#but not bother to mention how rude lydia was to them?

[stilesedit]

not hate because i love our mccall pack but scott and allison were so rude about/to lydia in the beginning :(

kdhfjdhjfdhlj i’m sorry i was gonna go one way on this but i just erased a huge rant and instead i’ll leave you with this:1- they were 16 and in high school.2- lydia wasn’t exactly an angel to them either? in fact in the first season she was an outright parody of using bitchiness as a defense mechanism for loneliness etc. i really didn’t care much for her until halfway thru season 2 when i first watched the show, and i wasn’t really into scallison either. 3- if you give me an example of allison + scott being rude to/about lydia i’ll give u one of her being rude first.4- i love all of them and appreciate the development of each character independently and together. i’ve learned to understand them all better thanks to many many rewatches and discussions. i hope you and others can too.

[waynedunlaptheorgandonor]

watched s11ep1

i will provide you with a quick review before i disappear back into the ether of twd avoidance

lots of spoilers under the cut. also i wrote way too much and i worked all night and haven’t slept so i didn’t bother to reread literally any of it, so it might be completely nonsensical, tho if you don’t expect that from me by this point idk whose blog you’ve been reading

enjoy:

hokay, first off, i’ll start by saying that i enjoyed it more than i expected to. i’ve been avoiding any sort of discussion about stuff, but my google algorithm is so fucked at this point that i still get recommended articles and stuff every now and then, so i was already pretty aware of what i was walking into, and was expecting it to be eh, but actually i prob enjoyed it more than i enjoyed the finale

(don’t get too excited tho, the finale was rly boring lmfao)

anyway

episode starts off with a tense scouting mission

it takes .005 seconds into the episode for caryl to exchange a look of longing, establishing that they are still having weird conflict and are both too fucking stubborn to do anything about it even tho they hate it desperately

i imagine that will continue for a while

rosita, kelly, carol, maggie, what’s her face with the bad hair, and lydia (i think that’s everyone?) lower down to some army bunker or something, where a bunch of walkers are taking a snooze, and the girls are very respectful of walker naptime, and do their best not to wake them up

obviously they eventually wake up, but i’ll get to that in a sec

as they’re tiptoeing through the walker tulips, there’s this split second where carol spots a machine gun, and looks at maggie with a face like, “can i plzzzz, i am mad horny for that machine gun,” but maggie tells her no. (i 110% expected her to defy orders and accidentally wake up all the walkers, but she actually behaved herself for once. well. mostly)

never fear, tho, after the girl gang collects a bunch of MREs they go back to wait for the dudes waiting up top to pull them up, and bc men ruin everything, one of the ropes break, and daryl catches it before it falls, but then a slow motion drop of blood falls on a walker’s face, and just like that, walker naptime is over, and carol uses her bow and arrow for two seconds before she is like “fuck this” and whips out the machine gun

yes, she is super hot using it

yes, daryl watches her do it

anyway, all the other girls get rescued, and carol is about to be pulled up, but bc she is a #girlboss, she first makes a beeline for one more crate full of MREs. daryl covers her while she gets the loot, and when she gets back up top they have another charged moment as carol hands him back his knife

just fuck already, jfc

titles!

cut to alexandria where everything is still not smilestimes

BUT, we do get to see uncle daryl run and hug rj and judith (and dog), and FUCKING HERSHEL JR, LIGHT OF MY LIFE is also there

istg, they could not have casted a better child, i a d o r e him

oh, and some friends of maggie’s show up too, idk

cut to a staff meeting where everyone is like, whomp whomp, we’re all gonna starve to death unless we figure out something quick

cue maggie going, “oh, i know where food is, but it requires me to tell you my tragic backstory, in case anyone didn’t watch my bottle episode”

she tells her dramatic backstory about all her friends getting slaughtered by the reapers for no apparent reason, and then she’s like “anyway, let’s go back there!”

no one thinks it’s a great idea, but a group of people decide to go anyway, including daryl and gabriel. rosita is super pissed that gabriel is going, and carol doesn’t go, probably partly bc it’s a shitty fucking idea, and also bc they have to keep caryl apart bc otherwise they’ll fix their problems ahead of schedule and they won’t be able to drag out the needless angst

daryl looks kind of annoyed that carol doesn’t volunteer to go 

bitch, i thought you wanted her to stop putting herself in the line of fire! make up your damn mind!

moving on

cut to a thunderstorm, where, if you look closely, you’ll notice daryl is wearing the STUPIDEST hat i’ve ever seen. just get an umbrella, jfc

for some reason negan is with them, bc ig he knows his way around washington dc, and no one in six years has bothered to figure out how to get around the city and/or get a map, and he is like “hey guys, maybe we shouldn’t try to walk in this fucking hurricane,” and everyone is like “FUCK YOU NEGAN, YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF US!!!” 

this will be a common occurrence 

but eventually daryl is even like “actually, it’s rly unpleasant out here, and my hat is mad stupid, can we go inside plz?”

so they go inside an old metro station, which is actually a rly cool cinematic choice. i rly like the idea, and they executed it rly well

speaking of executions

there are some fucking RULL CREEPY walkers. idk why they bothered me so badly, but they were what they at first assumed were corpses wrapped up in tarps, but turns out none of them had been properly put down, so they go through killing these rotted bodies that had supposedly been there since The Fall, and it’s very gross and cool

this entire time, btw, negan is like “hey, i know i’m a shitty person, but i have some rational arguments about why we shouldn’t be doing this right now,” and everyone is like, “FUCK YOU NEGAN, YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF US!!!” and he’s just like “god fucking damnit”

(i forgot to mention that at one point, when they’re headed into the metro station, negan is trying to warn ppl of the potential danger, and everyone is ignoring him, and he tries to talk to daryl, and daryl is like “fuck you, you think we’re BUDDIES?” and negan is like “oh, ok, so you’re gonna be like that too? fanfreakingtastic” and it’s very funny)

anyway. a fat monster zombie escapes its tarp at one point, and tries to eat some npc, and negan saves him, again is like “hey, anyone else realize that this is a FUCKING BAD PLAN?”, and everyone is like “we don’t care, you’re still shitty and we’re not listening to you, and you don’t actually care about random npc i would literally not be able to pick out in a lineup bc his face is so generic, you’re not the boss of us!!!”

it’s at this point that negan finally is like, “why am i even here? bc i know how to get around washington dc? do none of you have a map?” and i was like, “right?! that’s what i said!” 

it’s then revealed that maggie only brought negan along to murder him under the guise of “oops, he got hurt in the line of duty, it wasn’t my fault,” and daryl has this look on his face that says, “i seriously need to stop hanging out with lethal women bent on revenge bc it’s gonna give me high blood pressure,” and maggie has a badass moment where she points a gun she has for some reason at negan and is like “i have like, one shred of human compassion left inside of me, and if you keep pushing me i will fucking kill you without a second thought, so shut the hell up”

(in her defense, negan had just dropped glenn’s name to purposely antagonize her, which was rude as hell)

(for the record, i’m completely on maggie’s side here, but negan still is right that trapping themselves in a metro station is a bad call)

anyway, moving away from that briefly

i think this jump cut happens sooner, i don’t actually remember, but whatever who cares, point is, we get to the part of the show that actually matters, and that’s anything involving my love, juanita “princess” sanchez

and also eugene, yumiko, and ezekiel

they are being asked increasingly invasive questions by commonwealth ppl, some of which i wish they actually would of answered (what do they use to wipe their asses with?? surely toilet paper has long since become extinct)

zeke, who is so much more tolerable as a character now that he’s not larping as a king, has this incredibly weird and sort of sexually charged moment with a dude in an orange stormtrooper costume, where he’s like, “i bet you were an asshole cop back before The Fall, you stupid fascist, #fuckthepolice, mb literally? idk, this moment has a lot of pent up aggression that could easily translate to hate sex, it might just be the intense eye contact, but w/e, let’s just move along,” and then he has a coughing fit to remind the audience that he’s currently dying of cancer, and orange stormtrooper is like “lolz, loser, drink some water you dumb piece of shit”

cut to the wholesome foursome sitting at a picnic table in a guarded courtyard eating gruel, and yumkio, who finally has a personality, and princess are like “hey, this place fucking sucks, can we leave?” and zeke is like, “yeah, i met this orange stormtrooper who i think might be dtf and/or murder, so we should probably bounce”

but eugene is like, “but i want some hot stephanie ass, and also some bullshit excuse about how mb commonewealth will save alexandria” which, they left before things went super downhill, right? idr. it was after hilltop fell, but they don’t know alexandria got fucked either, if i recall? w/e, not important

two seconds after he says this, they talk to some people who are like “we’ve been here for four months, or maybe it’s been nine, i don’t actually remember, i’ve stopped processing the passage of time,” and the wholesome foursome takes this as a bad sign, tho that’s just the life i’ve lived as a night worker during a pandemic, so i was like #mood

but then they watch some guy get dragged away screaming to get “reprocessed” and eugene is like “ok, nvm, let’s bounce”

(my theory on what “reprocessing” is, is that they’re stuck in a room and have to watch hours and hours of customer service training videos on vhs from the 90s)

i definitely got my jump cut scenes mixed up bc i think the negan accusing maggie of a murder plot thing happened in between this scene and then the next commonwealth scene, but w/e, i’ll just finish what happens in the commonwealth arch

the wholesome foursome are trying to hatch a plan to escape, except princess, my love, is distracted watching some stormtroopers flirt, and the other three are like “wtf, dude, how can you even tell any of them apart?” and princess then tells them every stormtroopers backstory bc she is brilliant and pays rly close attention to shit, and the other three are like, “this is useful information, thank you for being an insane person”

their plan involves yumiko and eugene dressing up as stormtroopers and leading princess and zeke out of the place, which works fine actually, except on their way out they come across the Depressing Wall of Probably Mostly Dead Missing Loved Ones

they’re about to leave, when princess is like, “wait, yumiko, you’re on here, that’s weird huh?”

sure enough, yumiko  is on the wall, with a note from ig her sister 

the scene ends with yumiko going, “guys...i can’t leave...i have tragic backstory to unveil”

tragic backstory to be continued ig

back in murder metro town, npc and some other npc have stolen all the supplies, there’s a train blocking the track, and a horde of walkers are coming towards them, so things are not going fantastic

they horde is too big to take down, so they start to climb on top of the train car to get away

but dog runs away!

and daryl, being every pet owner ever, is like “gotta go get my dog, guys, try not to get killed while i’m gone, c u soon!” and he ducks under the train and disappears

#priorities

the episode ends with maggie climbing up the train car but getting grabbed by a walker and dangling off the edge, and negan is there and they have a lion king moment where maggie is like, “scar! help me!” and negan is like “long live the king, bitch” and walks away into the shadows, leaving maggie to a potential death

which, while i know isn’t actually going to happen, would be a really fucking funny move on the writers’ part

like, “look, lauren’s back! and now she’s dead, bet you didn’t expect that!”

anyway

my assumption is negan will actually end up helping her up or something, continuing his ambiguous morality bullshit that actually isn’t ambiguous bc he BEAT GLENN TO DEATH WITH A FUCKING BAT WRAPPED IN BARBED WIRE IN FRONT OF HIS PREGNANT WIFE

the maggie/negan arch is kind of dumb, but whatevs, i’ll tolerate it, as long as my boy glenn gets justice in the end

anyway, cue credits!

final assessment: good episode. i’m much more interested in commonwealth than the reapers, tho i am hoping that daryl’s personality-less ex turns out to be a monster killing machine with no conscience, that’ll be fun. princess is a gift from god. hershel jr needs his own tv show. needs more carol (and caryl)

the end! going back into my walking dead free chamber! see you next episode!

-diz

[bacchanta]

Just random speculations regarding Narcissa and her son Draco

This came up in a chat I had with a friend (fellow Drarry shipper) the other day: how we can interpret Draco’s relation with Harry by looking at some common traits in personality shared by Draco and Narcissa.

Biases declared: have been rooting for Narcissa for no obvious reasons since the last film and will keep doing so. Mostly talking about the books (but the image will inevitably be influenced by Helen McCrory’s portrayal because she is amazing).

Narcissa has always been this somewhat lofty and marginal figure considering the fact that nearly everyone who she is on talking terms serves Voldemort. It is not hard to infer from the books that she is at best indifferent to Voldemort’s cause (unlike her husband Lucius, who, while no zealous disciple of Voldemort, does seem to at least approve of his ideas and takes active parts in realizing some of them). The closest she’s got to helping Voldemort is probably when she urges Draco to identify the trio in the Malfoy Manor, but her presence is soon overshadowed by Lucius and Bellatrix. The fact that she cares to argue with Bellatrix just because the latter is acting a bit harsh towards Draco seems to suggest that Narcissa is much more concerned with the manners of conduct rather than what’s at stake at that moment.

It won’t be too much of an exaggeration to say that, in most of her appearances in the books, she cares about her son the most, while behaving rather indifferently to everything else, and that has motivated her to take some bold actions more than once. Apart from the argument mentioned above (when she’s upset with a full-working-mode Bellatrix just because she’s rude to Draco), she also actively defied Bellatrix in Book 6, when Bellatrix explicitly tries to persuade her against seeking help from Snape. 

Lucius also gets into argument with Bellatrix at times (Ministry of Magic, Malfoy Manor) as the two seems to have a rather strained relationship as colleagues, but it is obvious that Bellatrix, being the fierce and borderline-crazy, powerful witch, is dismissive of Lucius and does not bother to collaborate with or even listen to him at all, considering him to be unreliable and weak. 

However, Bellatrix seems to be much more amiable towards Narcissa, the two being sisters. When Narcissa insists on going to find Snape to help Draco, Bellatrix can only persuade her but not actually stop her. Indeed, when she sees that she cannot persuade her sister, she takes a step back and goes along with her plan, only to make Snape take the oath to secure Naricssa’s plan. This is almost the only time one sees Bellatrix making a concession to someone who isn’t her master and offering to help on top of that.

It’s fair to argue that it’s because the two are sisters. But there is no other hint to suggest that Bellatrix cares for familial bonds in general. She does not seem to care about her husband, nor does she appear to care about her Black lineage. She is also certainly not on friendly terms with her other sister, Andromeda. So why does she seem to have a soft spot towards Narcissa? Why does Narcissa, and Narcissa only, dares to defy her in an attempt that is seen to be reckless and dangerous anyway?

Here’s where one can make some bold speculations (but that’s what fandoms are for). Is it possible that one actually gets a glimpse into the relationship between the sisters in their early years? Is it possible that, Narcissa, being the youngest daughter in an old, hyper-conservative wizard and witch family that is obssessed with their status, is brought up to become somewhat naive and a little spoiled by everyone around her, Bellatrix included? 

Also think of how the youngest daughter in a family is usually portrayed in literature, as JKR’s characterization is at times drawing from such literary stereotypes. Think of Lydia Bennet in Pride and Prejudice, and other Jane Austen novels. These characters are presented to be naive, at times petulent, a little spoiled by their older siblings. Some of them also share the tendency to yearn for uniqueness, something that belongs to them and them only that has nothing to do with the family, something unique that distinguishes them from their siblings.

Narcissa does behave boldly towards Bellatrix, and her plan to save Draco is naive. What’s more important is that, if one is to believe this stereotype in her characterization, Draco, her son, is exactly what she holds onto, as someone who defines a unique but essential part of her, a part that has nothing to do with her family. It is only for Draco that she changes her usual, passive and indifferent attitude and becomes defiant. Values can be spoon-fed to her, families can influence her, and she may take the same stand as those around her without much of a second thought, but when it comes to Draco, she shows an independent, personal agency.

Now Draco’s upbringing will suggest some similarity with Narcissa’s. Spoiled as the only child, but also extensively indoctrinated by his family. One seldom sees any aspect of Draco Malfoy that is not formed because of some external influence - be that of family, of friends (supposedly selected as family acquaintances), or of the environment he stays in. 

Unlike Harry, whose character-building is mostly him encountering various kinds of situations and making choices based on what he believes in and what kind of a person he wants to become, Draco does not have something he personally believes in to begin with. Harry is able to become a strong and kind person because he has a clear idea of who he is, which is not indoctrinated by those around him. But if you take away what might have been taught to Draco by Lucius, by the Slytherins, it does not seem that he has a clear idea of who he is or who he wants to be.

If Narcissa, being this naive, passive youngest daughter of the Black family, shows an independent motivation because of her son, then is there similar representation of Draco?

Or, in other words, has Draco ever made a decision or took an action that is clearly his own decision, and not what he is taught to do?

Here are several examples:

Book 2: Lucius actually does not approve of Draco making Harry an enemy, as he believes that making friends with Harry Potter will be the more reasonable option.

Book 6: wanting to prove himself and rejecting Snape’s help (but he is coerced to accept the task in the first place, and it is clear that he does not want to carry it on when he goes to Myrtle)

Book 7: not exposing Harry to Bellatrix

Two out of three are because of Harry. The decision to hate Harry in the first place is primarily his own decision (even if his father does not approve), and so is the decision to offer the least bit of help.

In that sense, perhaps without himself being aware of it, Harry means to Draco what Draco means to Narcissa: a reason to reject what they have been taught and start to think of what they truly want and believe. As themselves, not as youngest daughter, only son, pureblood.

[divineluce]

A Spirited Discussion || Jasmine & Luce

Timing: Backdated to Early December

Location: The Vural Residence

Tagging: @halequeenjas & @divineluce

Description: Back when Jas was staying at the Vural House, Luce had some questions about ghosts. Who better to ask than someone she’s despised since middle school?

It was entirely unsurprising to Jasmine that Beatrice opened up her home to her. Bea had always kind of been the mom friend and she loved that about her. In a lot of ways, it brought her back to a simpler time. A time where late-night secrets were whispered and hushed laughter was shared. Having lost Bea before, it made those small moments seem that much more precious. It almost completely made up for the fact she was missing her bed and luxury sheets. Almost. She had no appointments this morning, so she found herself alone in the kitchen with coffee Bea had made earlier that morning. She had made herself cozy at the table with her coffee and a muffin when she heard footsteps. She assumed it was Nellie, but was surprised to see Luce joining her at the table. She feigned shock and joked, “What have I done for the ever-elusive Luce to join me for a cup of coffee on this fine Saturday morning?” She thought of throwing in she’d have to add it to her calendar as the anniversary of the day Luce willingly spent some time with her, but she wasn’t going to push her luck.

Luce felt like shit. That had been the vibe for most of her days as of late, so she shouldn’t have been too surprised by it. It only made sense, right? You get talked into killing someone by an angry teenager, you fucking light a bitch up in a back alley and then… you feel like shit. Every night, she was haunted by what she’d done that day, the image of Lydia’s melting skin, wreathed in her fire seared into her mind. Some nights, she stayed awake for as long as she could, trying to put off the nightmares as much as possible. Running a charcoal smeared hand through her hair, Luce tossed the pencil back on her desk. She could smell coffee wafting from the kitchen and she let out a sigh. Maybe that would help her feel less like this. Leaving the mess of swirls and jagged lines, she made her way out to the kitchen and her eyes narrowed when she saw Jasmine. Sitting. In her spot. “Just make yourself at fucking home, I guess.” She muttered under her breath as she grabbed a mug from the cupboard. “Just here for the coffee. You’re an unexpected addition, just like most of the people who wind up sitting here in the morning. ” Luce replied, filling the mug nearly to the brim, with just enough space for a splash of milk. Adam, he’d apparently stayed here for a bit. And Blanche had been here too, Winston a few times, before they’d left town entirely. They were just a fucking pitstop of half the town, weren’t they

Had she been a less secure person, Luce’s disdain toward her might have bothered her. However, Jasmine just had an amused look on her face as she sipped on the coffee. She smirked as she retorted, “Well, Bea did tell me to make myself at home.” With a shrug, she glanced back down at the book she had been reading with her breakfast. She’d still been looking into more powerful destruction exorcisms for Larry Bob. It still made little sense to her that the previous one hadn’t worked. She flipped the book shut and decided she’d rather annoy Luce than herself. “You mean, you’re not here for the delightful company I provide,” she joked with a feigned sense of hurt. Maybe she should let Luce actually get some coffee in her before pissing her off, but where was the fun in that? “I’m kidding, I know for whatever reason you can’t stand me… which rude, but my feelings aren’t hurt. I’d still whack a ghost for you… Vampire shows up you’re on your own though.” 

“Yeah, that’s just shit people say when they’re being polite. You’ve shown enough houses, you should know that by now.” Luce said over the rim of her coffee mug and took a sip. Bea had made the coffee, she could tell. There was something about the way that she brewed it that was just different-- she couldn’t put her thumb on what it was, but it reminded her that this place was home. Grabbing a couple slices of bread from the cabinet, she stuck them in the toaster and pressed the lever down. She’d just make some breakfast and then fuck off back to her room. Luce glanced over at the other woman with an arched eyebrow. “Uh huh, for whatever reason.” She said, reminded of Jas’ continuous presence around their family home when they were growing up. But, her annoyed expression was broken when she heard the other woman’s words. Casting a sidelong look at the book that sat shut on the table, Luce tilted her chin to it. “What’s that? And… what do you mean, whacking a ghost for me?” She asked, cautious.

“I think Bea and I are far past politeness and faux niceties,” Jasmine chided before she took another bite from her muffin that Bea had been all too excited to make. Even the coffee tasted better somehow. It was something she always relished during their monthly brunch dates. Though a small smirk was present on her face, she shook her head. “I said what I said. Not that I’m too bothered, I don’t require anyone’s approval but my own.” She watched the annoyed expression fade from Luce’s face. Was it a surprise there? Did Luce not realize she was an exorcist? Sure, they didn’t talk to each other much, but she assumed Bea or Nell had at least mentioned it before. “You know, like--” she made a whacking motion with her arms like she was hitting a ghost with one of her iron rods. Her features scrunched up with confusion. “Did you not know I’m an exorcist? Who do you think put the wards up here?” 

“You sure fucking don’t.” Luce muttered over her mug, taking a long drink as she waited for the toaster to do it’s thing. If her magic was behaving normally, she’d just take the bread back to her room and toast it there, but… with how it’d be haved when she’d helped Adam dispel the Mortasheen from the beach. She had a feeling that she’d have better lucky shining a magnifying glass to the pieces of bread. No, better to suffer through Jas’ company and leave. As Jas made a swinging gesture, Luce rolled her eyes. “No shit I know you’re an exorcist. I just didn’t think that by exorcising ghosts you were straight up murdering them. I thought it was like… I don’t know, you getting your Jennifer Love Hewitt on.” She said shifting uncomfortably. Was Nadia a ghost? Could she be killed like this? Double killed or whatever?

Jasmine was confused now. Why would Luce think she murdered ghosts? Not that you could really kill what was dead, but she supposed sometimes she did have to actually destroy a soul. “Wait, what do you mean? I don’t murder ghosts. I meant whack is in like literal whacking. With an iron rod to get them to fuck off. Sometimes you’re not always ready for an impromptu exorcism in the middle of a Chili’s or whatever.” She mused further holding her coffee mug close to her, “I guess technically for poltergeists or demons I destroy their souls though one can argue there’s little left of their soul at that point-- For the most part, it’s just forcing ghosts to move on or you know, not hijack someone else’s body.”

“I don’t know how ghost shit works!” Luce said defensively. Because she really fucking didn’t. She’d read the books that Rio had given her-- which, she realized, were still sitting in her room. She should probably give those back to him. That would be one hell of an awkward conversation. “Uh huh, you, in a Chilis. That seems a lot less likely to happen than you double killing a ghost.” She said with a grimace. “Is there any way to get rid of ghosts for good? Or, if someone had been possessed before, does that make them like… extra enticing for poltergeists and shit to get back at them?” She asked. “Like, with the whole hijacking situation, will they just keep coming back to someone they’ve possessed?”

“Yeah, but you know me and should be able to deduce after all these years I’m not a murderer… Though given this is the longest conversation we’ve ever had, I can’t be all that shocked,” Jasmine said with a hint of edge in her voice. Most of the time, Luce’s annoyance with her was amusing, but she didn’t quite like the remark that she was murdering ghosts. They were literally already dead for one. Aside from that, they needed to move on for their own good. If her mug hadn’t been in her hand, her arms would have haughtily crossed over her chest. Instead, she shot Luce a glare to get the point across. “It’s not killing ghosts,” she reiterated before her brows furrowed. Was Luce asking her honest to god questions? There had to be something up. She set her mug down and channeled all the patience she could muster. “Yes, that’s like 90% of what I do. Most people who remain on this plane after they died, died a traumatic death. They have unfinished business that honestly more often than not, has no way of being resolved. That’s where I come in. I get them to move on… albeit with a little bit of exorcism, but unless it’s a destruction exorcism, they move on. Find some peace.” She thought over her answer in reply to possession. Usually those who had a spirit or demon exorcised from them would have some sort of protective measures. “I think a lot of that can vary from person to person. There’s not a hard and fast rule for possession. I think the more strong willed a person is, the more difficult it can be to possess them, but that’s really something that’s only theorized in accounts at best. If someone has had a spirit or demon exorcised from them, typically they learn some protective measures to take. Some ghosts can become very set on a single person I suppose.” She knew Larry Bob continuously had his sights set on her demise. It could make sense if it was a vengeance thing she supposed. The why behind Luce was asking to begin with concerned her. Her gaze softened and she asked, “What’s going on Luce? If you have some sort of ghost problem, I can help.”

Lips pressing together into a tight line, Luce stared down at her coffee mug for a moment. Maybe Jas didn’t seem like a murderer. But, she’d never thought she was one either. Or that Bea or Nell would be killers either. When push came to shove though, they’d chosen one another over the lives of others. And she’d done worse than that, she’d killed without… any real reason. Lifting the mug to her lips, Luce took a long sip as Jas explained what exorcism was, what happened to people who went through it, all of it things that Luce had never heard of. Reading the books from the Scribary, they’d really only given her information from the perspective of hunters, and they deferred to exorcists when it came to ghosts. Outside of a few wards that she’d tried to draw, they hadn’t  provided much in the way of help. At Jas’s question, Luce spoke up slowly, “I don’t  have a ghost problem. Not me personally.” She paused, hands pressed against the warm ceramic of the mug. “Someone I... care about does. Some bitch took over her body years ago but she got rid of her for a while. But now the ghost is back and she pushed her out of her body. They were both there for a while, but she got… shoved out. I didn’t even know that sort of thing was possible.”

As much as Jasmine had tried to bond with Luce over the years, seeing her features filled with anything but snark or disdain brought a sense of worry over here. She knew Luce would hate Jasmine of all people worrying for her and would probably say something about not needing her. It didn’t change the fact she would anyway. They didn’t have to get along swimmingly for her to give a crap about her overall wellbeing. She nodded slowly and set her mug down on the table, “Even if it’s not you personally, I’m still concerned.” So she listened and connected the pieces. How many ghosts in town could there be that were pushing people out of their bodies? Realization showed across her face in the way her eyes narrowed slightly and she let out a soft sigh. “Do you mean Nadia or is there more than one body hijacking ghost pushing people out of their body?” She really, really hoped there was only the one. That was going to be a complicated ritual to perform once let alone twice. Blanche had mentioned there was a lead on it, but her own reading wasn’t promising. She answered gently, “To answer your question, it’s not common. I’ve been researching though the broken arm had me out of commission for a bit. It sounds like this ghost has learned how to wield her power and is very determined to take over that body. It’s possible to get her out and for your friend to repossess her body, but multiple exorcisms like that-- they’re rough on the body. Especially if the ghost is fighting… which if they’re a poltergeist is very likely. So it's fixable, it's just very delicate.”

At the sound of Nadia’s name, Luce shoulders stiffened. She shouldn’t have been surprised that Jas would know, but still. Hearing someone else say her name who knew exactly what was going on with Nadia, it was… as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Only to be replaced by a sharp wave of fear over what Jas’ knowledge of the situation meant. Luce moved to take another sip from her coffee but froze when she heard that body. “It’s not that body. It’s Nadia’s.” Luce said sharply, anger flaring her tone before she could catch herself. Grimacing, the witch set her mug down and stared at the pool of brown liquid for a moment. “So, it can be fixed. That’s,” She paused, trying to process that news. “Something.” It could be fixed. But, delicate? That meant it wasn’t a situation that could be fixed by anything that Luce could do. On a good day, she was about as delicate as a hand grenade. And with her magic as it was right now? Luce stared at the tattooed skin of her knuckles and grimaced. “How do you know about her? Are you trying to help get Nadia back in her body?” I want to help, those were the words she wanted to say. But how could she?

Jasmine noticed the way Luce tensed up. It answered her question before she even said anything though as much only made her more worried about the situation. Though she wouldn’t show it. Luce, for once, needed to have confidence in her. Of course, Luce was already getting snippy and she folded her hands together on the table as if it would hold her together. “Well, you hadn’t confirmed if I was right about the who, so I was trying to be vague. This may come as a shock to you, but seeing as I help people with possession, I’m kind of big on the whole bodily autonomy thing, too.” She saw Luce making an effort to relax herself and almost felt bad for being equally as snappy. Given their usually dynamic, it was more difficult than she would have likely to show patience. She let out a breath and answered, “Yes, it can be fixed. As I said, it’s still a delicate situation. That poltergeist isn’t going to give up her body easily and can cause damage on the way out.” It was true. There was also the risk of the poltergeist completely wrecking Nadia’s body on the way out. Even if that wasn’t the case, she may still be weakened. “I’ve met Nadia’s ghost and we talked for a bit. I also ended up meeting the exorcist who originally tried to get the ghost out of her body. He’s young-- bit off more than he could chew there. I wish I met him sooner so I could have taken the wheel, but that’s not how things work. So now, I’m doing a ton of research to ensure the ritual doesn’t kill Nadia. Though someone else mentioned there was another lead, but didn’t get any information, so I’m not sure if someone else is working on it.” 

Gritting her teeth together, Luce ran a hand through her hair, pulling her fingers through a few of the tangles. She’d never liked Jas. Never liked any of Bea’s friends, never really wanted to get to know them, never really cared to play nice with them. Which made this conversation all the more difficult. It was hard enough knowing that Jas was usually a smug bitch, but the fact that Jas was literally the only person she knew who could deal with this was something else. Blanche might be able to see ghosts, but the kid wasn’t an exorcist. And she was just that, a kid. Luce had already asked too much of her when Bea had died. She didn’t need to put more on her plate. Taking a steadying breath, Luce nodded “Sorry.” It was a word she rarely offered, but she needed Jas’ help. “You’ve met her? Y-you’ve--” Luce’s words caught in the back of her throat and she took the moment to take another deep drink from her mug. Fuck. Jas was trying to help. She was trying to fix things. “Who else knows about this? I want to help. If I can. I don’t know how much I can do but… If I can, I want to.”

Hearing “sorry” come from Luce was a shock in and of itself. Jasmine had always thought she’d be much more satisfied when this moment came. Given the circumstances, she could hardly be too smug about it. Someone Luce cared about was in an awful situation. There was no relishing in that. Not with any sort of good conscience anyway. She let out a soft sigh and softened her features. Brows no longer scrunched together and eyes offering more in the way of understanding. “It’s fine,” she said softly in a way that felt so foreign to her normal conversations with Luce. “I have, yes. Entirely on accident, but she seemed as okay as she could be given the circumstances.” It felt important to let Luce know that. It was even more of a surprise she was offering her help. “If you’re up for some reading, I could use some help getting through the books. I ultimately want to minimize the risk of the ritual taking a potentially fatal toll on her body.” 

Luce’s shoulders had squared slightly, prepared to face some kind of gloating comment. But, it never came and instead, Jas was reassuring her. She hated this. She hated feeling like Jas was pitying her, like she was weak. But, Luce was weak. This wasn’t her element and she had no real power to do anything in this situation. And even if she had power, had her flame fully at her disposal to channel around her, what then? She couldn’t burn a ghost out of a body. Her magic was destruction and little more than that. Staring at the counter top, Luce took in the other woman’s words mutely. The relief she felt at her words, though, it washed over her in a calming wave. It confirmed what she’d heard from Nadia that night, when she’d seen her in the mirror of her scrying mirror. That the other woman was out of immediate danger. At least for now. Head jerking up at Jas’ offer, Luce blinked. “Reading? I-- sure. Yeah, I can do that.” A fatal toll. Luce didn’t want to think about that possibility, as though even the act of thinking about it would bring it into reality. “I can help.” She could help. If Luce could help bring Nadia back safely into her body, maybe there was hope for her. Maybe there was more to her than just… ruin. She had to try.

[princeescaluswords]

I legitimately just saw someone talk about how they don’t like Teen Wolf and couldn’t even get through the first episode but “absolutely adore” Steter and I’m just so tired.

I’m not surprised that you’re tired.

It’s at this point that I’m supposed to insert a disclaimer that I think it’s okay to ship Steter.  And I do think it is Okay.  I’ve read Steter stories that I’ve enjoyed and found compelling, and I know a lot of Wonderful People who ship Steter for various reasons.  

But there are people out there who ship Steter and are truculent about it.  People like the lovely individual whom you mentioned above, who had to have known that boasting about how they love Steter but can’t stand the show even a little bit must have come across like the power-nerd who sits next to you in the cinema and picks apart the movie while you’re trying to enjoy it.  

Look, it’s common sense that there are different types of ships connected to a show:  canon ships where romance happened on the screen; canon-supported ships, where a relationship might have happened and there was romantic banter; canon-neutral ships, where there is no romance happening on the screen but nothing was in the way of it; and canon-hostile ships, where the characters literally hate each other and seek to kill or inflict permanent harm. 

I think it’s safe to say that Steter is a canon-hostile ship.   No protagonist hated Peter Hale as much as Stiles Stilinski did to the point that he literally grew angry with Scott because Scott still had hope for Peter’s rehabilitation.   While Stiles could be rude and dismissive of anyone and everyone, Stiles took joy in Peter’s suffering and never hesitated to remind him of that to his face, even when he wasn't helping burn Peter alive.   Yes, there’s an argument that Stiles recognized similarities between himself and Peter, but there’s no possible argument that Stiles saw that as common ground.  Instead, I think it’s fair to say that Stiles hated Peter because he saw the similarities between them.

And as for Peter, Peter could be sweet when he wanted to manipulate Stiles, but most of the time he was openly contemptuous of him.   Again, I think this comes from recognizing that Stiles is like him but rejects it.   Then there’s also the two times that Peter encompassed Stiles’s death -- in Night School (1x07) and Smoke & Mirrors (4x12), but what’s a little indiscriminate murder attempts among would-be lovers.

Again, none of this is insurmountable. Even my own concerns about the power differential between the characters is not an insurmountable problem.  

But there are people who don’t recognize any problem at all with shipping two characters who hate and tried to kill each other without addressing the whole thing.   Most of the time, I think it’s because they’re not shipping Stiles with Peter, they’re shipping themselves with Peter.   Stand-In-with-a-Stiles-Name-Tag doesn’t have a problem with the memory of Lydia bleeding out on the lacrosse pitch because Stand-in-with-a-Stiles-Name-Tag doesn’t care about Lydia at all.  So it’s the same with the Night School terror or the Berserker shenanigans.  Or a person who ships Steter but hasn’t watched more than half an episode.

At this point, someone might ask -- if they ship Steter and don’t care about the majority of the show, why do they ship Steter?   Because they’re not really shipping Stiles and Peter -- they’re shipping their insecure stand-in with a ruthless older monster who is sexy and funny.  The innocent blood on his hands doesn’t bother them; instead, it delights them.  Because the monster is only a monster to everyone else; he loves them (and only them) and will kill for them without a slightest hesitation.  They just happen to use Ian Bohen and Dylan O’Brien as face claims.

And that’s fine, but they’re so aggressive about it because they can’t escape the truth that other people judge them for their fantasies and they’re not brave enough to own up to the toxicity of those fantasies.  (And there’s nothing wrong with them being judged, because they chose to make them public.)  Wanting to see a damaged killer redeemed and find love seems to be publicly laudable; it’s compassionate and optimistic.  Even writing about a damaged killer and the person they love failing to get over their past is realistic and insightful.  But that’s not their goal -- their goal is for the damaged killer to remain a damaged killer, a violent and deadly monster, who treats all others as obstacles or meat or fools, save for the Stand-In, regardless of the harm it does.   Society has frowned on fulfilling your desires through pain and loss inflicted on others, imagined or otherwise, since forever, but to them, that’s unfair.

So they come out swinging.  They malign the canon or they unleash a flood of unjustified moral equivalence.   And yet, if you persist in suggesting that there might be something off about how they choose to publicly celebrate a fictional mass murderer, they complain about censorship where there is none or attach an agenda to your actions beyond concern.  Yet in their aggression, they reveal themselves to have other problems as well.  The focus of their aggression overwhelmingly tends to be characters of color -- Scott’s the problem even though it is Allison, Malia, and Lydia who were far more angry with Peter, while Scott heals Peter and holds out hope for Peter even after his treachery.  Deaton is Peter’s nemesis, even though it was Derek or the Sheriff who most often attacked Peter.   Most of the time, women are not present.   Wealth is portrayed as a virtue in and of itself.  If you don’t believe me, read a bit.  You will.

And constantly, virulently, there is obnoxious grievance.  “Why don’t you leave me alone?” as they come on other people’s posts and blogs in order to make vicious comments.  “Why don’t you leave me alone?” as they publish fiction where they murder characters of color for not bowing to white people.  “Why don’t you leave me alone?” as they continually swoon over meet-cutes that could be excerpts from a Sexual Predator’s Guide to Successful Hunting.

But at least they didn’t watch the show.  (I label this anti steter and anti steter stans as a courtesy; as I have said before, not all steter shippers are like this.)

[homenum-revelio-hq]

Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Taylor!

You have been accepted for the role of non-biography character LYDIA AVERY with the faceclaim of Margot Robbie! We were excited to see your discussion of nice doesn’t always equal right and how Lydia’s motivations throughout her life stem from this constant need to be liked. We love a good underestimated character and we think Lydia will be able to help the Order immensely with her knowledge! So happy to have you apart of this roleplay!  

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: Taylor

AGE: 28

TIMEZONE: EST, Toronto time

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I try to check the dash and discord every day, but I’m probably low to mid activity. I usually post one or two times during the week and then catch up on the weekends.

ANYTHING ELSE: I’m pretty good about all triggers, though I would appreciate a heads up with any suicide mentions. As long as it’s tagged or I’m prepared I’m good though!

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Lydia Augustine Avery

AGE: 25

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Cis Female, She/Her & Lesbian

That doesn’t mean she won’t flirt with a man to boost their ego. Men treat you so much nicer when they think you might sleep with them! Sometimes she wonders why that is, but then she remembers it’s probably one of the reasons she loves women so damn much.

Her sexuality was never exactly a secret, though it’s not something she flaunts in this day and age. Though as a teenager she had been a bit confused about her lack of interest in the men who thought she was so lovely. The hands she’d let grope her as a teenager, the cocks she’d found mediocre. She figured that her preference was as fluid as her personality; she wanted to be liked by everyone, and therefore she must like everyone, right? It took her a minute (she’s a bit slow in most things), but eventually she realized that she really only liked women. They’re truly lovely, aren’t they?

BLOOD STATUS: Pureblood Half-blood.

Lydia’s mixed wix and muggle heritage means that she is not biologically related to the mother that raised her, Colette Avery, and is a half sister to Margaret. But while Lydia knew she was a bastard child, she didn’t realize she was a half-blood! Even Colette was unaware until recently that her husband was unfaithful with a dirty muggle of all things! Alphonse’s affair lasted more than a few weeks while travelling with a woman in France named Delphine Marchand. She worked in a bakery and loved to figure skate. Her pureblood father knows nothing of her muggle mother’s heritage, or much of her history in general - and when she finds out he gives Lydia next to nothing in terms of knowledge of her mother, in fear that Lydia would have the urge to venture into the muggle world he saved her from to find her.    

HOUSE ALUMNI: Slytherin

“What? A nice girl like you, you’re not from Slytherin!”

“Slytherins can be nice! I take offense to that, sir.” Lydia grins back, her face not showing an ounce of what she claimed - though she had a skill for always appearing unflustered and approachable. A thick skin was needed when you were kind to everyone, a strength that people often forgot. The man takes her charm as flirting, a common occurrence and leans against her desk.

“Really, I can’t name a single Slytherin I’ve known for being so sweet.”

“Well then you haven’t been hanging around the right people. Besides, now you know me!”

ANY CHANGES: Nope

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

Without knowing Lydia you may assume she’s unapproachable. The perfect poise, plush pout, sacred name, and during school her emerald green banner colours, tend to give the stereotypical impression of a mean girl. But Lydia Avery is far from it.

One of Lydia’s key goals in life is to be liked, and in her experience growing up, the best way to be liked is to be kind. She genuinely enjoys making people happy, and through this has gained a warmth and a charm that disarms many. Not a stranger to compliments or generous acts, she’s the first to make a pot of tea for a group or start doing dishes as a guest.

Many have taken advantage of Lydia through the ages, as along with her kindness she has a dislike for confrontation and will rarely call someone out as being rude or manipulative. In her teenage years she was the seat warmer or the errand runner, and as a secretary for a powerful Ministry man she hasn’t really grown out of this just yet. There’s a meekness to her willingness to do someone else’s dirty work, and she’s easily talked into situations that she might not be if she had a stronger backbone.

Despite her lack of confrontational skills, she’s grown a thick skin. A bit of I’m rubber and you’re glue inner philosophy, she tends to take words as just words. With snarky comments given to her over the years from her “mother” Colette she has an inner belief that insulting people don’t actually dislike you and almost anyone can be won over. It’s naive, but it’s helped her stay relatively optimistic! While insults like Lydiot are demeaning and she definitely doesn’t like them, she’s a fantastic actress and it rarely shows on her face when she’s upset or thinking negative thoughts. Her self-consciousness is internal and there’s power in appearing unphased by cruelty (though some may think she’s just too dim to understand it was insulting in the first place - and to be frank, sometimes that is the case).

This ability to hold a facade is one of her greatest strengths. Lydia has been acting her entire life! A family secret since she was born, allowing Colette to bounce snarky underhanded comments at her with the appearance that she was unphased has set her up as unexpectedly valuable. She’s able to charm the right people, and quietly observe unnoticed. She’s able to keep a straight face with a creep’s hand on her knee, and recite lines without stumbling. Her charm, mixed with her attractiveness, work as a glamour and despite being someone in the room that almost everyone notices - most of the time she’s hidden in plain sight.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

Alphonse Avery, Father - Shopkeep, A Very Spellbinding Book Shop

Alphonse Avery is a proud man. Not because of his riches, but because he’s built what he has from the ground up, no thanks to his drunken, gambling father. Raised in a wealthy home, he remembers what it was like to be waited on by house elves and invited to banquets, but also recalls losing it all during his days in Hogwarts. Sometimes he is even still bitter about it all, he often butts heads with his father whom he rarely speaks with anymore, and sometimes with his brother Albrecht who still puts Lydia’s grandfather in high regards. Though he isn’t a muggle sympathizer, Alphonse thinks there’s more than just pure blood that makes someone worth looking up too.

Colette Avery, Step-mother - Shopkeep , A Very Spellbinding Book Shop

Colette is not an unreasonable woman. Honorable even, raising the outcome of her husband’s affair. She loves her husband, but it wasn’t to say they always saw eye to eye. Their marriage was an arranged one, and therefore they don’t particularly show the chemistry expected of a loving partnership, but when it comes to supporting her family she’ll do what’s best for them. Even when Lydia is looking up at her with blue eyes that don’t match their own, a sharp reminder that at one point in her life she hadn’t been good enough. She’s curt with Lydia, and never shies away from constructive criticism or feels the need to sugarcoat. The fawning she does over Minnie is something Lydia has always longed for growing up and when she can please Colette it’s a good day.

Margaret “Minnie” Avery, Half Sister

Minnie has alway been the pet of the family. Colette’s true born daughter, the favourite, the rightful Avery. While this might make any other person resent their sister, Lydia adores her little sister. While others may call her mousey in her looks, she’s wickedly smart and can always make Lydia laugh with her slightly dark humour. She has the same eye for politics, but while Lydia had always been one for schmoozing, Minnie never bothered and instead has always had a sense of self worth that Lydia has been proud of her sister for.

Albrecht Avery, Uncle - Death Eater

Alphonse’s younger brother. A true believer in his father’s beliefs that everything bad that has ever happened to them is because of muggles or muggle borns, and doesn’t understand Alphonse’s lack of sympathy towards his father. It wasn’t a crime to gamble, after all! The mudblood that won their family fortune was a no good, rotten thief. He had to have cheated, after all. How else could he have won that game? No way he’d been more talented or intelligent then an Avery! While Albrecht and Alphonse don’t always see eye to eye, Lydia has known her Uncle Al her entire life. Loud, outgoing, demeaning, and cunningly cruel with underhanded compliments. Lydia and her sister have rarely felt comfortable around their uncle - who found the fact that his brother had daughters just another point to why he’d done better than him.

Arcturus Avery, Cousin - Presumed Death Eater

Arcturus and Lydia were always the closest in age. She’s always seen him as the closest thing to a brother she’s ever had, and when she finally reached the age to attend Hogwarts she’d been delighted that she’d made it into his house too! Her older cousin always had the confidence of his father, and as he aged, his bossiness grew more and more. He knew all of the tricks to get Lydia to do his bidding - though it didn’t take much really - and his treatment of her resembles gaslighting. Cute nicknames one moment, insults the next. Building her up just to knock her down. Leaving her out of the fun just to make her want to be included. As she’s aged she’s grown less comfortable with his values, but she doesn’t realize that Arcturus or his father are Death Eaters.

Delphine Marchant, Biological mother - Muggle

There’s not much to be said about Lydia’s birth mother. She doesn’t know anything really at all. The woman is a faceless entity, but Alphonse has been smitten in his short time trying to woo the french woman in the bakery, who always smelled of cinnamon. She doesn’t remember Alphonse, or even Lydia - for he’d done her a kindness and wiped her memory clean before stealing her child.

OCCUPATION:

Formerly a washed out actress, she now works in the Ministry as part of the Wizengamot Administrative Services as secretary for the honourable Wizengamot Judge Perryweather, a member of the High Court of Magic

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

It’s all so new and fresh, she’s barely a member - still in the affiliate stage. This is the closest Lydia has ever been to having a mind of her own and standing up for her beliefs. Honestly, this is the closest Lydia has had to realizing she truly has beliefs! It hasn’t fully clicked what exactly she’s doing and what sort of risk she’s taking. That being said, I think she’s going to be intoxicated by the sudden realization that she can make choices and have thoughts that don’t simply parrot what she thinks other people want to hear, and when that starts to unravel who knows what’s going to happen??  

That being said, it’s going to take something big for people to take Lydiot Avery seriously in The Order!

SURVIVAL:

Lydia is lucky enough to have a good family name and a Ministry job. Her heritage is a secret, and as Judge Pennyweather’s beloved secretary she’s practically invisible. She resides in a small studio flat in London, not far from the Ministry where she lives alone and sometimes

RELATIONSHIPS: I’m not exactly sure what people have in mind but here are a few possible ideas!

Maurice Creevey

A person who is practically the opposite of people-pleasing Lydia, it was Maurice’s pirated broadcasts that brought the fact that there was truly a rebellion fighting against everything that is happening without waiting for the slow-moving and corrupt bureaucracy. Lydia rarely says anything that might upset anyone, but when she meets the muggleborn who fights it all with words broadcasted out to the world she can’t help but like a moth to a flame. She could learn a lot, but it also might get her burned.

Branwen Yaxley

Branwen scares the shit out of Lydia. In your face, opinionated and bigotted, she’s not exactly Lydia’s cup of tea. Her worst fear is that Branwen (or anyone really) truly finds out about her muggle mother, but it doesn’t stop her from treating the woman with the same kindness and showers her with the same amount of compliments that everyone receives. Though Lydia’s sure that one of these days a comment on how lovely her hair looks today might end her up with a black eye.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS:

I don’t have any particular ships in mind, but I’m personally open to anything. Lydia is a sucker for attention, and takes any form of it as good. She wants to be liked by as many people as possible, which means she’s a bit of a pushover and can be easily taken advantage of. I’d love to see this either taken advantage of, or for once someone to stick up for her and show her that she’s worth more. Or both? Both is good! I’m down for it all. Unrequited love, heartbreak, fluff (though not too much fluff that’s boring!)

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

Despite the new found information that Lydia is not actually a pureblood, she has lived her entire life with the privilege of being one. A strong family name means something in wizarding Britain and up until recently she could stay safely on the sidelines without worrying about who won the war. She’d still be safe and sound no matter what. But now her sense of self is dwindling even further, fragile as it already was with the title of bastard in her mother’s eyes, Lydia is now seeing the world as what it truly is - and realizing why her father had kept it such a secret for so long. Not even his family would really understand, would they?

And while Lydia is kind to everyone she meets, it doesn’t necessarily mean she’s always understood her privilege and can be rather dim in the area of realizing how truly well-off she’s been all of these years. Her Slytherin school mates, mixed with her pureblood family, and her lack of heroic or confrontational nature means that up until now she’s never stood up for her beliefs - and she’s been in a place where she’s never had to really have them. It’s selfish, that she’s suddenly turning to the “good guys” as a mix of self-preservation and a realization that there are no innocent bystanders. This war affects everyone, and she had to be a sudden target to realize it.

Also, unrelated to blood, but Lydia has always had the privilege of being pretty. It’s vain, she knows, but as far as she is concerned listening to a pretty girl try and be humble about their looks makes you want to punch them in the nose - so she isn’t going to point at hidden pores or say she needs to lose weight when she knows she doesn’t. Lydia learned very early into puberty that there is a sort of power in being attractive. People like you more, it’s just a simple fact, and Lydia wants to be liked! And so she’s always used this key attribute to her advantage. Batting her eyelashes, sending a splendid smile, and maybe wearing a low cut top if she really wanted to distract you. It’s unfortunate, and she doesn’t believe she’s really more valuable than anyone else for it, but hey! If it works, it works.

And history told her, it usually did. Sometimes too well. Lydia’s keen ability to read a room and be able to charm people sometimes works a little too well, and men often can’t keep their eyes off of her assets. While she sometimes uses this to her advantage, it’s also fairly revolting that many men treat a woman more kindly if they’re attractive. They’re pigs. And while she doesn’t think all men are that way, she’s met enough to be wary of them until they prove their respectability!

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO?

The most job interview of job interview questions! I’m just looking forward to being in a group that I’ve been told is so creative, fun and accepting. I’ve heard nothing but good things for months but wanted to make sure I had an idea for a character that would give me the muse to do this place justice!

PLOT DROP IDEAS:

Lydia isn’t the type of person to see her value in a fight or organization like the Order’s, so I don’t see her as being a fully fledged member right away. Her just trying to reach out to someone being like “Hey, I know a thing! Maybe it will help!” is a big step for her, so I think it might be a gradual initiation that makes her a full member after a few intel drop offs.

That being said, I think once she’s done a few intel drop offs, Lydia gets hooked on being valuable and important and having morals and beliefs, and I would love for her to prove her worth or someone to challenge her place. Lydia is not someone you automatically see as valuable or a team member worth having so making her step out of her comfort zone and show her worth in a situation like that would be super fun! Risky initiation anyone??

ANYTHING ELSE? Nope!

EXTRA FOR NON-BIO CHARACTERS:

PAST:

Lydia Avery has almost always had a secret. From the day she was born, her secret had been kept; or as her father would put it, their family secret. You see, while her father Alphonse loved his wife Colette dearly, it did not mean that he had always been faithful. So when he brought home a beautiful baby girl one stormy evening from his ventures in France - freshly plucked from her mother’s arms (a well casted obliviate to spare her from the heartache) - Colette was less than enthused.

“She’s an Avery!” Her father had argued. His duty to take care of his own. Colette allowed it, she was a reasonable woman after all, and wouldn’t flaunt the embarrassment of infidelity. Therefore Lydia was raised as Colette’s child, and the rest of the world knew nothing different - but as much as she wasn’t a cruel woman, Colette also didn’t want Lydia to believe that she was hers. And so Lydia, and eventually her half-sister, had always been aware of where she’d come from and that no one else should know.

Lydia’s childhood wasn’t an unhappy one - she adored her sister, and until school longed for nothing because she didn’t know anything was missing from their home on the side streets of Diagon Alley. At least nothing material. It was her “mother” who Lydia longed to impress, overly eager to please Colette in an attempt to gain maternal love. It came easy to Margaret, the polite, quiet & smart girl who never had to lie about whose womb she came from. Colette’s affection for her real daughter was like any mother’s, and Lydia would do anything to gain the same. Set the table, clean the dishes, lay her slippers at her feet. It wasn’t expected, but when she could gain a smile from Colette it was worth it! She loved making people happy, and when she made people happy, they liked her back.

People pleasing became a trait that eventually embodied Lydia, and by the time she was at school, she was eager as ever to make friends. Her passion for people to like her was her greatest ambition, and it landed her into Slytherin. Despite her lack of new robes or fancy jewellery, even for the most inconsiderate people it was hard not to like Lydia’s happy-go-lucky energy - but it also allowed her to be taken advantage of quite a bit. The pushover of the group, she was often the friend who went to save seats in class or for dinner, or fetch forgotten items that weren’t even hers in the common room.

While some of her housemates were cunning enough to use Lydia to their full advantage, her friendliness didn’t center around just them, and many of her other classmates didn’t mind her company or a friendly hello! She had a knack for making them feel special, noticing things like their artistic abilities or the lovely colour of their hair or jumper. She was also smart enough to distance herself from her friend’s bad behaviour. While Lydia didn’t excel at school (something her mother would later blame on her heritage), she’d inherited a keen eye for personal politics - and could do simple math. Most of the school (and world) liked Gryffindors, and so despite Slytherins disliking Gryffindors, she didn’t need them to dislike her back. Especially if it would mean other people would dislike her too!

And so as the years passed, she became good at slipping away or keeping her distance when her cousin Arcturus would snark insults to young muggleborns, or the other kids would pick on the Hufflepuffs. Not noticeably of course, and she wasn’t any hero who’d come to their aid - she didn’t need that target after all. No she was simply neutral, because if she was neutral then no one could dislike her, could they?

PRESENT:

One of Lydia’s great loves in magical London was the infamous Moonlight Theatre. With moving pin-ups of glamourous actors and actresses, theatre elves ushering fabulously dressed couples to their seats, and wonderfully acted performances of “Walburga & Hortense, A Tragedy In Three Parts” and “Death of a Broomsmaker”, Lydia was intoxicated.

And some of the casting agents were intoxicated by her as well. A Marylin Monroe-esque soft and breathy voice, doe-eyes and an hourglass figure, some thought Lydia was made for an audience. Even her charm translated to the stage! What better career for a woman wanting to be adored then that of one in the spotlight?

But while Lydia had been willing to kiss a few frogs, and let men do what they want with her in her younger years - the pushover side of Lydia Avery grew a bit more and more of a spine as she aged. Lydia didn’t want to let every man’s hands wander, or go on dates with the director so that he could show her off on his arm and push her into bed later that night. She wanted to steal kisses from her co-star Tabitha Bradford and slip her own hands under her skirt with permission. She wanted lipstick stains on her skin, and the smell of fresh perfume instead of cologne.

And when she finally stood up for herself, she was left re-casted and jobless - her reciprocated crush suddenly silent in fear for her own unemployment.

“It’s for the best.” Her father says, never liking the sight of his eldest daughter’s moving pictures on theatre posters or the odd tabloid. It’s the first time Lydia truly gets angry with him in a long time, another parent who isn’t proud of her, but the spat causes a slip-up that stops the girl in her tracks. “It’s better that you keep yourself out of their heads! No reason to pry, no need for them to find out what you are.”

A half-blood. Dirty. The affair he’d claimed was with at least a witch wasn’t that at all! Even Colette was unaware that while he was dilly-dallying about in his younger years, it hadn’t just been with another woman. It had been with a muggle woman. A pretty girl who worked in a bakery and knew nothing of his life back home with magic.

“A harmless romp.”, Alphonse claimed, but the look in his eyes was one with shame and a bit of confusion. Even he doesn’t fully believe it but when Lydia begs to know more he pushes her away. Force he’s never used on her before. “Get it out of your head! It’s nothing. You’re a witch and if anyone asks your blood is pure. You’re my daughter and that should be good enough.”

It’s the last they speak of it. It’s for her protection, after all. Before she thought this half-secret she’d lived all her life was for pride. At least part of it is. For Colette to not have to explain to her circle what she’d lacked. But truly he’d done it to protect her, hadn’t he? Stolen her away from the family her grandfather would loathe. He’dhidden her with a shiny pureblood status to stop those like her uncle from erasing her completely.    

Eventually she finds a position she’s good at. Simple work, taking notes and fetching lunch and running errands for Judge Perryweather. A very important man, so she was told! A person who knows all the ins and outs at the ministry, and therefore Lydia has learnt quite a few things sitting at the desk in front of his office. A smile always on her face and a kind word to the right person, and they tended to tell her things she really wasn’t supposed to know. Who was having an affair, policies they were trying to push, charged witches and wizards they had on trial. From the delivery wix to the other judges, they all know her now and she knows them! And while she’s not exactly cunning, she isn’t as dim as everyone makes her out to be! She knows when to smile and charm, when to be quiet and listen, when to pretend to be invisible. It’s an interesting job, in an interesting place - and maybe if someone saw her potential she could be useful with everything that’s happening lately.

But then again, she’s not going to overstep if she’s unwanted in that area. It’s not as if someone would ask Lydia about anything. Why would they expect her to be an expert on Perryweather’s close friendship with Lucius Malfoy, or the fact that, despite him being a proud, public supporter of the Ministry of Magic, every 2 weeks an envelope filled with gallons and a list of Muggle Sympathizers names landed on her desk for her boss.

And if she offered the unwanted information, well who would take someone like her seriously?

FC CHOICES: Margot Robbie please! If she doesn’t work Blake Lively or Meghann Fahy

[angelcorebabyowo]

Title: Honeydew

Warnings: Brief mention of suicidal thoughts

Summary: Lydia, Johann and edward get ready for a party and it's all OOC because yeah

"I don't even want to go!" Johann complains adjusting his poet's shirt and flopping down into the window bench with a huff as Lydia just as quickly starts to brush through his unkempt hair, he even closed his eyes whenever the strokes got gentler. He typically didn't go to parties unless he was performing and he, sadly, wasn't invited to do that this time. Honestly, the only reason he agreed to go was that it was considered rude to ignore an invitation from the mayor so he felt as if there wasn't really even a choice. Maybe he should just fake sick to get out of it, that wouldn't be all that bad, just a simple little head cold.

He sighs softly and leans back into his sister so that he wasn't jerked around as much, he was a bit tender-headed so it made it easier on both of them now that he wasn't wincing every three seconds. "It'll be perfectly fine babes, don't stress so much. You'll get gray hairs if you do it too much." Lydia warned with a small grin, her unnaturally sharp canine teeth looking unnatural amongst the normal ones. A few years ago she dragged everyone into sharping them but she continues to do it every time they run down even slightly. It would be weird if she didn't make it look so damn good " Although I bet you'd love that, huh?"

"Oh, you better believe it" Johann joked sticking just the tip of his tongue out of his mouth by habit. That wasn't a lie, he always fantasized about the thought of having grayish-silver hair at a young age and everyone in the family knew it and would make fun of him at every chance they could. He knew it wouldn't be a good look or actually enjoy it but it still made him laugh every time so he didn't really think that far ahead on the subject. His dad had gone completely grey by the time he was 30 and Edward, his brother, was starting to already so signs of it at the ripe age of 16 so it was possible that he could develop early on as well. "Could you imagine me being completely grey by my 20th birthday? You'd have to start calling me sir in a sign of respect!"

"You get no respect, none" Lydia laughs and stops brushing Johann's hair for a quick second before starting to do the very loose twist with her fingers. It was one of the easiest hairstyles she knew that could be done in half an hour or less. "Put it in a bun or just leave it down? Either way, it's getting twisted because I've already started."

"Maybe in a bun? " He mumbles leaning more onto the window and looking out at the city the setting sun was hitting just perfect to cast a somewhat orange and pink glow on the tops of certain buildings.  He assumed his apartment complex was one of them do to the height alone. He sometimes wanted to just sit on the ledge and watch the sunset that way, one false mood and he would plummet ten stories down before landing in the pool below. He wondered if he'd still be alive by that point. 

"A buns always a safe option." She whispers interrupting his thoughts and gently putting his hair in a bun before taking a step back to look at her handiwork "Its a little high but I think you should be good. That way it's nearly a safe bet, not one person would recognize you." 

"Do you think Avi would still recognize me though?" Johann questions as he looks into the vanity mirror and puts on a fix inspired mask. He forgot why he picked a fox, maybe do to their cunning abilities or something along those lines. He'd picked it out when he first got the invitation weeks ago so all memories seemed to just fade from him. 

"Avi would recognize you even if you didn't have a face or hair, now stop being a love-stuck puppy and both of you finish getting ready. " Edward interrupts walking into the room. How no one heard him walking down the hall with the obnoxiously loud heels was beyond everyone. He was also wearing his mask already. A cream scaled one with a few black scales mixed into it as it added ' Flavor '

'Snake' was the first thing that came to Johann's mind whenever he first saw it all those weeks ago, and even today his mind couldn't stop from going to that place no matter how many times Edward insisted it was a dragon inspired one. Johann still wondered what kind of snake it would even be, maybe just a simple corn snake. Edward wasn't that mean, after all, he wouldn't pick something venomous after all. 

"I am ready." Johann insists pointing to his outfit, the only thing he had to do was change into some dress pants and he'd be off to go.

"I was talking about both of you. More specifically Miss. "I'll do it later" over there," Edward says, he had a point after all. Lydia wasn't even remotely ready to go at that point. Her hair was pulled into an over-the-top and eye-drawing hairstyle and her nails were done to perfection, but other than that her clothes were just basic pajamas "go get dressed before we leave you at home." 

Lydia smirks before patting Edward on the cheek in a taunting manner. "Talking mad shit for someone who got his license suspended."

"Johann can! Right, you can still drive?" Edward questions flopping down onto Johann's bed with a loud sigh as the bed creaks under the new weight. He winced at the sound but overall didn't say anything about it. 

"I'm 15 years old and haven't even taken the exam yet" 

"Didn't ask how old or if it was legal just asked if you knew how."

"I refuse to let either one of you drive my car," Lydia says before walking out of the room to actually go get ready knowing that the other two would actually leave her behind. 

"Our car!" Edward calls before leaning over and closing the door fully and sighs loudly again before laying up against the headboard already messing up his golden capelet and neon blue shirt. He really couldn't stand not being the center of attention for a single second, he always dressed like that so it wasn't that far of a bet after all. "We have ten minutes before it starts but you know the saying-"

"Arriving fashionably late is better than arriving on time, shows how little you care."  Both of them say at the same time although while Edward sounds cheerful Johann just sounds even more tired then he always does as if he was trying to drag it out for as much as he possibly could. Johann sat at the vanity trying to figure out how he was going to cover up the bags under his eyes that, even with the mask, were extremely prominent. he eventually just settled on leaving them there as it seemed to add character to the entire look. (He was going for a renaissance era poet who just lost his husband due to some mysterious illness. He seemed to actually be hitting all of the points except for the crying but no way was he going to cry in front of people.)

They sat in silence now, it wasn't awkward, in fact, it was more comfortable than anything. Edward was doing something on his phone and Johann was trying not to have a panic attack because he was actually going through with this while struggling to fit pants that were a little too tight on. Alright, so maybe it wasn't all that comfortable but it was close enough to it. 

After about 20 minutes Lydia rushed in with a smile wearing bother her outfit and mask on. It was a multi-colored short yet puffy dress that fell off the shoulders and a mask that looked suspiciously like a peacock with the number of feathers that seemed to be hastily glued on. "All they had at the store was the plain ones so I had to glue the feathers and sequins on myself so now it looks as if a 3-year-old designed it!" she complained before going over to Edward and promptly laying down on top of him with an over the top sigh. "Woe is me."

"Well whose fault is that L? We offered you to come with us weeks ago but Noooo, you needed to wait till the last second like some sort of troublemaker," Edward says pushing her off and then promptly standing up and rubbing his eyes slightly and throws the keys he had been hiding in his pockets to Lydia with a pout. 

"Off we go come along little children!" Lydia says before walking out the door again, the sound of her boots echoing through the mostly empty hall. The only thing in them was a few paintings of fruit painted in over the top and crazy colors and a single statue at the end of the hall that they won at an auction a few years ago for like a thousand dollars,

It wasn't worth it.

"We're the same age!" Johann argues running after her trying to put on some of his slip-on shoes as he walked. It didn't fit the look but no way was he also going to wear heels, that was pushing it too far for him at best. 

"Stairs or Elevator?" Edward askes whenever all three make it out of their apartment building and into the main hallway "I'm taking the stair because no way am I getting Vored by an elevator"

"Stop being so mean to me!"Edward whines but gets in the elevator anyway with a pout and it started to go down, Lydia was babbling about how much fun tonight would be and her brothers both groaned in unison. 

"That's baby talk. Grown-men take getting eaten like a champ." Lydia says with a small laugh before hitting the button to take them to the main lobby "Johann baby, what are you taking?"

"I'm already in pain so I'll just take the elevator, fuck walking down 10 flights of stairs. "Johann says pushing his way into the elevator and gently holds on to the railing. "Ed gets in here, I refuse to sit next to you if you walk down down disgusting!"

If this was going to happen all night then what a fun one it would be. 

[stillworthy]

this is so self-indulgent but mark is so gay. also yes this is based off that one post :/

it’s deep august when mark mentions that he doesn’t have a favorite color, and everyone immediately switches their lunchtime conversation to proving him wrong. it’s still the summer program, so only half of the disciples are around; in many ways, mark likes it, and in many ways, he doesn’t. right now, with lunch so open and conversation so easy, he thinks it’s quite nice.

he really doesn’t have a favorite color. he’s thought about it, but every time he settles on a preference, he’s reminded how beautiful every other color is. he can’t imagine picking just oine to like most. 

“it’s gotta be red, right?” steve says, nodding in that way you do when you want someone to agree with you. “‘cause red is definitely your color, so it makes sense.”

“red is your color,” jane agrees, but her dimples show as she says it, her trying not to smile tell. she’s probably making fun of steve’s constant enthusiasm, or she’s just laughing at one of her jokes that mark never really understands--when mark meets her eyes, she winks, and he relaxes. 

“see?” steve’s voice raises, and to mark’s left, dane groans. mark knows as much about dane as everyone else. he’s the newest disciple, having arrived only a few weeks ago fresh off of detox, and he wants nothing to do with anyone here, which of course means he’s stuck with mark. 

it’s partially because lydia had politely suggested he try to make dane feel more welcome, but it’s mostly because mark just wants to help dane with the transition, and because mark is nothing if not intensely persistent. dane’s not happy about it, mark supposes, but he also hasn’t done much to convince mark to back off. 

mark glances at dane, notes how he’s buried his head in his crossed arms like noon is far too early to be awake--maybe he hasn’t been sleeping well?--and returns to the conversation. “red is nice, but no.”

“promise blue…” adam drifts off, picking at his dark blue sleeve. mark doesn’t really know what to say to that one--the blue is nice, yes, and he thought that before he came to promise, but saying so will just lead to more good-natured teasing than he’s really in the mood to deal with. something about those jokes gets to him; he doesn’t like the implication that he just loves promise so much. but that’s a personal thing, and he isn’t going to ruin everyone’s fun over something that doesn’t bother him that much. 

adam is definitely high, anyway. mark can smell it on him--he’d actually not associated the scent with weed until two months in, when he’d nearly tripped over jane. he probably wouldn’t have guessed that adam was getting high if he hadn’t said as much within the first week of being here. no one’s ever accused mark of being street smart--he files away a reminder to make sure adam’s drinking enough water.

“he isn’t responding because you’re right,” jane says, tapping the tip of her nose. 

“oh, absolutely, that’s why i wear it every single day.” there’s enough sarcasm to illustrate his point without coming off as overly rude, and he’s found that jane responds better when he does his best to match her behavior.

“green.” and it catches mark off guard, solely because it’s come from the opposite side of the table as all the other guests. and despite the direction and the voice, he’s surprised when he turns and dane is sitting halfway up, his chin propped on his hand. and he doesn’t look happy, really, but he also doesn’t look half as angry as he normally does, which mark considers a success.

“green?” no one calls him out on the pathetic response, mostly because half of them seem equally shocked that dane is playing along. dane barely blinks, himself.

green isn’t his favorite color, but it is the color of healthy leaves, and of the emerald jewelry his mother only pulls out for christmas parties, and of the ring of color on the outside of dane’s irises, next to something that could be called hazel or light brown or something else entirely.

mark smiles, and smiling always comes easily, but it comes easier now. “you caught me. yes, it’s green.” and he finds that he doesn’t feel like he’s lying. 

dane doesn’t smile, but those eyes widen just barely, and he nods before laying his head back down. 

after lunch, mark falls into step beside dane. their afternoons are always free in the summer, and it’s a routine mark has gotten used to. filling space is easy enough--he reads, and he writes, and there’s always someone that wants to talk to him or ask his opinion. and every day, he extends an invitation to dane, who mark suspects usually spends his afternoons avoiding everyone here. 

“what are your plans, dane?” he asks, and when dane doesn’t immediately respond, he goes on. “have you been to the lake yet? i mean, have you really seen it? this time of day, the light reflects off of it so that it’s the most beautiful shade of blue. and there’s this patch of flowers that i swear bloom later than any other flowers i’ve ever seen. just wildflowers, but i think they are--”

“fine, i’ll go,” dane interrupts. then, more quietly, like he isn’t sure if he wants mark to hear, “if it’ll get you off my back.”

“it won’t!” mark says brightly, and no, dane doesn’t smile, but he does something close to it.

“let’s just go.” and then he’s done talking. mark fills the silence until they’re settled in those same wildflowers mark had mentioned before, and then neither of them need to talk, really.

[midnighttrain-project]

ÓvÒ I hope you don’t mind Lydia just really want to say:

To everyone who keeps asking about Clyde’s Story please stop asking Lydia. They are more focus on midnight train and it’s a joy seeing them happy working on a project they are passionate about. It’s nice you all like Clyde’s story but you need to respect Lydia’s choices on what they want to work on. It is pretty demotivating to keep hearing “why don’t you work on x” and makes you get bitter on the project you want to work on. When Lydia wants to work on Clyde’s story they will mention it. Just please stop asking them the question over and over they are giving the same answer.

The answer is they aren’t working on it now, maybe the game will be canceled if so you need to respect their choices. I’m not sure what’s going on with the game but what ever Lydia does I will respect that and keep supporting them.

ÓvÒ/ I do admire how strong you are Lydia and patient, don’t ever change keep being the sweet kind person you are and I hope you have a wonderful day. I hope it wasn’t rude for me to say this, I really just wish they would back off and respect you aren’t working on the game now. From CH 1 that I played I really like the atmosphere of the game! Make sure you take breaks and keep being amazing!

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

Thank you so much! I really appreciate your words, they made me really happy.

It makes me feel a bit sad when many people ask me about CS, since it makes me feel terrible for not working on it. But I just love working on this game, I can't help it ;; I'm really sorry about it!

This is a blog dedicated to the development of MT, so I prefer answering questions related to it. However, I also understand that people may be curious about my other projects, so I doesn't bother me!

Thank you so much for your support!!

[pleasepleaseeplease]

The Wolves of War

Rating: M for violence and language

Word Count: 2,503

Part 2 of 3

Sorry that it took so long to update. I hope you like part 2 of The Wolves of War.

Previously on teen wolf….

Stiles: (pulls up in his Jeep) You didn't think you would do this without me?

Derek: (stands next to the Jeep) Without us?

Braeden: I brought backup.

Kira: Hi everyone!

Derek: Kate's back.

Kate: Talking about me?

Gerard: Scott isn't going to leave any of his pack members behind. He’ll try to save them all. His pack is strong, but separate them and it leaves them all vulnerable.

Scott: Everyone know their assignments? We are going to win this. Showtime!

Scene 1

Location: Beacon Hills Preserve

The episode starts with Scott running through the woods. He looks behind him and sees a hunter chasing him. He runs faster. Another hunter appears in front of him. He growls and jumps over the hunter and makes his getaway. He hides behind a tree to catch his breath. An arrow comes out of nowhere and nearly hits Scott. He looks up to see Monroe walking towards him.

Monroe: (raising her crossbow) I've been waiting a long time for this.

Scott: It doesn't have to be this way.

Monroe: Yes, it does. (Smirks) Any last words?

Man’s voice: I have a few.

Monroe slowly turns around and sees coach Finstock aiming a gun.

Finstock: I won't hesitate, Bitch!

Theme song.

Monroe: He's dangerous. You should be aiming that at him.

Finstock: McCall? He can't even hurt a fly. Literally. I once watched him try to kill a fly for ten minutes. It was mocking him. It was one of the most pitiful things I ever seen. Actually, I got it on video.

Finstock takes out his phone.

Scott: Coach, now's not the time and besides that was Stiles.

Finstock: It was? I always confused you two.

Scott: How?

Finstock: All you students look the same.

Monroe starts aiming the crossbow back at Scott. Finstock grabs a small rock and hits Monroe in the back of head. She collapses.

Finstock: That's what you get for stealing my parking spot. (Starts walking away) That spot was my last source of happiness.

Scott: (kneels down to check her pulse) She's still alive.

Finstock: (screams) That sucks! Let's go!

Scott: We can't just leave her!

Finstock: You don't have a choice. (Points behind Scott) Look!

Scott turns around and watches as hunters start running towards them shooting arrows at his direction. He and Finstock starts running.

Finstock: Hey, wait up! I'm not as fast as you.

Scott runs back, picks up Finstock and starts running again.

Scene 2

Location: Eichen House

Three deputies are watching Parrish. Parrish is locked in a freezing room and is in the fetal position trying to keep himself from freezing.

Deputy 1: How long has he been in there?

Deputy 2: (looks at his watch) About a hour.

Deputy 3: He should be dead by now.

Sheriff Stilinski walks in.

Stilinski: It takes a whole lot to kill a hellhound.

Deputy 1: A hell-what?

Stilinski: A hellhound.

Deputy 2: I don't care what he is, we are going to kill him.

Stilinski: I'm ordering you to release Parrish.

Deputy 3: Why do you want to save him? He's a monster.

Stilinski: The only monsters I see are the ones who killed innocent people just because they are different. Parrish is a person and the best deputy I got. Now if you aren't going to release him, move out of my way.

Deputy 1: We can't do that.

Stilinski: Stand down deputy! I'm not going to ask again!

Deputy 2: What are you going to do if we don't? It's three vs one.

Deputy 3: And fighting us would be bad for your health. You might break a hip.

Stilinski: A old joke. Very original. Let me counter that with this.

Stilinski headbutts D3 and slams him against the wall. D2 jumps on Stilinski and starts punching him. Stilinski elbows D2 in the face. D1 starts choking Stilinski. Stilinski's face starts turning red. He knees D1 and slams his head against D2. All three deputies are lying on the floor. Stilinski grabs the keys from D1's pocket.

Stilinski: Don't get up boys. You don't want me to kick your ass again.

Deputy 1: You're not going to get away with this.

Stilinski ignores them and unlocks the door. He walks in the room and helps Parrish up. Parrish puts one arm over Stilinski's shoulder. They both stumbled, but they keep walking. Stilinski turns around to face the deputies.

Stilinski: Oh, and by the way, don't bother showing up tomorrow. You're fired. Have a good night.

The deputies groaned. Stilinski and Parrish head towards the exit when they bump into Braeden.

Braeden: Not bad for a old guy.

Stilinski: Braeden, what are you doing here?

Braeden: Scott sent me to assist you with rescuing Parrish. But when I arrived, it seem like you had it covered, so I just stayed back. I'm impressed.

Stilinski: Thank you. I'm going to feel the pain tomorrow.

Braeden: If you don't need me anymore, my services are needed at the hospital.

Stilinski: Parrish and I can rescue agent McCall.

Braeden: Good luck!

Stilinski: You too!

Braeden smiles and leaves.

Parrish: Thanks for rescuing me sheriff.

Stilinski: Don't mention it.

Scene 3

Location: Armory

Lydia and Stiles arrive at the armory. Stiles is holding his bat. Lydia is holding a map of the armory. She puts it on the floor and studies it. Stiles looks around the corner and sees a group of hunters. He rushes back to Lydia.

Stiles: Do you know where Jackson is?

Lydia: Yes. We have to go down that hallway.

Lydia points to the direction where the hunters are.

Stiles: Yeah, that's going to be a problem.

Lydia: Why?

Stiles: (points) That's why.

The hunters appear.

Lydia: Babe, cover your ears.

Stiles covers his ears while Lydia screams. Using her Banshee scream, she focuses the scream into a sound wave and sends the hunters flying.

Lydia: Stiles, go rescue Jackson. I'll take care of them.

Stiles: Are you sure?

Lydia: Yes, now go!

Stiles kisses Lydia and sneak past the injured hunters. He finds the room that Jackson is being held captive. He opens the door and finds Jackson tied up.

Stiles: What's up Jackass, sorry I mean Jackson. I would shake your hand, but you seem tied up at the moment and I don't really want to.

Jackson: Get me out of here!

Stiles: That's rude, I didn't hear a please.

Jackson: Please get me out of here or I'll beat your ass.

Stiles: Yeah, you're not really making me want to help you.

Stiles sits next to Jackson and takes out his phone.

Stiles: So, I saw a bunch of snakes the other day and I took a picture.

Stiles shows the picture to Jackson.

Jackson: Why are you showing me this?

Stiles: Just wondering if this was a family reunion of yours.

Jackson: Screw you Stilinski.

Stiles: No thanks. You're not my type. But Danny on the other hand.

Jackson: What?

Stiles: What? (scratches the back of his head) This got really awkward.

Jackson: Your whole life is awkward.

Stiles: True.

Stiles unties Jackson. They hear a loud crash at the door.

Stiles: LYDIA!!

Scene 4

Location: Beacon Hills Animal Clinic

Kira: Can I ask you a question?

Malia: Does it involve math?

Kira: No.

Malia: Then ask away.

Kira: What's the plan?

Malia: We save Deaton.

Kira: Ok, but who's gonna save us?

10 hunters with guns surround Kira and Malia.

Malia: (shaking her head) I should had gone to France.

Commercial break.

Malia: New plan. RUN!

Kira and Malia start running towards the woods. The hunters chase them. Malia shifts into a coyote while Kira uses her accelerated speed to lose the hunters. They find an abandoned house and hide in there. Malia shifts back.

Kira: I think we lost them.

Malia: Good. Now what?

Kira: We find you new clothes.

Malia: (looks down) Good idea.

Scene 5

Location: Armory

A hunter goes flying through the metal door.

Jackson: Who did that?

Stiles: (smiles) My girlfriend.

Jackson: Who's the unlucky girl?

Lydia walks in.

Stiles: (points to Lydia) Her.

Stiles runs to Lydia and gives her a hug.

Stiles: Are you ok?

Lydia: Yeah. You?

Stiles: Yeah.

Lydia stares at Jackson.

Jackson: Happy to see me?

Lydia: (smiles) I am.

Stiles: You are?

Lydia: Yes. I have something for you.

Lydia slaps Jackson.

Stiles: (proudly smiles) That's my girl.

Scene 6

Location: Abandoned house

Malia: I'm not wearing that.

Kira: You don't have a choice. It's the only thing we found in this house.

Malia: Then I'll stay naked. It's freeing.

Kira: Put it on.

Malia: I don't wear dresses. Especially pink frilly ones. Why couldn't you just picked up my clothes when I shift?

Kira: I was running for my life. Sorry.

Malia: Fine, give me it.

Kira hands her the dress and Malia puts it on. Kira takes out her phone and takes a picture.

Malia: Do you have to do that?

Kira: Yep.

Malia: Why were there so many hunters?

Kira: I have no idea.

Kira looks out the window and sees a person carrying another person.

Kira: (whispers) Malia, come here.

Malia: What is it?

Kira: Someone's coming. I don't think it's a hunter. But I can't see who it is.

Malia: It’s Scott!

Kira and Malia runs out the door. Scott puts Finstock down and runs to the girls. Scott hugs Kira and Malia.

Scott: (laughs) What are you wearing?

Malia: Shut up! It's all they had in that stupid house.

Scott: Where's Deaton? Is he safe?

Kira: He's still at the clinic. There were too many hunters.

Malia: We are still trying to figure out why.

Scott: Why would they need that many, unless-

Kira: Unlesz what?

Scott: They are looking for Belasko’s Talons!

Malia: But who would know about that?

Scene 7

Location: Beacon Hills Animal Clinic

Deaton is seen tied to a chair. Four hunters are guarding him. Kate walks in.

Kate: Move aside boys. I need to talk to him.

Hunter 1: We don't take orders from you. You might be the boss’s daughter but you're still one of them.

Kate: You're right and you shouldn't pissed me off.

She grabs the hunter by his neck and lifts him up. She snaps his neck and throws his body across the room.

Kate: Anyone else?

The hunters moved out of her way. She grabs a chair, places it in front of Deaton and sits down.

Kate: We need to have a little chat about Belasko’s talons.

Commercial break.

Kate: Where is it?

Deaton: I know nothing.

Kate: Now, now. We both know that's a lie.

Deaton: I'm telling you the truth. I don't know where it is?

Kate: Then you know someone who does. Tell me!

Deaton: I already told you! I don't know where it is or who has it.

Kate: Wrong answer.

She punches him in the face.

Kate: Try again.

Deaton: I don't know.

She punches him again. Deaton’s face becomes bloody.

Deaton: (coughing up blood) I don't know.

Kate: Now you just pissing me off.

Location: Beacon Hills Preserve.

Scott’s phone rings and he answers it.

Scott: Hello?

Kate: Scott, it's been a while.

Scott: Kate, what do you want?

Kate: I think you have something of mine.

Scott: Whatever you think I have, I don't.

Kate: Stop playing games. I know you have the talons and I have something precious to you. Deaton.

Scott: Let him go.

Kate: I'll be happy to, once I get what I want. You have ten minutes or he dies.

Kate ends the call.

Scott: There's a problem. Kate has Deaton.

Malia looks around.

Malia: We have a bigger problem.

Scott, Kira and Finstock look around. A mob of hunters surround them. Monroe steps in front of them.

Monroe: This time there's no escape.

Scene 8

Location: Beacon Heights Police Station

Isaac: I didn't mean to steal that cab.

Cop: Yeah ok kid. You “accidentally” took it.

Isaac: Yes. I’m the victim in all this. The cab driver took me to the wrong place.

Cop: And you took his cab for revenge.

Isaac: I didn't take it. I borrowed it. I'm needed in Beacon Hills.

Cop: Tonight you're staying here.

Isaac: I'm sorry.

Cop: It's too late kid.

Isaac: I mean for this.

Isaac punches the cop and takes his keys. He drags the cop to a cell and locks it. He leaves the station and takes a cop car.

Isaac: (to himself) One night back in the US and I'm already a felon.

He starts driving and passes a donut shop.

Isaac: (to himself) No Isaac, you don't have time for doughnuts. You're already late and the pack needs you. But on the other hand, you know how useless you get when you're hungry. No, Isaac, that's just the hunger talking. Keep driving. But the hunger will stop talking once you eat. Fine, Isaac, you win.

He drives up to the shop and orders a box of doughnuts. He reaches for his wallet and realizes it's back at the station.

Isaac: Fuck!

The woman at the drive thru window hands the box to Isaac.

Isaac: Is there a discount for cops?

Woman: No. And you don't look like a cop.

Isaac: Um, I'm off duty.

Woman: Then, why are you driving the cop car?

Isaac: Mind your own business.

He drives off with the doughnuts.

Woman: (screams) You have to pay for those!

Isaac starts eating doughnuts while he's driving.

Isaac: (to himself) I'm definitely going to hell. But I don't care, these doughnuts are heavenly.

Scene 9

Location: Beacon Hills Preserve

Malia: We need to fight. We can't keep running from them. They won't stop.

Scott: But we can't kill them. They are humans.

Malia: Scott, we don't have a choice. It's either us or them. They made their choice when they came after us. Kira, what do you think?

Kira: I'm sorry Scott. But I agree with Malia.

Scott: I hate this but you might be right. Are you ready?

Kira and Malia nod.

Finstock: I have somewhere to be.

Scott and Malia shift. Kira takes out a sword. Electricity surround the sword. Finstock hides behind a tree. Scott, Malia and Kira charge at the hunters.

Scene 10

Location: Beacon Hills Memorial Hallway

Lights are flashing on and off. Hunters are taking over the floors. Melissa walks quietly and quickly to a empty room. She locks the door and turns off the lights. She hears footsteps by the door. A person on the other side of the door jiggles the door for couple seconds and then stops. They walk away. Melissa waits a couple minutes and then looks out the door. Someone covers her mouth and pushes her back into the room.

To be continued...

[chestofstories]

A Fairy Out of Her Tale - Scene 38

15th January 1995

Dear Fertiliser Diary,

I must hold the record for shortest romance ever. We didn’t even last a day…

Though there is a tiny, tiny, tiny chance that it’s not over. Lydia and I just need to sit together and talk quietly without my intestines overreacting. I don’t even know what happened, it’s not like I ate things I wasn’t supposed to like when they fed me corpses at the hospital.

Bottom line is that I must not have bodily functions in front of Lydia. It’s a dwarf thing. Like how we fairies lose all respect for anyone who steps on the grass or, you know, murders another living being.

And do you know how I found out about that? I haven’t actually spoken to Lydia since that urge to “fertilise the land” (I’m assuming you, being a fairy diary, is well-versed in our euphemisms for defecating. “Defecating” is such an ugly word isn’t it? Never mind the meaning). It was Unn who told me.

Yes, Unn the merperson spoke to me. At least I can say I’m on speaking terms with at least one housemate at a time…

After I saw that Lydia fled my room, I thought of looking for her, but to be honest the stitches were hurting a bit because of all the fertilising I did, so I walked out of my room hoping I wouldn’t have to climb the stairs to Lydia’s. I went to the office instead. Maybe she would be playing a game to wait for me, and she was just bored instead of disgusted.

No such luck.

Kris was the one playing. I shouldn’t be surprised, with his 200+ hours of Fairy Fun Greenhouse, but it’s still disappointing. And it meant I couldn’t play either. His stare pretty much threw me out of the room.

So I walked back, thinking about what else I could do to check on Lydia, when Unn came out of her bedroom in her water tank. I did that thing where I don’t think about what I’m saying until it’s already been said and it makes me look like a horrible person.

‘How can you get in the first floor with that thing? I thought you couldn’t do stairs?’

Unn narrowed her eyes. ‘Good morning to you too. I could hear how much you enjoyed your night yesterday, but thanks for asking about mine. I managed to get some sleep after the loud kissing died out.’

If embarrassment could kill, we would be at my funeral right now. Unn kept staring at me while I opened and closed my mouth and struggled to come up with a proper apology.

‘Sorry,’ I said in the end. Unn raised an eyebrow. I didn’t think I sounded all that convincing either.

‘If you must know, my bedroom has a lift that takes me between floors without having to rely on stairs. Lóránt did ask if I could let you use it to go down to meals, but considering you can’t even remember proper etiquette, I’m sure I made the right call on this one.’

‘I didn’t mean to be rude.’

‘I did.’ She grinned that kind of scary grin that overstretches the lips and shows off all the teeth (merpeople’s pointy teeth make it even scarier). ‘But if feels the same to be at the receiving end of rudeness regardless of the intention, so get out of my way before I run over your toes. I’m not saying my tank can break bones, but I’m implying that’s the likely outcome of 640 litres of water plus the mechanical equipment on top of your fragile fairy bones.’

‘I’m sorry! You’re not even the first person I didn’t mean to offend today!’

‘Oh, really?’ Unn turned her tank to completely face me. ‘Was the other offended person a certain dwarf housemate of ours, by any chance?’

I nodded. She had already made it clear she knew Lydia had been in my room, so what was the point in denying our involvement?

‘What did you do to her? Did you say mountains were nothing but boring dead rock formations? Did you imply she doesn’t know how to dig? Did you call her your Precious Pyrite without knowing it’s a saying that implies she lacks intelligence?’

She said all those things with the kind of bitterness that made me wonder if she had done them at some point in the past. But I managed to not say any of those thoughts out loud.

‘No. I just went to the loo, and when I got out, she wasn’t there anymore.’

‘Ah.’ Unn rolled her eyes. Are all merpeople that expressive with their faces? Is it over-compensating because they don’t have legs? ‘You certainly insulted her. Not that it’s a difficult thing to do.’ Another eye-roll. Was she talking about me or Lydia? ‘Dwarves like to pretend biological necessities don’t exist. It’s a big taboo subject you wouldn’t mention to your grandma, let alone your crush. Apparently when you live in a series of cramped, interlocked tunnels, one fart is enough to poison the whole mountain. So she probably associated your explosive diahrroea with the apocalypse.’

‘How did you know —?’

‘I can hear you kissing, I can hear you pooping. Get used to it.’

What could I say to that? I think I managed a vague “thank you” to her and hurried back to my room before she could act on her threat to pulverise my toes. I’ve been here since, thinking of what to do next.

I just got an idea: I’m going back to the library. Hopefully Kris will be so busy playing that he’ll ignore me while I look for a book on dwarf culture.

If I want to have any chance of making it up for Lydia, I better make sure I won’t screw up again.

***

Author’s Note: Thanks for reading!

So Nessa’s romance ended as suddenly as it started? For real? Why even bother including it in?

Unless it’s not the end. Maybe there is still a future for Nessa and Lydia. And whatever that future holds, it’s probably hiding behind that book Nessa is hoping to find (and away from the toilet).

Here’s some good life advice, folks: when you’re afraid of screwing up, do your own research before you have a chance of screwing up. Nessa learned the hard way so you don’t have to!

We’ll see the results of Nessa’s research trip on Friday. Unless you love this story so much (or you love me so much, I’m not fussed about which) that you absolutely can’t refrain from your need to support me and my stories. It’s hardly something to go bankrupt over, and gives nice feelings to all those involved!

James’s Patreon Page

Otherwise, Nessa will be back on Friday. If she can survive until then…

[welcometophu]

Not Your Destiny: Chapter 20

Marked Book 1: Not Your Destiny

Chapter 20

[ Previous | First | Next ]

Mrs. Hannigan is pleasantly surprised to see Ángel, and on a quiet summer night, she’s more than happy to help him find the archives of the local papers. She sets him up in a corner with a microfiche machine, because the archives have yet to make it into the digital collection. It’s not Ángel’s first time digging into old material, and he knows where the microfiche is stored and how to navigate through the drawers. He’s more than willing to help himself as long as she’s willing to let him.

And of course, Mrs. Hannigan is willing to let him dig, as she heads off to help a young mother and her two children find books in the children’s section.

Ángel brings out his laptop, glad he lugged it into work so he has it now, and gets it powered up and connected to the library wifi. He opens a new document to capture his notes as he makes them, then tries to figure out what, exactly, he’s digging for.

He knows his abuela came to the States from Cuba in the early 1960s, and a quick search for information about Castro makes him think that it had to be before 1962. He types in a header for Verita Cruz (name?) and Carlos Cruz then follows that with Bonita Mollicone (NAME?). He adds Cuba and Italy after each name, and leaves himself a few blank lines.

Tony’s parents goes on the next line with a date of 2012. Ángel remembers that it was the end of the school year, during a storm, but he can’t remember more than that. It was early in storm season, and he figures he’ll be able to find the dates and the information in the paper. That one might even be online.

He hesitates before adding another header, then slowly types Mami, even though he’s sure her death had nothing to do with anything. Still. It’s just something else, another big change in his life when he was only twelve years old, and he figures it’s data as much as anything.

Besides, if he’s looking into the grief his new friends suffered, he should look into his own family.

He makes another heading for Carlos Cruz, for information separate from Abuelo’s marriage to Abuela. He remembers him, but he remembers that while he was loving, he could be a quiet, austere man at times. Ángel always thought that the arrow was because that was what Abuelo reminded him of. Dangerous, and rigid. He wonders if he would have accepted Ángel the same way that Abuela has.

Probably not, and it feels as if that should ache more. Ángel tries not to think about the relief of knowing that he’s accepted, and not having to worry that his dead grandfather would disapprove.

He starts with the microfiche from the local papers in 1960 and 1961, scrolling through the social pages. He doesn’t expect that his family made news. Not the big news, not the things that would be in the front sections. But he knows that his abuela had three siblings, that they all came from Cuba at the same time. That her older brother raised them while Abuela and the two younger girls finished school. So he searches through society pages, trying to link his grandparents, or better yet, trying to find a Bonita to link to his abuela.

He finds himself falling into a spiral, digging through articles about the debate team at the high school, or the football team’s losing season. He’s almost stopped hoping when he finds a small article in early 1961 about the graduating senior class, and two girls who were able to win scholarships in science to the local university: Verita Rojas and Bonita DelVecchio. The two girls sit in chairs that are slightly turned toward each other, their hair pulled up into tight ponytails, their skirts spread over their knees, legs crossed at the ankles. Their chairs are close enough that they almost touch at the knee, and their faces are turned toward the camera. Thick black framed glasses perch on Bonita’s nose, dwarfing delicate features. Abuela smiles wide enough that her pride shines brightly, and Ángel swears he sees a hint of shimmer all around her even on film.

He writes down the name, knowing that has to be her. This must be how they met, bonding over a love of science. Abuela received her degree in Chemistry in 1965 from that very university, and Ángel wonders what science drew Bonita in. If they both went to school together, if they remained friends through their education. He makes a quick note, remembering that Abuela married Abuelo in 1968, that Papi was born in 1970. That’s still a long time for the friendship to have flourished, right?

It would be handy if the microfiche had been digitized and cross-referenced, but he’s going to have to search manually for any other references. He skims forward faster now, finds an image of Carlos Cruz accompanying his fiancee, Verita, that December to midnight services at the Cathedral Basilica in St. Augustine. He lingers there, prints the image, because they look happy. He doesn’t remember his abuelo smiling like that often, as if he were staring at the sun.

There is another picture, a year later, of newly engaged Bonita DelVecchio and her fiancé, Vincenzo Mollicone, attending the same services. Ángel prints that as well, and when he looks in the background of the image, he spots someone who might be Abuela looking over at the happy couple.

They don’t appear in articles after that, but when he finds the graduation announcement, they are both in the picture, on opposite sides of the image.

Ángel prints that one as well, because they aren’t looking at each other at all. It’s a marked difference from the earlier pictures with both of them, and he has a feeling that something happened during that time period. He just doesn’t know exactly what.

Clan and Mage, though. He can guess it has something to do with that.

He leaves that avenue behind, not sure what he’s learned, or whether it’s useful. It’s easier to find the modern information, his mother’s obituary still available in the online resources for the local paper. He touches the screen when it comes up, her smile making his heart ache. Grief is something that you move on from, but you never entirely lose. It’s been eight years, but it’s still hard to remember her and realize that she isn’t here. Joey is wonderful, but she’s not Mami.

Ángel pulls his hand back, reads the obituary. The illness. The blessed release at the end of a swift, furious descent after a stage four cancer diagnosis. Tears well up at the corners of his eyes, and he inhales roughly, holds his breath until the urge to let go—let the tears win—abates.

It’s easier to look at the obituary for the Mollicones. The passing of Lydia and Dominic, pre-deceased by his parents, Bonita and Vincenzo, survived by their five children: Zita, Antonio, Stefano, Gabriella, and Alonso. There’s no mention of any of Lydia’s relatives, which Ángel makes note of as slightly odd.

There are more articles about the storm, the vicious weather that swept through northern Florida in 2012. The accident is attributed to the storm, water washing the Ford Ranger off the road and into a ditch, where it flipped, and the two Mollicones were killed on impact.

It was almost the end of the school year when it happened, and news had spread quickly. Ángel remembers the way Gabi had looked like a ghost in class after that, had made it through the remaining few weeks in near silence.

The quiet Mollicones had retreated completely by the following year, snapping at anyone who dared to speak to them. Ángel had thought about trying harder—he knew what grief did to a person—but at the same time, his life was filled with complicated things, and a new stepmother, and Abuela moving in. He never made the effort.

It’s all a dead end, really. None of it changes anything that he knows, none of it makes more sense out of anything he’s learned in the last week and a half. He shuts down the microfiche machine, puts his films back in the drawer where he found them. When he settles in at his laptop again, he opens his email and pulls up a new message to Pawel Szczek.

I’m okay, he types first, because he knows Pawel well enough, after a year and a half of Coven and in his major, that Pawel will ask after him. I have a mark now, and I don’t know who it is. Hayley’s mark is for my best friend, Tanner. I think they’ll be good together and I’m happy for them.

He considers how to ask what he wants to ask, and decides blunt is probably the best option.

I’m writing about Tanner’s brother, actually. He has a Talent but it messes with the synapses in his brain, causes things to jump the gap incorrectly, and he has seizures. He had a really bad one recently, and I was wondering if there are any rituals that you know about that might help him gain control over his Talent. He makes colorful bubbles, that mostly change color when he’s stressed or emotional. He’s fourteen. He’s pretty much always emotional.

I figure you won’t see this until after the holidays. Hayley and I are staying in Florida for the first two weeks of the year; we should be back after that, before classes begin again. If you think of something I should look at, please let me know.

Ángel doesn’t bother to sign it; it’s email, after all.

It’s close to 8:30, and Ángel figures if he packs up now, he might have time to sit out front and watch funny videos or something while waiting for Gabi to come back to get him. He packs his things away, stands up, and comes face to face with Daphne Hamilton.

She smiles, and Ángel swallows.

“Hi,” he says, drawing the word out like a question. She’s tall in her heels, her eyes not quite on a level with Ángel, but damned close, and she leans in close like she wants to be intimidating. If Ángel hadn’t been spending the last several days with people with no sense of personal space, it might’ve worked.

As it is, he’s tempted to shove at her shoulder and push her back, but that would be rude.

“Ángel, isn’t it?” she asks, and he frowns at the way she knows his name. Her smile is gentle, sweet like fake sugar, and she touches his shoulder when she goes on. “You work at the shop, now. You answered the phone for me the other day, didn’t you? And Luca mentioned your name when I stopped in.”

Because Ángel wants to think about that day, about the way Tony stood there so stiffly with her, then lost his appetite. He licks his lips, gaze shifting away before he pulls himself back, forces himself to meet her eyes. “I’m working there until after Maritsa and Cleto get married, yes,” he says, because that’s innocent enough to admit.

She squeezes his shoulder, leans in to murmur, “I’m so glad to hear that. Tony doesn’t know how to delegate, and I worry about him sometimes. That he’s going to work himself to death in that place, and forget all about his life outside of it. It’s good to know that they’ve brought you in to take care of things so he can finally relax.”

“Tony loves the cars,” Ángel says, thinking of that ragtop Mustang just waiting to be worked on.

“Of course he does,” Daphne says softly, patting his shoulder like he’s a child to be soothed. “But he loves other things as well, and sometimes he loses sight of that.” Her fingers catch on his shirt as she pulls away, baring the temporary ink. Before he can blink, she tugs the edge of the sleeve up, then quickly lets go as if it never happened. “You have a rose,” she says.

Ángel touches it reflexively, uses the moment to put some space between them. “Gabi designed it for me. Said it would be better than the angel wings I was thinking of doing as a memoriam for my mother.”

“Angel wings.” Her tone is soft, neutral. “How divine that would be, and a beautiful memorial.” She cocks her head, smile sliding into place to light her features. “Speaking of things outside the shop, you will be there at our party for the new year, right?”

“Your party? I’m already—”

“We hold it at Tony’s home, of course, and I’m certain that Gabi and Luca have invited you. It’s obvious that they’ve adopted you.” Daphne leans in, whispers, “Don’t let Gabriella get away, darling. She’s a beautiful girl, if a bit standoffish. She seems to have taken to you more than anyone else outside the family. Stay strong; she’ll let you in eventually, I’m certain of it.”

“She licked me,” Ángel says, because it’s become his standard response when it comes to Gabi. Even though Daphne is making him uncomfortable with the way she keeps inching closer, keeps insinuating herself into his space. “But I’m not interested in dating her. She’s like a sister.”

“Oh, I doubt that, if she licked you.” Daphne’s eyes go wide and innocent, but her tone is anything but. “What a wicked thing to do.”

Who says that? Who actually says something like that who isn’t ninety years old?

“But yes, I’m going to the party. They all made sure I’m invited,” Ángel says firmly, even though he can’t remember which one of them issued the original invitation. “They said it’s a family party, so I’m bringing Tanner and Hayley, and maybe my family, if they’re interested.”

“That sounds like an intriguing mix.” Daphne’s eyebrows slide up, and Ángel is sure that he’s actually managed to surprise her.

He can’t resist trying to do it again.

“And Tony said I should drop off some clothes there, in case I decide to crash again. Better than waking up and not being able to get dressed on the morning after,” Ángel says blandly.

Daphne blinks, is silent.

It’s all true, too. Tony told him to leave a change of clothes at the house, in case someone brings him home again. So did Gabi, and Luca. They offered the guest room, but right now, with the way Daphne’s looking at him, Ángel’s not going to say that.

Her gaze narrows for a moment, then the lines across her brow smooth out as she eases into a quiet smile. “You see,” she says softly. “You have Tony’s blessing. Gabriella has probably talked to her brother already. Just in case.”

“Or Luca mentioned that he’d be into it if I wanted to jump him,” Ángel says dryly, and it’s worth it just to see the look on her face, the way she takes a quick step back. It lets Ángel breathe, getting her out of his space, and he keeps talking, takes a step forward just to make her step back again. “I’m not sleeping with either Luca or Gabi,” he says firmly. “I’m not interested in dating either of them. And yes, I’ll be at the party, because they all invited us.” He almost say that he’ll see her there, but he doesn’t want to sound like he’s inviting her.

Besides, Tony’s probably already done that. Daphne’s implying that they’re throwing the party together, after all.

The thing is, Ángel doesn’t like her, doesn’t want her to be there when he rings in the new year. It adds a sour note to the beginning of the year that he just doesn’t want to think about.

“Ángel?” Mrs. Hannigan calls out quietly, and Ángel steps around Daphne, makes his way toward the front of the library.

“I’ll see you soon, Ángel,” Daphne calls after him.

Ángel bites his tongue, doesn’t retort not if I see you first and can avoid it, because that would be childish. True, but childish.

Gabi leans against the front desk, chatting with Mrs. Hannigan who now stands behind it, gathering up a small stack of magazines that someone’s returned. Her gaze narrows, nostrils flaring. She meets Ángel halfway, grips his shirt, leans in and inhales roughly. “You reek,” she mutters, and Ángel wonders if she’s smelling his emotions or Daphne.

Probably both.

“Let’s stop off at my place so I can take a quick shower and get changed,” he mutters.

Gabi sidles in close, her arm around his back. “We’ll stop at your place, and you’ll pack some things to bring and leave at ours,” she says firmly. “You can shower there. And this way you’ll be prepared if you end up there in the future.”

“Planning on keeping me?” Ángel tries to shift his voice back to light, to tease her, and she smiles slightly, like she can tell what he’s doing.

“Licked you, didn’t I?” She grips his wrist, threatens to do it again, and they’re both laughing as they stumbles down the steps of the library together.

As Gabi pulls out of her parking space, Ángel spots Daphne standing on the steps of the library, watching them go. He doesn’t think Gabi noticed Daphne, but he knows Daphne saw them both. Even from a distance, he can see the way her shoulders are set, her arms crossed tight.

Daphne really doesn’t like Gabi and at this point, Ángel’s pretty sure Daphne doesn’t like him either, no matter how much she smiled.

[ Previous | First | Next ]

[intoanothermind]

Alpha - Stiles Stilinski

Word Count: 2k words

- Stiles Stilinski x reader

Masterlist

Kind of part 2

Kind of part 3

-------

I looked around several times just to make sure that no one was following me before knock my best friend’s bedroom’s window. I heard some noises from the inside of the bedroom and soon the window was open, revealing Stiles, jumbled and apparently sleepy.

“Oh my God, Y/N, I’ll have a heart attack this way before reaching the age that normally people have heart attack!”

I rolled my eyes. Sometimes I think he overreacts a little too much in defensive sarcasm.

“You should already be used to me showing on your window this time  since we were seven.” I said, going through.

“It happens that lately you’ve been doing less noise to warn me of your illustrious presence.”

He was right.

Stiles hurried on my direction when saw me coming in, wrapping an arm in my waist and just letting go when I already had my feet firmly on the ground.

“You know that I don’t need your help with it anymore.”

Stiles snorted and threw himself on the bed. “I know that you don’t, mas with all this madness that Beacon Hills became, I wanted that at least something would still be normal.”

I sighed, walking calmly to the bed and sitting down in the corner. I hated seeing Stiles that way; it hurts a lot. However, there wasn’t a lot of things that I could do for him, although he knew that if there was, I would do without thinking twice.

“I wish I could help.” I murmured, holding his hand. Despite having my eyes closed, I knew he listened.

“You already help.” He said back, opening his eyes e looking into mine with that big brown eyes that always seemed hypnotize me. “Knowing that in spite of everything you’re still the same… I don’t know, that’s good.

“It is?” I mumbled, taking off my shoes and lying by his side when we mentioned me to do so.

The bed was a single one and not exactly big, but Stiles wrapped my waist with his arms and put me against his chest. We’re used to do this for several years and, even though we have grown, we still managed.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” I asked.

“I don’t know.” Stiles murmured and he seemed so helpless that it broke my heart.

I started to run my fingers through his chest over the red shirt as if with that I could transfer all his pain and confusion to me – and I hate the idea that, although all the people I could help, my best friend wasn’t in the list. I smiled at the sound of his breath momently and I heard his heartbeat increase with the caress I was doing.

“Being the only human bother you, doesn’t it?” I asked, leaning on my elbow to see his tense face.

“Kind of.” He answered, caressing my cheek with his fingers. “Sometimes I think that I could me more useful if I wasn’t.”

“Don’t say it ever again!” I growled and lowered my head when I notice that he was a little scared.

I toke his hand that was still in my face. I kissed the palm before lay down again, fitting my face in the crook of his neck.

“Don’t you say that you useless.” I whispered and ignored that shiver that crossed my spine not to lose the focus. “Stilinski, you’re one of the more competent and smart person in all that mess. And I hate when you feel less just because you’re not supernatural.” I went away again to see his face. “I don’t think that I need to mention all the times you saved our lives, do I? You saved my life more times than I can count.”

Stlies smiled when I finished the lame and tiny speech. But there was something in his tired face or in his smirk that told me that there’s still something bothering him.

“What?” I asked, frowning, and I saw he swallowed minimally. “It’s not about you being human, isn’t it? What is it?” Stiles looked away and I took his chin in my finger to make him face me. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

“I wanted to tell you something important.” His voice broke a little bit. “Lydia, she…”

The rage started to build up in my chest and I had to take deep breaths not to turn into werewolf.

“Lydia, of course! Always her!” I growled still angry and got up from the bed, looking for my shoes. I wouldn’t stay there listening to him talk about Martin while my heart was practically shattered after each word said. “I am idiot for thinking that this would change some day.”

“Hey, hey, hey, calm down!” Stiles jumped from the bed after me, kind of clumsily, and hold on my arm before I could got out through the window. “That was not what I wanted to say…”

“So what was that?” I asked, getting my arm out of his hold.

“I…” he ran his fingers through his locks, not knowing what to say. “I meant that I don’t care about Lydia anymore.

I frowned e widened my eyes right after. “Your ten-year-long crush in her just fanished?”

“Not exactly.” He gestured with his hands and there was not need of wolf hearing or adrenaline scent to know that he was nervous. “I think that I was never in love with her. Deep down, I guess I always knew who was the right girl to me, even with my dad and your mom saying that every day to us.”

I swallowed and my heart raced when I realized the real meaning of that. Mr. Stilinski, who was like a father to me, seemed always conspiring with my mom for Stiles and me be a couple. I always wanted to them come up with genius plan to that work, but the Stiles’ obsession for Lydia turned things harder. So, when I saw the boy was in love with since we met getting closer to me, all the gears inside my head seemed to stop. And his brown eyes showed emotions that I didn’t ever see in them before.

“I… You… Well…” I stuttered, without any idea of how react to this.

“Shit, I don’t know how to say this!” He exclaimed, walking around the room, gesturing again. “You know when Scott, Alisson and I had to die to find the Nemeton, and we needed an anchor? And Lydia was mine?”

“When I was too busy going after Deucalion?” I lowered my head, ashamed for my previous decisions.

“You, Y/N.” He finally said with all the letters, holding carefully my face between his hands as if any rude movement would break me apart. It was actually the other way around. “It was meant to you be my anchor, as you have always been. And it also would be you to help my panic attack in school, not Lydia, ‘cause it’s always been you to help me after my mom died.” He hesitated, catching his breath. “I feel like an idiot for never had realized this before, that have always been you, but things are different now.”

I smiled, even when my mind was confused with a loose thoughts and my heart a mixture of emotions. And when Stiles leaned and kissed me, I felt like everything was multiplied. I didn’t have any idea if it was because of my intensified senses or I was finally kissing the guy who I fell in love with.

As the hyperactive boy Stiles was, he took a hold on my hips and dragged me to the bed again. I intertwined my fingers through his hair and took extra care to not nail my claws while I passed my hand down the back of his neck. He deepened the kiss when his body was over mine and my breath was the last thing I was worrying about. While I felt his hands going all over my body I did him the same, realizing that he was no longer the sloppy and weird and nerd Stiles who used to hide himself in larger clothes. Spite of being human, he also changed since hell broke loose in Beacon Hills.

Stiles leaned back a little bit when we were both out of our breath, but soon started to leave kisses along my neck. I sighed, closing my eyes to appreciate the sensation of his warm lips in my skin.

“Bite me.”

I widened my eyes and pulled back quickly.

“What?!”

Stiles sighed. “I’m tired of being useless. I want to be someone too.”

“But, Stiles…” I tried to say, holding his face in my palm, but he took my hand in his, interrupting me.

“No, Y/N.” He looked me in the eyes and I realized that he had already made his mind before even talking to me. “Besides, you don’t need to be lonely Alpha as you don’t like to turn anyone. It would be my choice and I would have the pleasure to be part of your pack.”

I smiled, feeling my eyes watering. I never imagined that he would say such a thing.

“But you refused when Peter…” I started.

“I would never want Peter as my Alpha.” He said rapidly. “With you is totally different.”

I started to think about the pros and cons of turning him, but deep down I knew that I also wanted that. I turned us over in the bad and I sat in his torso with each of my legs in each of his sides. Stiles hold my thighs and I realized how nervous he was. I leaned over him and supported my hands in the sides of his head.

“You sure about this?” I had to ask again. “You seem pretty nervous.”

Stiles took a deep breath and held my face.

“I’ll have you to help me controlling it.” He sealed our lips. “So, yes, I’m pretty sure.”

I grinned to him, leaning a little more to kiss him one more time.

“So, relax, Stilinski. This is going to hurt a little bit, but I promise that won’t take long.”

I kissed him again and we stayed like this ultil he was completely relaxed. So I kissed down his neck and I felt him relaxing a little more. I kissed his arm, his biceps and took a hold in his hand to kiss it as well. I opened my eyes and noticed that Stiles was looking directly to my features. I smiled to him before transform. I took a deep breath and I felt. I felt all coming up, all my senses intensifying. My face contorted. My canines showed up and I opened now red eyes. Stiles still had his stare in me, without the fear he felt the first time he sow me like that. He got used to it. I took his forearm to my teeth and bit it.

When I looked again to Stiles’ face he was smiling through the pain that I knew he was feeling.

So I was finally sure that things changed even more.

Things would get better because Stiles now would be by my side. He would now be part of the pack. Definitively.

[halestil24]

I Wanna Be Sedated.

Pairing: Stiles x OC Rating: M Warning: Depression, isolation.  Words: 2,876.

A/N. Don’t be too harsh… K.

“You wanna know why I still look so tired Scott?”

The voice was probably louder than it should have been, but she would have recognized his voice anywhere.

“She sneaks into my room at night.”

“And does what?”

“You tell me!”

From where Brin was standing she could see Stiles lift the back of his shirt and expose something to Scott. The problem was she didn’t have to see it to know what Stiles was talking about. Derek had mentioned something about Malia and Stiles reeking of each other lately. Brin tried to believe differently but what she just witnessed was enough.

Things had been starting to be okay. The Nogitsune was gone, and with it was the threat of losing her best friend. Sure the ancient spirit, had done a number on everyone, but Brin was hoping that with the spirit fully gone and Stiles starting to get back to his normal self, the nightmares would stop. The problems she was having would stop.

But this was Beacon Hills, and she was part of a Pack and that isn’t how things work. Of course Scott and Derek had welcomed Malia to the pack, and Stiles was trying to help her adjust to life as a human. But no matter what they tried, she was always so pushy, and harsh. In fact, she was straight up rude. Allison had mentioned something about Malia complaining that it took her so long to recover from being stabbed.

Stiles had just brushed it off with being happy Allison made it, and Brin tried. She really did try to get back to normal. Yet something felt off. Deaton had said that Scott, Allison, and Stiles would have a darkness weighing down their heart when they sacrificed themselves to find their parents. Brin had to be hallucinating it, but she felt like a darkness was filling her instead.

Hearing Stiles talk to Scott about his bedroom escapades with Malia was not the best way to start her Friday. It was bad enough that when she woke up her parents were gone with a note saying they were on a business trip for a week, and that her aunt would check in on her. So she was alone. More alone than she really had thought, in fact she couldn’t remember the last time her and Stiles had a movie marathon or just hung out doing homework together.

With a heavy sigh, Brin walked into the school and straight to her locker. The whole walk there she felt a heavy pit in her stomach, and the walls were swimming around her head. Once at her locker she took a deep breath to steady herself. Not hearing Stiles as he moved to lean against the locker next to her.

“Hey.” his voice startled her. “Whoa, Brin… you okay?”

His brow furrowing in confusion. Something else flashed across his face as he searched her face.

“Uh…” Brin shut her locker. “Yeah. Fine.”

As if the world was reading her mind, for the first time ever, the bell rang giving her an excuse to get out of the conversation with Stiles. Luckily she wouldn’t see him until History.

+++ Stiles POV

Something was different. Usually when Stiles startled Brin she would smack his arm or fake yell at him. This time, there was nothing. Not even the faintest emotion in her voice, but that wasn’t bothering him as much as how she looked. She had these dark circles under her eyes, her shirt hung off of her shoulder a bit exposing her collarbone, which Stiles was pretty sure had not been that prominent before.

In fact, Brin looked skinnier than she had been. Her wrists were even smaller, by the looks of it. Yeah, you heard that right. Stiles notices her wrists. Stiles notices everything about her. How her dishwater blonde hair is tossed about her shoulders, reaching down her back. How her green eyes looked a little duller than they are supposed to. How her clothes were looser than they should be.

Many a time, Stiles heard Lydia mumble on about how Brin has the perfect shape. She is perfectly proportionate. Narrow waist, athletic frame, small but not too small breasts…. Okay Stiles was getting distracted. Something was wrong. He and Brin had been friends since 4th grade. She knew his mom. She was there when his mom died. If something was wrong, it was almost impossible for her not to spill the beans to him. Never had she just left it at “I’m fine.”

It was driving him nuts all day. She didn’t join their table at lunch, but that wasn’t something that was entirely new. Malia had pushed away a lot of their friends, and Brin was one of them when it came to seating arrangements. He would have his chance in History. Mr. Yukimura wouldn’t say anything if they talked in the back of the class. The problem was, she didn’t show, and she never came to her locker after school.

Stiles was about to head home and fester over chips and soda when he got a call from Melissa.

“Hey momma McCall, whatever it is… I didn’t do it.”

“Stiles… I need you to be serious.”

Dread filled his chest. His first thought went to his dad. Something must have happened.

“It isn’t your father. As far as I know he is fine. Maybe sneaking a few Big Burgers… but I need you to come to the hospital. I want to talk to you. Just you.”

“Y..yeah… Sure. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Stiles looked down at his phone, his brain going a mile a minute trying to figure out what Melissa would want to talk to him about, and why it was just him. Unless it was supernatural research related. He also noted her info on his dad sneaking burgers which he will have to address at a later time, but you better believe your ass it will be addressed.

It was only a matter of minutes before he was strolling through the triage doors looking for Melissa, who must have been looking for him.

“You are killing me here. What is going on?” anxiety filling his chest.

“When was the last time you talked to Brin?”

“Excuse me what?” His heart in his throat.

“Brin. When was the last time you talked to her?”

“This… this morning. What’s going on… where is she?”

“When was the last time you actually spoke with her, not just in passing?”

“I…. I don’t…. Melissa….” His hands were shaking. Stiles did not like where this was going. He knew something was wrong.

“Stiles.” Her voice was low as she lead him to a closed door. “Brin came in about an hour ago. Remember when you came to me, not long ago….”

Stiles nodded. Not really wanting to remember the time the Nogitsune made him think he had his mother’s disease, but Melissa was going somewhere with this.

“You sedated her?” His voice was calm and quiet.

“Yeah.” She swallowed thickly. “The last time she slept more than an hour or two was about the time you were possessed.”

After a quick calculation in his head, Stiles figured that Brin hadn’t really slept in a month, maybe two. If she wasn’t sleeping then she probably wasn’t eating right.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Clinical depression. Night terrors, sleep deprivation… the only thing she seems to be is hydrated.”

“Why did you only want me here?”

Melissa just gave Stiles a knowing look. Scott would have made it a bigger deal, involving the pack, blaming someone. But Stiles would take care of her.

“She is going to be out for a while longer. Beacon County is having issues and has to send patients here. I can’t keep her here. I need you to take her, whether that is to her house, or yours… just… Stiles don’t leave her alone.”

“Yeah… okay. I can do that. Dad’s on a double… I’ll take her to mine.”

“Good. I’ll get a wheelchair.”

Stiles lifted Brin from the bed noting how she felt so much lighter than he remembered, to the chair, and then out to the Jeep. Melissa thanked him and kissed him on the cheek before he drove off with Brin propped against his door asleep. Much like many stake out nights that they shared before.

Stiles carried Brin bridal style up to his room, and placed her in his bed. Once he pulled the blanket back up over her, she rolled to her stomach nuzzling into his pillow. Stiles felt a little creepy as he stood there looking at her. She wasn’t as frail as he expected her to be after talking to Melissa.

God she was still so fucking beautiful. Even with the dark circles under her eyes. Brin had been so distant lately, and all Stiles wanted was to have her back. Now she was here, and he was taking care of her, like she took care of him and it felt right. Seeing her in his bed, relaxed, felt right. God he really hoped his pillow would smell like her.

That’s when it hit him. His room would smell of her, his bed would smell of her. Even if he couldn’t smell it himself, Malia would. And that was cause for disaster. Stiles needed to do something about it. Explain himself. Without a second thought, he stepped out of his room and pulled his phone from his pocket. Dialing Malia’s number.

“Stiles. Where are you?”

“I’m at home. Listen Malia… I… I need to talk to you about something, and no I can’t do it in person. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care. What is it.” There was the bluntness to her voice.

“I can’t keep up our little arrangement.” “Why.”

“Because….” it wasn’t realization, because Stiles had known it for a while now, but he never said it out loud. “I love someone else, and that person needs me right now.”

“It’s Brin… isn’t it.” There was no anger in her voice like he expected.

“Yeah. It is.”

“I was wondering when this would happen. Okay.”

“Okay? No argument?”

“Stiles… what is the point of arguing? It was fun. I’ll see you later.”

Before Stiles could say anything else the line clicked. That was easier than he had expected, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to complain. When he stepped back into his room, a light whimper came from Brin. Her breathing had picked up, and Stiles was by her side in an instant.

Taking her hand in his until she calmed down. Without much thought, Stiles slide down, sitting with his back against the side of the bed, his hand still in Brin. It didn’t take long before his head was tilted back and his eyes slipped shut.

+++ Brin POV

Brin’s eyes opened and she wasn’t where she had been when Melissa sedated her. She still felt exhausted, so moving wasn’t an option. She took a deep breath, sucking in the smell of oak and fresh rain. The smell she associated with Stiles. Brin’s eyes shot open, evaluating her location. The whole room was familiar. The blues and blacks. The MacBook sitting on the desk littered with books. She was in Stiles’s room. In Stiles’s bed.

Then she realized that her hand was resting on the side of the bed, next to where Stiles’s head was flopped back. Melissa must have called Stiles, which really didn’t surprise Brin. What did surprise her was the lack of everyone else. The heavy feeling in her stomach was back, but she was too exhausted to worry about it. In fact, all she wanted to do was run her hand through Stiles’s dark hair. And she did. It was softer than it looked. Her nails scraped lightly against his scalp, pulling a groan from him.

Stiles shifted on the floor a little. His eyes peeked open, locking with hers. Then they shot open and he was fully turned looking at her.

“Brin. You… you’re awake. Don’t worry… Melissa called. I didn’t know if I should have taken you home or not…”

“Hmm.. yeah.” her voice was rough with exhaustion and sleep. “This is better.”

“I… you are scaring the crap out of me Brin... Melissa started throwing out words and I…. I don’t… how did I not know?”

“I tried not to let you know.”

“Why?”

“You know why Stiles.”

Brin’s eyes dropped a little. Melissa had said she would sleep a lot after the sedative, it was her body’s way of attempting to recover.

“Dad’s not going to be back for a while. You can stay here.”

“And where will you stay?”

“The floor is fine.”

“No.”

With all the energy she could muster, Brin scooted over and patted the bed. She didn’t know if Stiles would accept, or what would happen next. But she wasn’t in the mood to care. Stiles slid in next to her, not hesitating at all. What he did next surprised her. Stiles pulled her into his chest.

“Malia and I aren’t a thing anymore.”

“Oh.” With a surprised expression, Brin craned her neck a little to look at Stiles.

“So… what brought this on Brin? Why did you think you couldn’t tell me?”

“I just…. Void really played me, and I couldn’t deal. I wanted to tell you but… you know… you were busy getting your back mauled. Please tell me you washed these sheets.”

Stiles tried to stifle a laugh. “Yes… I did.”

Brin scoffed, running out of energy to stay awake. “Imma go back to sleep.”

“Yeah, okay. Should I call your..”

“No… ‘heir not ‘ome.”

“For how long?”

“Week.”

“You’re staying here, or I am staying there.”

“‘Kay.”

“I’m not letting you go again.”

“I ‘ove you… ‘iles…”

Stiles sucked in a sharp breath. He wasn’t going to get his hopes up, because Brin is exhausted and under the influence of a sedative, but dear god. He loved this.

“I love you too Brin. More than you know. Get some rest.”

Brin burrowed her face into his chest, and winded her arms around his waist. The next big bad could come in his room right now and kill him and he wouldn’t care because the girl he loves is asleep in his bed wrapped in his arms. Finally.

[purplexedhuman]

My thoughts on Raj’s characterisation in Parabatai Lost and why it bothers me

I know that people have already talked about this, but I wanted to write about what I thought. To begin with, the writing was inconsistent. In the past, Raj has been written as a character who is just doing his job and following orders as a shadowhunter. Even in this episode, his characterisation started out that way, with him appearing sympathetic to the Lightwoods and Magnus. He says something along the lines of, “Hey man, I feel you, but you have to go since it’s not working.” This is polite and conveys that Raj is sympathetic but has to follow orders. Then, Magnus says that his magic is working by preventing Alec from becoming worse. After this exchange, why would anyone just say “I know you’re old, but I didn’t think you had hearing problems.” In addition, I assume he lives in the Institute (or at least is aware of the happenings since he’s been here from Season 1). So, he must be aware of Magnus and Alec’s relationship. Magnus has also come to the Institute before to help them with wards and stuff. So there was no reason for Raj to be so vindictive in his reply. It would have made more sense to have Raj instead say something like, “Even so, I have my orders, I need to tell Aldertree,” and then try to leave to get Aldertree, which could be enough for Magnus to get upset given his existing frustration and grief. We already saw him fling a pot across the room and close the door in Jocelyn’s face, so it’s not too much of a stretch that he would retaliate.

Second, some of this was unnecessary. In particular, I’m talking about the ‘Shut up, Raj’ and about throwing him across the room into a wall. We see other characters who are just doing their job as members of the Clave, and yet they don’t receive the same treatment that Raj did. For instance, I don’t recall anyone being so rude to Lydia when she was doing her job in Season 1 (Plus, there was no such reaction on Twitter, with people tweeting ‘Shut up, Lydia’ or any of the other things that happened after this episode). Similarly, slamming Raj against the wall felt like a bit too much. @highwarlockkareena was talking about how the writers probably wanted to show this as a badass!Magnus scene. I would add that maybe they needed Raj to be unconscious so that they could sneak Alec out. Both of these could have been achieved without doing what they did. Izzy could have stepped in just as Magnus was about to attack Raj and stopped him, and Magnus could have used a sleeping spell or something similar to knock Raj out. Throwing him across the room just makes it seem as if Raj was a bigger ‘villain’ who needed or deserved to be treated that way. Also, we’ve never seen Magnus get that violent with someone who didn’t physically attack him first. So what was the need to do that here?

Third, there’s the issue of the fandom’s reactions. Apart from any racial biases, part of the problem also lies in the fact that we see so little of Raj to begin with. Raj isn’t a properly fleshed out character, he’s just used in places where they need another shadowhunter from the Institute to contrast with the behaviour of the Lightwoods and Clary.  He’s only ever written in scenes where it seems as if he’s being an ‘antagonist’ to the main characters. It’s unfair to start hating him for doing the same things that other characters do. The difference is that we see more of the other characters, so people don’t have just these one or two scenes on which to base their judgement. Like with Lydia, we see her putting Izzy on trial, going after Meliorn, etc., but they also show her being supportive of Alec and Magnus at the wedding, dropping the case against Izzy, etc. Same goes for Jocelyn. She tries to shoot Jace, she locks up Clary, lies to Clary and Luke, and yet people can see that her character is not ‘evil’ or ‘bad’, but more complex than that. 

In all of this, I don’t mean to say that Raj should be promoted to a main character, or that he needs to be included in more scenes or anything (though that would be nice). However, the fact remains that he is the only representation for many fans of the show. Yes, this show has done well in terms of POC representation (with a few exceptions), but the term POC literally covers most of the world. Therefore, even though there is POC representation, many of us are more protective of Raj since he represents us in particular, and there isn’t that much (good) representation of Indian and/or desi characters anywhere else either. When this interacts with everything I mentioned above, of course desi fans are going be upset and we have every right to be! 

[isthatbloodonhisshirt]

Emergency

Sterek A-Z Challenge: Emergency

The sound of falling rain outside his window was soothing in a way that he had never really been able to fully explain. It was just one of those comforts that people enjoyed from inside their own home, but dreaded having to go out into.

Derek himself tended not to leave the loft unless absolutely necessary. Especially nowadays, with the weather being how it was. He was content to sit on one of the cushy couches with a book and listen to the rain fall while engrossed in some tale of mystery.

Considering his life, Laura used to make fun of him for always reading mystery books growing up. One would think he’d have had enough with the unknown for a lifetime, but there was something satisfying about reading all the hints in a piece of work and accurately determining that, it was in fact Colonel Mustard in the Dining Room with the candlestick.

Not that he’d ever read the Clue books. They weren’t his thing, he preferred the nitty gritty kind of mysteries, with murder and adventure and—okay, maybe some romance thrown in there, too.

It was just nice to read the unrealistic “guy always gets the girl” trope. Derek himself didn’t particularly want to “get the girl,” but it would be nice if he could “get the one he’d been pining after since having met him years ago.”

He wasn’t holding his breath, though. Besides, he’d rather have a friendship than nothing, at this point, and so much had happened since Derek’s return to Beacon Hills that he didn’t want to push his luck. People were still pretty sore about him having left, so he was trying to ease himself back into their lives.

Three weeks, and counting. So far, he felt like he was doing all right. Not great, but all right. Still didn’t like the shit Scott had turned, but he was tolerable. Didn’t know where Kira had gone, but it had made Scott more focussed on being a real Alpha.

He hadn’t bothered to learn any of the other people in the group’s names. He was just glad Lydia and Malia were still around for him to ask questions of. Scott had been busy with Alpha things.

Derek had been avoiding Stiles.

Outside of pack meetings and any sort of weird situation that required his assistance, Derek made sure to stay away from any one-on-ones with Stiles.

He actually made it a point to keep an ear out for when he could determine Stiles’ jeep was on its way to the loft so he could conveniently step out before he got there. Derek wasn’t ready to face Stiles. After everything he knew had happened—courtesy of Lydia—he didn’t want to hear Stiles telling him how they’d needed him, how he’d abandoned them, how Derek should’ve just stayed gone.

He could handle a lot, but not that. Not from Stiles.

Especially not from Stiles.

Scott had already implied it, he’d just ignored him. Scott’s opinion meant nothing to him when he’d spent the first few years of being an Alpha thinking with his dick instead of his head.

Yes, Derek had made mistakes, sleeping with the enemy and all that, but at least he owned up to it and at the time, he hadn’t been thinking with his dick.

If he’d been thinking with his dick, it wouldn’t have been Jennifer Blake or Braeden in his bed, but it wasn’t exactly like he was going to say these things to Scott. So he just left things as they were, continued to avoid Stiles, and slowly tried to integrate himself back into the fold.

He had missed this. Their mismatched pack. He hadn’t realized how much until he’d returned. It had been like being home. Pack was family, blood ties didn’t matter, and he’d missed his family.

Derek was getting into the obligatory sex scene of the book he was reading when his cell phone began to vibrate on the coffee table. He contemplated leaving it to ring, but then remembered that he was back with the pack and people would be calling him for a reason as opposed to just for a chat. He’d gotten way too used to ignoring his phone living away from this crazy place he called home.

Reaching out for his phone, he snagged it between his fingers and brought it up to eye level, frowning when he didn’t recognize the number. He almost let it go to voicemail before deciding that could be a bad idea. It could be someone who’d lost their cellphone being hunted by some weird Greek mythology creature.

Apparently that had happened while he’d been gone. Who knew?

Answering before it cut to voicemail, he put the phone to his ear, hearing the loud hustle and bustle of activity in the background and an intercom going off.

“Hello?”

“Derek! Finally! Someone who answers their phone!”

He frowned, feeling like he should recognize the voice, but not managing it in that moment. Before he could ask who was speaking, they continued and he figured it out on his own.

“I tried calling Scott, but he isn’t answering. I couldn’t reach Lydia, either. Do you know where Scott is? I need him, now!”

“Sorry, I don’t.” He closed his book and sat up, throwing his legs over the side of the couch and reaching forward to set it down on the coffee table. Mrs. McCall sounded a little frantic, so he figured he should give her his full attention. “What is it? Can I help with something?” Anything to get back into the pack’s good graces.

“I really need Scott right now, it’s an emergency. Stiles is in the hospital—”

If she said anything else after those words, Derek didn’t hear them. Panic, sharp and suffocating, rose to the surface and it was like he suddenly couldn’t breathe. The words kept repeating in his brain, over and over, and the longer he sat there, the more panicked he felt. Stiles was in the hospital? What had happened? What had happened?! Where the fuck was Scott?! He was the Alpha, he was supposed to stop his pack from ever being injured.

Shit, was Stiles dying?!

“I’ll be right there.” He hung up before she could say any more, lurching to his feet and rushing for the door. He was in such a hurry to leave that he forgot to grab a jacket, racing down the stairs with his phone still clutched tightly in his hand. He flew out of the building, the rain soaking through his shirt instantly and plastering his hair to his forehead.

The water hitting his skin was cold and biting, but he could barely feel it over the panic still rising in his throat. He just bolted for the Camaro and threw himself into it once he’d gotten the door unlocked and open. Starting the car took longer than he’d have liked, hands shaking so badly he could barely shove the key into the ignition. When he finally did and turned it, he was in such a hurry to leave he forgot to shift and almost plowed straight into a wall.

Forcing himself to calm down and ignore how terrifying it was to know Mrs. McCall had been desperately trying to reach Scott—and what that meant—Derek managed to shift properly and turn the car out onto the road. He did his best not to speed, feeling like he would rip someone’s throat out with his teeth if they tried to stop him to give him a ticket. He just kept a steady pace—perhaps slightly faster than was wise, but not too high over the limit—and managed to reach the hospital within seven minutes.

Parking in an empty spot as close as he could get without having to look for a spot, he raced through the rain to the front door, bursting through so fast he slammed into the still opening automatic door, clipping his shoulder. He almost tore the thing clean off, but the door somehow remained in place. Taking the stairs two at a time since the elevator would literally drive him crazy waiting for it, he slammed through the doors at the top and rushed to the closest nurse’s station.

“Stiles Stilinski,” he said to the nurse immediately, interrupting whatever she was doing and gripping the counter tightly with both hands. He was dripping water everywhere, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

She looked up at him, startled, and blinked stupidly at him. “I’m sorry?”

“Stiles!” Derek snapped, slamming one hand on the counter. “Stilinski! He was brought in here, where is he?”

The woman seemed put off by his rudeness but she didn’t comment on it, she just made an annoyed face and began typing away on her computer. For a second, he wondered if she was ignoring him for being rude, but when she spoke, he figured she probably would rather get rid of him. Which he was fine with, as long as she gave him what he needed.

“There’s no one admitted by that name.”

“Look again!” Derek shouted, ignoring the fact that he knew Stiles wasn’t his first name. He was too panicked to mention that, brain caught in a loop of “find Stiles, find Stiles, find Stiles.”

“Sir, if you continue to shout, I’ll have to call security,” the nurse said sternly, but she began typing again, frowning. “There’s a Stilinski admitted, but—”

“Where? What room?”

He didn’t wait for her to answer, he just reached over the counter and twisted the screen, ignoring her squawk of indignation. The second his eyes caught sight of the words “surgery,” he turned and ran in that direction, almost taking out one of the orderlies. He didn’t stop to apologize, just side-stepped at the last second and kept running, the nurse shouting after him.

His eyes scanned the signs while he ran, his panic mounting at the thought that maybe Stiles was dying on an operating table somewhere. He was halfway across the waiting room to try the other side when he skid to a halt, eyes catching sight of a familiar red hoodie.

Stiles was sitting in the waiting room, hands buried in his hair and shoulders tense. He was completely dry, suggesting he’d been there for a while, at least long enough for the rain to dry from his clothes. The relief at seeing him washed through Derek so fast that he felt ready to collapse into one of the empty chairs. He was going to kill Mrs. McCall for making him worry like this.

He’d taken two steps towards Stiles when he caught the scent of tears. Tears and anxiety and terror.

Derek stopped in front of him, hesitating before touching him and deciding against it, clenching his hand into a fist and letting it fall back to his side.

“Stiles?”

His head rose slowly, and Derek felt panic again at the sight of red-rimmed eyes and still-falling tears. Stiles cleared his throat and sat up straighter, using the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe at his nose and crossing his arms almost defensively.

“What are you doing here?”

“Scott’s mom called,” he said slowly, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“Oh,” was what Stiles said. Just that.

Derek opened his mouth when a voice behind him snapped, “There he is!”

Turning, he saw the nurse with a security guard. The guy looked hesitant to even approach Derek, hand on the butt of the baton at his hip. He was saved having to do anything when Mrs. McCall appeared.

“I figured if there was trouble, it’d be you,” she said with a sigh. “It’s okay, Susan. He’s one of mine.”

Derek would forever deny the fact that hearing her call him “one of hers” made his chest swell a little bit, happiness at belonging somewhere filling him.

“You should teach him some manners,” the snappy nurse said, glaring at Derek before turning on her heel. The security guard, seeming relieved, hurried to follow.

“How’s my dad?” Stiles asked immediately, standing when Mrs. McCall approached.

The words made Derek feel stupid, realizing what he’d missed of the nurse’s words over the phone when she’d first called.

Yes, Stiles was at the hospital. But not because he was hurt.

Because his father was.

“Still in surgery,” she said in a low, soothing voice, reaching out to rub his back and looking sad. “I’m checking in as much as I can. Tried Scott again, too.”

Stiles sank back into his seat, absolutely reeking of misery, and buried his hands in his hair again. Mrs. McCall caught Derek’s eye and jerked her head. He didn’t want to leave Stiles, but given his greeting, he wasn’t entirely sure of his welcome.

Following the nurse towards the corridor so they weren’t quite so close to Stiles, he turned to her once the teen was out of sight. “What happened?” he demanded.

“Domestic disturbance,” she said in a low voice, crossing her arms, as if to protect herself. “It wasn’t supposed to be a dangerous situation, the sheriff’s department gets calls from that house all the time. Noah decided to go out this time, and things didn’t go as planned. He was shot.”

Hearing that made Derek feel sick. Stiles had lost his mother at a young age, and now he ran the risk of losing his father if things went badly with the surgery. His best friend was MIA, and the only person who’d shown up when he needed comfort the most was someone who’d left without a word and had decided it was time to come back.

Oh, and who’d been avoiding him. That too.

Derek was probably the last person Stiles wanted to see right then, and that killed him, because he wanted to be there for him. He wanted to sit beside him, rub his back, insist everything was going to be okay. He wanted to do those things, he wanted to be someone Stiles could lean on right now.

It was more likely he’d be asked to leave.

“Can you stay with him?” Mrs. McCall asked, hunching her shoulders as if she were cold. “I don’t want him to be alone, but I need to keep an eye on his father’s surgery. I want to try and reach Scott, too. He should be here.”

Derek just nodded once and turned on his heel without waiting for her to say anything else. The only person who could make him leave Stiles right now was Stiles himself. Anyone else, and he would rip their throats out.

Moving back into the waiting room, Derek hesitated on whether or not he should sit before realizing hovering would be weird so he settled into the seat on Stiles’ right.

He kept his gaze locked on Stiles, the other’s hands still buried in his hair and the smell of misery overpowering. He had to say something, he knew he did, but this wasn’t something he was good at. Comforting others.

So many people in his life had died, and he found more people comforting him because of it. Not that the sheriff was dying—Derek would drag him back from death if need be, for Stiles’ sake—but he still wasn’t sure how to help. He wasn’t even sure of his welcome.

Deciding that it couldn’t hurt to try, he hesitantly reached out and followed through with the action he’d been thinking about moments before, letting his hand fall onto Stiles’ back. His muscles were tense beneath his fingers, and Derek could feel him trembling. The hands in Stiles’ hair seemed to tighten, but he didn’t pull away or tell Derek to leave, so he began rubbing slow circles against his back.

They sat in silence for a long while, Derek listening to the erratic thumping of Stiles’ heart. He could tell the teen was barely keeping panic attacks at bay, his breathing beginning to quicken whenever his heart did before his fingers would tighten in his hair and he would force his breathing to slow. His heart would follow soon afterwards, but it didn’t last long. It would always pick back up within a few minutes.

Derek just kept rubbing circles, eyes locked on Stiles, making sure to watch for any signs of distress.

Well, more distress, since it was obvious Stiles was pretty freaking distressed right now.

Turning to check the time on the clock, Derek noted he’d been there for almost twenty minutes. Still no Scott. It made him wonder how long Stiles had been sitting there, alone and terrified. And miserable. How long had he been here before Mrs. McCall had remembered Derek was back and had called him?

It made him angry to think about, because he remembered that Stiles was dry when he’d found him. If he was dry, he’d been there a while. The rain had been pouring all day, and even if Stiles had parked in the closest spot available, he’d still have gotten soaked through going from his jeep to the entrance.

He’d been alone for at least an hour before Derek had shown up.

“Why did you leave us?”

Derek turned back to Stiles at those words, hand freezing on his back.

“Were we not good enough for you? I know we’re not the best pack in the world, or the most functional, but I thought we meant something to each other.”

He felt guilt coiling in his stomach, burning its way up into his lungs.

“I didn’t leave because of the pack. I needed to find Kate. I had to stop her from hurting anyone else.”

Stiles said nothing to that, and when he didn’t make any move to shrug Derek’s hand off, the werewolf returned to rubbing slow circles.

Another brief bout of silence before he spoke again.

“Did you even miss us?”

He contemplated lying, but saw no reason to lie to Stiles. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you call or something?” Stiles sat up then, sniffing and wiping his nose with his sleeve again. The new position made it hard to rub his back so Derek let his hand slide to the chairback instead, keeping it draped along its edge behind Stiles’ back.

“I didn’t think anyone would want to hear from me.”

Stiles snorted, wiping at his face in full with the opposite sleeve of his hoodie, probably to avoid getting snot all over his cheeks. “Of course. Why would anyone want to hear from you to confirm you were still alive and breathing? How stupid of me.”

Derek hadn’t thought of that.

“I didn’t think of that,” he admitted aloud.

Stiles just shrugged at that, leaning forward so his forearms rested against his thighs, hands clasped together loosely. He turned to look at Derek, giving him a brief once over.

“You’re wet.”

“It’s raining,” Derek replied.

“Where’s your jacket?”

“Forgot it.”

“Didn’t notice it was raining?”

He hesitated. “Mrs. McCall said you were at the hospital. I got worried.”

The weird thump of Stiles’ heart then was not related to worries about his father, and a small smile teased the corners of his lips. “You were worried about me?”

“I thought it was you in the hospital,” he muttered, pulling his arm back and crossing them over his chest. “I didn’t stop to grab a jacket, I just left.”

The smile widened ever so slightly. It wasn’t anywhere near being one of Stiles’ usual, cheerful smiles, but it was enough considering the circumstances.

“Thanks. For caring, I mean.”

“I do care,” Derek insisted, frowning in annoyance. “You’re pack.”

“It’s still nice to know you care.” Stiles looked at the clock, and then stared down at his fingers, playing with the skin along the edges of his nails.

When they lapsed back into silence, Derek returned to rubbing his back.

Derek’s clothes were dry by the time Mrs. McCall returned. Stiles was on his feet again, just like the last time, with Derek following suit. The werewolf felt a weight lift off him at the smile on her face and the relief in her voice at being able to give Stiles good news.

“He’s out of surgery. They’re moving him to ICU now, but he’s stable and they say he’s gonna be just fine after some rest.”

Stiles turned away from her, rubbing at his face and thanking higher powers. Raking his hands through his hair, he turned back to Scott’s mother, then moved forward, reaching out his arms to hug her. She hugged him back tightly, rubbing his back for a few seconds before they pulled apart.

“Can I see him?” Stiles asked, crossing his arms and shifting his weight, clearly eager to get moving, to see his father.

“Not yet,” she said softly, reaching out to rub his arm. “Once he’s moved to a room, I’ll come find you, okay?”

Stiles nodded, Mrs. McCall giving him another smile, squeezing his arm gently, and then turning so she could get back to work.

The teen fell heavily into his seat, rubbing at his face again. Derek could smell tears once more, but he didn’t comment on it, knowing he was relieved. Derek was relieved, too. Stiles aside, the sheriff was a good man, and his loss would’ve hit everyone hard.

Taking a seat beside Stiles once more, he watched him rub furiously at his face, then rake both hands into his hair, shifting his gaze to Derek.

“Thanks. For staying with me.”

“I can stay longer.”

He’d almost expected Stiles to say, “Nah, it’s cool.” like he would’ve in the past. Surprisingly, he didn’t. He just gave Derek a small, grateful smile, and leaned back in his seat, letting out a slow breath and rubbing his face once more.

They sat in silence, Derek watching the clock, hoping for the move to happen quickly. Not because he wanted to leave, but because seeing the sheriff would probably help alleviate a lot of the stress Stiles still felt. He wanted him to know his father truly was okay.

It was almost half an hour later when running footsteps were heard down the corridor. Derek recognized who was coming before even seeing him, Scott skidding to a halt at the entrance of the waiting room.

“Stiles!”

Stiles was out of his chair instantly, hurrying over to Scott. The other teen closed the distance just as quickly, the two of them throwing their arms around each other, hugging tightly.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve been here. I should’ve checked my phone. Is he okay? What happened?”

Scott was talking a mile a minute, and Derek could see how genuinely sorry he was. He was still hugging Stiles, even while continuing to ask him questions about how his father was and how much they knew about his condition.

When they finally pulled apart, they stayed standing, speaking quickly to one another. Scott had one hand on Stiles’ arm, as if wanting to keep touching him, to ensure he knew that he wasn’t alone.

Figuring his presence was no longer needed, despite wanting to stay, Derek stood. He watched the two continue to speak for a few seconds, then sighed softly and made sure he still had everything before heading back for the corridor.

He started to pass the other two when he felt fingers curling into the back of his shirt and yanking him back.

“Where are you going?” Stiles asked, interrupting Scott’s question to him.

When Derek turned to look at him, he saw panic in Stiles’ expression, like he thought Derek was going to leave again and never come back.

Derek’s gaze shifted to Scott, the other werewolf staring right back at him.

“I—” Stiles looked so panicked and miserable that the words caught in his throat, and instead of saying he was about to leave, he said, “was going to get coffee.”

The way Stiles relaxed made something clench in Derek’s chest. Jesus, he loved this hyperactive idiot. Knowing that Stiles wanted him to stay while he went through this, even though Scott was there, was the most amazing feeling.

“Oh. Can you get me some juice or something? I can’t handle caffeine right now.”

“Sugar’s not much better,” Scott insisted.

“Sugar is perfect for me right now, dude. Don’t try to stop me from getting juice, man. Not cool.”

Before Scott could respond, Derek cut in. “Sure, I’ll get juice. Scott?”

Conceding defeat, Scott sighed. “I’m fine. Thanks.” He slapped Derek in the arm, the action awkward, but at least he was trying.

Nodding and promising to be right back, Derek turned and headed down the corridor. Despite the circumstances, Derek felt relief at the fact that he and Stiles were okay. There wasn’t any judgement or resentment. Just confusion and hurt, but that was something Derek could fix. That was something he would work to fix.

For now, he just had to be there for Stiles. Once his father was okay, he could focus on the rest.

Derek made it all the way to the end of the corridor before realizing he had no idea where he was going. Inhaling deeply, he bit the bullet and turned to Susan at the nurse’s station, her angry glower following him the entire way.

“Hi… Where can I get juice?”

END