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zepskies · 1 year

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Hello my lovely friend! I would love to see an imagine/head canon of Dean and the reader seeing each other for the first time after he either comes back from hell or purgatory if you’d be up for it 💕 up to you whether it’s an established relationship or mutual pining 😉 thank you! 😘

Hello, my dear!!

Thank you so much for this imagine! I needed a bit of Dean. 😘

Now I went with Purgatory for this one (S8, E01 – “We Need to Talk About Kevin”).

I diverged from canon of Sam not looking for Dean to make sure if he was dead. Not just because I think that choice by the SPN writers wasn’t true to Sam’s character (Even Jared has said this lol), but because I think if Dean had a girlfriend at this point in time, Sam wouldn’t just abandon her to deal with Dean’s loss alone.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Song Inspo: Yes, I had one for this! Weirdly enough, it was the entire “Moneyball” soundtrack. The whole smooth but intense pace of it really drove me on this.

Word Count: 2,200 Warnings: 18+ only for some smuttiness.

Imagine: Reuniting with Dean, not knowing if things will be the same.

You’re doing the dishes when your phone rings.

You check the caller ID, frowning when the number is unfamiliar. But you answer with a thread of wariness while you’re holding a glass.

“Hello?” you answer. For a moment, there’s silence on the line. Your brows knit together in suspicion.

For months, you’ve been living with Sam and Kevin in this dusty cabin in the woods. Literally, in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. It was the only way you and Sam could try to protect the prophet from Crowley.

So the fact that you're getting a call at all is surprising in and of itself.

Your frown deepens. “Whoever this is, you have three seconds before I hang the hell up.”

“Hey…it’s me.”

Your suspicion fades, but shock overtakes you. Your breath stills in your lungs when you hear Dean’s voice. However, your brain can’t compute.

It’s been a year.

“Sweetheart, are you there?” he says.

You finally choke on a gasp, and the glass slides out of your hand and shatters in the sink.

“Hey, you okay?” his gruff concern is so very Dean that it continues to choke you into tears.

“Dean,” you utter. Your mouth trembles as your eyes close, and your tears find their own way down your cheeks. “I…I’ve been…you’re okay?”

“Well, I’m here,” he answers, with some dry humor, but he sounds off. You don’t know what to make of that, but now you’re worried.

You look down at your shaking hand, and you realize that there’s a small piece of glass that ricocheted into your palm. You ignore it, because all you can focus on is your boyfriend’s voice in your ear.

“Where…are you?” you ask. Every trembling, heave of breath brings you closer to a sob.

“Louisiana. Clayton, Louisiana,” he replies. His voice is even, but there’s emotion there too. You hear it, only because you know him so well. “Where are you?”

And how soon can you get here? his tone implies.

After Dean disappeared in the aftershock of Dick Roman’s death, you, Sam, and Kevin had been scouring every lore book on God’s green Earth. Nothing has gotten you closer to finding Dean in the last year.

You hadn’t allowed yourself to fully give up, but in recent weeks, you would never admit that your heart has been starting to falter. So has your body.

Sam watches you closely on the way out of the house, heading to the Impala. You’re grateful for the way he’s been looking out for you, but you also resent it. You don’t need help. You’re fine…mostly.

As strange as it’s been living in this house, it’s become your safety blanket. Your cold shell where you can block off the rest of the world, as if time hasn’t been ticking by all these months outside of it.

But now you’re practically shaking. Call it nerves, lack of sleep, too much caffeine, too much crap food, stress, and grief. You ignore it, taking a firm grip of the passenger door handle and yanking it open. Sam drives.

The hours are excruciating. Your leg bounces restlessly, and Sam notices, but doesn’t comment. He does try to soothe you with your favorite music in the car. He tries to pick up conversation, but you’re not having it.

You’re even being pretty selfish right now. Sam had been without his brother for a year, just as you had been without. And here he is, trying to comfort you.

You can’t help it though.

You’re not okay. You don’t think you’ll ever be okay again until you see him.

Sam eventually pulls into the dingy motel in the middle of rural Louisiana. (And yet, somehow on the corner of a Hustler, one of Dean’s favorite sex shops. Your lips curve slightly.)

Sam’s calling Dean on his cell, but you’re too impatient to wait for the man to come out.

You jerk the car door open, and in your haste, you don’t realize that you’ve slammed the door shut.

“Hey, easy on my Baby.”

You turn with a gasp lodged in your throat, but not even that can escape when Dean comes into view. Complete with red plaid and old jeans and rough stubble that approaches a beard, and a duffel bag.

Dean’s smirk fades into a softer grin when he takes in the familiar curve of your face, the gentle frame of your body, the sight of your tears, welling up in your eyes.

You take in a shuddering breath, and you go to him. Dean drops his bag so that he can properly welcome you where you’re supposed to be.

His arms wrap around your waist, a hand coming up to cup the back of your head. He smells like motel soap and second-hand clothes, but all you care about is that he feels solid and alive and your heart’s just shy of shattering, or knitting back together. It beats a fast flutter in your chest.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he rumbles in your ear. You nod, even though you can’t help the way you’re shaking, crying, clinging to him.

“I’m sorry,” you say. You hate that those are your first words to him, but you can’t help it. That’s what you feel, down to your bones. “We tried so damn hard to find you…”

Dean pauses a bit on that, but he just shakes his head. He meets Sam’s gaze behind you and offers his brother a smile. Sam smiles back; he’s full to the brim at the sight of Dean, but for you, he’s patient. He can wait his turn.

“I know,” Dean tells you, holds you a bit tighter. “I'm all right. It’s not your fault, you understand?”

You draw another shaky breath and lean back far enough to see his face. You raise a hand to touch his cheek. When he stares down into your eyes, you know you’re going to be okay.

And so will he. You’re going to make sure of it.

In lieu of words, Dean leans down and captures whatever you might’ve said then with his lips. The kiss is heat and longing, both sweet and rough. It’s everything you need.

It’s a long drive all the way back to your cabin in the woods. Dean checks on you often while you’re passed out asleep in the backseat. He’s back in the driver’s seat of his car, hands wrapped around the familiar leather steering wheel, but he still doesn’t feel totally…right.

Despite being wrapped around the leather, his right hand feels empty. Like it needs the weight of a weapon. He’s still tense and on edge, even now, and Sam notices.

“What was it like?” he asks, quietly so he doesn’t wake you. He’s glad you’re finally sleeping.

“Purgatory?” Dean scoffs. “Like being deep in God’s freakin’ armpit.”

Sam’s brows knit together, but he waits, seeing if Dean will continue. And he does, after giving Sam a brief glance.

“It was monsters, Sam.” A never-ending twilight. Never a moment to rest. A wide-eyed existence of gnashing teeth and blood and black ooze.

When Sam inevitably asks how he got out of Purgatory, Dean is vague, evasive. Castiel didn’t make it, he admits, also in halting detail. But Dean is more willing to focus on how tired you and Sam both look. How pale your skin is. How it seems like this is the first hour of sleep you’ve gotten all week.

“How’s she been?” Dean asks, once again checking on you through the rearview mirror. Sam inhales deeply, making Dean frown.

“She’s been holding on,” Sam replies. “Strong, for Kevin especially. Poor kid’s too scared to go outside half the time.”

Dean turns to him with a frown.

“You’ve been taking care of her, right?” he asks.

Sam huffs, with a wry smile. “When she let me.”

Dean quirks a bit of a smile. That sounded like you. Stubborn at your best, damn near impossible at your worst. But the latter is what he’s worried about.

He later carries you inside the cabin, acknowledging your sleepy mumbles that you can walk, but not actually heeding your words. Sam tells him which one is your room, and Dean carries you there. By then you’re awake, but resigned to the fact that he isn’t going to let you down.

Your hand smooths up his arm, up the back of his neck and into his hair. It makes a pleasant tingle run up his spine.

“Your hair’s gotten long,” you muse, sorting your fingers through the strands. His hair’s darker too, not quite so dirty blonde, now leaning closer to light brown.

Dean smiles a bit. “If that’s all that’s changed, then I’d say I’m in good shape.”

He lays you down on the bed, and you bring him down with you by grabbing onto the front of his gray undershirt. He sinks down onto the edge of the bed and drifts a hand from your arm, to your face. He refreshes his memory of every angle, the soft feel of your skin. He knows his hands are rougher, but you feel the same.

You draw him into you and it begins.

Kissing him feels like taking a much needed breath. The way he grips your arms when you lick sensuously into his mouth—a sudden squeeze, an iron hold—it ignites your blood and the fire in your lower belly.

Your fingers rake into his hair. His solid grip moves to your hips, and you lie back when he guides you onto the mattress.

The sound of your breaths mingling together become shallow as you shove the plaid off his shoulders and ruck up the shirt. He does the same for your shirt and jeans, followed by his own. All that’s left it his skin against yours and rough hands squeezing fingerprint bruises into your hips and thighs.

You don’t mind at first; the strength of his hold and how much he wants you spurs you on. You’re slick and pulsing with need when Dean eventually slides home inside you. He has a hand tight in your hair, gripping tighter as he begins to move hard and fast.

“Dean,” you pant. You moan on his name, but you’re also trying to get his attention. You wince as his hand tightens, both in your hair, trapped against the pillow, and on your hip. You hold onto his wrist.

“Ease up, baby,” you whisper. You don’t want Sam or Kevin to hear you, even though you’re sure they could guess what you and Dean are up to.

But Dean doesn’t seem to hear you at first. You look up into his eyes, and you’re not sure if he’s entirely seeing you. It’s not like him, and it triggers warning signals in your mind. You have to wrap your legs tightly around his hips, squeezing his wrist even harder to stop him for a moment.

“Dean,” you insist. And he finally sees you.

When you soothe a thumb against his wrist, his eyes widen. He releases his hand from your hair, bracing against the bed instead.

He frees the other hand from your hip, and he sees the shape of his fingers already forming in your skin. He knows his hold was tight enough to bruise down to the bone.

It’s happened before, but not like this. Dean’s never lost control like that. Not with you, even in times like these.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he catches his breath, frowning deeply. His green eyes meet yours, raw and guilty. “I uh…I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You tilt your head at him with a thoughtful frown. You reach up to frame his face with both hands, and you wordlessly tug him down to you. Dean is somewhat reluctant, but he follows your guiding hands and meets your waiting kiss, tender and slow.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats against your lips. His voice is low and coarse, filled with the true depths of his emotions. Everything he's been trying to hide from you.

Your eyes sting with the threat of tears.

“It’s okay,” you reply, through sweeter kisses. “I love you. We're gonna be okay.”

He hesitates. Then, he nods, accepting your words and your warmth.

His hand slowly brushes against your thigh, soothing along your bruising skin. You still have your legs wrapped around his hips, but you lessen your own hold, now that he seems to have come back to himself.

You both realize then that it might not be okay for a while. But that too is all right. Because you’re nothing if not stubborn, and Dean is worth the challenge.

He closes his eyes to breathe and center himself. They blink open at the feeling of your hand, insistent on his shoulder. Your face is both tenderness and determination.

You push against him and twist until he's the one on his back, on the bed, holding your hips, the two of you still joined. He looks up at you still with a measure of reluctance.

"I've got you this time," you tell him, stroking his cheek. His almost-beard prickles against your palm.

After a moment, you can see in his eyes that he believes you.

And you begin again.

AN: Gaaaah, this man. I'm weak every time I write about him. 🥲

I have another Dean imagine coming soon. Some special anon asked for the reverse of "Sam being in love with Dean's girlfriend."

So stay tuned for "Dean gives you an impossible choice." 😉

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@hobby27 @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesdeanvessel @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @emily-winchester @deans-baby-momma @melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann83 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @tipthejar @ajjustice @thewritersaddictions @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @adoringanakin

@theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @mrshalverson2021 @iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem @waters-2567 @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @beskarfilms @skyesthebomb @deans-spinster-witch @tmb510 @iamsapphine @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @fabimaou @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @syrma-sensei

#ask me stuff #reuniting with Dean #Dean back from Purgatory #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester #sam winchester #angst #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #spn #supernatural #zepskies answers

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toxictigertonic · 30 days

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Alright, I've been cursed with new blorbos (don't worry DJ will always be my number one). Outlast trials has me in a chokehold, specifically Franco, but all the prime assets are running around in my brain causing problems. I'm subjecting you to my stupid food headcanons as a result:

COYLE

- This mother fucker drinks hot sauce. Like. Chugs the shit. You can't take him anywhere without him bringing a bottle of Tabasco.

- Takes his coffee black, but will add a little sugar if no one is looking. Can't let people know that he doesn't like plain black coffee.

- He feels like a big breakfast kinda guy, with all the fixings. If you took him to a diner that'd be what he'd get, no matter the time of day.

- Would he disgusted by energy drinks EXCEPT classic redbull. Now imagine this man hyped up on caffeine.

- Would still eat his scrambled eggs if he got shells in them. Would say some shit like "the shells put hair on your chest"

- Trusting this man to bake anything is a fire hazard, it doesn't matter if it's those pre cut cookie rolls, they're catching fire.

- Says he hates desserts then stares down a slice of pecan pie from across the room like it owes him money.

MOTHER GOOSEBERRY

- The only one I trust to cook tbh, and that's not saying much.

- If you took her to get coffee she'd get the sweetest thing on the menu (and Futterman would bitch and moan about it the whole time) or she'd get a chai latte. Futterman would demand a black coffee.

- I would trust her to make me an apple pie and then she'd put the drill in it bc the crust came out wrong.

- She feels like a woman who really likes jam. Maybe I am projecting but jam is cool.

- She will not touch an energy drink bc they taste bad to her, and bc Futterman would throw a fit about how bad they are for your teeth. No caffeine fueled death sprint for her, but based on her singing and the whole angel dust thing I don't think she needs it.

- I would make her pancakes she seems pretty cool.

- Likes the batter for desserts more than the finished products.

FRANCO

- God help us where do I begin

- On one hand I wanna say he makes some bomb ass Italian food. On the other hand I wanna say he burns cereal.

- Speaking of cereal, he's the kinda guy who let's his cereal turn to paste in the bowl before he eats it.

- Considering what we know about the wolf's milk drink, I'm frightened by this man's palette. Genuinely terrified.

- I think he would die if he tasted hot sauce. I think Coyle is aware of this fact and has plans.

- Give him an energy drink if you wanna see him start doing flips. He thinks they're gross but he's also like "fuck yeah pure sugar I love these"

- Likes his cookies so underdone that they're basically raw (me too chief)

- If you cooked him a homemade meal he'd cry while eating it. Then he'd get pissed because you made him cry.

- He's my little skrunkly doo so I'm feeding him wet plaster ❤️

If I'm wrong about anything bc it's actually stated in the lore I do not care tell Red Barrels to get their facts straight (/J I SWEAR)

I haven't had time to look at Gooseberry's or Coyle's lore so I don't know if they have some super important amazing cooking skills that I'm missing out on. Feel free to tell me if you think I'm wrong or have your own ideas about these idiots.

#leland coyle #mother gooseberry #phyllis futterman #dr futterman #il bambino #franco barbi #outlast trials #outlast #ive taken to calling Franco frankie #hes my little scrunkly and i need to dunk him in milk

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daintylovers · 3 months

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Moments in Love

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

A/N: based off of a request from @beyond-the-stars-fairy

"Hey, can I request a season one stiles falling in love with the reader!"

ur wish is my command <3

Summary: Glimpses of Stiles falling in love with you, throughout Season One.

If anyone were to ask Stiles who the girl of his dreams was, he would say you in a heartbeat. It felt like you had always been the one for him. An unrealistic fantasy that every teenage boy has. Except at this stage, most of his peers were moving on to more attainable girls. Not Stiles though, never Stiles. You could hit him with your car and he would thank you for it, the lovesick idiot. It didn't help either that you were oh-so-sweet to him. You guys weren't friends, more like acquaintances. But in his dreams, you were more than anything he could imagine.

So, even though Scott had just shown him a nasty "wolf" bite, his attention was stuck on you as you waltzed up the school's front steps. He called out your name in greeting and was pleasantly met with a smile and a wave.

Scott, did you see that. I mean we're practically set up for a slow-burn love affair. I swear to you, one day, she will be my wife.

Stiles, can you focus on something other than her for like five seconds! Jesus man, I show you I got bit by a freaking wolf last night because of you, and you don't bat an eye. But she wiggles her fingers and it's like your brain is fried. Get a grip.

The spaz manages to do as Scott says, until later that day he spots the new girl hanging around his girl. By the way, his best friend is looking at the new girl, he can tell that Scott is just as screwed as he is. Serves him right, it's time for someone else to feel the way he feels all the time.

Stiles learns that her name is Allison and remembers the class they share together. He won't lie, she's pretty, of course she is. But she's nothing compared to you in his eyes. Seeing the pair of you talking and giggling like long-lost friends from across the hall only makes his heart hammer harder. Even Scott comments about how Stiles' heart is seriously racing against his chest. Almost like Scott could actually hear it? Weird, but whatever, just means that Stiles has more than homework to do tonight.

But the newfound discovery about his best friend takes a toll on Stiles's mind, suddenly finds himself obsessed over werewolf lore rather than the smell of your shampoo when you sit next to him in math.

Stiles, are you listening?

Fuck, he was totally ignoring you. He obviously didn't do it on purpose, but what if you thought he was.

Stilessssssss, hellooooooo

Your fingers waving in front of his eyes is what causes him to come back to the land of the conscious.

Yes, sorry, yes, I am totally listening 100%.

Really? Then, what did I say?

You said, Stiles, hello in a way that a snake would if they were real. Like a cartoon snake with really good-smelling hair.

God, was he cursed to be the most awkward boy alive or something.

You aren't wrong, but you aren't fooling me Stilinski. I was very kind-hearted and I know you weren't listening. Guess I'll have to ask someone else.

No! No, don't ask someone else. I'm sorry. I promise I am paying attention now.

Good, because I won't ask again. Are you doing anything this weekend?

Was he dreaming? He had to have been dreaming.

No-no, nope, nothing. Yep, I am totally doing nothing this weekend by myself. Why do you ask?

I was wondering if you wanted to come to a party with me? Lydia has Jackson, and Allison is going with Scott. So I figured we could go together since our friends are coupled up.

And just when he thought his heart might explode, you added, Not as a date or anything. I just don't want to show up alone, you know. Plus, you shouldn't have to show up alone. We can show up alone together!

Yeah, that's great. Totally not soul-crushing to hear. God, you probably thought he was into boys. Which is fine, of course, Stiles was anything but homophobic. Yet, it's a tough spot to be in when the girl of your straight(?) male dreams thinks you swing for the other team.

Yeah, I would love to. Do you need a ride or something?

Which is how he arrived to now, driving with you in his passenger seat. Thank god it wasn't awkward. Sure, the small talk could have been better, but he could tell you were nervous. He just didn't know why. He knew why he was nervous, you were fucking gorgeous. And his best friend was surely going to kill your new friend tonight, but whatever. Live in the moment is what everyone says. And if he could, Stiles would stay in this moment forever. Getting to peek over at you softly singing along to the radio, windows down, the streetlights hitting you just enough to make you look like a dream.

Arriving at the party, you guys immediately got drinks and went to say your hello's. Turns out, you knew a lot more people than he did. But you never let him leave your side, always ready to introduce him to whoever you were talking to.

After you had finished, you suggested beer pong. Stiles opted out on condition of driving you home safely but promised to watch from the sidelines. So you were partnered up with some other guy, and Stiles could feel his envy choking him.

Even though you smiled at him when you would score, Stiles's stomach was sick at the thoughts he was having. You looked good with him, fit in with him. Self-loathing was a bitch.

Yet, when you won, you didn't run to the other guy's arms and hug him. No, it was Stiles who received your affections as if he had helped any. The boy was quick to catch you as you catapulted yourself into his arms. You were saying something to him, but he was focused on the way you fit in his arms.

You pulled away quicker than he hoped but stayed at arm's length. Which is where he could smell the alcohol on your breath, and his illusion was shattered once more. You were only clinging to him because of what was in your system.

With your wide eyes staring at him and the little puffs of air leaving your nose, Stiles had to force himself to look elsewhere. Anywhere else. Cause if he didn't, he was sure to kiss you. And that wouldn't be good for anyone.

This is when he spotted Scott tearing himself away from Allison, and rushing outside. Stiles turned his attention back to you and fought every muscle in his body not to kiss you.

I've got to go, I'll be right back.

Then he left because he knew that if he stayed and explained, someone might die.

What he didn't know, is that you were quick to follow him. The guy was your ride home after all.

As Stiles searched for Scott, he noticed Allison getting into Derek's car. This is when you practically slammed into his back, not realizing he had come to a stop.

Stiles jerked forward a little not prepared for your momentum, and then looked to see who had just body-slammed him.

Where is she going?

Even in your drunken stupor, your protectiveness for your friends was overpowering.

I don't know, but I have to go find Scott. Can you get a ride with someone else?

No.

Then you marched yourself to his car, him following behind like a puppy dog.

I'm coming with you because, after Scott's, you're taking me to Allison's to see if she's okay. No teenager has that nice of a car unless it's Jackson.

Fair enough.

Your persistence gave him hope that one day, he could be someone that you would be protective over. Maybe being friends with you wasn't the worst thing in the world. Because then, at least, you would love him in some capacity.

The next few days after the party had been a bit of a blur for Stiles. Allison had been alright after all, and you had ended up staying at her house for the night. Stiles had received a text from you a few hours after he found Scott, saying thanks for the night- even if I was more than a little drunk and bossy.

From that point on, you guys texted a little here and there each day. It was a little slice of heaven away from the supernatural drama that had brutally invaded his peace of mind.

For example, Scott had convinced himself this morning that he had practically eaten Allison alive last night. Turns out, Allison was safe, but Scott had definitely eaten someone alive, judged by the amount of blood the bus had contained.

Stiles had been ready to discuss the details he had gathered through the day with Scott during lunch. But his plans were stopped when someone who wasn't Scott sat down at the table. In fact, a lot of people who weren't Scott had started sitting down.

It wasn't until you sat down next to him that Stiles decided he wasn't irritated at the intrusion. This was actually a really great intrusion.

Did you hear they found out who the body was? It was this old bus driver. The police think it was an animal attack again. Has your dad said anything?

No, I haven't asked him yet. But, I'll tell you if he says anything worse than an animal attack.

God, could you imagine being the bus driver. The fear he must have felt? I stopped going for walks in the woods because I didn't want to have a bite taken out of me. And now it's happening at school? What's next, the movie store?

It's probably for the best that you stopped going into the woods. Dangerous stuff out there. If you're really that bored, at least bring someone with you.

Are you volunteering, Stilinski?

Then, someone interrupted his tranquility, Hey lovebirds, are you in or are you out?

Stiles felt his whole body turn red looking at you, he could see your cheeks start to flush at the implication.

Fuck off Jackson- what are you even talking about?

Thank god you said something in response because Stiles was sure his voice would have cracked.

Me, Lydia, Allison, and her new little friend are going bowling. Are you and your new little friend coming? Or will I be forced to play with people who suck at bowling?

You turned your head back to Stiles, bowling? He shook his head, he would not fall into the same ploy that Scott had landed himself into.

Nah, Stiles and I are going to just work on homework. Thanks though, think of me when someone else kicks your ass, Jackson.

Jackson gave you a fake laugh before going back to his original conversation. This time, Stiles and you were listening, not wanting to be caught. The bell rang shortly after, and Stiles was eager to get Scott alone. But you had other ideas.

Stiles, wait up!

Stiles waited up, as you caught up to him.

Since our friends are going bowling, do you actually want to hang out? Be alone together type of thing again? We could hang out at your house and I'll bring snacks!

Yep, being friends with you was definitely better than nothing.

Of course, Stiles said yes, which is how he ended up with you falling asleep on his shoulder. You had let him pick the movie, shoving homework aside. Naturally, he had picked Star Wars, after you had said you hadn't seen any of them. The two of you had already been hanging out since 4pm, so when he put on the movie at 9pm, he knew there was a chance that you might get tired.

But there's that saying, that people only sleep, like truly sleep, when they feel safe. Seeing the soft rise and fall of your chest, your body unconsciously seeking out the heat from his body, had Stiles feel at peace for the first time since this shit had all started. His chest warmed at the thought that you trusted him enough to be this vulnerable with him.

So he shut off his laptop and debated on waking you, but he could feel the lack of sleep on his part rapidly catching up to him. A nap wouldn't hurt. He could set an alarm for thirty minutes and then wake you up to go home. It wouldn't be totally weird if he fell asleep next to you, right? His eyes made up his mind, as his eyelids became heavier and heavier the longer he had this internal debate with himself. Just thirty minutes to be selfish and envision a life where this was every day, and then he would be fine.

Thirty minutes turned into a lot longer than thirty minutes, the two of you waking up to being tangled in the arms of the other. Stiles being Stiles, made it awkward by trying to not make it awkward. But you handle it like a champ, much to Stiles's liking.

Oh my god, stop freaking out Stilinski. I sleep with all my friends. this just means your status has risen from schoolmate to friend level three.

Yeah, being your friend is 100% better than nothing. Especially if that first part was true.

After Stiles calmed down, you guys got dressed and went out for breakfast.

Stiles should have known that something this great would only be followed by literal horrors. For starters, everyone's least favorite werewolf, Derek, decided to involve Scott and him in his pity party bullet hole wound. Stiles was sure that he would never forget the vision of holding a bone saw and being prepared to cut a guy's arm off. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that moment.

You, however, would have the same type of moment a few days later, at the movie store. You had been searching for a new movie for movie night with Stiles. Hanging out with him had become your own personal brand of heroin, soaking up the minutes like a sponge.

It was in the romance aisle, that you heard a familiar voice calling out for help.

The Notebook? Really Jackson, I never thought you were a sentimental type of guy.

Jackson spotted you in the aisle adjacent, coming up to look with you.

Trust me, I'm not. It's for Lydia.

For some reason, this store had every movie but The Notebook. And there was not another soul around. It was after that realization, that goosebumps rose on your arms. Something was wrong.

The lights started to flicker and Jackson held out his arm, to keep you behind him. He felt it too.

But you guys couldn't just stand there, so you swerved and started walking in front of him. Turning the corner, you felt your breath catch in your throat. Someone else had been here, in with you guys. But from the way his body was crumpled like a piece of paper, he wasn't really here with you guys anymore.

You felt Jackson come up behind you and let out a gasp. Turning to face him, you said, We gotta leave. Like now.

Jackson turned around, ready to take the lead, when a monstrous figure emerged out of the very aisle we had just been in.

The size of its body was a quick indicator that this thing was definitely not human. But, way too beefed up to be any animal you knew of. Jackson started taking tiny steps back. Maybe the thing was blind and hadn't spotted you yet.

You guys quickly made your way into a different aisle, with you holding a hand over your mouth to silence your breathing. Jackson made sure that this time you wouldn't sneak around him, his chest and arm locking you in place, with his head turned around to keep a lookout.

The thing completely walks past you guys, and for a second you believe that it really might be blind. But then the shelves start a domino chain and Jackson only has a split second to decide whether he'll save you or himself.

The former jackass, shoves you out of the aisle, as the shelf next to you guys collapses on top of him, crushing his legs.

Your head swerves around, trying to locate the beast, but you come up empty. It wasn't blind, it was playing with you guys. The way a child plays with its food. You stand and bend down ready to try and lift the shelf off Jackson.

Stop, stop, stop, he whispers, Just go. I'll be okay, but you won't. Go.

Shut up, you whisper back, I'm not leaving you.

It's then that a growl erupts through the air. The creature has come back to finish you guys off. Out of fear, you try even harder to lift the shelf as the animal slowly starts to approach you guys.

Fuck, fuck fuck, you chant, the furniture not budging.

With a final tug, you stumble back and fall onto the floor. This is where you die, on a dirty floor while your friend watches, probably also about to die.

But the creature does the strangest thing. It walks over to Jackson, paying you no mind as your instincts take over and you scramble a bit away. It digs its claws into Jackson next and the boy lets out a guttural scream, both out of terror and pain. The beast removes its claws and turns to face you.

Quick as lightning, it's crowding up your space, breathing its hot breath on your face. Its eyes are red as red can be, almost glowing with intensity. Its coarse hair tickles your neck, as it leans down, smelling you like a dog. It looks back at you and you swear your heart stops. It just stares at you and you stop breathing.

Then it stands up straight, breaks into a run/crawl, and bursts through the glass doors.

You're out of it until the ambulance arrives. But even then you can't fully decipher their questions. It isn't until you see Sheriff Stilinski talking to Jackson, that your mind sobers up a bit. The man walks up to you, telling the paramedics to check on Jackson one last time.

Are you alright sweetheart?

With Stiles and your newfound friendship, you've met Sheriff Stilinski more than enough times to have formed a little bond with him. He likes you, thinks you're great for his son, and tells you every chance he gets, despite Stiles' complaining.

You don't even get the chance to answer his question, because his son starts causing a frenzy in the crowd. Of course, Stiles was there. Thank god Stiles was here.

The boy bursts forward, eager to see his dad, but falters when he notices your shriveled form sitting in the back of the ambulance.

Are you alright? Is she alright?

I'm okay Stiles, just a little shaken.

Thank god, he says, then goes to hug you, overwhelmed with emotion at the thought of something harming you.

But he stops himself when he sees you flinch. Your eyes drop to your hands sitting in your lap and guilt consumes you.

Stiles, once they do a final check on her, can you take her home?

Of course Dad. See you at home.

The sheriff shares the sentiment and then walks off, leaving you and the boy alone.

What happened there? he questions softly, afraid to scare you off.

You won't believe me.

When he doesn't respond, you look up at him. His head is tilted, offering you a chance to explain even if it's absurd. It's when he clutches your hand and flips it over to trace your palm, that you tell him. And you tell him everything, even the part about how the attacker was not human.

He lets you finish, and when you do, you look up at him with wide, glossy eyes.

Stiles, I thought I was gonna die. I should have died.

A tear rolls down your cheeks and he tries to hug you again. This time you accept it, and start weeping into his chest. He rubs up and down your back with one hand, the other cupping the back of your head.

It's okay, it's okay. You're fine, just a little shaken like you said. You just need some rest. Let me take you home.

He signals for the EMTs to check you one last time before he gets the okay.

It isn't until you're halfway home that you realize, he didn't say if he believed you or not.

Do you think I'm crazy?

And it's because he loves you, that he avoids the question.

I think you just need some sleep.

You take that as a neon sign saying yes you are completely crazy, and keep your mouth shut the rest of the ride. When you arrive at your house, you thank him for the ride and then quickly leave to go inside.

Stiles thinks nothing of it. Why would you want to stay and chat after something like that? In fact, he's proud of himself for dodging your question, cause he thinks he's spared you from any harm.

He texts you before he goes to bed, and wakes up to nothing from you. No biggie, you're probably still asleep.

Monday rolls around, and you haven't responded to any of his texts. And trust me, he has sent a lot of texts. A concerning amount. He's holding on to hope that you're just waiting to say something to him in school, but you don't show up.

He isn't your boyfriend or anything, so he doesn't show up to your house.

Until Tuesday comes and you still haven't responded and you still aren't at school.

As first period starts, he realizes that everybody but him is not at school. What the fuck? So he takes that as his sign to fake sick and also not be at school.

The excuse worked well enough with the nurse, who waved him off with a note for the day like she was giving them out like candy. Whatever, that worked for him.

He tried calling Scott first, which went to voicemail. He wasn't close enough with Allison so he wouldn't call her. Plus he had a feeling that the two lovebirds were with each other anyway. He didn't have Lydia's number and doubted Jackson would give a shit if Stiles checked in.

That just left you. You who had been avoiding him for days. For someone so intelligent, he couldn't figure out what had happened between you guys. Was this your way of shoving him aside, bored already?

Stiles wasn't a quitter though, so he tried calling, but to no avail.

Fine, be that way. If you won't answer, he'll make a house call. With his nerves on fire, he made it to your house quicker than he should have. Your car was in the driveway and so was another car. Probably your mom's. At least he knew you were home.

He parked and went to knock on your door. Your mom answered a minute later, greeting the boy with a polite smile. He hadn't met your parents yet. You had chosen his place as the hangout spot, so it just hadn't happened.

Hi, I'm Stiles, a friend of your daughters. I was just coming by to check on her. May I come in?

Your mom let him in, telling him that she would go see if you're awake first. They had you on meds for the shock, real hard stuff.

But what your mom didn't know, is that you hadn't been taking them. Just hiding them in your cheek until you could spit them out. You weren't crazy. That thing wasn't a goddamn mountain lion and screw everyone who kept trying to tell you it was. You knew what you saw.

Instead, during the hours you were supposed to be knocked out, you spent researching everything you could about the creature. With only a description, it wasn't easy at first. But after putting some papers together, you began to connect the dots. All of the deaths blamed on animal attacks, Stiles telling you to stay out of the woods, using Scott's regular wolf bite as an example, the other weird shit you had seen since living in beacon hills, everything was adding up.

Your mom knocked on your door and you hid your laptop under the covers, lying down and closing your eyes. She came in after a moment and gently shook you.

Fluttering your eyes open, you made your voice raspy, asking her what?

You have a friend here to visit you, his name is Stiles. Do you want him to come up, or should I tell him a different time might work better?

A flurry of emotions clouded your head. Of course, you wanted to see him. You missed him, even though it had only been a few days. But he wasn't telling you something, you couldn't trust him until you got your evidence that you weren't crazy. If you didn't have proof, he would shut you down like last time.

Can you tell him another time, please? I don't feel too well.

Your mom obliged, leaving you alone again.

Stiles' leg hadn't stopped shaking. He was nervous like how he used to be around you. You were friends now though, he reasoned, he shouldn't be so nervous.

Seeing your mom come down the stairs, he burst out of the chair. At his eager reaction, your mom gave him a pity smile, and he knew.

She's still out of it. A different time would work better, if you want I can give you her number so you guys can text.

He visibly deflated, No, it's okay. I have her number so I'll keep in touch. Thank you.

The ball was in your court, and he had never felt sicker with want.

You woke up from your nap and checked your messages immediately. Just because you weren't responding to Stiles, didn't mean you weren't reading them.

But instead, your phone was barren aside from one text from Scott. That was weird considering you guys weren't super close or anything.

Opening it, you felt your heart drop.

Stiles is in danger. You need to get to the school, the creature is back. Please help him.

All common sense went out the window as you read those first words, Stiles is in danger.

You didn't question how Scott knew about the creature to why he wanted you specifically to save his best friend. Or even why at the school? The only thing in your head that had alarms going off was Stiles being in danger.

You throw a sweater over your shirt and put on some shoes. Attire really was the least of your concerns right now. Thankfully your parents were asleep, so you snuck out the door and drove to the school.

You arrived at the same time another familiar car did.

Jackson, what are you doing here? You said, after getting out of the car.

Allison answered, I got a text from Scott telling me to meet him here. We were all going on a double date again. But he's like an hour late.

This was a setup, and you guys were screwed.

You guys have to get out of here. I got a text from Scott too, saying Stiles was in danger. But it's not real. Jackson, it's that thing.

Allison jumped in before Jackson could, What thing? Also no way are we leaving you here, Let's just investigate together, Jackson and Lydia stay out here, and if we aren't back in 15 minutes, call the police.

How could you explain to the girl that if she went in there a possible werewolf would eat her alive. And that her boyfriend and his best friend have also probably been already eaten alive. You couldn't. But Allison wasn't one to take no for an answer, and you weren't about to leave with them. So you compromised.

Call the police in ten if we aren't out. You told Jackson, and then began walking with Allison up the steps.

The school was dark and cold. We made our way to the pools before our silence was interrupted. Allison's phone went off, and it was Scott who was calling.

She looked to you, as if for permission, and you just nodded your head, eager to see if Scott was actually behind the phone call or if it was something else.

They have their little chat as you stalk away from the girl, walking on the other side of the pool.

Hey! He said to get to the lobby now, and he sounded really worried.

You guys made your way to the lobby and were greeted by Scott playing his own game of 20 questions.

But you stopped listening when you saw Stiles move from behind Scott. He rushed to you, gripping your shoulders.

What are you doing here? She didn't say you were with her?

You shrugged his hands off, He asked us to be here. but gave very different reasoning to both of us.

Stiles was hurt by your action but covered it up with more questions. Who Scott? What do you mean he asked you to be here? What did he say?

Jesus, Stiles slow down. You said, shoving your phone at him. he swiped it immediately and read the message that his best friend definitely did not send.

He didn't send this.

Obviously, you deadpanned.

Listen, you need to leave now. You need to drive to the station and get my dad. Tell him I'm in trouble at the school.

What the fuck? No, you tell him.

And then on second thought, you added, I know you know who sent this text. What the fuck is going on here? Is it connected with the werewolf?

Stiles' eyes almost popped out of his skull at your closing comment. How did you know?

As for you, you finally got your confirmation. You weren't crazy after all. Now why was he hiding it from you?

Wait- why was he always at the wrong place at the right time? No way that was a coincidence.

Was Stiles the fucking werewolf?

You weren't about to out him as a supernatural creature. Because what if you did and then he killed the other in front of you as some sort of bonding ritual before turning you? A week ago you would have begged to be sent to a therapist for having thoughts like this. But now? It was so unlikely as it should have been.

All you said was, I knew it.

He was quick with a reply, You don't know anything. Stop it.

I knew it, you laughed a little. I fucking knew it, I'm not crazy.

You don't know it. You're crazy, bat shit insane, please stop. His commands turned to begging at the end. He really didn't want you to know.

You guys were cut short when Lydia and Jackson burst through the doors. But even they were cut short when a loud thump came from the roof.

Soley out of fear, you moved closer to Stiles, and he wrapped a palm around your wrist.

You watch as Stiles and Scott share a look, then Scott yells, RUN!

Stiles practically yanks you behind him and you barely make it up the stairs before the ceiling collapses. You turn your head to look down and see it.

An odd mix of relief and terror fills you. It isn't Stiles, which is very good. But it is going to kill you this time, which is very bad.

We make it to the cafeteria and Stiles pulls me into a corner while Scott and Jackson bolt the doors. Then everyone starts moving chairs to barricade the door. You go to help, eager to not be eaten, when Stiles, whose hand is still clenching your wrist pulls you back. You turn, sending him a questioning glance, and he jerks his head to the twenty-foot wall of windows.

Stiles tries to get everyone's attention, yet no one listens to him. Irritated and beyond terrified you shout, HEY!

That gets everyone's attention, which allows Stiles to speak.

He informs the group of the windows and Allison cracks, Can someone please tell me what's going on here because I'm really scared. What is happening?

Scott and Stiles share another look. And even though the question was directed at Scott, Stiles answers, Somebody killed the janitor.

What is he talking about Scott? Is this a joke? Allison tries.

Who killed him? You questioned, waiting to see if the boys will give up the werewolf.

Scott panics at all the attention, everyone's eyes waiting on him. I don't know alright. But whoever it is, they are going to kill us too.

Why is he protecting the werewolf, you think? Then another thought hits you, Is Scott the werewolf? Is that why it didn't kill you, why he sent the text saying Stiles was in danger? Had he been planning to kill us all and then second-guessed it? But that couldn't be it because Scott was in here now. Fuck man.

One question still remained, Why were both boys protecting the werewolf identity?

Who is it? You asked, and Stiles knew you weren't talking about the alleged killer. You were smart and he loved it, but now was not the time to be smart.

No one answers, so Allison tries again.

It's then that Scott says, It's Derek. Derek Hale.

I look to Stiles who looks at Scott like he's the stupidest person alive. It's not Derek. Scott's a liar.

Everyone starts questioning and Scott continues, I saw him, alright. Derek killed all those people. Starting with his own sister. It's been Derek the whole time. He's here, and if we don't get out now, he will kill us too.

Call the cops, Jackson demands.

Stiles snaps out of his stupor, No.

If it really was Derek, Stiles would have no problem with his dad and a shooting team hunting him down. It's not Derek. Or maybe it is, but Dereks not fully Derek. You know?

Stiles and Jackson argue as you try and unravel the mystery. It isn't until Lydia gets hung up on that you tune back in.

Why does Derek want to kill us specifically? You question. Just a few days ago, you had no clue about anything. Content to believe it was all animal attacks. So why would he be going after you now?

Allison seconds your question and adds a few more, which prompts Scott to yell in anxiety. The girl sulks away, opting to not ask any more questions for fear of his reaction.

Scotts goes to a corner and Stiles moves to follow him. You stray not too far, eager to hear their conversation.

Don't you want to see if Allison is alright? Scott's kinda a dick, and you probably don't want to hear me scold him. Stiles tries.

She's a big girl, she can handle herself.

Please, he tries again.

No. You say and stand right next to Scott. The aforementioned boy sends you a curious glance.

If looks could kill, Stiles might have had you dead. All he was trying to do was protect you, and you were being a brat about it. You didn't know anything, but if you wanted to know so badly, then you would.

First off, throwing Derek under the bus? Nicely done.

Scott's eyes widen and his best friend outs him as a liar in front of you.

Stiles continues, Secondly, she knows so don't give me that look. I don't know how she knows but she knows alright.

Scott looks to you for confirmation, I know.

Fine, he starts, I didn't know what else to do plus, he's dead so it doesn't really matter. Then he turned his attention solely to you, I just bit her head off didn't I?

You look to Stiles in disbelief, who just sighs in disappointment.

Scott, I'm sure she'll be fine. Just apologize later. You try.

Stiles, who had enough goes, Bigger issues at had people, like how are we not going to die?

A thought strikes you, But if it wanted us dead, we would be dead already. It wants something else. It's like when it didn't kill Jackson or me even though we were very killable.

So what, it wants to eat us at the same time?

Scott jumps in, No- Derek said it wants revenge.

You start, Revenge against what? Why lure me and Allison here? I know I didn't do anything to cause something like this.

Both boys have the same thought at the same time, Allison's family.

Allison's family? What the fuck did they have to do with you?

Jackson breaks our circle, New plan asshats. Stiles calls his useless dad and he comes down here with a bunch of guns.

Stiles is quick to shut that idea down, but Scott prevails, Stiles, you might have to tell him.

No way, I am not watching him get eaten alive. It's bad enough she's here, and he points to you, I won't lose them both.

Jackson shoves Scott to the side and tries to yank Stiles's phone out of his hands. Stiles is quick on the recoil, knocking Jackson's jaw back.

But it was just for show, as Stiles tries to call his dad himself. He gets voicemail and it sinks in that you might be dead in the water.

Banging erupts from the doors, both Scott and Stiles move to be in front of you, taking slow steps back to herd the rest of the group. You reach out to grab Stiles's hand, which rests behind his back, and he grips yours in response.

Our only option is up, Stiles says.

You answer, Up is better than here.

Screws start falling out of place and your heart beats at the tempo of the banging. That was the cue for everyone to hall ass upstairs, and as you guys make it, the creature breaks down the doors. The chairs in the way slow him down and you thank your idiot friends for placing them there.

You run into the nearest classroom, locking the door as if the werewolf couldn't just rip the door off its hinges. Everyone tries to slow their breathing when a figure ghosts by the frosted glass. Out of instinct, Stiles crowds your space, holding you against him. The figure stays for a beta too long before leaving. It knows you're here. What the fuck.

You turn in Stiles's arms to stare up at him, and he just sighs, wishing this nightmare would end already.

You feel the same and leave his warm embrace to search for a way out, Could we unlock this and leave?

Stiles whispers, It's a deadbolt.

The janitor will have it though, you reason.

His body will have it. No way.

I can get it, Scott announces. He comes closer to us, I can find him by scent. By blood.

Scott is a werewolf. But not the werewolf. Does that mean Stiles is one too?

Scott decides for himself, I'm getting those keys.

It's Allison who says what's on everyone's minds, Are you kidding? You can't go out there unarmed.

Scott picks up a ruler and thankfully Allison doesn't slap him upside the head. Looking around, you realize which classroom you're inside.

He won't be unarmed, you say making a move to the cabinet. You start pulling out supplies and Jackson isn't amused.

What are you gonna do? Throw acid on him?

Lydia answers, Yes, that's exactly what he's gonna do. Sort of. There's everything you need to make a self-igniting Molotov cocktail.

Stiles stares, dumbfounded, while you and Lydia work on the concoction. Jackson tries to help, but you don't let him, eager to finish yourself.

In record time, you hand Scott the bottle, sending him off with a thank you. He is risking his life after all, even if he's a werewolf. He smiles in appreciation and Allison steps in, not prepared to see him die.

Scott, just stop. Do you remember when you told me you knew whether I was lying or not, that I had a tell? Well, you have one too and you've been lying this whole time.

You look to Stiles and he can feel the angst bubbling in his chest. You don't say anything and it makes him feel worse.

Scott looks to his best friend, in similar anguish, Lock the door behind me.

Allison pulls him in for a kiss and you look to Stiles yet again. For a split second, he envisions that it's you two in that scenario, that you're kissing him goodbye with all the passion you have. It helps that you stare back at him, but your face is cold.

You turn away, angling yourself out of his space, and go to sit with Allison.

Later on, after you've been saved by Sheriff Stilinski, Stiles catches up to you. He starts to open his mouth but you cut to the chase, Please don't. I don't want to hear any bullshit excuse.

I promise I won't try to dick you around right now, okay? But we have to talk about what happened there.

Do you want to talk about the werewolf who has almost killed me twice? That you knew was lurking around and didn't think to mention to me? Instead, just giving me cryptic messages about being safe and staying out of the woods?

Well- yeah, kinda. He loses his momentum.

I already know Stiles, I don't want to talk about it. Especially if Scotts is one of them. Do you realize that he could have killed us too? Why didn't you tell me? Why lie?

His momentum kicks back up Because I was trying to protect you? Are you kidding? If you knew it would only place you in more danger. You didn't have to know, everything was fine without you knowing. Now it's just more stress, another problem to add to the list.

That's what I am to you? Another problem to add to the list?

No- that's not-

No, whatever Stilinski. Consider me, not your problem anymore. I can take care of myself. And I promise to protect your friend's little reputation. Just stay the hell away from me.

And with that, you walked away, and for once, Stiles didn't try to follow you.

It's Friday night, and Stiles wishes that he had followed you. Argued with you about your safety. At least then he would have had more time with you. The friendship that had been cultivated now turned to ash. He had tried texting the morning after. Nothing. He had tried talking to you in school. Nothing. It was like he didn't exist all over again.

And it was unbearable.

Stiles only had one solution, learned from years of living with his dad. Alcohol could solve any problem, albeit temporarily. And because of Scott's recent return to loser-ville, Stiles figured the boy would also need some liquid courage to get back on his feet.

After more than a few sips, (try half the bottle), he could safely say that he was feeling pretty damn good. As long as he didn't think of you. Which was hard. But doable.

Scott on the other hand had discovered that because of his supernatural abilities, alcohol had no effect. Bummer. But not Stiles' problem.

You also weren't Stiles' problem anymore.

Fuck, no, don't think about her, he told himself.

Dude, don't think about her alright. She's one girl in a fish of a million seas.

Scott just laughed at his drunken friend's antics, but Stiles was on a mission to cure himself and the other boy.

I'm serious alright. Fish are like girls and sometimes in the sea, you want a specific one. And she's everything, the perfect fish. So you go fishing in the fish sea. And you manage to catch her. It's not your fault if she hops out of your hands, you know. You just have to keep fishing and hope she comes back. I really want her back.

Scott punched Stiles in the arm, and the boy yelped like a dog, What the hell man? he whimpered.

You told me to hit you if you talked about her. Said the pain would clear your mind.

Right, yeah, Stiles nodded his head. It's just hard not to think about her. Or talk about her. I really miss her- OW. Being alone is way worse.

Scott agreed, saving his friend from another bruise-earning hit. Stiles definitely was worse without you.

You really hadn't wanted to go dress shopping today. But Lydia had convinced you by saying it was a girl's day and that you had to get out of the house at some point.

She was annoying but she wasn't wrong.

So here you were, looking for dresses for a dance that you definitely wouldn't go to. Turning your head, you felt someone's gaze. Locking eyes with the one person in the entire world you didn't want to see, you cursed aloud.

The lady next to you looked appalled by the profanity and you squeezed by her, eager to get away.

Stiles felt his heart shatter all over again- you couldn't even look at him? Was it really over?

Ducking into a separate section, you found Allison who looked at you skeptically. You told her who you saw and she had the nerve to laugh at you. If you really didn't care about him, you wouldn't have run away.

First of all, Allison, you sneered, I didn't run. I walked politely away. And second of all, I don't care about liars. And he is a liar.

I wonder if he's going to the dance too? Allison questioned.

Probably not, he hates school functions.

Perfect, so you wouldn't mind me setting him up with Lydia as a little revenge right? Your jaw dropped.

Like I said Allison, you recovered yourself, I don't care about liars. Or who they go to this stupid winter formal with.

You did care. Like a stupid idiot, you cared very deeply about who stupid liars went to the goddamn winter formal with.

It was the day of the stupid winter formal and Lydia and Allison had to drag you out of bed. They wouldn't take no for an answer. They also wouldn't take, get the fuck out and I'm going to punch you guys as answers either.

They dressed you up like a doll, despite your protest of having no date.

Don't worry sweetheart, I found you a date, Lydia replied.

You wished she wasn't so well prepared.

They finished and you had to admit, you looked fucking great. A sneaky part of you hoped Stiles would see you.

Shaking that thought off you drove Lydia to the dance, Allison having already been picked up by Jackson.

Arriving at the function, you had just parked when a gigantic blue jeep pulled up right next to you. You've got to be fucking kidding.

Stiles and you climbed out at the same time, yet the boy didn't even realize it was you until you made your way behind the cars.

Fuck, she's beautiful, was his first thought.

Your first thought was, this goddamn idiot can't park for shit.

You look really beautiful. And Lydia you also look pretty.

Lydia scoffed as you said, You can't park for shit.

Thank you, he said not taking a beat.

There he is, Lydia said, pointing to a tall guy in a tux. He had soft brown curls and a sheepish smile. He was cute, you had to admit.

You walked over to your date and introduced yourself, eager to leave Stiles' puppy dog eyes.

Yeah, I know who you are. I'm Issac. Issac Lahey.

Nice to meet you Issac, you said looking back to see if Stiles was watching, he was.

You hugged the boy for show and then suggested heading inside.

Issac was truly nice and you were having a fun time. But still, you couldn't help but search for Stiles in the crowd.

What happened between you guys, Issac asked, spooking you from your longing.

He lied to me about something serious.

Judging from the way that he also won't stop looking over here, I think it's safe to say he regrets it.

He's not looking over here, is he?

Every time you look away, he looks back. It's like you guys are agents or something. The push-pull is insane. My feelings should be hurt, but this is more painful to watch.

I should talk to him, shouldn't I?

Only if he apologizes the second you get over there, Issac laughed out.

I'm sorry, you deserve a lot better, you told him.

Maybe, but if I were you, I would do the same thing. Just make me a promise.

Anything.

When you see me in the halls, say hi. Or if we have a class where we can pick seats, and he isn't there, sit by me. We could be friends, and I really would like to be.

This time you hugged him because you wanted to, Of course, Issac. You really are nice and very cute. I'd love to be your friend, we can exchange numbers in class or something.

Yeah, I'd appreciate that.

With that, you made your way over to Stiles' who had just been abandoned by Lydia.

His eyes bulged as you made your way to stand in front of him. Get up.

He was quick to obey, but nervous to speak.

Wanna dance?

Yes, he breathed out, taking hold of your outstretched hand.

The pair of you walked onto the dance floor, getting into slow dance positioning. His arms were hesitant once you waist, as you encircled yours around his neck. You looked at each other for some time before he broke the silence.

I'm sorry for lying to you. I didn't know how to tell you. I didn't even know if you wanted to know. I know you shouldn't have known. Knowing is what caused you to be at the school. God, you were in so much danger for nothing. I'm sorry.

As he spoke, Stiles' hands tightened their grip. Please forgive me. I miss you. I miss you so much. Can we please just be friends again?

Promise not to withhold any more vital secrets?

Pinkie swear, cross my heart, and hope to die.

I missed you too, you admit.

His smile grew wide, Really?

Of course, genius. You're pretty cool to be around.

The two of you dance for the rest of the song until Jackson breaks the moment. Have you guys seen Lydia?

That sends you three into a manhunt for the strawberry blonde. You luck out when you go searching outside, seeing her figure illuminated by the lacrosse field lights. You call out her name and she meets you halfway.

I thought I saw Jackson.

Jackson's looking for you, with Stiles and I. Come inside, it's freezing out here.

No, I swear I saw somebody.

It's then that you notice, that you see someone else too. Lurking beyond the treeline. Goosebumps find your arms once again, and you can't deny that their cause isn't the chill in the air. It's the werewolf. He's here.

Lydia, we have to get inside, now!

The two of you try to run, but the man/werewolf is in front of you in an instant. He grabs Lydia and slices her in the stomach before launching her body into the air. It slams onto the ground as you hear Stiles in the distance begging for you to run. But you can't. That's Lydia he might have killed.

Not carrying a weapon, you use what you have, your fist. It connects with the dude's cheek but he seems unfazed as his claws plung through your dress and into your abdomen.

Pain blossoms through your body, your muscles on fire while they are torn apart.

LET HER GO!

Stiles skids to a stop, just in time to catch your falling body as the werewolf lets go. Blood bubbles up, staining the dress and Stiles' hands as he tries to put pressure on the wound.

You're gonna be okay, you're gonna be okay, he chants like a prayer, more for himself than you. This was his worst nightmare.

Doesn't look that way to me, the werewolf remarks. Then he crouches down to be level with you two. He listens as both heartbeats skyrocket at his presence, fear radiating off them both. But different kinds of fear, both over the same reason, your life. This should be interesting. He takes his claws out again, and you gasp, moving closer into Stiles' arms. Where's Derek?

I don't know!

The werewolf hears Stiles' heart skip a beat, You're lying.

He moves to grab your throat. claws ready to puncture through your skin. Let's try this again, where is Derek?

Stiles panics, I'm not sure! I have an idea but it's not 100%.

Well, if you want your pretty little girlfriend to live, then you're going to take me to him. The werewolf hears the boy's heart skip a beat again.

Taunting him, he continues, You really like her, don't you. Better hurry up before she bleeds out on the field. Though she would make a pretty corpse, wouldn't she.

Stiles locks eyes with you, worried that if he leaves, you really will die on this field.

Don't worry, I'll be fine. Go. Please.

The boy reluctantly places you on the grass and goes to walk with Peter. It takes everything in him not to run back to you and stay with you. He can't even let himself look back at your crumpled form, because his resolve would shatter, and then you really would die.

You don't make a move to stand until after his body has disappeared into the trees. You manage to stand as Jackson calls out for you. You take a couple of steps before blacking out. This time, Stiles isn't there to catch you.

Stiles instead finds you at the hospital, struggling to breathe on your own,, hooked up to various tubes and machines. As if his heart could take anymore.

It's then that his dad calls out his name. He only has time to face him before the older male slams him into the windows of your hospital room. The glass vibrates at the intensity, but Sherif Stilinski's voice booms louder, Where were you? What happened to these girls?

They were attacked Dad. I didn't do it, I swear. Come on, you know I would never hurt her like this.

And the Sheriff does know because you literally are the girl of his dreams. Always has been. The man calms down, wrapping his arms around his son, Are you alright?

I'm fine. Is she?

Whatever attacked her, cut her pretty deep. Same with Lydia, plus both girls are having an allergic reaction. Maybe venom in the claws but I'm not sure what kind of animal could have venom and wal on land to attack them this way.

Stiles can't tell his dad that it's not venom. Can't tell his dad that their bodies are rejected by the werewolf curse that's now been placed upon them. Can't tell his dad that now you're really fucked. Can't tell his dad that his best friend is missing. Wait?

Has Scott been by?

No, he's MIA as well.

Which means that Stiles is pretty sure he knows where to find the boy. Maybe he can convince Scott to stay a werewolf for your sake. Beg for your life. Anything to spare you from what Scott has been through. Anything for you.

When Peter asked if Stiles wanted the bite, he had a moment to think of how his life would change. He would have the strength to protect you, speed for lacrosse, and be able to tell if people were lying which could help his dad on cases. Yet, he still denied it.

Maybe he should have accepted. Would it be easier if you both were werewolves?

10.

After Peter had been successfully killed, Stiles wasted no time rushing back to the hospital. He wanted to be there for when you first opened your eyes. Hug you and tell you how sorry he was. Tell you how Peter had been killed so you would be safe.

But your body still was fighting, and his hopes were dwindling by the second. There was no cure. If you turned, you turned. But also if you didn't turn, you died.

The thought had him on the verge of tears, which began their descent down his cheeks when you squeezed his hand.

Looking to your eyes he saw them flutter open. He helped take the breathing machine off your face, so you could talk. Yet he jumped ahead, I'm so sorry.

It's okay Stiles, I'm fine, you croaked out, totally not sounding fine.

Do you feel magically healed? he asked through tears. You just gave him a look of confusion, so he continued, Do you feel fine as in you could run 10 laps?

Definitely not, why?

He cut you pretty deep.

I know, I can feel it, you deadpanned. What was he not saying?

You don't get it. You can turn into a werewolf from the bite, or if the claws go deep enough.

Your heart rate monitor spikes and Stiles feels his do the same.

Oh god, am I turning into a werewolf?

Stiles offers what little comfort he can, I'm not sure. But at least you'll have Scott and I to help you through it. You'll be alright.

That settles you slightly but leaves Stiles with a pinched heart. Cause, he is sure that you'll be fine. And doesn't want to tell you that you only have two unsavory options. Death or the supernatural.

All that is he 100% certain of, is that he will do anything to make sure that you live as peacefully and happily as possible. So if that means withholding the truth now and suffering for it later, so be it. Because if he suffers for this later, then it's because you're alive and healthy enough to argue with him.

****

A/N: omfg this took me all day- but it was fun I can't lie. let me know if you want a part two or something like a season two version with the same pairing! love you all and thank you for reading!

#signed dainty 💌#fanfic #reader insert #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #dylan o'brien #fiction #stiles stilinski x reader #x reader #stiles stilinski x you #teen wolf x reader

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rynmaru · 6 months

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A Manic Attempt to Sell You on the Atlas Frame:

You ever want to get the effective range and speed of teleportation without actually teleporting? Feel the urge to play fruit ninja with your enemies? Ever want to experience the sweet sweet taste of victory while your mind melds with the hundreds who came before you and you no longer know which you is the real you? Then my friend, the Atlas is the frame for you!

You can Titan Fall wall run, hide in plain sight, get a sickass katana, clothesline people with a zip line, and then the lore of inherited memories is just- *chef’s kiss*

If speed is what you’re after, then put a lot of points in Agility and make a few strategic picks for your talents and you too can cross a hex map in a single turn, snag the objective, and still be able to barrage or just ✌🏼 disappear.

And don’t get me started on the lore!

*Slaps Atlas*

This bad boy can fit so much lore in it! Memories of past pilots merging with your own to help you fight better? Fuck yes! You can flavor it as a constant data stream into the brain! Space magic! Ghosts! Grey matter in the mech’s internal components! Your pilot can start to slowly pick up the ticks and traits of past pilots the longer they use the Core Power! Hell, my flash cloned pilot was given the Atlas to try and force reboot their brain to make them remember the person they used to be (didn’t work! Just fucked them up!). The possibilities are endless!

Do you have great HP? No. Do you have a large repair cap? No. Heat cap? Nope. Will you immolate yourself the moment you overcharge? Absolutely. But when you’re playing a speed oriented striker Atlas build you don’t need high HP or a massive repair cap when god himself can’t beat your evasion!

If you main an Atlas you know you’re running a glass cannon and that’s okay! Because Atlas pilots do it for the love of the fucking game and the risk is half the reward!

#wrote this at 3am #why am i still awake #echo ghost wrote this #echo creed #lancer the mech rpg #lancer rpg #lancer #lancer battlegroup #lancer ttrpg #lancerrpg #lancer atlas #atlas mech #ssc atlas #SSC #the gemini paradox

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gok1bvri72 · 4 months

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Aightt,I had an idea for fluff dtk x (gn)reader who is Asymmetrical, meaning their appearance is Asymmetrical/messy n they're somewhat more chaotic. Basically a whole polar opposite of Kid. But yet they somehow work together,as if they complete each other(like reader helping Kid calm down when he's worried abt smth being asymmetrical too much,n Kid calming down reader when they act as if they got sugar overdose n would destroy everything on their way)

Basically yin n yang couple,,,

It can be a oneshot,or headcanon,or both,,I'd lov to read anything:))

OMG THIS IS BASICALLY ESU 72(my OC) AND KID ALREADY EJFKEKFK dw I got this in the baaaaag😔😔😔👏👏👏👏 This just an excuse to ramble about how much I LOOOOVE THIS DYNAMIC😩😩😩 (Pictures of Esu will be at the end if you're curious about her!)

Death the Kid x Asymmetrical!Reader~☆٭꙳

TW: Kid swears cuz he's potty mouth, other than that we gucci!!

☆ You.

☆ YOU.

☆ You were HORRIBLY asymmetrical and so unbearably friendly. With your stupid outfit and uneven bangs. They were lopsided!! Oh it drove him CRAZY.

☆ But your overly friendly rear end just keeps on /showing/ up. You never seem to want to leave him alone.

☆ Everything about you two was different, even down to your colour schemes!

☆ He was a pessimist, you were an optimist. He was an asshole, you were a ray of sunshine. He was a ballerina, you were a punk. (/j about that one.)

☆ Even your combat styles managed to be opposites with him being far ranged and fast you being hand to hand and a little slower.

☆ But somehow, that made you guys work like clock work almost.

☆ Where he falters, you cover him. And where you struggle, he picks up your slack.

☆ For instance, he isn't the most social person but definitely knows how to carry a conversation where as you want to make friends, but you're extremely awkward.

☆ So he'll help pull up topics for you while you do all the talking for him.

☆ Me thinks you guys would have matching outfits, but in an opposites kinda way.

☆ Like he'd wear black and purple with yellow accents and you'd wear white and yellow with purple accents. You feel me?

☆ You're also kind of more on the dumb side, so he helps you with homework since he's the brains of the two of you.

☆ But you're infuriating little grin makes up for your dense noggin.

☆ You probably wear lots of colours opposed to Kid's monochromatic colour scheme. Like that one rainbow hair girl and the goth one, yeah that's you and Kid.

☆ I imagine you'd also try your best to straighten paintings with Kid but always be an inch off and he'd rant and rave at you.

☆ But he also apologizes after cuz he realises he was being a douche and you were just trying your best:(

☆ "Damnit, I'm sorry that was impolite. I... didn't mean any of that. You're much more than trash, I assure you."

☆ There was one time you made a bracelet for him, but he refused to wear it cuz it'd make him asymmetrical and unbalanced so you turned around and left.

☆ He thought he upset you so he went to find you, turns out you were making a matching bracelet for him to wear on the other arm so he'd stay balanced.

☆ God he loves you so much and doesn't even realise it. Boy is down bad.

☆ You guys really are like the sun and moon, a golden retriever and a black cat.

☆ Completely opposite, but that also makes you perfectly balanced. You two work together in perfect sync and fill in gaps the other leaves. Two pieces of a puzzle stuck together flawlessly.

☆ Like the little dancers in a music box.

☆ No matter how much of this you point out though, he'll still vehemently deny all of it.

☆ But like, you also do your best to fold toilet-paper for him so maybe you're not too bad. (He would die for you.)

-----

Heeeere's Esu! I'd lore dump for hours but that'd make this post ten times as long٩( ᐛ )و So I'll leave it with just the info in the reference! Hope you enjoyed the little thingy, stay hydrated and eat well!!! ✨✨✨

#adelita writes #death the kid x reader #death the kid #soul eater #soul eater x reader

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slamminslamminmcgill · 3 months

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hi i’m back to laloposting and im being disgusting about it

perrito lore btw

warning: intox (weed and poppers for reader, coke for lalo), anal, oral, rimming, dubcon/noncon, ass to pussy (⚠️do not try this at home⚠️), gaslighting, petplay, the tiniest hint of transphobia for flavor

anatomical terms: pussy/cunt, t-dick

“So this is my family’s latest strain. Tell me what you think.”

Famous last words that Lalo uttered while packing a bowl for you, cradling an obscenely large bong in your lap with you seated in his. He knew damn well that a few rips of this would nuke the speech center of your brain. No way you’d be able to tell him what you think. The stickiest of the Salamanca icky was an indica hybrid that would shut you down. It’d have you under complete couch lock. You’d get so high that you wouldn’t be able to tell your leg from your arm.

And that’s exactly what he wanted.

For you, though. Not for himself.

No, he needed to stay fully cognizant for this to work.

And what better way to lock in than with some hard-hitting, sucker-punch type bumps of luxurious cartel-grade nose candy, brushed into a few delicate lines on a compact mirror.

About 3 bong rips, 2 lines, and maybe 15 minutes later, your pants were off, and two of Lalo’s fingers were lubed up and stretching your ass out.

“Good, right?”

“Guhhh-huh, ha—hahaha… yeeeahhh…” You gurgled, twitching and squirming in time with his fingers. But then they went still.

“I meant the pot, dummy. How’s it treating you?” He asked, tenderly ruffling your hair with his unlubed hand.

You giggled, let your eyes flutter shut, and nodded.

“You feeling like a good doggy?”

Another nod from you.

“Prove it. Get me hard.”

You tumbled off his lap and onto the floor between his legs, pawing at his jeans to get them off him. Once his soft cock was out, you immediately shlurped it into your mouth, nursing it to make it grow big and strong, and long enough to fuck your throat.

“Yeah, yeah, mmm, choke on it.” Lalo said, taking a fistful of your hair, a handle to hold your head like an unfastened briefcase. Your jaw hung open for him to thrust into your throat as easily as any other hole. “Choke on it. Choke on it, mijo, c’mon. You got it.”

When he got bored of that, he scooted to the edge of the couch and held his legs up.

“Lick,” was all he needed to say for you to stick your tongue inside his asshole. He loved watching you degrade yourself. He couldn’t help it. You’re just so cute when you do that for him! Especially when you bounce up and down to tonguefuck him, all with a huge smile on your face.

He returned the favor, of course. Not long after, he had you bent over, face pressed into the dark, plush corner of the couch cushion, his dexterous tongue teasing your rim. Tracing circles, up and down, but not in. Not at first. So that when his tongue did push in, you could feel it radiating up your spine.

“Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck, oh my god, ohmygodohmygodohmygod, Lalo! Fuck!”

Though the words left your lips in rapid succession, you weren’t processing their meanings. They were mere vocalizations, not conscious words that you decided to say. Your body said them for you. Or rather, his tongue made your body talk. And his fingers, pinching and rolling your t-dick between them, made your body shake with need.

All of this was to work you open for his thick cock. No matter how many times you’d taken it up your ass, it was always a test of your abilities.

Lalo handed you a small glass bottle that rattled when he shook it. Poppers.

“Take big hits, puppy. You’re gonna need ‘em.”

You uncapped the bottle and huffed the noxious fumes inside, a few second inhale for one nostril, then the other. You barely got the cap on the bottle before you started to feel the effects. Your whole body was warm, soft, pliable. Your head was spinning, asshole pulsating, inviting him inside. A swipe of cold lube was the only warning you got before his blunt head breached your ring.

“A-Ah~! Fuck! Fuck!!!”

“Shhh, sh, sh, you got it. You can take it. Good boy.” Lalo cooed as he pushed in, making room for himself inside you. He got in up to the hilt, and sighed contentedly. “Mmm, so tight, perrito (doggy). Told you, you can take it.” He praised you with two gentle pats on your ass cheek. “Ready?”

“Mhm…” you whimpered.

Lalo withdrew his hips, sliding almost all the way out, keeping only his tip inside, and snapped them forward, pulling a pitiful cry from you. He did it again, a gradual retreat, and a hard hit back in. The slow tempo and high impact served to relax your tight hole, loosening you up until he could thrust a steady tempo. You’d gape so beautifully for him later.

“Eso es, eso es, te putito. Me estás tomando tan bueno. Buen chico. (That’s it, that’s it, you little whore. Taking me so well. Good boy.)” Lalo said, mainly to himself. He didn’t really care if you understood him or not. You’d get the message, especially when it was punctuated by a sharp spank.

Whining into the cushions and gripping onto them for sanity, you bounced your ass backwards to meet his thrusts. The pain of the initial stretch had long since subsided, and you were able to enjoy the intense sensations of getting ass-fucked.

That is, until he pulled his cock out and stuck it in your pussy.

You gasped, head poking up and spinning back to look at him. “La—Lalo! That’s—mm!—That’s my pussy!”

“Hm?” Lalo hummed, quirking an eyebrow in response to your obvious proclamation. “No it’s not. I’m in your ass, baby.”

What? What the fuck is he on about? Did he not just pull out and switch holes on you? Was it an accident? Did he just not notice? No. Bullshit. It couldn’t have been. There’s no way he didn’t realize. The distinct squelching of your sopping wet cunt as he fucked it was proof enough to the contrary. Also, it’s your body. Your pussy he’s lucky enough to be inside of. Even if he couldn’t feel the difference, you did. How could he even try to argue that?

“I told you, we’re only doing anal tonight. Don’t you remember? Silly boy. Silly little puppy,” Lalo sneered as he continued to fuck your pussy.

You shook your head, and bravely tried to correct him, “N-No, Lalo, I’m—ah! I’m telling you, it’s in my—“

But he managed to correct himself, and stick it back in your ass. As if it never happened.

“Listen to me, mutt.” Lalo barked, grabbed you by the hair, and yanked you up until your back hit his chest. His hot breath ghosted over your ear as he growled, “Like I said,”

He continued to fuck your ass as he lectured you.

“I’m only…”

Then your pussy.

“fucking…”

Ass.

“your ass…”

Pussy.

“tonight.”

Ass.

“If I wanted your pussy,”

Pussy.

“I’d take it.”

Ass.

“But I don’t.”

Pussy.

“Because, tonight…”

Ass.

“You’re gonna get fucked…”

Pussy.

“Like a real man.”

Ass.

“Okay?”

“Okayyy…”

He pressed a tender kiss to your temple, and said, “Good boy.”

You lost track of the switching soon after that. Oh well. Whichever hole he fucked felt good regardless, and the sensation of switching between them was incredible. Lalo could take whatever he wanted from you, and you’d let him. He knew you so well.

Despite his insistent words to the contrary, you went to bed with his load leaking out of both holes. Someday you’ll learn not to think you have him all figured out.

#lalo salamanca #lalo salamanca hcs #lalo salamanca headcanons #lalo salamanca smut #lalo salamanca imagine #lalo salamanca x reader #bcs #better call saul #better call saul x reader #bcs x reader #bcs smut #better call saul hcs #better call saul imagine #better call saul smut #better call saul headcanons

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aluria-sevhex · 3 months

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HELL FUCKING YESSSSSSSS

hey if you wanna read all of my posts as i play through ISAT, they are all tagged as #Aluria plays ISAT for the first time (please don't spoil)

notes:

-aight i'm back yippee

-title theme my beloved

-i always find it so funny when an enemy tries to freeze Mira

-gonna try this boss again

-ok i think i'll just replay Floor 3 on this loop instead of looping forward after i find out another one of Bonnie's favorite foods so i can build up everybody's stats

-OH. BONNIE OVERHEARD THE DEATH CONVERSATION.

-heh Bonnie slapped Siffrin

-uh... the audio is REALLY ominous...

-oh, Bonnie...

-WAIT WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT DID I JUST LOOP SLIGHTLY BACK IN THE PAST?

-Siffrin you ok i don't think that was helping ur mental health issues your eye is covered in shadow in your dialogue portrait

-i will once again NOT kill Siffrin via anaphylaxis. i will take the fish head

-...i didn't. get info on Bonnie's favorite foods this time.

-ok according to the save screen that didn't count as a loop

-anyway time to try looping to get the Bonnie snack info

-hey... the Tear dialogue isn't as silly anymore (it just says yes or no without the 'looping time' or 'living time')

-hey i didn't skip any loops this time!

-time to kill this pair of assholes again

-"carry my ashes with you" aw that's a sweet dialogue option

-i am so tempted to kill Siffrin. but i won't.

-awwww... i talked to Bonnie and now Sif is comforting them

-ok how the fuck do i get the info. BONNIE PLS.

-hold up. does Siffrin no longer nod when zoning out? :((((

-WAIT FUCK DID I FORGET TO GET THE KEY ON FLOOR 2.

-...Mira's roommate. was learning to make bombs. why???

-lol Isa knows how to make a bomb

-Mira has anti-anxiety meds. this makes a lot of sense tbh

-...what are these papers for???

-so i decided to try using the silver coin since a person said that you can do something with it related to the croissant lore. and it said "you think about the Incident" or smth like that lol

-lol Sif forgot the term 'stuffed animal'

-idk why but it feels like a lot of Craft skills are like. slower. or have bigger cooldowns in Act 3. even tho i KNOW they don't and my brain is fucking with me

-ok the game accounted for the key thing

-in the bathroom again

-Sif is calming themself again and figuring out what to do

-Siffrin, self-loathing and calling yourself stupid won't help :(

-i zoned out at some minor dialogue but i don't remember what the dialogue was the first time so i am fucking clueless about what was going on with a choice i made. sorry Mira idk why i 'saved you' by smacking your mouth ;_;

-i love getting to obliterate weaker Rock enemies with Paper α V

-i have now gotten Sif to level 60

-sometimes it's nice to take a break and talk to Loop

-wait a sec. doesn't one of the lower floors have a sharpening stone?

-ok it's been a while and now i have everybody back to level 52. time to kick the asses of the 3rd floor boss

-ooo Odile got a new skill

-time for the last snack break!

-Bonnie's upset now because i didn't try the fritters D:

-time to face the King again... and hopefully talk to him

-welp. *that* didn't work

-oh nvm now i can ask him questions via the Craft menu!

-you. you can give the King the flower.

-yeah the characters have a point! why Vaugarde specifically?

-the King is NOT responsible but he says Siffrin has an odd smell. huh... the only other things where an odd smell has been noted is Bonnie saying the star crest Sadnesses smell odd... but if Sif had that smell then it would've been noticed sooner...

-dude. how rude to say that if Siffrin doesn't understand Time Craft they can't understand the King's methods. maybe i should read more on Time Craft in one of the libraries? or that one book on craftonomy...

-the "you have heard this before" for zoning out got more and more annoyed

-once again. what does the King need to say?

-hm i was talking to Odile and Bonnie piped in really excitedly that they have more pineapple in their pocket

-GOD FUCKING DAMMIT MIRABELLE I LOVE YOU BUT YOU STOPPED ISA'S CONFESSION ToT

-time to talk to Euphrasie and loop again ig

-hey what's that in her hair?

-"you inhale sharply, almost choking on the smell of burnt sugar around you" BURNT SUGAR BURNT SUGAR THAT'S THE SMELL OF TIME SHENANIGANS AS SEEN WITH THOSE SADNESSES

-SAY SOMETHING ELSE EUPHRASIE

-how do i get the familytale?

-ok i talked to Odile and i'm gonna help her!

-am i gonna have to go all over town for this?

lmao yeah i think i will

-oh hey the wizard-loving kid is named Manon

-oh my god. i have to go back to the boulanger

-FINALLY

-:O THERE IS NO RESEARCH???

-oh THAT'S why Odile is in Vaugarde

-oh... her mom left... all of her travels here have been to try to reconnect with that part of her...

-HEY SIFFRIN I AM ONCE AGAIN ASKING WHERE THE *FUCK* ARE YOU FROM?

-damn. bro has amnesia

-LMAO I ASKED MIRA ABOUT THE PAPERS AND THE BATTLE THEME STARTED

-...bonding proposals???

-oh my god Mira joined a dating website group

-"we have one of those at home"

-"oh, i don't have a type! i like all kinds of people equally!" is this in a bi way or an aro way

-YEAH AROMANTIC REPRESENTATION

-DIVERSITY WIN! THE KICKASS HANDMAIDEN WHO'S IMMUNE TO BEING FROZEN IN TIME AND THE SORT-OF CHOSEN ONE IS ARO!!! I FUCKING CALLED IT YEAHHHHHHHH :D

-oh, Mira :( you're not the problem you don't have to do anything like that you're not comfortable with

-hm this game is dealing with personal identity a lot

-:( :( :( oh, Mira...

-DIVERSITY WIN!!! THE SKETCHY WANDERER STUCK IN A TIME LOOP WITH MENTAL HEALTH PROBLEMS IS ACE!!!

-MY BLORBOS ARE ACE AND AROACE FUCK YEAH I AM SO HAPPY

-FUCK IT I'M POSTING NOW

SERIOUSLY THO I DON'T THINK I CAN ACCURATELY CONVEY HOW FUCKING HAPPY THIS PART IS MAKING ME. TWO OF MY FAVORITES ARE ACE AND AROACE HELL FUCKING YES

#homegrown post #in stars and time #in stars and time spoilers #Aluria plays ISAT for the first time (please don't spoil)

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life-of-eris · 3 months

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HOOOO BOY Phantomarine has me by the throat rn. I have... hm. Hm.

So like. This is the We Love Girl Crimes website, the Sad Little Meow-Meow Defence Brigade website. Of course we love Cheth and Cheline, these two are laser targeted for an audience who loves morally grey badasses. Both are AMAZING, in terms of both design and characterization.

But I think I like Cheline more?

Which really wasn't the case until This Page. Firstly because, well, we've seen more of Cheth! He's our call to action, he got a KILLER mini comic about his state of mind, the author has shown us what's under his sharp and snarky exterior, and it's a very sad god who feels alone but still desperately loves his charges and wants to help, even if they hate him. Mwah, wonderful.

But Cheline FUCKING HATES humans. At first I thought it was a programming issue, for lack of a better word? Like, some kids just come out fucked up, yanno. Or maybe she really was The Devil. But like, fuck dude, I wouldn't want to be the caretaker of the things that killed my siblings either! Of course she fucking hates people! Of course she has utter contempt for the species that destroyed her family. It's a little weird that Cheth leaves it at fucking with the dead, frankly, he could be So Much Worse than just kinda... Being spooky to people on boats?

Because here's the thing. That kind of bone-deep (heh) hatred comes from a place of love. Cheline loved her siblings. Even Cheth, I think! Six dead, and Cheth was getting too friendly! In a twisted sort of way I can totally see how shattering him seemed like the better option at the time. He won't be around, they can never be as close as they were again, but he's not DEAD. And so what if she has to kill a few meat bags and tell some lies to keep it that way, her brother is orders of magnitude more important than the Odious Fucks she has to keep churning out. They'll make more. It's fine.

It's been heavily implied that Pavel has a spooky resemblance to one of the dead gods, right down to the name. And Cheline is looking for excuses not to hurt him, even though it's in her best interest to Get Rid of That Fucking Thing as soon as possible. She's bantering with his mom, showboating a little, having a smoke break while all of her plans may be falling apart at that very moment to spend time with a mortal she claims to hate. Until a couple of pages ago, she even seemed to be enjoying watching Vanna puzzle things out. Until the half-breed was mentioned.

And even though it WAS a reasonable guess to make, given the info Vanna had, Cheline just UNLOADS all of this fucking, ancient elder lore, things that have been forgotten for five thousand years, things we the audience and presumably the people of that world have no POSSIBLE way to know, because fuck THAT ONE in particular! Fuck her corpse and fuck her memory! And it's such a violent reaction- Cheline, I think, is even more emotional than Cheth, and in a way I think that kind of implies that when she loves, she loves with all she's got, to the point of destruction.

Anyway this has been a very long and rambling way to say that Cheline tickles the same part of my brain that Lucretia Taz did, and I cannot WAIT to find out of her expression in that last panel is "ah shit I may have gotten away from myself" or "that's right worm you fucked up!" Both are FUCKING AWESOME, I LOVE CHELINE SO MUCH

#phantomarine #cheline #to say nothing of how much i love the comic from an aesthetic standpoint #the layout on todays page is so goddamn cool and im a sucker for strongly monochromatic stuff #...hey speaking of why are seaghosts blue?#hm #thats weird actually HEY WHY ARE THE FATA MORGANA PINK #color inversion fun time my god i love phantomarine so much #yesterday i saw someone point out that Irving had pink eyes implying that he has very well hidden and TREATED seabite #anyway im unmedicated and rambling read at your own risk

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trensu · 25 days

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do you think you'll put "Stasis in darkness" on AO3 eventually?

see, when the idea first came to me, I hadn't really planned on doing anything with it because I wasn't sure if I could make it work. there's a level of gravitas in the relationship between a god and their devoted servant that I didn't think would translate well to steddie because, let's be real, those boys are goofy dorks. but the idea wouldn't leave me alone so I typed up the original post in an attempt to work it out of my system and move on.

(the post kind of blew up, which I was not expecting at all!! like, not even a little bit! i post all sorts of rough little ideas for my own amusement and I've been able to do that without drawing much attention until that point.)

Anyway, I wouldn't have done much with it but @acowardinmordor left some comments/tags/what have you that helped me nail down the setting in my head which really opened the door for me to explore how the story could progress. (apologies, strife, I'm not sure I ever properly thanked you for that burst of inspiration, so please accept this shoutout as an expression of gratitude). And the amazing @ent-is-indecisive allowed me to rant about it which really helped flesh out the story. Seriously, there are elements and lore coming up that would not have existed if it weren't for ent. (and thank you once again ent for the ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL fanart you made for the reveal scene, I'm still overcome with joy whenever I think about it!).

Once it got to that point, I knew I wanted it to be a self-contained story and I was afraid that if I did a multi-chapter fic I'd lose the thread and never make it to the ending I want the fic to have. (no, the end scene hasn't been written yet but I KNOW what it's going to be and I hope everyone will love it as much as i do). So I promised myself that I was not going to post it on ao3 until the whole thing was written out completely.

However, I occasionally need a confidence/motivation boost so I've been posting consecutive parts of the rough draft here. you have no idea how much the people who reblogged with tags or left comments have helped me fight off the discouragement my brain likes to bog me down with; off the top of my head, @godsweakestboy , @redfreckledwolf, @fuctacles , @spectrum-spectre , and @lawrencebshoggoth have given me lovely, enthusiastic words of encouragement. and they're only the ones I can think of at this moment. there's so many other people who've done this, so if you've ever left me nice tags or comments, please know that I've read every single one of them repeatedly whenever I need to get over a slump. I'm so grateful for all of you!

Anyway, all this is to say yes! It is going to be posted as a oneshot on ao3 once I've finished writing it. <3

#trensu replies #trensu tells stories #stasis in darkness #okay you probably didn't need that whole rant in response to your very simple and straightforward question #the response got away from me a bit #ill admit it #its just that i kinda feel bad that i cant work on it as frequently as id like #for one thing i didnt have a laptop for the last two or three months #but mostly it's because i have carpal tunnel and a full time job that requires i type for most of every shift #this means that writing fic usually results in me experiencing quite a bit of pain if i let myself write for as long as i actually want to #hows that saying go #the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak?#so it might take a while before the fic makes it to ao3 but it WILL get there sooner or later #(and there's still one or two more chapters i need to write to finish off the second installment of hawkins halfway house on ao3 also oof)

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chadfallout76podcast · 7 months

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"Deah Shroud!: A Nick Valentine Mystery" EXPLAINED and AMA

It never occurred to me to do this last year, but a lot of people have asked me questions about our Fallout 4 play in the last year in the Discord, so I wanted to open an AMA but also explain "Death Shroud!" and some of the broader themes involved in it.

**SPOILERS AHEAD**

Part 1: Pre-production

Before I get into the story, I wanted to explain how this production even came about. Over the years after working together on some official community projects with Wes Johnson through Bethesda, we became good friends. I took a couple of his acting classes and he talked about the Fallout For Hope charity initiative I started and asked for help in organizing the gaming community for his Alzheimer's Association fundraiser. The idea was to host a month-long digital event of discussion panels, game shows, improv and a play with as many different voices of video games, film and TV as we could round up. In our second year of his VoiceAPalooza fundraiser, I wanted to do an original old time radio show and see if could bring back as many of the cast that we could from Fallout 4. It was Wes who first suggested an adventure with his Silver Shroud character (that he voiced in Fallout 4's radio plays) teaming up with Nick Valentine (voiced by the amazing Stephen Russell). Valentine is, for me, one of the best written, unique companions in Fallout lore.

So, I reached out to Stephen Russell who had joined us before for charity work and he was all in on bringing Nick Valentine back to life! After that things moved fast with Bethesda's Pete Hines and Emil Pagliarulo joining us to have some fun for a good cause. We tried to get EVERY companion from Fallout 4 that we could, but schedule wrangling is tough, and some people are just impossible to track down or find. Matt Mercer would've loved to have joined us as Macready, but unfortunately scheduling didn't work, so the best we could manage would be a holotape (the only reason our snarky gun running merc had to take the big sleep in the story).

After having everyone plugged in to reprise characters, it was time to put fingers to keys and find the story...

Part 2: The Deep Lore

The origin of this story started with a thought: how would the NPC's and characters we love perceive modification of their universe by us? We, as players aren't the true creators of this universe or these characters (Bethesda is). If anything, we the players are the equivalent of "lesser gods", reshaping it in new ways, unexpected and subjective ways, and sometimes even chaotic ways (I'm looking at you avalanche of adult mods with realistic jiggle physics and Thomas the Tank Engine Vertibird).

It started with a mental image of the small ways in which we start out modding games, or even the first mods we (using the "Engine of Creation) actually create. I had a mental image of Magnolia doing her thing, singing away sultry in a crowded and smoky third rail when she looks one way, back the next and sees new curtains. A subtle thing, something a little startling, but in a universe where recreational drug use is met with a YEEE YEEEE WHEEEE...a change you simply dismiss as being overtired or a little too juiced.

I'm a sucker for old time radio. I grew up listening to classic radio horrors like The Whistler, Suspense, and Lights Out on vinyl records and cassette tapes when I'd spend summers with my grandmother on a little island off the coast of Canada. Getting the tone, feeling and sound to stage an old-time radio show was the easiest part of this whole process...it's baked into my brain lol. The key of course is finding the right narrative voice.

Enter: Bill Lobley. If you play Fallout 76, he is the announcer for the "Tales from the West Virginia Hills" holotapes, but before that he's a prolific voice actor, maybe best known for his role as the truly vile Jeremiah Fink in Bioshock: Infinite. He has a FANTASTIC transatlantic voice for old time radio and was perfect as narrator in the script.

Part 3: What Is Going On?!?!

I had the base idea, the voices to pull it off, but what was the meaning and message of the whole thing? I always start there. From a meta experience level, the story is about dealing with subjective reality that’s being torn apart. After Fallout 4 launched in vanilla, we the players changed that world and reshaped it with mods. The small changes in perceived reality are meant for the omniscient player (us) and are not meant to be perceived by the characters themselves...and yet, what if they were? And if they were...WHY?! The answer was right in front of me: there's a difference between something born into a world and something MADE into a world.

You take someone like Magnolia or Nick, both synths, that obviously weren’t naturally born from two people. They were conceived as an idea...a human idea sure, but still they were made, not born. Without even needing to say in the script, the Trickster from the Grognak comic books who shouldn't exist yet does IS also an idea. Some MADE into a world but not born...a different world sure, but still the creation of it. Nick, Magnolia, any synth as ideas themselves would sense that the world was wrong and being changed in a way no one else would because of fundamentally who they are and what they represent.

Everything that unfolds is because Nora as a keystone event in the Commonwealth, a focal point of the causal nexus making her a unique entity in that world. A causal nexus is the link between a cause and its resulting effects and ignore the science mumbo jumbo, because here's an example of how that works:

The Sole Survivor, Nora, listened to Kent's message, chose to answer him and put on the outfit of the Silver Shroud. As a unique figure she shifted perceived reality of everyone in the Commonwealth by becoming the Silver Shroud, acting like him and making people believe that a fictional character exists.

Unfettered belief and faith in an idea = manifested reality.

Rejected belief and faith in the idea = dispels that reality.

This HAS happened before in Fallout lore in the instance of people with horrifying backstories and personal tragedies choosing to become someone else such as the Mechanist (Fallout 3 and Fallout 4) or even the Ant-Agonizer (Fallout 3). This time however it was a unique figure who did this, a figure fated and meant to reshape the Commonwealth for good, bad or ugly.

This opened a door, the door through which another figure could influence and enter a new universe provided it take the form of something already in it...a reality side-step into the form of the Mechanist. Concurrently, the moment that happened, reality counterbalanced by making the Silver Shroud who was already believed to be real BECOME real as the ying to the Mechanist/Trickster's yang.

Now at home in reality, the Trickster found himself very much alive and unbound by story but had very little power to do much at all. He needed something more, an idea and faith that already existed in the Commonwealth with the infinite universe of ideas made, but not born like himself. His goal wasn't power, it was to sow chaos, reshaping reality into a realm for any and every idea despite the consequences to reality itself.

So what did he need? The belief in the Old Gods and a focus point of belief in the idea: a staff. The universe is as adaptive as it is remarkable and where the Mechanist had its opposite: the Silver Shroud, the Trickster needed its twin: enter Sheogorath...because what better staff to tear apart and reshape reality than the Staff of Sheogorath. There is a quest added in the new Skyrim Anniversary Edition in which you can build it for yourself with a few items: Branch of the Tree of Shades, Ciirta's Eye, Fork of Horripilation. In this universe it would have to fashioned with things FROM this universe.

Two eyes were needed:

The eye of a True Believer: Kent Connolly

The eye of a True Seer: Mama Murphy

Affixed to the top of a staff of the purest heartwood from a Twice Born Tree. Living wood from Harold, born a man who eventually mutated into a living tree.

Lastly, it had to be soaked in the tears of ages end: barrels of radiated blessed waters courtesy of the Cult of Atom.

The Trickster had no magic of his own in this universe in which to act, but thankfully courtesy of some powerful allies, he was able to make contact with shadowy cults and worshippers of the old gods who gave him the name of someone truly of faith in the old magic to make all of this work: Jebediah Blackhall, who in this spin of the universe did unfortunately get his hands on the cursed book: the Krivbeknah.

Finding allies was all too easy, as the events post main quest left the Commonwealth changed. To many, the Sole Survivor and his/her companions would be hailed as heroes. To others, they would be villains, particularly in light of what Nora CHOSE to do to the Railroad to end the synth threat for good. That's a lot of blood on the hands of heroes...

As the Mechanist/Trickster, Blackall and the Lombardos began using the staff, its changes and shifts in reality rippled backwards through time, as changing one specific thing would change its entire existence. You change some curtains and the manufacturer of those curtains only every made one pattern...the world object becomes changed universally. Tapping into the Engine of Creation to make these changes, leaves anyone MADE not born aware of them as they don't fit into the design as it shifts around them. Nick, Danse, Magnolia would all feel and see it, be thrown off for a bit before settling into the changed reality state.

At the climax when everything starts falling apart and you get everyone from GlaDOS and the Joker strolling on in, the only way to end it all is to separate the Trickster from the Staff and restore the saved intended state of reality. The Silver Shroud finds himself powerless against the Trickster...only someone from this universe would be able to intercede, hard wired into the Engine of Creation itself as an existing element connected throughout its framework and history. After sending the Trickster off packing to the moon (thanks GlaDOS), but its a little too late for reality. It collapses around them, finding themselves elsewhere...the point between the mind, creation and the outcome of reality.

After the Shroud fades away, Nick has the power and choice to roll the universe, his universe back along the tapestry of choices that led him here. They all were haunted by the choices they made the first time around, something Nora couldn't live with...that ultimately led her relationship with Danse to fall apart. So Nick decides to go back further, as far back as he can go and he finds himself back in his office with Ellie waking him up.

There are consequences to what he's done, that he's not yet aware of, ones that will become clear in our next episode. The synths remember, as he remembers...Danse, Magnolia and everyone else remembers the fall of the Institute. They all find themselves at their starting point, moving towards their intended fated position to encounter the Sole Survivor. For Nick? He's starting down the path that will led him to be held prisoner and meet the Sole Survivor for the first time.

As he'll soon discover however, things don't play out the same way this time. Moreover, while he was rolling back reality to an early saved state, he made a huge mistake and completely forgot about something and someone so incredibly important...

You'll have to wait to see what that is...

#death shroud #chad: a fallout 76 podcast #chad: a fallout 76 story #fallout 4 #fallout for hope #wes johnson #fallout #fallout fanfic #nick valentine

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