#anon...thank you for indulging me in my insanity...good god i actually ended up writing a lot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daydreamycrustacean · 2 years ago

Note

you cant just threaten me with narrative parallels to big boss and not deliver. i need this

AHEHEHEE....( •̀ ω •́ )✧ Ive spent all noon going insane over char and ive listened 3 times to beyond the time, so you chose the perfect time for this.... Okay. so basically,

meme comic aside, here's a more structured and elaborated version of these points, taken from something that I wrote in my notes app at 2 am, plus some other points. Sorry if this doesn't make sense. Im not good at putting my thoughts into words.

----------------------

-they are both soldiers who end up being idolized and turned into a symbol. this idolization makes people want them to be in a position of leadership.

-being better known for their nom de guerre, "the red comet/char aznable" (which also counts as this, since it's a fake name tied to his identity in the one-year war) and "big boss", adds to this idealization, and with it also comes depersonalization, as their identity becomes just an image of a war hero that exists in peoples heads. a legend, rather than a real person.

-the artificiality of this legend is brought home in the way that it is taken, replicated, and put into other people, showing that anyone can be "the red comet" or "big boss". that's right baby. clones! Be it The Patriots making supersoldier clones of big boss for war purposes or Sunrise making Char after Char for anime purposes. But Char does also have actual in-universe clones???

-And also phantoms... the much clearer example of the artificiality of these legends/identities. I don't know anything abt Gundam Unicorn and so the only things I know abt Full Frontal are from the wiki. but he's just Venom Snake. Hey, what if we took this random guy and altered his appearance and mind to be the red comet/big boss?

-Okay its time to talk about The Boss and Zeon Deikun. Their deaths turn them both into symbols that represent the ideals that they preached. Ideals that everyone else takes and misinterprets for their own purposes. Their deaths also kickstart Big Boss and Char´s...everything. In a way, both Big Boss and Char dedicate their lives fighting for the ideals that their mother/father represented. Are they any good at this? Or are they yet another person taking these ideals and twisting them beyond recognition? Let´s say that´s up for debate.

-"So both Char and Big Boss ended up being idolized just like The Boss and Zeon Deikun? Even though it's something that they did not want and tried to avoid?" YES! Unavoidable fate. Repeating mistakes of the past...Sins of the Father... one of the key themes of Metal Gear. THE theme of metal gear. Big Boss more consciously tried to avoid the fate of The Boss by leaving the US military and hated being seen as a hero/called Big Boss because of The Boss. Char never outright states that the reason he does not want leadership is because he does not want to suffer his father´s fate...but his choice of accepting leadership is tied into his father´s fate nonetheless, with "Maybe human sacrifices run in your family" and Char casting himself as that human sacrifice in Char´s Counterattack. Is the reason as to why thinking about Char makes me so insane because his narrative of not being able to escape his father´s shadow taps into one of Metal Gears main themes? who knows...

-I said that Char´s "The Boss" figure is Zeon Deikun...but I think Lalah is the emotional aspect of this. She is the more clear Mother Figure whose death scars and haunts Char the way The Boss haunts Big Boss. Yes, Char also lost his real mom when young but shes not as important as Lalah.

-They just miss their mom bro :(

-cue millions of jokes about Oedipus complexes (more prevalent in the gundam fandom. for some reason.)...not gonna comment on this but they are there. and I can't ignore it if I'm talking abt comparisons between them.

-Okay, mothers/fathers talk aside. Their relationship to war and conflict. Not much else to say that I didn't say in the image. Its all they know and and all they think themselves capable of. Though thinking about their similarities on this did remind me of something that Beltorchika said in Zeta about Char, about how she thinks he's someone who is incapable of living without war and how definitely similar things are directly said about big boss in metal gear. there's more to this and about whether this is true and why...but my eyes are starting to hurt. I need to finish this.

-Lets go back to leadership. despite the fact that they both do not initially want this position of power, they do eventually give into it to help soldiers/Spacenoids respectively. Big Boss wants soldiers to not be used by governments like he was used (but he does end up using them nonetheless. oops) and Char wants Spacenoid independence from the Federation, although Char´s motivations in cca are more complex than just this, I do believe part of him does genuinely see helping spacenoids as his "duty" and something he needs to sacrifice himself for.Okay that was my last big point. finally this is done. more stuff:

-the_man_who_sold_the_world.mp3

-I don't know. all war criminals know these days is be bisexual and lie. <- all there is to say abt their heavy homoerotic subtext. which yes they also both individually have. although big boss´ is stronger bc he's in metal gear. I also can't ignore it. It's still a character aspect.

-forgot abt Quess...use of child soldiers ig. awesome.

#should i maintag this...hm. no.#i dont wanna know how many times i said the word ``identity`` in this...#what can I say its what They Are About #anon...thank you for indulging me in my insanity...good god i actually ended up writing a lot #i cant imagine anyone alse that might be interested in this...#asks

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anne-i-write · 4 years ago

Text

moriarty the patriot headcannons

| requested by anon: “uhhh kinda weird lmao but how would the moriarty bros react to an s/o from the future? (Headcanons) thanks! OwO” |

william x reader; louis x reader; albert x reader

word count: 1355

tw: a few swears, if i’m missing any please let me know!

a/n: i’m so sorry that these are coming out so slow please enjoy!

william: 317 words

please

as soon as you wake up he’ll be staring at you intently

“where am i?”

“durham, england, 1880… and in my room”

it takes you like ten minutes to process everything that’s going on because: “i’m dreaming right??? or did i actually shift???

after finally accepting the fact you indeed did not shift and are not dreaming, you finally looked at the man who had stayed silent during your incoherent ramblings

“you seem more awake now, is it alright if i ask a few questions?”

hhh he’s such a gentleman

you both honestly take this whole time shift thing really well

louis definitely walks in on you two and he’s like,,

“who tf are you and how did you get in”

sdjkfhd pls its so funny when you guys converse

his speaking manner is so refined and yours is just,, yours

but he loves it

he thinks its cute

he comes up with a story for you because there were people who were no doubt going to question how you came into his life

and from there you two hit it off really well

accidentally said you two were to be wed during a conversation and the nobles went insane

when you are on the carriage ride back from the party he apologizes for saying something so out of line

“i wouldn’t mind being married to you, william.”

this man always has something to say but THIS

YOU

he wanted to respond with something witty but you just,, existed and made him melt

“let’s go buy a ring tomorrow then.”

asks you questions about the future

only trivial things, never if his plan works in the long term

but judging by the way you talk about your previous life he can tell that everyone is somewhat equal, except for “the dumbass politicians” you speak about

oh did i mention he picks up your swears too LMAO

louis: 459 words

he’s heading back to his room when you come OUT of his room

“who tf are you, how did you get into this house, and why are you here”

instant kill mode

you think you’re dreaming so you’re like,, ok cool and you tell him most of your life story and he’s like

??????

has never been more dumbfounded in his life

who is this person and what are they wearing and why are they telling me their life story

eventually the rest of the moriarty team gets involved and matters are settled lmao

you all agree that staying in the manor is the best course of action at the moment

louis thinks you’re taking this a little too well so he’s still a little sus of you

like seriously,, the future?? cmon now

the people you’re working for probably made those weird clothes for you

but anyways

you’re helping him clean the house and cook

“this is fun,,, but honestly?? if i have to do this by myself everyday i would cry”

you keep saying this and you know it’s getting annoying for louis but he ISNT TALKING

if you can’t beat em, annoy em

finally gives in

“how did you used to wash clothes in the future?”

and you get this big smile on your face and you start TALKING

you’re so excited that he finally spoke to you

even tho you know you lowkey annoyed him

but you’re talking and louis is like,, huh

you’re talkative, but not annoying at all

you have little stories that make him laugh sometimes

needless to say you both get closer

but it isn’t until one night louis is making rounds around the manor that he passes by your room and hears crying

so he’s worried and he goes into your room

bruh you try pulling that shit where you wipe away your tears and be like “oh i’m okay!”

like,, no u aren’t

louis makes you spill what’s bothering you

“my friends, my family… are they okay? are they looking for me?? they must be so worried”

note that you’ve already been at the moriarty estate for about two months without any word that you can return to your own time

and louis holds you

he teaches you more about the year that you’re currently stuck in and he tries to take your mind off of the bad things

asks william to buy more books to indulge you bc you have some book withdrawals bc “WHAT DO YOU MEAN A TALE FOR THE TIME BEING HASNT BEEN PRINTED YET” followed by a short crying session

he’s a really good boyfriend

you taught him what a boyfriend was and he couldn’t stop thinking about how much society’s view on relationships changed

albert: 579 words

is walking down the streets at night when he sees you barreling down the road in your clothes

you look pretty scathed when you run right into him

“are you alright?”

you’re scared and out of breath but he’s wearing what you can only assume is a uniform of england

he takes you to his place and tries to calm you down

he asks you questions and you tell him everything straight out

you know you look crazy but you couldn’t bring yourself to care

you were just walking back from a friend’s place IN BROAD DAYLIGHT and you felt dizzy and you woke up alone in a dark alleyway

“where are you from?”

you obviously give him your city but he corrects himself

“what year are you from?”

“2019”

doesn’t want to believe you bc you’re all frantic and maybe insane

but your clothes just seem to different for him to brush off the possibility

tells you to sleep it off and gives you his bed

he’s already writing a letter to his brothers that he’s possibly coming back with someone

“ohoho brother albert has a suitor now?”

anyways, albert asks you more questions about your other life as you’re both on the train to durham

albert went out to buy you more fitting clothes before leaving and you couldn’t even repay him

but he tries to get you in a comfortable position so you don’t spiral again

but he’s genuinely nice about it when he finally accepts the fact that you are in fact from the future

funny enough, you both don’t get each others names until you get onto the train

“oh, my name is albert james moriarty”

and you’re briefly like “oh like sherlock’s nemesis” but then you remember that this is only the victorian era

sherlock holmes doesn’t exist, it’s just a coincidence

so you both get to the manor and he introduces you to the moriarty team and this is where you’re like,,

oh my God

this is real and i know the ending

you suddenly want to travel back further in time and never meet them bc they’re all really sweet towards you

and you got attached to them more than you should have

albert notices you’re a little tense so he makes small conversation to get your mind off of things

“i do like to play the piano”

bro

they have a piano delivered to the house to make you feel more comfortable and hopefully keep you occupied

itching and nostalgic (ironic), you play songs from rachmaninoff and joe hisaishi, despite it being from the future

everyone knows chopin so shhh

“that’s beautiful, did you compose that?”

“no, but another composer did, i don’t even think he exists yet”

you’re very adamant on keeping things the same

like,, no i’m not going to tell you how to create a washing machine because i don’t want to mess up the timeline if i do go back to the future

you do get very sad occasionally because you are homesick and being placed in a world where you have only heard stories of is very disorienting

but albert and the boys make up for it

albert always tries to be by your side and if he can get his hands on a piano sheet he’ll buy one for you and see if you already know it

it’s always nice to have them around, but you know the troubles you’ll eventually have to face

moriarty the patriot taglist: @zoehanji

#moriarty the patriot #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #albert james moriarty #albert james moriarty x reader #louis james moriarty #louis james moriarty x reader #william james moriarty x reader #william james moriarty

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thegraystreaks · 5 years ago

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i just read your fics on ao3 and they were so good, i love missing moments from canon! Idk if you ever take prompts but if you do i would really love to read a different way for percabeth to get together in canon?

anon, the way you got me to write something for the first time in ages….

anyway this is super self indulgent but I had a lot of fun writing it!! thank u for your kinds words I would die for you probably!!

this takes place during botl, the day Percy comes back from Ogygia, sometime after Annabeth storms out of the Big House.

“Annabeth glared at me. You are the single most annoying person I’ve ever met!” And she stormed out of the room.

I stared at the doorway. I felt like hitting something. “So much for being the bravest friend she’s ever had.”

He finds Annabeth in the arena. It’s empty save for her — everyone knows by now that sparring with her while she’s like this never leads to anything good. So she’s taking on a dummy, her anger apparent in the rigid lines of her body, fury in the force behind her blows. She rolls and kicks, dodging imaginary attacks, and Percy could swear that the air is thick, charged, like the feeling before a thunderstorm. Which is stupid — it’s camp, and the magical borders keep the sky cloudless as always.

As he approaches, the only acknowledgement of his presence is her intensified rage, the way her blade slashes and hacks with renewed vigor. They’re gonna need to replace that dummy, he thinks.

“Can we talk?”

She wheels to face him, thunder in her eyes. For a moment, he’s scared he’ll need to pull out Riptide. She turns to the dummy one last time and stabs it straight through the heart. “You wanna talk? Then go ahead.”

He swallows nervously. Now that he’s got her attention, he doesn’t quite know where to start. His mind flashes to last winter, and how distraught he was when she had been kidnapped. How he’d have done anything to get her back. How he just knew that she couldn’t be dead. He reaches out hesitantly, but pulls his arm back when he glances at the hilt of the blade, still sticking out of the dummy.

“I was thinking about how upset I was last winter, when you were kidnapped. That, um — well, ‘sucked’ doesn’t really cover it. That was awful. I really am sorry that I worried you.”

Something shifts in her eyes, and he can see the hurt dripping through the cracks of her anger. “You couldn’t send an Iris Message? I thought you were dead, Percy.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Drachmas were a bit hard to come by on the island.”

“Ha,” she laughs drily. She pauses to wipe at the sweat on her brow. “What was she like?” The words drip with contempt.

“I don’t — who?”

“Don’t play dumb,” she scoffs. “Calypso. What was she like?”

Air rushes out of Percy’s lungs. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. Chiron was right, then. She had figured out where he’d been.

“Does it matter?”

“Well, you spent two full weeks there, so I can’t imagine she looks like the ancient hag she is. How old is she again? Two-thousand? Or is it three?”

“Annabeth—”

“Two weeks, Percy!” she cries.

“I’m sorry, okay? Time was weird there!”

“Oh, time was weird, that’s your excuse?”

“Yeah, that’s my excuse!” he shoots back. “And I wasn’t just laying on a beach being fed grapes or something, I was recovering! From being blown up!”

That seems to drain some of the fight from her. She looks away, and her voice shrinks down: “I’m sorry you were hurt. I—I hate seeing you hurt.”

In the silence that follows, he thinks inexplicably of Aphrodite coming to visit him last winter, the limo so out of place in the desert. The way that she had appeared, if only for a second, like the girl in front of him. How she had promised she wouldn’t let his love life be “easy and boring”. Gods, why couldn’t it be? The rest of his life is crazy enough.

He had hoped, briefly, that Aphrodite might’ve forgotten about her promise when they’d returned to Olympus. He remembers a slow, sad song, and his hands on Annabeth’s waist as they had swayed. How it had felt like the pieces were maybe finally starting to fall into place. The memory seems worlds away.

“Annabeth, listen. I’m sorry I was gone so long. But I didn’t choose to be sent there. And—and I came back.”

“Duh, Percy,” she rolls her eyes. “That’s her curse.”

“Okay, you’re right.” She turns away. He reaches out, more confident now, and takes hold of her arm. “But curse or not, I chose to come back.”

She pulls her arm out of his grip. “Yeah, so that you could tell me I have to bring some mortal girl to lead my quest!”

“What does Rachel have to do with this?”

“Are you fucking serious?” she shouts. He can see the walls building back up, the storm returning in her eyes. She whips around and yanks her dagger out of the sparring dummy, kicking up dirt as she begins to stalk away.

This was not how he wanted this to go, not his intent when he came to find her. Of all the ways returning to camp might’ve gone, he had never imagined it like this. He tries to reconcile the girl that kissed him in the mountain with this one, who can’t go more than a minute without yelling at him, that won’t stop running off. Why is this so complicated? She kissed him, right? Isn’t that supposed to be it? The happy ending? If movies told him anything, it was that the kiss means you get the girl. It shouldn’t be this hard. It wouldn’t be, he thinks bitterly, if she would quit storming off.

“Gods, would you stop running away when we’re talking?” he shouts after her. “Would it kill you to stick around and listen to me?”

He’s taken aback when she actually turns around, arms crossed and foot tapping. “Well?”

Percy blinks. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. Shit, what is he trying to say? “You know, Calypso offered me immortality. I could’ve escaped the prophecy, I could’ve lived in paradise forever—”

That probably wasn’t what he should’ve led with. “If you want me to ‘stick around and listen’, you’re off to a terrible start,” she seethes.

He steamrolls on anyway: “—but I didn’t, I didn’t take her offer, because — well, because of Grover and Tyson, and the quest isn’t over yet, but also because—” he stops. He’s rambling. Focus. How can he say this? “Did you really kiss me back there, or did I make that up in my head?”

She freezes. Silence stretches out between them, and Percy kind of wants the ground to swallow him whole. But it’s out there, now. Might as well go all in. “I really hope you did, because I’m gonna feel insanely stupid if it was just some volcanic-explosion-induced fever dream.”

Slowly, she unfreezes. Nods. “Uh. Yeah, I did.”

He takes a step closer. “I don’t care about ‘some mortal girl’. At least, not the way I care about….about you.” He can feel the blood rushing in his ears, can feel his heart beating painfully fast. She’s still just standing there, staring and staring but not moving. She’s not saying anything, why isn’t she saying anything?

“Gods, can you throw me a bone, Annabeth? I feel like I’m dying here—”

He’s cut off when she lunges forward and kisses him. It’s like their first kiss in two ways: it’s over before he can even react, and it leaves him staring, dumbfounded. How is it that she’s caught him off-guard with this not once, but twice now?

“Think you’ll remember that one was real?” she asks, still only inches from his face. Her breath smells of strawberries, and her eyes are puffy from his almost-funeral, but the storm in them begins to clear.

He laughs, bright and full. “You should probably kiss me one more time, just to be safe.”

“Hmm,” she considers, arms coming up around his neck. “Should I count down so that you can be ready this time?”

He groans. “You are so not making this easy.”

“I am never, ever going to make things easy for you, Seaweed Brain. Get used to it.”

“Gods, you’re insufferable. It shouldn’t be this cute.”

“Three, two—”

He’s on her before she reaches one, one hand pulling her closer at the waist and the other finding her cheek. When their lips meet, it feels like everything he’s been waiting for. Like the clouds parting, like sunshine, like warmth, like happiness.

It may not be their first kiss, but it’s their best yet.

#anonymous #the self-indulgence really jumped out here.....#anyway tell me what u think!!!#my writing #percabeth #percabeth fanfic

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halinski · 5 years ago

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Red Light, Green Light

I lost the original ask when I tried to post the other day but thankfully I had this saved! Thank you to the anon who sent this!! It was a great challenge and obviously it took me a long while (so I hope you’re still around!) but I’m actually quite happy with it :D I might finally be gaining some confidence with writing hehe lots of thanks to @kcfriedchicken for always putting up with me and cheering me on, and also to @livinginfictions for the thorough beta!! <3

[Read on AO3]

Derek blinked lazily at the clock on Stiles' desk, wishing he could close his eyes and keep dozing, pretend he hadn't seen how late it was getting because that meant putting an end to this. But...an alpha missing out or being late to his own pack meeting would not do. Especially if he popped up around the same time as Stiles, both of them smelling distinctly of each other.

No. This...whatever it was—well, relationship, yes, in a way—it was just theirs for now. Stiles’ and his. They hadn't put a name to it, mostly because Derek feared to bestow a cursed title upon Stiles. Connections like this generally ended badly. But this was something that was just theirs, safe and secure behind four walls, or car doors. For now.

Another minute ticked by, striking Derek's ears, drawing attention to the impatient little black hands, swinging further on and on, tempting Derek to dig his claws into the plastic and tear it apart, as if that would eradicate the concept of time so that he could continue to lie here with Stiles on his shoulder. If that was all his life consisted of from this day forward, Derek wouldn't mind. He'd always seen himself bleeding to death at the hands of an enemy, enduring inexplicable pain but now...

He could spend eternity here in Stiles' room, on his tiny bed, and not be bothered at all, or alternatively, and more realistically, die happy on the spot in a good way.

He was half tempted to go public with their...relationship but it also made the fear of vulnerability stir inside his chest. It was one thing to have Stiles see his cracks and edges: to let him soothe them like balm in privacy, but revealing this thing with Stiles would mean letting the rest of the world know about his weakness. He knew the pack didn't mean him any harm, and yet...

Derek was working on giving the softness inside him space. It was a work in progress.

He sighed, another tick and tock of a minute having gone by, the planned event creeping closer. Stiles snuffled against Derek's shoulder at the sound, rubbing his scent into the worn grey shirt. His arm re-adjusted around Derek's torso.

"If you keep up with that all my shirts are gonna be shoulder free - but only on the right side," Derek said, amused and hell, proud even, at how quickly so many wolf-like behaviors had grown on Stiles; faster than anyone else in the pack, when he wasn't even a wolf. It spoke volumes of Stiles' understanding. Sure, he had been tactile from the start, searching for contact, and Derek had seen the hugs and shoulder pats he shared with his dad but this...it just felt right.

Derek was glad the human's eyes were closed because the smirk he was wearing may have been closer to a smile, and he didn't dare encourage Stiles’ ideas further. If he gave his cheesy thoughts too much room he would ruin their balanced give and take. They both found a necessary challenge in the other. Derek couldn't just surrender.

"You can buy new ones," Stiles mumbled, not caring to lift his head even the slightest bit. "Shit, it's not like you're poor. Don't be stingy. Let a guy enjoy himself."

Derek let out a light snort. "You've enjoyed yourself plenty. It's time we get ready."

Stiles just whined, slightly high pitched and grating, but a wordless communication Derek appreciated, if only for the fact that Stiles didn't necessarily need his words around him anymore. When he didn't want to, which...wasn't very often.

"Come on, let's go," Derek said, giving Stiles' a vigorous little back rub to try and get his system going, after which he managed to pull him up into a sitting position with him.

"This sucks. I'm going to excommunicate from the pack. Both you and me so we never have to deal with any responsibilities ever again," Stiles said, blinking unhappily into the room.

Derek swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, stretching his back. "And then I'll whisk you away and we'll live in a cave like real wolf-men for the rest of our lives," he quipped.

"Exactly!" Stiles exclaimed, a grin splitting his face. "This is why I'm dating you."

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. You only want me because I'm a werewolf." Derek let out a put upon sigh after slipping on his shoes and grabbing his jacket. Stiles joined him then, taking hold of Derek by wrapping his fist in the hem of his shirt.

"Come here, hot wolf-man," Stiles mock-growled, pulling him in. Derek went along easily, lips finding Stiles' blindly and letting himself sink into the warmth. Stiles' hand stroked over his cheek with the tenderness of a sunlit daisy.

God, Derek was a goner.

Derek gently nudged Stiles back, righting his head. Stiles followed his movement with a subtle lick across his lips, pupils all wide and open, as if he had a whole world in there for Derek alone to make his home in. But he couldn't let himself get distracted by Stiles again.

"I'll race you," he blurted out to shake himself out of this delirious high. A challenge: one of the strongest motivators for Stiles. On cue, Derek watched the spark ignite in his eyes.

"I'm listening." Stiles smiled at him defiantly.

"I bet I can make it home, shower and be ready before you are."

"On foot? No way! I'm so going to win this."

"Oh yeah?"

"You're a goner, Hale." Stiles was right about that on one count.

Derek met his gaze with equal glee. He held the moment just for a second longer, fingertips brushing against Stiles' nape. Stiles' pulse jumped beneath his thumb and Derek couldn't put the feelings in his chest into words, nor actions. The most he was capable of was resting his forehead against Stiles', just breathing him in.

Resisting the tangible temptation to give in to Stiles once more, Derek merely parted his lips to whisper, "Go!"

He ripped himself from the human and fled, holding fast to his next objective.

"Hey!" Stiles objected after a heartbeat, but Derek was already out the window.

--------

Stiles screeched into the parking lot, foot on the break and hands pulling the steering wheel for a sharp left. He skidded to a halt next to the familiar figures at the entrance to Derek’s building - he still couldn’t believe his boyfriend had bought a whole building just to maintain his social isolation. Then again, having to listen to your neighbors do literally everything couldn’t be great. It would drive anyone insane. Stiles yanked the emergency break as he parked and left the car running, jumping out in one smooth move.

Isaac could shut it, he was totally smooth.

“You asshole!” Stiles ranted, pointing at Derek in frustration. “You cheated.”

Derek did nothing but smile smugly, eyebrows openly laughing at Stiles.

“I don’t cheat,” he declared, arms crossing over his chest, now wearing a nice bright blue shirt. There was a light, earthy cologne crawling up Stiles' nose as he stood in front of this man of brawn. Stiles knew intimately how solid and strong Derek was beneath that sturdy dark blue top but instead of indulging said train of thought he had to expel it. The pack was probably used to his hormonal responses to Derek but he was supposed to be growing out of that phase.

Thank goodness for strong deodorant, Stiles thought,watching Derek's nostrils flare. He breathed in relief at the small nod that deemed him clean enough. Any lingering scents of each other scrubbed away, and a change of clothes. Dating a werewolf on the down low among other werewolves was a pain in the ass. Especially when assholes like Jackson would sneer and complain about the "ghastly stink" of artificial scents only when it came to Stiles. Naturally, he didn’t dare talk smack about Derek in his presence.

"There's no way. You absolutely cheated," Stiles insisted and jabbed at those abs, just under Derek's elbow, where he knew he was ticklish. Then he bit his tongue lest he let anything incriminating slip and whirled around, grinning to himself at the quiet wheeze behind him.

"You done?” Lydia asked with an audible eye roll. How was it that all of Stiles’ favorite people had perfected that movement?

“Yup!” Stiles declared, making a beeline for Erica to hook his arm into hers. Erica was bound to try to interrogate him about what kind of cheating Derek had done but Stiles was a sheriff’s son, and he had all his evasive techniques down. Of course, Erica had her own theories about him and the alpha, which may or may not have resulted in him confessing to her about his crush. Despite not being able to tell her about any of the developments, he found comfort in the fact that he could be sure she was rooting for them. “C’mon, bestie. Let’s go!”

Stiles didn’t miss the grin Erica sent Derek’s way before they turned and headed up into the loft, making a pit stop at the still running Jeep. The rest of the pack slowly shuffled after them.

--------

Somehow... no matter how organized Derek tried to be before a pack meeting or how sternly he glared and attempted to keep the pack in line, pack meetings always resulted in chaos and headaches. Right now, there was a discussion going on about cats and full moons that weren’t based on any scientific (or supernatural) evidence and Derek couldn't even recall when the conversation shifted.

Even Stiles was getting tired at this point, rubbing his forehead vigorously as he hung over the laptop. Derek hadn't heard him typing for the past 15 minutes and it hadn’t been long after that Stiles had stopped sending sullen looks his way and started stubbornly picking at the permanent stain on the table.

"Okay, let's wrap this up and get something to eat before I start tearing out throats," Derek sighed.

Stiles' laptop snapped shut before Derek finished the sentence.

Boyd smirked. "We haven't heard that one in a while," he commented.

"So, we're done, right?" Lydia declared, already packing up her things and slipping her shoes back on.

"We're done when I say I'm done," Derek said. "Any other questions left?"

Erica raised her arm from her lounged position.

"Yes."

"Are we done?" she asked, without as much a hint of amusement, and Derek was. Derek was 100 percent done trying to deal with these teenagers.

He gave her a long blank stare. Just to prove how much he meant it, before he turned from where he had been pacing and pointed at Stiles.

"Patty's. You're driving."

Then he marched upstairs to his private bathroom, just to buy himself some alone time, hanging out the tiny window and staring out at the tree tops.

He loved his pack, he did. Sometimes it was all a bit much and he needed to breathe, though. He'd been the same even as a kid.

He waited until everyone had made their way into the stairwell before taking a deep breath and following. A small part of him was hoping Stiles would linger behind so they could have a moment but he quickly buried that thought with logic. They would be heard and how could he even already miss Stiles when they had just spent hours together?

Grabbing his jacket, wallet in the pocket, he pulled the door shut and ambled down the stairs. He didn't bother locking it. There was nothing to protect, and Derek made sure to chase off any stupid teens who wanted to screw around and vandalize the place. Any supernaturals wouldn't be bothered by a lock anyway.

The only exception was, of course, when Stiles was around.

Of course, the kids weren't even close to figuring out a seating order by the time he joined them. What did Derek even expect?

But upon approaching the Jeep, he found one seat occupied. The passenger seat. Derek stopped short.

"Erica." Because of course.

Her curls bounced as the young women turned to look and flash a grin at him.

"Derek, hi! Would you look at that, we're matching," she said, shimmying in her own leather jacket, just as black as his, but newer and shinier. Derek wouldn't really say they matched, because Erica was a fashion statement in herself, a force of her own, and Derek was just…wearing a memento because it was comfortable. Whatever.

Derek crossed his arms.

Stiles came over to his side, leaning on him and in toward Erica. Stiles let his fingers tap lightly against Derek's pec. Thank God Stiles had always been reckless with physical contact and there was no sudden change in intimacy that could cause suspicion. Derek just had to make sure he didn't preen too much.

"Eyebrows basically mirrored, matching, with only a slight degree of tilt, I would say maybe like a good… 19%. And then we have a non-flared nose but alert ears and oh, dare I say… that freshly trimmed stubble really drives the point home,which is…Erica, I think you better move," Stiles warned, voice lifting from dramatic broadcaster to a cartoonist sing-song tune.

Derek chose not to acknowledge Stiles, because encouragement would surely only escalate this situation. Either in the manner of Stiles' antics, or instead with the fondness trying to bloom in Derek's chest.

Erica only proceeded to lean further into her seat, eyes flickering between the two of them with a certain glint.

"And why's that?" she challenged.

"Because I say so," Derek muttered.

"And he's the alpha," Stiles finished for him, straightening with pride.

Erica gazed back between the two of them, lips pursuing with evident consideration of pushing further. Then she sighed.

"You know it's really not fair when you gang up on me," she said, but a smile still snuck its way onto her face. She turned towards the middle console and hiked herself up to clamber into the back. Halfway there, she stuck her hands out and called for Boyd's assistance, who gave a small shake of his head but quickly came to his girlfriend's aid.

Derek bit back a comment while Stiles laughed at his side, and then detached himself from him. Before Stiles left to go grab his own seat, he left a gentle pat on Derek's back.

--------

Two and a half hours, 12 burgers, 7 large fries (4 regular and 3 curly), 2 cartons of onion rings, some chicken, multiple stacks of pancakes, 4 waffles, 8 milkshakes, and a juicy mixed berry pie later, they were back in the cars, making the 20 minute drive to Beacon Hills. Sure, there were plenty of places to eat in town but after discovering Patty’s diner one early morning while dealing with some kind of manticore-like creature nearby, they had deemed this the best reasonably close diner. Now, it was a regular thing.

Jackson led the way in his Porsche, of course, with Lydia right at his side and Scott and Allison in the back, while Jeep tailed them with Stiles at the wheel. Erica was splayed out in the backseat with her head resting in Boyd’s lap, quietly humming along to the radio. Isaac was smooshed over on the other side and yet still somehow found a way to rest his head on Boyd's shoulder and close his eyes.

Hungers sated, stress digested and drama enacted all through dinner, everything was starting to slowly settle. Even Derek's restless soul found sanctuary in the familiar scents of his pack and the rhythm of Stiles' fingers against the wheel as they corresponded with his heartbeat. Derek allowed himself to find comfort, sinking further into the seat and stretching his arm casually out to rest on the back of Stiles' seat.

He watched Stiles' eyes flicker his way but halt and return to take in the sight in the rear view mirror. A small smile tugged at his lips and Stiles hummed along with Erica as if the swell of affection radiating from him was not at all related to Derek's action.

Derek followed his gaze back out to the street in front before he could get lost in retracing the slope of Stiles' nose and the starry path of moles down his cheek. The Porsche was growing ever smaller, occasionally disappearing from view entirely.

"You're going to lose them," Derek remarked. Not that it really mattered; everything still felt safe enough. As safe as it could, that was.

"If Jackson wants to flash his bougie car as some sort of compensation even though he didn't even buy it himself, he can be my guest. I'm not pushing my darling today," Stiles said, making a show of stroking the wheel. He smirked. "Unless you want to pay for a full on “Pimp My Car” session?"

Derek snorted. "In your dreams."

"One day. Just you wait. You'll see."

"Upgrading anything about this—this—" Derek reconsidered calling Roscoe a piece of crap whenStiles threw him a warning glare, "—hunk of metal…would cost more than buying a brand new SUV, including A/C and all the good stuff."

"You know, if you give me that in cash, I could totally start saving up for that upgrade." Stiles gave him an impish little smile.

"Absolutely not."

"C'mon, Hale. Fork over the cash," Stiles sang, holding up a hand and rubbing his fingers together. "Otherwise I might have to start charging by the mile, along with a service fee."

Which Derek had absolutely offered Stiles before. Well, not payment by the mile but he had happily suggested taking care of all charges for the usage and maintenance of the Jeep. He had repeatedly insisted and it was Stiles who, more often than not, refused.

"I think we might have to switch over to transport by taxi. That'll be cheaper as well as a smoother ride," Derek countered.

"What are you, 50? Have you ever heard of Uber? It's what all the—"

"Eyes on the road, Stiles."

"I am paying attention. Jeez, relax."

"And both hands on the wheel."

"Stop acting like my dad—"

"Oh my God, Stiles. I am not that old. Stop comparing me to your dad, of all people."

"Then stop acting like it. You're out here lecturing me like I don't always get you right where you need to be. With special bodyguard services, if I may add, which you will never get from any carpooling service."

Derek shook his head at the smug smile on his mate's face. There was time for sweet praises to be whispered into burning ears from within warm embraces in bed later. For now, he just preened at the familiarity of the interaction. Nothing like some good old bickering to help digest a feast.

"It's red." Derek pointed out to the street light ahead.

"I have eyes," Stiles said, easing down on the brake a little harder. The Jeep eventually rolled to a stop before the empty intersection, the hanging mist seeping from the tall dark trees radiating a gleaming red.

Derek loved it when the world made it seem like time stood still.

Stiles turned to him.

"Red light," Stiles proclaimed, voice suddenly open and unguarded. It was like the silvery shine to full moon nights when they encased Derek in protection. He reacted to the words on instinct, habit pulling him forward. Derek leaned in without hesitation.

Letting his lips meet Stiles' didn't require any guidance. He'd probably find his way home to Stiles' soft touch blindfolded from the opposite side of the world. Kissing Stiles was sweet like honey and warm like a fireplace in the dead of a Siberian winter.

It wasn't a peck, definitely a longer interaction, but it was still soft and sweet. They were encapsulated in their own little world until they finally parted. Derek found those beautiful amber eyes and smiled.

"Green light," he said softly, having registered the quiet click and the now lightened fog outside.

Stiles breathed out between parted lips, a corner of them hiking up. He was just about to shift the car into motion when—

"What the ever loving fuck was that?!" Erica burst between them with a shout, nails digging into their sleeves. "What? I mean, this! You kissed!"

Stiles brought his foot down on the brake again hard, but he forgot the clutch and killed the engine instantly. He'd let out his own shout that fell quiet as the car came to a rocking stop.

Derek winced at the volume before he could register what was going on and then… froze.

"Erica! What the hell," Stiles breathed out, throwing his hands up to his hair. His discomfort couldn't solely be attributed to the surprise from the backseat, Derek figured, chancing a look over to see the blush climbing up Stiles' face. Derek knew all too well how it started; with the pink gleam budding just beneath his collarbone before it expanded like smattering star dust all the way up his neck that found its heart in his cheeks. Right where Derek found the source of his happiness when they tugged up and bunched around Stiles' smile.

"No." Erica shook her head. "Not me. What is going on right here?" She tugged at their arms. "When did this start? How long has it been going on?"

"And how in hell did you manage to keep this a secret, Stilinski?" Isaac threw in, his head popping up beside the bouncy curls.

Stiles looked over at Derek cautiously. His heart was clearly doing double time and well, so was Derek's. They had always avoided discussing the possibility of an involuntary reveal so, honestly, it served them right. Derek should've known the universe would have a trick up its sleeve as soon as he relaxed.

But…this wasn't necessarily something bad. He was pretty sure that the pack wouldn't mind about this development. Chances were, it would bring them all closer together. Somehow.

Still, doubts remained. Fear crept through him on spindly legs, ready to strike with its black widow fangs at any moment. There was so much that could go wrong. So much-

There was a deep intake of breath from beside him.

"It's not what you think," Stiles said then.

"Oh, so Derek wasn't just shoving his tongue down your throat?" Erica hummed, and she leaned forward to place her chin on Stiles' shoulder.

"There was no tongue involved!" Stiles exclaimed, throwing up an arm.

"There was a kiss though," Boyd intercepted.

Stiles glared at him through the rear view mirror. "You too? Betrayal."

"I am pretty curious about this," he replied, gazing over at Derek as best as he could past Erica's and Isaac's heads.

"Oh my god," Stiles breathed. "It was just…a game! It was—it was just a game."

"A game?" Erica had nearly perfected the signature Hale eyebrow lift.

Stiles was not fully successful at covering up his jealousy.

Nor the shame and upset at having to play the incident off. Derek wasn't having it.

"Yes, a game. The red light game. You spend hours on your phone. How have you not—" Stiles started.

"No," Derek interrupted. There was a quiet hitched breath as all heads turned to stare at the Alpha. He tried to remain calm, and turned to look at his mate.

"It's not just a game. It is our game but we're also dating." Derek swallowed, keeping his breath and words steady. "He's my boyfriend."

Erica's squeal almost drowned out Stiles' beaming joy, but all Derek could see was Stiles; and the unfiltered, sunshine-bright love shining off his exhilarated face. There was surprise there, and some hesitance, but it was overrun by excitement.

"I fucking knew it!" Erica laughed loudly, smacking a kiss to Stiles' cheek and quickly infecting him with her laughter.

It wasn't long before most of the car had joined in, searching for touch all around. Derek felt both pats on his shoulders as well as a grip near his neck, grounding him to pack amidst all the congratulations. It seemed funny now, worrying about the reception of this news. Derek ducked his head to hide his burning eyes.

Relief, happiness—he wasn't even sure what to feel first, but he almost felt like he didn't need to name it. All he had to do was let himself feel it for now. Stiles put his hand over his, squeezing it lightly. Derek took it.

"Wait, so this is why we found you two cooking together that one time!"

Derek smiled, looking up to the road ahead with a lighter soul.

#eternalsterek #sterek #eternal sterek #sterek fanfiction #fanfic #derek hale #stiles stilinski #secret relationship #prompt fic #anon #ask #red light green light #i wrote this

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flying-elliska · 6 years ago

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salut ellie! someone once asked you about your writing and you recommended falling in love with language and finding ways of writing you love. i was wondering, what books and/or writing styles are you in love with? it's just so interesting to know what somehow had an impact on the way you're writing bc i honestly adore your style

wow do you remember that ? that is such a flattering question oh my god. well, i’m still working on it. some of my favorites are (i’m very eclectic lmao) :

- His Dark Materials (it’s a fantasy book series ‘for kids’ but it’s actually insanely deep and philosophic) is pretty much the first book series that made me fall in love with stories, and made me want to write. I think I found it when I was 10, and it completely shaped me. It’s so ambitious and clever, it never talks down to the reader, brings up those amazing worlds and philosophical concepts and is still accessible to kids. Most of all it is so committed to atmosphere, to making it vivid, to really make you go through what the characters are. I’m thinking of it and I can remember exactly certain passages in an almost sensory way : the witch Serafina Pekkala describing what it feels like to feel the Aurora Borealis on her bare skin as she is flying through the arctic. The polar bear Iorek giving Lyra frozen moss to help bandage his wounds after a battle. The grilled poppy heads that the Jordan College scholars at Oxford eat during a meeting. The little Gallivespians on their dragonflies and the way the sun reflects off their poisonous spurs. That’s how you make a story stick ; that’s how you can put in deep stuff without ever making it boring. I am so excited they’re making a tv series because that shit deserves some recognition. And I mean the whole plot about the importance of stories, free will, the horror of religious fundamentalism....always relevant. Philip Pullman’s stuff is great in general, I love his Sally Lockhart series, which is more adult and adventure focused, and is a great deal of fun. And of course, the sequel to HDM he’s been putting out recently.

- I spent a lot of my teen years reading either crime novels or historical novels. (When I think of some of the stuff I read when I was 13 I’m like oh my god what were my parents doing lmao some of that was really horrible.) And I think it gave me a good feeling for suspense and setting, and how important tension is. One of my all time faves is Andrea Japp. She is a French writer who does mostly crime, involving complex/monstrous woman characters and a very sensory, poetic approach to language, often involving food, plants and poisons. My favorite by her is the “Season of the Beast”/Agnès de Souarcy chronicles, which is a crime series set in medieval times, with a cool independent lady at its core, crimes in a monastery, and this very gloomy end of times vibe that I love. I also read a lot of Scandi Noir stuff, I love the kind of ...laconic approach to life. And again : vibe. Vibe is so important. And Sherlock Holmes stories. I love the Mary Russell series that take place in that universe and are basically a big Mary Sue self insert guilty pleasure but are just. So much fun.

- I like poetry a lot - not stuff that is too wordy, but something short, sharp and vivid. i think reading poetry is essential to feeding your inner ‘metaphor culture’. I love Mary Oliver. Rimbaud, too, that I read at 17 and rocked my world. One of my underrated faves is Hồ Xuân Hương, a Vietnamese poet from the 18th century who was adept at using nature metaphors to hide both erotic stuff, irreverent jokes, and political criticism, and correspond with all the great scholars of her time under a pseudonym. Badass. Recently I bought ‘Soft Science’ by Franny Choi, which is about cyborgs, having a female body, emotions and politics and it’s absolutely brilliant.

- I love reading fairy tales, too. Currently reading (i always read a lot of books at once lol) Angela Carter’s Book of Fairy Tales, basically fairy tales for grown ups, collected from folklore all over the world, with an amazing kind of gruesome humor and wisdom. Norse mythology is also so damn funny. That one bit with Thor dressing up as a bride or Loki’s shenanigans...amazing. And I like fantasy, I find it very soothing to read for some reason, my fave has to be Robin Hobb and her Realm of the Elderlings series. And Terry Pratchett, especially the series with Death or the Witches. Just brilliant. Neil Gaiman too.

- I tend to be very impatient when it comes to literary fiction, I find a lot of it is self-indulgent, dreary. I’m a genre reader through and through, I need to be amazed. I loved ‘the Elegance of the Hedgehog’ by Muriel Barbery though. Some stuff by Amélie Nothomb, Virginie Despentes occasionally (they’re French writers with a very dark, wry approach to life, tho the first is more polished acid and the second very punk rock). And ‘Special Topics in Calamity Physics’ by Marisha Pessl is pretentious as hell but a lot of fun, if you like dark academia. Salman Rushdie has a way with language that is amazing.

- I read a lot of non-fiction. At the moment : the Cabaret of Plants (about the symbolic/socio historical meaning of plants and how they shaped history) by Richard Mabey and ‘Feminist Fight Club’ by Jessica Bennett. One I absolutely love is ‘the Botany of Desire’ by Michael Pollan in which he traces the history of four plant species (apple, potato, cannabis, tulip) and how they impacted us as much as we impacted them. I was obsessed with plants for most of my life as you can see lol (my mother is a herbalist and I wanted to become a botanist for quite a while.). Also philosophy/anthropology in little bits. I love Tim Ingold. Things about witches. Anything by Rebecca Solnit is incredible.

- I’ve been reading a lot of YA recently, because it’s fun and quick and keeps me reading, and has a lot of good female characters. Big fave recently : Jane Unlimited by Kristin Cashore. It’s about a young bisexual woman who’s grieving and comes to this weird house full of doors, each of which leads to a different path in life, and we follow her through each choice she can potentially make, each of one becomes a different genre of story : creepy ghost story, spy story, sci-fi, cute romance, etc. It’s so innovative and it’s a story that is also bisexual culture at its core. Also I absolutely love love love love love (etc forever) the Raven Cycle series by Maggie Stiefvater. What she does with language is just so cool, because she stays simple and efficient but uses her metaphors in such a fulgurant, vivid way. Some of her lines are just. bam! genius. #goals. Also Ronan Lynch is probably THE character that helped me the most with my coming out. He’s one of my forever faves. Of course Harry Potter, lmao, I was of the generation that pretty much grew up with him, the last book came out when I was 17. JK Rowling really should just stop rn. But I learned so much from those, about the importance of making your story feel like home, and having a clear emotional journey. And Harry is such a sarcastic little shit, I love him. And I love a Series of Unfortunate Events too, the darkly funny tone of it, the celebration of knowledge and resilience.

- I think in terms of the classics (I had to read in school lmao), I do like Victor Hugo a lot even though some of his stuff just doesn’t fucking stop. I also like Balzac and his Comédie Humaine, he’s very observant, mean and funny when it comes to people (even though it’s depressing.) Colette is my grandma’s fave writer and she is a rockstar, I love her (also hella bi culture). Jane Austen is great, I read Pride and Prejudice in one night straight, I was so hooked. Love Jane Eyre too. I read On the Road by Jack Kerouac while hopped up on opioid pain killers and that’s probably the only way to appreciate it, but it did mark me.

- But to be completely fucking candid, I probably read the most fanfic nowadays still. Esp since I got to college, I need to unwind when I read, and having characters you already know can be so comforting. Now, of course, there’s a lot of fanfic that is just fluff (nothing wrong with that) but I honestly really believe in the literary value of fanfic. Because some of that shit simply just really slaps and is well written. But also as a genre on its own : you just simply don’t get so much emotional nuance, and depth in most other things. Because these are characters we already know and the writers are not afraid to be self-indulgent and plot is secondary, we see shades of things that we never see anywhere else, we see relationships developping in the small things and wow that shit is breathtaking, bro, sometimes. The art of infinite variation on a theme. Even though a lot of fic writers could use a bit of stricter editing, and do stuff a bit too many unnecessary details in here, so does Victor Hugo soooooooo....

lol i could go on forever. i love book soooo much. uni kinda killed my reading appetite, I used to read several books a week when I was in middle school. hope i can get back there (although maybe not as much bc i have a life now lol.) but thinking about everything i have yet to read makes me sooooo happy. I want to get more into sci-fi, English lit classics. Basically I like stuff that’s witty, dark, political, hedonistic, with dry humor, but a warm heart. Stories that celebrate knowledge, curiosity and human weirdness. And that gets to the point. When I get bored by a book, I put it down, because I just don’t have the time. I also hate writers where you can tell that they think they’re better than other people. Misanthropy is boring. Thank you for this question anon I had a blast <33333333

#reading #books #book recs #literature #anon asks

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