#gotta relearn how to draw from the ground up every time

[archvillain]

where's your fucking rage? where's your ANGER?! rise! rise! rise!!!

[someone-elses-star]

Episode 6x07: Nevermind Personal Narration

You guys seemed to like my personal narrative last week, so I decided to do one again! I’m super excited for this episode, and I’m really wondering if we will get Clarke back this week, or if the crew will somehow find out she is still alive.

IT”S STARTING!!!!!

Love hearing Eliza’s accent when she introduces the show!

Okay...give me some Clarke goodness!

Love hearing the voices of her memories! 

Lexa! Still ship bellarke but......LEXA!

Door is opening......

And back to older Clarke!

Is this the Jake Griffin scene?!?!!?

YAYAYAYA JAKE!

Is he still hot? I think he’s still pretty hot! Lol

No Clarke. You didn’t die. YOU FIGHT GIRL!

Awww poor Clarke thinks she’s dead. 

YES girl! You still alive!

Yes, baby girl. Daddy is in your head. But why should it mean it isn’t real? (Harry Potter references! lol)

Are we already leaving Jake? Is he coming back?! I want him back! Maybe he’ll lead her back after she beats Jo? She better beat JO!!!

I do love Jo, though. Very good evil girl! I just want Clarke back, too!

Ohh! ALLIE! and old Clarke grounder outfit!

Ohhhh....Allie saved Clarke! Coolll!!!!

Yes, save that memory! Use it to beat Jo! Use it to come back!

Face your demons, Clarke! Fight! Live!

Ohhh. Is the red door a Jo memory?

HI JOSEPHINE!

Damn right it’s not! Kick her butt, Clarke!

COMMERCIAL BREAK #1 Thoughts: If Clarke really dies is this show even worth watching anymore? If they save her through Madi’s chip instead, will she have to relearn all her new memories. That makes the most sense. I really don’t want her to forget Madi though! Also, random, but what do you guys think about the theory that this season will end with time travel to a past Earth before the nukes? I feel that that may take it a little too far, but I honestly just want Clarke back now, so that is my main focus. NANCY FUCKING DREW! Is anyone else excited?

Yes, Clarke. He did. Does anyone else want to punch Jo? She kinda has that kinda punchable expression constantly on her face. 

If anyone can fight brain deterioration it is Clarke!

It better hurt you psychopath!

I also don’t want Clarke to survive only to have to take a new body because I don’t want to lose Eliza either!

Ahh there is Jo’s little hair twirl.

Yeah, you fight Clarke!

Ohhh, love Clarke’s change in every room! 

Ohhhhh....memories are already fading off the walls!

Damn, Jo is quick. Guess she’s gotta be after all these years.

Clarke is a badass! Shut your bitch mouth!

Damn.....Jo is smart though!

Yes, Clarke beat her ass into the ground!

Damn......slamming her head with the door. Inspired!

Doubt this means Jo is dead though.

Yup....there she is again.

Ahhh, backup. LIke a computer. 

Ah so that is what the pill was. A sedative. Makes sense.

Don’t be so sure Jo! Clarke is a cockroach!

COMMERCIAL BREAK #2 Thoughts: Trying not to be worried about Clarke’s survival. I feel the writers know that a dead Clarke means the end of the show. Also, Eliza is a queen. Losing her would also mean the end of the show I think. Still....very nervous like last episode. Wondering if this episode was the writers trying to give us a final goodbye to Clarke. But I can’t let those thoughts win or I’m going to start having a panic attack. Not good. Need happy thoughts. Clarke surviving. Bellarke reunion. Madi burning these bastards to the ground. I wonder when we are going to get the Bellamy scenes from the episode photos. I want those scenes, but I also want to give Clarke plenty of time to beat Jo. But how will she do that when Jo is backed up? Kinda feel like she will need a window to take over her body and let the others know she is still there so they can do something on the outside that she can’t do from the inside. Then all she has to do is stay alive on the inside. Easy, right? lol

RUN CLARKE RUN!

Ohhh....bloodreina! 

That’s bull! She fought a lot of battles. Don’t let your demons kill you Clarke!

OHHHH she brought up Bellamy!!!

Love the collision alerts every time Jo is coming on screen!

AH MOUNT WEATHER! 

Will a projection of Bellamy help save her?

Oh, no! Maya! Damn!!!

Because she has people to live for! People who love her!

Awww honey. Gotta stop letting your demons break you down! 

This is worse than the eclipse psychosis! Poor Clarke!

YES! You’re in control Clarke!

She has an idea?!?! What did she do with the chip!? Ohhh I bet she controlled Maya to lie for her! 

YES I was right!

Cute....lmao....

Jo reminds me a lot of a girl who used to bully me in school. Is that why I hate her so much? Probably.

Yes, shock her to death....until she reboots. Damn. She brought in an eviler Russell? Note that I said eviler because no matter how nice he’s trying to play he still killed Clarke and has killed many before her so the Primes could live. 

COMMERCIAL BREAK #3 Thoughts: Not many, honestly, I just want Clarke to live. It’s fun seeing her projections come to life in the form of old characters. That’s fun! Already half over? This show always goes by so quickly when I’m narrating it! Anyone else get these Liberty Mutual commericals with the emu? Do we like? I don’t know! OHHHH LOVE RUBY ROSE as the new batwoman! What a great casting call!

RUN CLARKE RUN! AGAIN!

Oh no! Don’t watch daddy get floated again!

Uhh oohhhh....Jo is going to play mean with the floating memory!

Did they actually have Yatzee? That could be the only reason she knows that saying, right?

Oh....a little scary! Poor Clarke traumas! Isn’t that like....her whole life?

“A ringing endorsement.” Lmao. Sassy Clarke!

Damn, Jo is great at manipulation. 

Ohhhh bringing up Bellamy again!

“You have drawings, I have books. Don’t judge!” Lmao

Ohhhh....Clarke seeing Jo’s memories of Bellamy.

Damn....please don’t stop fighting!

Oh God.....she’s considering this! She’s going to sacrifice herself again!?!?!

Do you actually trust her, Clarke?!?!

What.....my heart is breaking. Are we actually losing Clarke? NOT MY Daughter you bitch! (Yes, another HP reference. I can’t help myself!) 

COMMERCIAL BREAK #4 Thoughts: I think I’m dying. I feel like this was to be expected because Clarke is a self-sacrificing angel, but oh my gods please let this be fixed somehow! In a way that does not have Clarke dying...and preferably with her memories of Madi still intact. But that last part can be negotiable in lieu of new memories. There is NO replacing Clarke! I will RIOT if they actually kill Clarke off. Who’s with me? We still have twenty minutes. Miracles happen in this show all the time! Especially in the last couple of minutes! KEEP THE HOPE ALIVE! I’m wondering if we are going to get a, “I bear it so they don’t have to” from Clarke anytime soon. That would fit well in this episode. 

Okay. Now she is in her old hut. With....MONTY?!?!?!?! Oh my fucking GOD! MONTY!!!!!

Yes, Monty! You tell her! Tell her not to give up! Save her Monty! This is so much better than a memory of Bellamy saving her! 

AHHH THE QUOTE! I’m so good! Yes, bring up Madi! Don’t leave Madi! 

They wouldn’t bring back Monty if she was going to actually die, right?!!?

It’s never over, Clarke! Yes, Monty! Lead her to freedom!

I’m crying over Monty. Are you? 

Yes, going in to Josephine’s mind! You can do this! You have Monty! Everything is better with Monty!

Damn.....that is a lot of books.

Ohhh....she knows you are there!

“I like your drawings better.” I love you Monty! We never deserved you!

Yes, control your body! Our predictions are coming true!

Oh. The scene of Jo being murdered in her last body! 

Ohhh. How is Clarke going to use this memory? Or any of the memories she sees?

Baby! 

Nulls? That’s what they call those who can’t bear a host? Damn....

COMMERCIAL BREAK #5 Thoughts: So, Clarke is fighting again with the help of Monty. They are discussing her controlling her body through Jo’s memories. GOOD! BUTTTT....we have less than ten minutes. What’s going to happen? Could Clarke take control of her body and interrupt Bellamy’s meeting with Russell that we saw pictured? Will Jo take over at the last minute and try to convince them that she was just joking...and that Clarke is really dead? Could that send Bellamy into exploring Clarke being alive? If Clarke stays inside her head for more than this episode do we get to see more Monty?

He got it! Go Monty! 

And we’re....in a cafe. With XMAS decor. OHHHH Earth before the bombs?!?!!

Yes, why would she lock this memory away?

Oh are the bombs about to go off?

Water rationing protest? Is this our future? Probably. 

Oh......what is this guy to her? Damn...a gun?!?!

Oh MY GOD! I would want to hide this memory too! 

Ohh more fighting! 

Oh no! She’s awake! 

No! She can’t win! Clarke can still be alive!

Oh....he’s using Morse code! Is that Morse code?

Bellamy knows!!! He can see it! He knows! Clarke is still in there! 

It is Morse code! 

“I slept through most of Earth skills so....” Lmao! I love Miller! We never get enough Miller!

Yes, go last five seconds of Bellamy finding out about Clarke still being in there!

[chibinightowl]

Down the Rabbit Hole

You’re all probably sick of me after my drabble posts last night and this morning, but before I crash, it is finally time to unveil the wonderfully talented and amazing @tanekore‘s birthday gift! Here’s chapter one of Jason and his adventures in Wonderland.

~*~

“Get down!” 

Tim’s warning comes too late and Jason finds himself with a face full of Scarecrow’s newest fear gas, right along with the mook he punches hard in the face.

Shit. Not good. Jason tries to hold his breath for as long as he can while trying to escape the noxious fumes but the maze that is the floor of this warehouse has him turned around in no time. What a night to be caught without his hood.

At least the asshat he was fighting has the luxury of being unconscious on the floor at his feet. Are there more? Jason can’t remember if there were. He should know and he doesn’t. Fuck. A cowled figure lands almost soundlessly next to him, mouth covered in a gas-mask. It takes all of Jason’s self-control not to lash out at Tim’s freaky looking form. Someone came prepared tonight. “Hood, you okay?” He sucks in a deep breath and shudders as his lungs burn. A wracking cough hits him like a sledgehammer and he crashes to his knees, relearning how to breathe. His vision wavers but he tries hard to focus on Tim. Tim, who means so much to him and loves him in spite of all the shit he’s put him through. “Jay?”

Jason coughs again. He can hear the wheeze in his breathe as he struggles for air. “Diff-rent,” he manages to choke out. “Yeah, that’s obvious. Just concentrate on breathing. Any hallucinations yet?” Tim presses two fingers against Jason’s throat, checking his already racing pulse. “The Scarecrow’s fear formula changes often so it’s hard to come up with a multipurpose antitoxin.” It’s a fact Jason knows all too well.

He shakes his head in response to Tim’s question. Not yet. They both know they’re coming though. The fear gas can sometimes take time to break down into a person’s psyche and draw out what they fear most. He has a feeling one of those fears has changed since the last time he was gassed. Before, he didn’t have Tim to be scared for.

“Just...get...me...outta...here,” he gasps, each word punctuated by a cough. This is different too. Normally it’s a quick inhalation, a few coughs and a sneeze and wham the shit’s in your system. Tim is already moving, dragging one of Jason’s arms over his shoulder and trying to get him to his feet. “Got to help me out here, Hood. I’ll fireman’s carry your ass if I have to, but I don’t what to hear you bitch about the bruises because it won’t be pretty.” Jason tries to laugh but it comes out as another harsh wheeze. “Love...you...Red.” “I love you too, Hood. Let’s get you out of here. A’s already called the car for us.” Tim staggers a bit under Jason’s weight. Jason isn’t much help, but he manages to get his legs in the right position to walk slowly. His breathing regulates a bit as they get further away from the center of the maze and he’s able to manage full sentences again. “What happened back there? I didn’t even see Crane.” Tim growls, frustration evident in his voice. “He wasn’t there. There was a remote trigger on those cases closest to you. Must have had a motion sensor involved. I didn’t see it until too late. I’m so sorry, Hood.” If there’s one thing Tim excels at, it’s self-flagellation. All the Bats do, actually, himself included. “Not your fault,” Jason says with another cough. He’s starting to feel better, which is strange. Still, he’ll take it, since this means he can take some of his weight off Tim. They keep walking. It feels like an eternity since he was gassed but it can’t have been more than a handful of minutes. The silence between him and Tim is stifling. It’s not normally this way. Jason likes their shared silences, whether it’s at home and they’re both trying to stretch out on their overstuffed sofa and failing miserably or on patrol and they’re using hand signals to try and boss each other around or make fun of Dick.

This is a bad quiet. Jason can feel the hair on his neck prickle as he feels unseen eyes on him. On them. Whether it’s paranoia or the fear gas kicking in, he’s unable to tell but he knows one thing for certain. It’s taking them too long to get out of this warehouse maze. They’re targets. Sitting ducks, even as Tim takes a left and Jason catches a whiff of fresh air. It makes him cough again. Dammit. “Red, we gotta get out of here,” Jason manages to murmur. “I know. We’re almost there. Hang on a little bit longer.” Tim takes right and they’re suddenly in a wide open space looking out over the covered pier and the expanse of Gotham Harbor. Jason’s confused. This isn’t the street and the safety of the Batmobile. “What did A send? The boat?” “He sent the car. I told you that already.” Tim sounds like he’s lecturing a child, his tone taking on an infinite amount of patience as though he’s repeated himself a few times now. For all Jason knows, he has. “Then why are we at the dock?” he asks, knowing he sounds petulant and not caring in the slightest. Tim gives him an obvious look of concern. “We’re not at the dock.” Jason shakes his head, trying to clear it. He knows he’s fucked up, but this is unreal. “Yes, we are. I can see the pier right there.” He even points at it. “The gas has to be messing with your head already,” Tim says. “We’re in the alley where the car is supposed to meet us.” Every sense Jason has is screaming at him in warning now. He rips his arm away from Tim and backs away cautiously. “We’re at the dock. I can smell the air, Red. I can feel the breeze.” “No, that’s the sewer grate you’re standing on. Smells like Killer Croc’s breath on a good day.” Tim holds up his hands and slowly approaches Jason. “The car’s ETA is three minutes. We’ll be able to hear it soon.” No. No, this can’t be right. Jason looks down and sees the wooden planks that still make up the structure of the older piers in Gotham. If he concentrates, he can hear the water below him, the small waves lapping against the pylons. He purposefully draws in a deep breath and tastes the salty sea breeze. Shit. Whatever this stuff is, he’s doped up good. Reality can’t get much more fucked up than this. A loud creak rises up from beneath his feet. “Jason, don’t move,” Tim says warningly. He rushes forward and stops at the edge of the dock (alley? sewer grate?), holding out his hand. “Here, take my hand. The grate’s not holding your weight.” The creaking sound grows louder, and Jason can feel the planking quake under his boots. But he doesn’t move, a sudden horrible thought occurring to him. “Are you Red Robin?” he asks shakily. “If I’m seeing and smelling the docks while you’re telling me we’re in the alley, the only consistent factor is you and me. I know I’m real, so who the hell are you?” Tim brushes back his cowl. Pale blue eyes beg him to believe and his voice is heavy with poorly concealed urgency. “My name is Tim Drake. You’re Jason Todd. We’ve been dating for 14 months and just recently moved in together, mostly because you got tired of hauling your shit between safehouses and said that your Shakespeare collection deserves a good home. Your words, not mine.” It sounds like something Jason would say. And he also remembers all of this. Who else would know their names and such a personal fact? But he still hears the sound of water beneath him, which he knows he wouldn’t hear if he were standing on a sewer grate. He’s stood on them thousands of times. He shakes his head slowly and takes another step back. The creaking sound grows more ominous.   “Jason!” Tim shouts and reaches for him. “Take my hand.” “Who are you?” Jason asks again, and this time draws his gun. “What did you do with Red Robin?” Tim blanches but holds his ground. “Please, Jason. Take my hand. The car just arrived. It’s behind me. Can’t you see it?” he pleads. All Jason sees is the side of the old wooden warehouse where it opens out onto the pier. “This is a trap.” “You’re high on fear gas, Jay. You know this.” That’s right. He was sprayed earlier. How could he have forgotten so soon? The eyes are back on him, on them, and Jason whirls around to face them. “Come out and fight, you pieces of shit!” The movement is too much for the weak wood beneath his feet and it finally cracks, sending Jason plummeting into the darkness below. “Jason!” he hears Tim shout. The sound is swallowed by the pitch-black tunnel he finds himself in. Looks like Tim was right after all and he really was standing on a sewer grate. Okay, strike one against him. At least he has the excuse of being fucked up in the head at the moment. Although Damian will argue he always is, so what else is new. Jason waits to hit the ground, the sewer channel, something. But he just keeps falling. It’s not even very fast either. In fact, it seems slower than most falls he’s taken. Hazard of the job, although Dick is the one who will throw himself into a free fall first and then shoot out his line just for the sensation of flight. He’s strange like that, or so Jason thought when they first met. Dick was in his weird glam rock meets disco phase and his uniform reflected his tastes. It didn’t stop him from teaching Jason how to fly on the trapeze, the one thing Dick taught him rather than Bruce. No one moves through the air quite like Dick. A case can be made for Kori though. But she’s a natural flier and just as comfortable in the air as she is on the ground. Not even Clark manages to fly like she does, simply for the sheer enjoyment of it. Okay, why hasn’t he hit the ground yet? Jason tries to peer into the darkness below him, but he’s still falling feet first into oblivion. Or is he? Can he even be certain he’s falling because, hello, fear gas? He doubts his boyfriend is even his boyfriend and wow, is he going to get the lecture when whatever wormhole he’s fallen into spits him out. This is by far the strangest concoction Scarecrow has ever come up with. Jason doesn’t feel afraid. If anything, he’s a bit anxious, but who wouldn’t be when they’ve been falling for several minutes and haven’t hit the bottom? He realizes he’s still holding his gun and holsters it. Shit, he pulled a gun on Tim. Jason sighs and shakes his head. He’s got some apologizing to do, even though he knows Tim will tell he doesn’t need to. They’ve all done and said things while out of their minds from the various toxins and poisons, let alone spores from Poison Ivy, that they’ve been exposed to. Hazards of the job. He wonders if the fear gas is making the fall seem slower than it normally would be. Jason tries to stay alert, but the darkness is warm and kind of comforting, as long as he keeps moving. The faint rush of air flowing past him keeps it from becoming reminders of his grave. He must have dozed off briefly because when he next opens his eyes (where they even closed?), the faint outline of shelves and cupboards appear before him. Now he really knows he’s high because he’s falling so slowly he can reach out and move things from the shelves if he wants to. So much for terminal velocity and the laws of physics. What goes up, must come down. His crash, both literally and mentally, is going to be spectacular. The light slowly grows brighter as he falls. Just because he can, Jason reaches out and grabs a book from a shelf. May as well keep himself amused if this is going to take much longer. Of course, he grabs a recipe book. He heaves a massive sigh and forces himself to read it anyway. Alfred would be proud of him and who knows, perhaps he’ll find something new to make for him and Tim. The book is surprisingly detailed and full of recipes for different desserts Jason’s never even heard of before. He’s so engrossed in it that he doesn’t realize the ground is approaching until his ass hits it with a jarring thud. “Motherfucker,” Jason swears, rising to his feet and rubbing his tailbone. He shoves the book into the inner pocket of his jacket and looks around. He’s in some kind of long, tiled hallway, lined with doors on either side. Glancing behind him, he spots a stone wall. Well, at least the way forward is clear. Still, because he is the paranoid sort (it’s not paranoia when they really are out to get you he remembers Tim saying), he readies a gun as a precaution. Something about this whole situation is tickling his memory, but try as he might, nothing comes to mind. Jason walks forward, testing each door as he comes upon it and confirms they’re all locked, at least from his side. His lockpicks will come in handy if he’s shit out of luck with the rest of them. He’s passed over a dozen doors when he hears the slam of one opening up ahead. Jason instantly tucks himself against the closest door jamb, trying to make himself a smaller target for whatever is approaching him. The sound of heeled shoes upon the floor tiles echo strangely. “Oh, my ears and whiskers, I’m late. Heads are gonna roll and they sure as shit better not be mine.” The voice is feminine but that’s not what has Jason locking up in surprise. It’s the sight of Stephanie stalking towards him in a bunny costume that wouldn’t look out of place on Dinah Lance, the Black Canary. She’s got a leather jacket to go with it, even if her costume is all white rather than the black he’s used to. For that matter, Steph’s taking the whole costume thing a little too seriously as she’s even wearing a headband with bunny ears on them. Floppy bunny ears that are falling into her face as she storms down the hall. “What the shit, Blondie?” Jason says, stepping away from his meager shelter. “How’d you get down here? For that matter, how the fuck do I leave? Tim is gonna kill me.” The woman shrieks at him and throws a fan at his head. Her bunny ears twitch violently. “I’m already late, you dumbass! Don’t make it worse!” With that, she takes off down the hall, running past him with surprising grace in those spiked heels of hers. He can’t help but notice there’s a poufy little cottonball of a tail on her ass. “I think you’re taking the whole Playboy bunny thing a little too literally!” he shouts after her. The sound of another door slamming closed is his only reply. “Well, shit.” Jason runs a hand through his hair and looks around again. The hall doesn’t look any different than before but that niggling memory that this is all familiar is driving him up the wall. It’s like he’s fallen down the rabbit hole... Back the fuck up. Jason stalks back down the hall to where he first arrived after the long ass fall and sure enough, there’s a curtain hanging from what had been an empty wall before. A small glass table with a gold key sitting upon it are off to the left. He brushes the curtain aside and there’s a small door that he’d be lucky to get a foot through. Looking back at the table, there’s a little bottle on it now, next to the key. He knows where he is now. Or rather, he knows where he’s about to be soon if he can just get the door open. “Son of a bitch. This is either going to be the worst or best trip ever.” Jason has seen a lot of strange shit in his life but he’s willing to bet a bottle of Bruce’s best bourbon and say this ranks right up there at the top. Wonderland. Or would that be Underland if he goes by the movie? Either way, Blondie has to be the White Rabbit. The outfit is definitely an improvement. Who else is going to appear in his hallucination? Because seriously, what else could it be? Jason’s starting to doubt now if he ever even fell. Dosed by fear gas? Emphatic yes. Rescued by Tim? Probably. That’s a little blurry now. “Maybe I didn’t pull a gun on him after all,” Jason mutters as he eyes the door and the bottle. As far as he can tell, this is his only way out because he’s sure as hell not going to grow into a giant and cry like a baby before shrinking down and floating away on a sea of tears. Still, best to be prepared. He places the bottle and key in a pocket and keeps a firm hold on them both while he stalks back up the hall to where the fan White Rabbit Stephanie threw at him lies on the floor. He collects it and returns to the small door. The key he places squarely on the floor in front of the door. None of this leaving it on the table bullshit. Jason takes the bottle out of his pocket and reads the elegant script. Drink me Right. He’d better keep all his clothes when he shrinks down because otherwise, he’s gonna sit his ass right here until he wakes up on his own or Bruce finds the right formula to create an antitoxin. Considering how much time he feels like has passed, Tim is probably right there with him. Jason eyes the bottle again, pops the cork, and drinks it in one long swig.

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Hunger - chapter 27 *final chapter*

Hunger master post

Five months later

 The house still smells of fresh paint. It’s not the same house Stiles grew up in. That rankles, if he lets himself think about it, but there’s another family living in the old house now, another kid sleeping in Stiles’s childhood bedroom, and it’s stupid to get upset about it. It’s stupid, but sometimes Stiles finds himself driving down his old street just to take a look at the place. Just to feel the low burn of grief and anger inside him that he doesn’t think will ever truly fade. Stiles tries to channel that anger into healthy coping mechanisms, but more than once his dad has found him in the back yard smashing packing boxes with his baseball bat.

Derek takes him running a lot. Stiles doesn’t know if it’s the pace Derek sets or the fact they stop to make out under the trees, but he usually comes home feeling a hell of a lot better.

“Your boyfriend is Derek Hale,” Lydia announces one day at school, narrowing her eyes at him like he’s a puzzle she’s on the brink of solving. “Derek Hale who was apparently in witness protection, or in hiding, or raising alpacas in Oregon with his uncle all these years?”

Stiles has heard a lot of rumors around town about Derek and Peter. So has Lydia, clearly.

“Yep,” Stiles says.

He gives her another month tops before she figures out the whole werewolf thing.

Scott and Allison are still going strong. Allison is still refusing to talk about what the hell is going on with Chris and Peter, and Stiles respects that level of denial. Victoria and Peter haven’t murdered one another yet, so who knows? Maybe they have some sort of timeshare arrangement. He’s too smart to ask any of them, though. That’s a death wish he doesn’t have.

Parrish has moved in with Melissa, and the spare room has been painted yellow in anticipation of the baby’s arrival. Scott is still pretending to be horrified about the whole baby thing, but Stiles did catch him buying a wolf plushie once, and he was super careful with the egg he had to look after during that dumb project for health class.

Stiles left his egg in the exhaust pipe of Jackson Whittemore’s silver Porsche.  

It’s a decision he stands by.

School is good.

One afternoon, Stiles finds himself craving curly fries—nothing new there—and stops at the diner on the way home from school. He parks in the lot out the front, and then, instead of going inside, finds himself walking around the corner into the alley that was his home for so many weeks.

The memories hit him all at once.

It’s a feeling not unlike vertigo.

The alley stinks. The trashcans are filthy, and crawling with flies. The cardboard boxes are still nearby, rain damaged and spotted with mildew, and the thought of actually sitting down on the filthy ground makes Stiles sick. He remembers eating from the trash cans, and bile rises in his throat.

He doesn’t get curly fries. He goes straight home instead, and showers.

The new house is on Ferguson Street. It’s a typical California bungalow. It’s nice. Stiles and his dad spent a week painting the inside before they moved in, and picked out all their new furniture themselves. It’s new and clean in a way that doesn’t quite feel like home yet. It needs to be lived in some more, but they’re getting there.

They take comfort in different things. 

His dad likes to sit outside on the back porch at night and look at the stars.

Stiles likes to crawl into a proper bed and stare at the ceiling.

Money is a bit of an issue for now, but David Whittemore promises there will be a compensation payout coming their way. He’s confident it will be a big one. There has been media attention, just like there was the first time around. It’s not every day that a sheriff gets sent to prison, and it’s certainly not every day that it turns out he was framed. Stiles’s dad is working as a security guard at some factory outside of town at the moment, but that’s only until he gets his payout. Stiles teases him about becoming a gentleman of leisure, but he notices when a few of his dad’s old deputies visit, and a few people from the city council, and even the deputy mayor.

“They’d probably vote for you again,” Stiles offers one morning over breakfast, shoveling his cereal in. “If you decided to do it.”

His dad snorts and reaches for the milk. “Maybe. But who even says I want to be the sheriff again?”

Stiles shrugs, and leaves it at that, but he won’t be surprised if his dad decides to run for election in the end.

Derek visits every day. He stays over some nights as well, if Stiles’s dad is working, because Stiles doesn’t like to be alone. It’s not always about sex, but it is always about closeness and comfort, and it’s such a weird thing to be in love, and to be so, so sure of something. Stiles only knows that it’s possible to stare into Derek’s eyes and to be completely unafraid.

Stiles doesn’t know what the future will bring, but he knows that Derek will be there with him every step of the way.

They’re pack.

They’re mates.

Derek says the moon brought them together, and Stiles—cynical, skeptical Stiles—looks into his eyes and makes the decision to believe it wholeheartedly.

 ***

 Derek spends more time on two feet these days instead of four. He relearns the way his human body moves. He remembers how to curl his mouth into a smile instead of a snarl. He remembers how it feels to be alive.

 ***

 “You’re over thinking this, kid,” his dad says mildly when Stiles opens the top drawer of the new dresser to check the contents. A toothbrush, some toothpaste, a razor, and an assorted bunch of toiletries. A set of fresh towels.

“I’m not,” Stiles says, jittery with nerves. “It has to be just right. Like, it has to be right.”

Stiles closes the drawer and inspects the shelf by the bed. There’s a good selection of books there, most of them from the second hand place in town. There are comic books too, because not everyone likes novels.

“Stiles, it’s fine.”

Stiles gives his dad a distracted nod, and begins to straighten the bed. Again.

His dad sighs and peels himself off the doorjamb. “Derek?” he calls. “Come and take Stiles outside, please, before he wears a hole in the floor with his pacing.”

Seconds later Derek is beside him, arms around Stiles’s waist, dragging him outside.

Stiles laughs despite himself. “Derek! Dad!”

He dad points sternly toward the back of the house. “Outside.”

Derek hoists Stiles up, and heads for the back door. They almost make it when the doorbell rings. Derek sets Stiles down again, and Stiles shifts nervously from foot to foot as his dad goes to answer the door.

Then, unable to stand the wait, he hurries along to join him.

“…get settled in,” the woman is saying.

Stiles looks straight past her.

There’s a kid standing a few paces behind her. He’s about Stiles’s age, and his face is pinched into a wary expression that Stiles is way too familiar with. He’s trying for nonchalance, but everything in him is radiating anxiety.

“Hi,” Stiles says. “I’m Stiles. Come in and I’ll show you around.”

The kid steps inside.

Stiles leaves his dad to deal with the social worker.

“Living room,” Stiles tells Isaac, waving vaguely. “And the kitchen’s down there. You can help yourself to whatever, whenever.” He leads the way to the spare room. “This is your room. There’s a toothbrush and stuff in the top drawer, but if there’s anything else you need just let me or Dad know. Like, um, whatever it is.”

The kid sets his duffel bag down on the floor and looks around. Stiles hopes he’s not imagining the loosening on tension in the kid’s shoulders. Stiles knows exactly what it feels like to be in his shoes.

He has to do this right, because he knows exactly how the kid is feeling now, and because nobody did it right when it was Stiles standing there, lost and afraid.

“We don’t really have a lot of house rules,” Stiles says. “Like, there aren’t any lists of chores or anything. Dad has got this thing about getting homework done though.”

The kid nods.

“Okay,” says Stiles, too brightly. “I’ll just, um, I’ll let you unpack and stuff, and—”

“Stiles.” Derek is suddenly standing behind him.

“Jesus Christ, Derek! You’re like a freaking ninja!” Stiles elbows him, and then looks back to the kid. “This is Derek, my boyfriend. Derek, this is Isaac. It’s Isaac, right?”

The kid nods again. “Yeah. Uh, nice to meet you.”

He makes it sound like a question.

Derek raises his eyebrows. “Stiles talks too much. You get used to it.”

The faintest hint of a smile flickers around Isaac’s mouth. Stiles can see the moment he forces it away with another curt nod.

That’s cool.

Stiles doesn’t want to overwhelm him with his awesomeness on his first day.

“Also, we’re getting pizza for dinner,” Stiles says. “So tell me now if there’s anything you don’t like.”

Isaac seems taken aback to be asked. “Um, I don’t really like anchovies?”

“Gross. Who does?” Stiles agrees. “So I’ll let you unpack. I’ve gotta go and kick Derek’s ass at Mario Kart, so if you want to come and join us when you’re done, that’s be cool.”

“Cool,” Isaac says, and Stiles doesn’t know if he’s just echoing back the word or agreeing he’ll play.

It’s okay.

It takes a while to get the lay of the land in a new foster home. Stiles knows that.

It’ll work out.

He flashes Isaac another smile, and lets Derek draw him away.

It’ll all work out in the end.

 ***

 Later that night Stiles and Derek drive out to the Preserve. Derek takes Stiles’s hand and leads him into the trees where they can be alone, bathed in moonlight. The night is quiet and cool and soft. Their hands are warm. They slip amongst the trees, shadows entangled, the wolf and his boy.

The moon will guide them safely back again.