perfect setup. “I have, just, so many thoughts on that, but I’ll save them for after Scott—” he gave Scott a long look and scratched the back of his buzzed head, “gets his blood sugar up.”

It was sweet, you thought as you watched Stiles guide Scott into the hallway, lying to spare Scott’s pride. You thought Stiles would be a better liar, but maybe that was the downfall of being raised by a police officer. It was either that or the general social impotence. Not that you had much room to talk; silence was your preferred method of social interaction. 

The classroom was far from silent now. Students were spread out across the room in little clumps. Some spoke in furious whispers. Others weren’t as discreet, and you could hear every single preposterous word that left their mouths. The amount of sophomores who didn’t know that the California grizzly bear went extinct almost a century ago was a very depressing glimpse into the public education system, but at least there were only two boys howling obnoxiously at a few giggling volleyball girls. Rolling your eyes, you pulled out your phone and typed ‘Beacon Hills bus attack’ into the search bar. 

You refreshed the webpage obsessively, all throughout chemistry and art class, until an article finally popped up on your screen at lunch. You bit into your slightly bruised apple and squinted at your phone, immensely grateful for the empty courtyard as you came across the grittier details. 

You always ate lunch outside; it was quieter without the echoes of gossip and laughter, and the heady scent of cut grass was far preferable to whatever monstrosity the cafeteria was serving that day. Today, the afternoon heat made the earthy warmth especially thick in the air. Normally, you loved that smell, the smell of summer. It reminded you of frenzied August afternoons, running through Lydia’s sprawling backyard and swinging into brisk lake water, but the smell was quickly becoming suffocating the more you read. 

The man who was attacked was a bus driver. He was smiling in the photo they’d chosen to include before pictures of the crime scene, like a warped ‘before and after’ ad. You dropped your half-eaten apple into your lunch sack and shoved it to the side when you got to the background bits. Garrison Myers had a family, a wife and two daughters; they were praying for his unlikely survival. Your throat hurt, and you wondered if there was an apple chunk lodged in your esophagus. Swallowing hard, you scrolled down to the police interview. The deputy they managed to get a quote from clearly knew next to nothing, though he did posit the possibility of a mountain lion attack. You rolled your eyes. Maybe on PCP. 

The only thing you were sure of was that whatever kind of beast ripped a woman in half and slashed a man to ribbons in the span of a week wasn’t going to stop. At least, not until it was killed.

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Ok, so normally I just...ignore creators who can't be bothered to include women, LTGBTQIA, and BIPOC authors in Fantasy Book Lists, but today I'm tired and grouchy and this goddamn video pissed me off because it's a vast majority of white dudes and their fantastical man pain. SO. I would like to just toss out some NOT white male fantasy authors because frankly I am *so tired* of white dudes retreading Tolkien and Robert Jordan forever. So let's celebrate some amazing fantasy authors who tend not to make these lists.

I'll give the author (and a book to start with).

- Mercedes Lackey (Arrows of the Queen)

- Tamora Pierce (Sandry's Book)

- Fonda Lee (Jade City)

- India Holton (The Wisteria Society of Lady Scoundrels)

- NE Davenport (The Blood Trials)

- Naomi Novik (His Majesty's Dragon)

- Moniquill Blackgoose (To Shape A Dragon's Breath)

- CE Murphy (Urban Shaman)

- Sue Lynn Tan (Daughter of the Moon Goddess)

- Chloe Gong (These Violent Delights)

- Judy I. Lin (A Magic Steeped in Poison)

- Tasha Suri (The Jasmine Throne)

- Xiran Jay Zhao (Iron Widow)

- Jordan Ifueko (Raybearer)

- Chelsea Abdullah (The Stardust Thief)

- Tracy Deonn (Legendborn)

- Gabi Burton (Sing Me to Sleep)

- Brittany N. Williams (That Self-Same Metal)

- Juliet Marillier (Dreamer's Pool)

- Stephanie Burgis (Scales and Sensibility)

- Allison Saft (A Fragile Enchantment)

- Chloe Neill (The Bright and Breaking Sea)

- Olivia Atwater (Half a Soul)

- Heather Fawcett (Emily Wilde's Encyclopedia of Faerie)

- MA Carrick (The Mask of Mirrors)

- Kristin Cashore (Graceling)

- Marie Brennan (A Natural History of Dragons)

- Maya Ibrahim (The Spice Road)

- HM Long (Dark Water Daughter)

- Aparna Verma (The Phoenix King)

And these are just the ones I can see on my bookshelves by turning my head without moving from my chair. There are DOZENS of others who I apologize for missing and who are absolutely worth reading. If I missed one of your favorites, add it to the list with a reblog, and let's stop defaulting to filling fantasy author lists with white dudes.

[dysfunctional-family-fight]

Round Two

The Hargreeves (The Umbrella Academy) VS House Davar (Stormlight Archive/Cosmere)

Fanart of House Davar by @lamaery

The Hargreeves

Members: Reginald, Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, Five, Ben, Viktor, Grace, Pogo

Propaganda:

"Forced family that cannot spend 3 minutes together without arguing. Has caused the world to end multiple times. Their father is a horribly abusive person who caused them to fight to always prove themselves better than their siblings to earn his love which was futile because he never loved or cared for any of them and also hes a supervillain. They lost and regained 2 of their siblings over the course of the show and straight up adopted alternate universe versions of their siblings against their will. That all said they STILL cant get along. Horrible ♡" "They were raised by a billionare after they were all taken by their families. Five left and ben died young. Now theyre all fucked up, kinda hate each other. Viktor almost killed allison, luther and diego have some kind of rivalry, they all get mad at klaus. Theyre all just fucked up and we love them for it <3" More propaganda here

House Davar

Members: Lin, Shallan, Helaran, Balat, Wikim, Jushu, Eylita, and Brightness Davar

Propaganda:

CW: murder, poisoning, stragulation

"Major spoilers. Lin is an abusive father who (according to his kids) killed his wife. Later his daughter Shallan poisoned him. The poison didn’t work fast enough so Shallan strangled him with a necklace while singing a lullaby that earlier in the book she sang to herself to comfort herself with while hearing him yelling at someone. Then a while later she stopped represing her memories so much and remembered that actually she had killed her mother but had convinced herself that her father had done it. Also Helaran joined an organization trying to bring about the apocalypse and died"

[theinquisitxor]

2024 Anticipated Book Releases

I thought I had a lot of anticipated book releases for 2023, but 2024 is also proving to be a year of many books I'm excited about too. These are all the books I'm looking forward to in the first half of the year!

January:

-A Fragile Enchantment by Alison Saft: (Jan 2nd) rom-com fantasy about a dressmaker hired to make the royal wedding dress, but she starts to fall for the prince instead.

-Mislaid in Parts Half-Known Wayward Children 9) by Seanan (Jan 9th) The second to last book in this novella series, this one featuring dinosaurs!

-The Atlas Complex (The Atlas Series #3) by Olive Blake (Jan 9th) the final books to this magical dark academia trilogy, and I've been excited for this one since the ending of book 2.

-Emily Wilde's Map of the Otherlands (Emily Wilde 2) by Heather Fawcett (Jan 16th) The second book in this new historical fantasy series, in which Emily and Wendall go on a new adventure in the Austrian Alps. This is one of my most anticipated books of the year.

-City of Stardust by Georgia Summers (Jan 30th) this is a new fantasy debut that sounds similar to The Starless Sea and features a woman descending down into a subterranean world to try and break a generational curse.

-House of Flame and Shadow (Crescent City 3) by SJM (Jan 30th) I've been enjoying SJM's crescent city books the most of all her series, and I'm looking forward to this one after how book 2 ended.

February

-The Warm Hands of Ghosts by Katherine Arden (Feb 13th) This is possibly my most anticipated book of the year, and Katherine Arden's newest adult release. A historical fiction (and a little magical realism?) set in Europe during WW1 following a combat nurse trying to find her (presumably) dead brother.

-The Book of Doors by Gareth Brown (Feb 13th) A debut magical realism fantasy set in NYC with books, bookstores, and a mystery book. I've heard many good early reviews of this one.

-What Feasts at Night by T. Kingfisher (Feb 13th) This is a follow up novella to What Moves the Dead following Alex Easton in a new horror adventure. This one has such a cool cover.

-The Briar Book of the Dead by AG Slatter (Feb 13th) A coven of witches keeps a town and the border between realms safe.

March

-A Dark and Drowning Tide by Allison Saft (March 5th) I'm very excited to get two new Allison Saft books in 1 year. This is a dark academia fantasy about two rival scholars trying to figure out who killed their mentor. Sapphic romance too I believe.

-The Prisoner's Throne by Holly Black (March 5th) This is the conclusion to The Stolen Heir, and I'm looking forward to the seeing more of the characters from the original series make an appearance in this one.

-The Woods All Black by Lee Mandelo (March 19th) This is a spooky queer horror novella set in 1920s Appalachia. Small town religiosity and something sinister creeping in the woods? This just sounds like a novella I'd enjoy.

-Song of the Huntress by Lucy Holland (March 21st) A new book from Lucy Holland, also set in magical ancient Briton. A warrior queen falls into trouble and teams up with the Wild Hunt to save her kingdom. Sapphic/queer romance.

-The Hedewitch of Fox Hall by Anna Bright (March 24th) a fantasy romance book set in medieval Wales as a hedge witch and prince team up to help prevent magic from fading away. The cover of this book is so beautiful!

April

-The Familiar by Leigh Barduo (April 9th) I don't really know much about this one, other than it is a new adult novel by Leigh Bardugo set in 1400s Spain. Also one of my most anticipated releases of the year.

-Song of Six Realms by Judy Lin (April 23rd) A young adult fantasy about a musician who goes to the Duke of Dreams's realm and must help stop a disaster.

June

-Running Close to the Wind by Alexandra Rowland (June 13th) A new high seas fantasy that was directly inspired by OFMD and Terry Pratchett. This is very queer and seems like it's going to be a lot of fun.

-Foul Days by Genovena Dimova (June 25th) A slavic fantasy story about a witch who has to team up with a detective as she is being hunted by her ex, the Tsar of Monsters. I've heard some very good early reviews of this book too.

-Children of Anguish and Anarchy (Children of Blood and Bone 3) by Tomi Adeyemi (June 25th) I honestly don't know if I'm going to read this anytime soon, but I've been waiting for this final book for almost 4 years now, so I just want to see how the series ends.

I think that's it for now! Release dates tend to change, and I'm sure I will be adding or editing this list as the new year starts. I'd love to hear of any new releases you are excited for!

Second half of 2024/To be determined:

A Sorceress Comes to Call by T Kingfisher (August)

The Mercy of Gods by James SA Corey (August)

The Whisper Between Worlds by Amanda Foody (TBD)

Lady Macbeth by Ava Reid (TBD)

[redhairedwolfwitch]

Doctor Y/n - Attending Orthopedic Surgeon - 9 - Grey's Anatomy x Fem!Reader

Peeling back the duvet, you glanced down at the sleeping Allison who had snuck into the bed again whilst you asleep.

"Good morning Ally, time to get up before Luna starts her alarm call for your auntie Joey." You watched as the sleeping child began to stir from her dreamland.

///

"Joey, I'm going to get in the shower!" You declared after Owen had picked up Allison to take her and Leo to the park, bonding time for the children with Owen's mother, plus his sister Megan and her son Farouk.

Teddy was already at work, so you took your shower alone whilst Jo was up with Luna already in the kitchen when you heard the knock at the door and Jo going to answer it.

"Why are you dressed like a pigeon?"

"I'm a phoenix! Phoenix Fest!" Schmitt defended his costume, "what happened to your hair? Are you having a nervous breakdown?"

"No! I was trying to lighten my hair a few shades but I fell asleep, and Braces is in the shower after staying up with Allison who wouldn't sleep. I try to study when Luna's sleeping and Teddy and Braces have Allison and also Leo and Rory who visit now, but- help me!" Jo got louder and louder as she prepared a bottle for Luna.

"Do you have scissors?" Schmitt carefully asked, grimacing as Luna began to cry and Jo sighed.

///

"Okay, I will see you two later!" You nodded to Jo, then glancing at Luna before getting out of the car, not seeing Jo fail to follow as you headed into Grey Sloan for your shift.

"Tandem cyclists crashed. Rider in the back flew about 10 feet, she's hypotensive and presents with numbness in her legs, possible spinal fractures." Nico explained as he caught up to where you had caught up with Link.

"Swell." Link's smile was fake, reminding you of how he had turned up at the penthouse needing a place to crash after his proposal to Amelia went south.

"Might want to lose the happy face. Patient might be paralysed." Nico replied as you raised an eyebrow, realising things were probably even worse than you thought.

"I don't want to look how I feel, Nico, which is like I want to break the whole world into a million pieces and bury it so no one can find it." Link put on another fake smile as the three of you grabbed gloves.

"Maybe we should take this one then?" You offered, gesturing between yourself and Nico, the patient talking about how her wife had steered the bike into a family's day out in the park, and a nearby priest who had been visiting the duck pond.

"Y/n, her wife, Ms Correa, bed three." Winston instructed you, and as you headed over to the patient bed in question, you were glad it was you Winston sent, and not Link, as Amelia's face broke into a smile at seeing you.

"Can someone make sure that the priest is okay?"

"Priest?" Your nose crinkled in confusion, looking to Amelia for an explanation.

"They ran over a priest visiting the duck pond."

///

Nico, Link and Amelia were in the OR whilst you were in the ER, looking for anyone who could help Schmitt restore a patient's face after blasting it off with illegal fireworks, a patient who was apparently on shrooms.

It was Webber who returned with a plastics candidate who was interviewing.

"Did you pull that doctor from the interview-"

"We needed a plastics surgeon, I gave privileges." Webber replied, heading to go try to re-arrange the interview with Dr Lin, whilst you were prowling the ER for ortho cases.

///

"Y/n!" Megan Hunt spotted you almost immediately after having calmed Owen down from the fact that a priest had died after colliding with bikes that had almost hit his family, including Allison and Leo.

"Hello, Megan!" You froze for a moment before the woman pulled you into a hug.

"Come on, we're all going to the bar to raise a class for Father Christopher, and I haven't seen you in ages but Allison kept asking for her mommy and mama at the park today." Megan smiled, looking over at where Teddy was watching you both with a smile on her face.

///

Two incoming message(s)

Link: Found Jo sat in her car in the car park.

Link: She couldn't take Luna in to daycare and leave her.

One unread message

Link: What happened to Jo's hair?

Y/n: sleep deprivation and a hair lightening kit

You barely managed to type a reply to Link before Allison was in front of you, her hands on your knees wanting up.

///

"Okay I'm not going to tell you how to parent your son, but this is not going in Luna's bag. Hey, Braces, is Ally finally asleep?" Jo spotted you wrapped in a blanket, looking exhausted but you still tried to help with Link and Jo preparing the bags for Luna and Scout.

Especially since Amelia had headed to Minnesota, and Scout had decided to stop sleeping through the night.

"Teddy is dropping Leo off at Owen's, I think Scout is asleep and my job is now to try save Elsa's cape which ended up in the dishwasher? Leo's world, we just live in it." You concluded as you began to examine the remains of the cape.

"Too bad Jackson left, this cape needs plastics to restore it, and I don't think I can ship it to Boston."

///

"All of the children are at daycare, one form or another. Cody texted me a photo of Rory and everything... and Arizona just texted me a photo of Sofia, wow it's been forever since I've seen them!"

"Should we shelve the Elsa costume?" Teddy enquired, confusing you and Owen with the new conversation topic.

"What?" Owen frowned whilst you jumped to wanting an explanation.

"Why?"

"You know, put Leo in more t-shirts and jeans? Just, is that the right parenting move?" Teddy asked, glancing between you and Owen, before reaching for your hand as she noticed you shift nervously.

"Did something happen?" Owen enquired but Teddy shook it off.

"None of the other kids at daycare are wearing costumes, so I just..."

"I think Leo should decide what Leo wants to wear. I didn't have much growing up, clothes especially. Costumes of characters never happened, so I think... I am being called." You headed out as the scans were up for Owen and Teddy's patient.

///

Amelia calling you from Minnesota took you by surprise as you headed into the Residents Olympics, sitting with Jo and Link.

"I found a strawberry in my patient."

"Back in med school, I found a yam." Link added, eating more crisps before putting bets on the residents.

"Brussel sprouts. Plural." You added in, making Jo and Link look at you in shock.

///

"Look at you two, breaking rules and saving lives. Too bad I prefer Teddy with Y/n than my own brother." Megan Hunt sassed as Owen looked offended and Teddy tried not to laugh.

You were completely in the dark about their patient, and the actions that would follow everything.

///

Your phone buzzed with an email, opening your phone to see Callie had sent you a research article to read. You barely had time to open it as Jo sent a message to you.

Joey: please hurry home, Link is singing depressing lullabies

"I'm worried, I want Leo to be okay in the world, what if-"

"What if we let him be himself?" Owen suggested, smiling as he spotted you sat on the floor of the daycare, helping Leo put on Elsa's cape.

"I'm worried that the world won't be kind. I'm worried that it will be hard. I'm worried that people will be cruel." Teddy confessed, her eyes lingering on where you were grinning and singing Let It Go with Leo and Allison.

"Maybe they will be. Y/n has seen more hardship and cruelty as a child than any child should, but despite my first judgements, S/n is great with the kids. Leo's happy, let's just let him be happy, okay?" Owen suggested, smiling as Leo spotted them both and made a beeline, whilst you pushed the pushchair that Allison had been put in.

"Let's get you all home." You barely heard what Owen said as Teddy walked over to you, holding Leo in her arms but leaning in to kiss your cheek.

"Hi, love. How was your day?"

///

Tags: @nnightskiess @emskisworld @multifandomlesbianic @thegirlwhowishedeveryonelived @inquisitive-nix @grey-warden-commander @unexpected-character @youralphawolf72 @incorrectlycorrectfun

[roleplayfinder]

((Forgot to add my age, sorry!)) ⚠️💋 Heyo!! 18+ roleplayer here!! I was wondering if anyone would want to roleplay with me? I have a number of fandoms and I will list them and who I can play!! I would prefer a OC x CC double up, but I will also take CC x CC! I do not do OC x OC!!!

☆Fandoms☆

☆Criminal Minds☆

Who I can play: Spencer, Aaron, Derek, Emily, JJ, Struass, David, Gideion, Luke, Matt, and Garcia

☆Avatar the last airbender☆

Who I can play: Anyone from the Gaang, Jet, Azula, Ty Lee, Mai, Iroh, Ozai, Roku, Hakoda

☆Legend of Korra☆

Who I can play: Korra, Asami, Mako, Bolin, Tenzin, Pema, Lin, Iroh II, Bumi, Kya, Zaheer, Gazahn ((idk if I spelled that right)) Jhu Li, Varrick

☆Teen Wolf☆

Who I can play: Derek, Peter, Chris, Stiles, Scott, Lydia, Allison, Jackson, Ethan, Aiden, Kira, Malia

☆Helluva Boss☆

Who I can play: Blitzø, Moxxie, Millie, Stolas, Striker, Crimson, Barb, Ozzie, Fizzie, Loona, Verosika, Vortex, Bee

☆Hazbin Hotel☆

Who I can play: Alastor, Angel, Charlie, Vaggie

☆Glee☆

Who I can play: Quinn, Brittany, Santana, Finn, Rachel, Sebastian, Artie, Puck, Marley, Kitty, Will, Emma, Sue

☆Stardew Valley☆

Who I can play: Sebastian, Alex, Haley, Shane, Harvey, Abigail, Robin, Demitrius, Gus, Pierre, The Wizard

☆The Flash☆ ((CW show))

Who I can play: Barry, Cisco, Caitlin, Iris, Joe, Harry, Hunter, Henry, Nora, Wally

☆Supernatural☆

Who I can play: Dean, Sam, Benny, John, Mary, Bobby, Rufus, Garth, Castiel, Crowley, Jo, Ellen, Anna

I can roleplay on discord or tumblr! Like this and I'll come to you!

.

[storiesbyrhi]

The slightest break in our usual Eddie Munson programming for me to scream about Teen Wolf: The Movie.

Spoilers below the cut.

I'm an original Sterek shipper from back in the glory days. I watched the new episode each week. I was queerbaited to death. In the year 2023, why must I continue to suffer like this?

You chose the villain most associated with Stiles, but can't convince Dylan - the heart of the show - to come back? The reason Stiles is M.I.A. is that he has his 'own fires to put out' with the F.B.I. Lazy?! Lazy writing! He would have come A.S.A.P., but especially after Sheriff was taken by the Oni!

"Maybe you should call your son." What the fuck?

You give me this shitty Stiles-free movie, and then make Derek's son Eli a) obsessed with Stiles' Jeep and b) have the personality of Stiles? And have Derek and Sheriff Stilinski buddy up? And have Sheriff kind of go all dad on Eli too?

Don't get me started on Derek's death. I'm very pro-major characters dying but Derek has suffered unbelievable cruelty and yet, he triumphs. He builds a real life. Then you kill him. Not just kill him, but send him to, what, hell?

"Derek had complicated feelings about that Jeep." Give me Sterek or leave it alone.

Also, on the subject of Derek as a hero - @thisdiscontentedwinter made a succinct and absolutely correct post about it here.

AND, you chose a villain heavily reliant on Kira, her culture, and her family but won't pay Arden what she's worth? You use Japanese folklore and Japanese-American history (e.g. internment camps in the U.S.) but can't even begin to service the meaning or legacy of that? Kira isn't even mentioned?

You replace Kira with Hikari, a young Japanese-American woman, and a Kitsune. Don't worry - she's also Liam's love interest! That means she's got character! Right?! RIGHT?! She literally is just there to deliver Japanese lore, be another body in the fight, and make foxfire and ramen. "We're here for our pain," she says. Yeah, Hikari, you sure are. (Hikari is played by Amy Lin Workman, who is not Japanese.)

Nostalgia couldn't even save this. When you bring something so problematic into the current year, all it does is draw attention to how fucking problematic it was to begin with. Jeff Davis' ego is far too big for him to admit mistakes and rectify them here.

The only good things were Jackson being so Jackson, the introduction of more gore and swearing into the Teen Wolf universe (sorry but I love a "fuck" where there were previously no fucks allowed), Peter's entrance (he's even campier now), and Lydia and Allison's friendship being important.

There's already a huge catalogue of posts on Tumblr about why the movie was so fucking shit lmao. I'm going to enjoy reading them. And, oh my god, am I going to start reading Sterek fanfic again?!

Also, why is everyone wearing flannel?

I miss Isaac Lahey.

How'd everyone else feel about it? Are we all crying in Beacon Hills?

[teenwolfpackincorrectcaptions]

What's everyone's favorite food?

(I do not speak for Teen Wolf or Paramount+. This is for fun.)

[linnorabeifong]

Linzolt 20

Picking one song to perfectly describe their relationship is impossible. In my eyes it’s a tragic doomed romance. In most of my wips it doesn’t end well.

“I Lied” Lord Huron and Allison Ponthier.

For a happier song “I Only Have Eyes for You,” by the Flamingos, if you’ve seen a Bronx Tale there’s a scene where the main character is at school and he sees a stunning girl walk down the hall and this ( same song but the cover done by The Complexions) begins playing. I think this plays through Zolt’s head when he meets Lin for the first time. He’s so love struck he looses his senses. I think for him there’s no woman that could compete with her.

Other Linzolt shippers please chime in with songs !!

[artisticlegshake]

JUNIOR FEMALE BEST DANCER TOP 24 (LAS VEGAS)

Brittyn Ledbetter - DC2

Ava Ding - YOKO’S

Channing Embry - NEXT STEP

Daphnie Braun - LARKIN

Allison Shin - THE ACADEMY

Isabella Tjoe - YOKO’S

Kelsie Jacobson - LARKIN

Kate Jarboe - EXPRESSENZ

Anistyn Larsen - CSPAS

Sasha Milstein - THE ROCK

Kinsley Oykhman - THE ACADEMY

Sydney Bridgewater - NEXT STEP

Fiona Wu - YOKO’S

Annabella Atkinson - THE ROCK

Alexis Alvarez - CLUB

Rory Frye - CSPAS

Emilie Ko - YOKO’S

Roxie Onellion - THE BASE

Keelyn Jones - DANCEOLOGY

Ingrid Wirtz - LARKIN

Aria Du - YOKO’S

Savannah Manzel - LARKIN

Kiera Sun - WESTSIDE

Joy Lin - YOKO’S

*Top 13 in bold!