#i lost the source if you recognize it lmk!!

[ghuleh-recs]

not a thought in that pretty head.

[userheng]

𓆩♡𓆪 meeting dan heng.

synopsis: meeting dan heng.

warnings: slight spoilers from dan heng's character story. bros bold, march playing wing woman no 1, the reader has hot men disease

a/n: writing after almost two years i've lost my groove rip n e ways hope u enjoy!! pls lmk ur thoughts! <3 rb if u enjoyed :)

DO NOT REPOST/TRANSLATE.

As soon as you step foot in the Astral Express, your whole body lights up with excitement. 

You’re finally starting your journey to other planets and your joy couldn’t be contained. Your eyes take in your surroundings, a beautiful view of a bed of bright stars—you have to hold yourself back from almost reaching for them. 

“Hey!” 

A voice breaks you out of your reverie, you look for the source of the voice not finding anyone in front of you.

“Down here!” 

The voice speaks once more and you finally look down, coming in contact with the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen.

“Oh…hello?” You say with hesitation, taking note of the unfamiliar creature.

“I’m Pom-Pom, the conductor of Astral Express,” The unknown creature introduces themselves. “You can come to me whenever you need help! But don’t cause trouble!” Pom-Pom expresses with a fiery passion, and you don’t know whether to coo or actually be scared of the little thing.

“Well, alright, you’re the boss.” You simply nod, trying to hold back a laugh at the adorable entity. 

“The Passenger Cabins are that way so you can keep your bags there. And the archives are the first door but um…” Pom-Pom pauses for a second. “There’s a guy called Dan Heng that practically lives in the archives but you’re free to visit that area! I have no clue what he does all day in there.” Pom-Pom’s petit body seems to deflate in defeat which once more makes you want to let out an audible coo but you refrain. 

You recognize that name easily—Dan Heng. After all, he’s one of the people you’ll be accompanied on your first journey, the other one being March 7th. You’ve never met these people but you trust Himeko’s judgment, after all, she’s the one who paired you with them. The only piece of information she gave you about them is that “You’ll have fun,” which excites you but also worries you, but you push that away for now.

“Thank you, Pom-Pom, I’ll be mindful of that.” You smile before bidding Pom-Pom goodbye, they wave back telling you to follow the rules.

You make your way toward the cabins, locating yours fairly quickly. You settle in nicely. You feel a bit lethargic already but the enthusiasm of finally being on the Astral Express keeps you from getting a shut-eye. Rather, you decide to explore different parts of the Express. Freshening up quickly you venture out of your cabin, taking in the sites of the surroundings around you. The view of the vast shimmering galaxy almost bought you to tears. You’ve finally reached your goal. You’re a Trailblazer now. After working meticulously for years and honing your skills, you’ve achieved your aim and you couldn’t be happier. 

Walking around for a bit more, observing the decor around you, you head for the main compartment, and as soon as you descend down the stairs you’re greeted by a cheerful voice.

“Hello! You must be our new companion, I’m March 7th!” The girl with bright pink hair and blue tips introduces herself and her cheerful demeanor brings about a smile on your face. 

“Hello, March, it’s lovely to meet you.” You say, holding out your hand for her to shake and she does so with enthusiasm. 

“So you’re coming with us, huh? Are you ready for some fun?” She asks with a wide grin on her face, clasping her hands to the front, and it makes you feel at ease. 

“Born ready, I’ve been waiting for this.” You reply, patting your prized polearm, a proud smirk on your lips. March nods in response, and suddenly she takes out her camera. 

“I have some pictures—wait have you met Dan Heng yet?” She asks, pausing her original question. 

“Oh no, not yet, I think he’s in the archives, Pom-Pom told me,” You respond and March lets out a sigh. 

“He’s always coped in there. How about you go introduce yourself to him?” She suggests and you think it over for a moment…you don’t really know what this Dan Heng character is like so you feel slightly nervous, but ready to meet him nonetheless. 

“Sure, I’ll see you after then?” You say, smiling warmly at her, and she nods back with eagerness. 

“Come back soon! I’ve got awesome pictures to show you!” March shouts as you leave for the archives room, you wave back, giving her an affirmative nod. 

You knock on the door of the archives room, even though you don’t really need to but after Pom-Pom information about how he practically uses the place as his room you deemed it fit to knock before entering 

You enter, immediately met by Dan Heng’s figure standing towards the bookshelves, nose buried in documents. You clear your throat, hoping to get his attention, all you receive in turn isーwell nothing. He doesn’t turn around like you’d expect him to. 

“Hello, are you Dan Heng?” At the mention of his name, he turns around, and suddenly you’re met with one of the most attractive men you’ve laid eyes upon. His eyes look captivating, one of them lined with the colour red, and some of his hair fall over his forehead. 

“That’s me.” He curtly nods. “Do you need something from me?” 

You’re completely taken away by him. His cadence sounds so…enticing. His attire makes him look dashing, and of course, this Dan Heng is easy on the eyes—you can’t seem to pull away your gaze from him. 

You hear him clear his throat, your blatant staring as been caught red-handed. 

“Is there something you need?” He repeats, facing away from you, finding the carpet of the express far more interesting—Dan Heng hates how his cheeks are tinted slightly red. Your staring definitely did not go unnoticed.

Your skin warms up, embarrassment flooding your veins.

“Oh yes—I’m, Y/N, I’ll be accompanying you,” You answer. “I thought I’d introduce myself.” Dan Heng seems satisfied with your response, nodding in silence. 

“You should take a look at the data bank to familiarize yourself with the upcoming surroundings, so you know how to protect yourself…although I will be there as well to protect you,” He pauses for a second, before clearing his throat, a faint blush once more spotting his cheeks. “I’ll leave you alone for a while.” Dan Heng states, and leave the archives before you can get a word one. His behaviour startles you a bit, but you don’t pay much mind, you already pegged him as more of an introvert from the descriptions of March 7th and Pom-Pom. You seat yourself comfortably, pulling up the archives to research just as Dan Heng advised.

As soon as Dan Heng leaves the room, he takes a deep breath to calm himself. 

He knew you. 

Dan Heng remembers you from his days in the IPC. You didn’t seem to recognize him and he’s thankful for that. He’s changed a lot, so he didn’t expect it either it. But he remembers you quite clearly. He saw you working diligently from the sides, always getting along with people and helping people whenever you can—him also being one of those people. You showed him kindness and he’d always appreciated it. But meeting you again was never on his agenda. He walks to the main hall of the express, seating himself on one of the couches for the jump that will commence soon, it was uncommon for him to be in the main compartment during jumps but today he had a change of heart.

Soon enough, Pom-Pom made the announcement for the jump, which bought you out of the archives room as per the conductor’s orders. 

“Y/N, over here!” March’s cheery voice calls you over, and she quickly grips your hand dragging you over to where Dan Heng was seated and she pulls you down to sit with her.

“Are you ready for your first jump, Y/N?” March inquires, “It feels weird the first time around but it’s pretty fun!” 

“I’m a little nervous honestly,” You answer honestly, lips curving into a timid smile. You’ve been preparing yourself yet, of course, fearful thoughts reside. It’s your first trailblazing expedition after all. 

“You’ll be okay, as long as you hold onto something since it’s your first time, I assure you. How about you hold Dan Heng’s hand? I’m sure he’ll help out a fellow partner right?” March suggests, a broad wicked grin on her face. You can’t tell if it’s you she’s messing with you or Dan Heng—you audibly hear him heave a sigh. You shake your head at March, her smile matching that of a Cheshire cat, while you feel the heat rise to your cheeks.

“Oh no, that won’t be necessary I’ll be fine—” 

“You can hold onto my hand if you feel comfortable. I do not mind.” 

Dan Heng’s answer leaves you both flabbergasted. March’s mouth falls open but she recovers quickly, her lips stretching into a teasing smile once more. 

“Well, then I’ll leave you alone!” March leaves without explanation and you’re about to call for her to ask where she’s going but Dan Heng answers for you.

“She does this every time. Trying to stand throughout the jump, trying not to fall.” 

You simply nod, not knowing how to respond, you’re embarrassed to say anything simply put. March’s suggestion and Dan Heng’s agreement put you in the spot.

“Would you like to hold onto my hand? If you feel comfortable, of course.” Dan Heng shocks you once more by holding out his hand for you. 

His cheeks have a rosy tint, the dark eyes not meeting yours.

Well…he is cute, isn’t he? Nothing wrong with holding a cute guy’s hand, right?

Boldness overcomes you, and you slip your hand into Dan Heng’s. He’s startled, his blush darkening, the tops of his ear matching his crimson cheeks, he didn’t actually expect you to do it, even though he offered. 

“Thanks, Dan Heng, I feel protected already.” You express, tone flirtatious, a lingering smirk on the corners of your lips. Dan Heng nods, tearing his gaze away from your face—definitely to hide his flustered self. His hands are rough, but they’ve also got a certain softness to them. Despite being calloused, his hand looks delicate. It feels good. Your hand intertwined with his feels lovely. Dan Heng’s thoughts aren’t far from yours—he’s never felt such things before, holding your hand…it wasn’t what he expected. He feels at ease as your hand rests in his. 

Only a few moments later Pom-Pom’s voice blares through as they announce the jump, as they count down. You see March steel herself, chanting some sort of mantra that sounds something along the lines of, “I won’t fall over,” on repeat. 

“Don’t be nervous, you’ll be alright,” Dan Heng’s voice suddenly rings in your ears, he’s closer to you than before, his husky yet gentle voice whispering in your ear. 

“Thank you.” You express your gratitude in the form of a smile. Dan Heng returns it with a tender smile of his own. 

Pom-Pom’s countdown finishes and you’re about to be sucked into the vortex, grip tight on Heng’s hand.

“You’ll be alright, just hold on to me.” 

That’s the last thing you hear before the jump, before the start of your new journey and endless memories. With your newfound companions and the one that’ll occupy your mind for a long time—Dan Heng.

Yeah, you’ll be alright. 

[felassan]

Retail outlet Spacelab gave the estimated beginning ship date for orders of the Dragon Age: Selections From The Game Soundtrack 4LP Box Set vinyl as November.

If you recall, on vinyl disc 'Disc 4 Side A (Bonus DLC Tracks)' there is a track in the tracks listing called "7. D’read Koda (1:08) [Hidden Track]", and we were wondering what it is.

In music, "a coda is a passage that brings a piece (or a movement) to an end. It may be as simple as a few measures, or as complex as an entire section."

It looks as though some people who ordered this item have now received it. Over on Reddit, Reddit user LegendeRRisCZ17 posted that they have received the box set. Included in their post is a video of their vinyl playing this song - it can be listened to at this link. The user advises that the piece starts at timestamp 1 mins 15 secs.

It has a sort of creepy, ominous atmosphere, echo-y discordant notes played on what sounds like a xylophone (I don't know music hh. if you know what it actually is and have music buff thoughts on the piece in general, pls share) and some eerie backing vocals. It gives me the impression of mystery and tension. At the end it rises to a loud, dark kinda pulsing crescendo. I don't recognize it from existing DA OSTs - lmk if you do? as if it is new it is possible that this is a tease for, or our first look at (outside of trailers) the DA:D OST.

In the track listing, D'read Koda comes after various music pieces from the Trespasser DLC, like Lost Elf Theme and Dark Solas Theme. Reportedly, the information that comes with the vinyl advises that D'Read Koda is composed by Hans Zimmer and Lorne Balfe.

According to a previous post on Reddit, DA:I composer Trevor Morris was asked on Twitter some time ago whether he would be composing the music for Dragon Age: Dreadwolf. He replied “Nope. Bailed on me for Mr. Zimmer and co. Appreciate the love though”. He then quickly deleted that tweet, and people wondered whether that meant that Hans Zimmer or Hans Zimmer's Studio and folks who are part of it are doing the score for DA:D. Lorne Balfe is a veteran of Hans Zimmer's Remote Control Productions.

[credit and source link: user LegendeRRisCZ17, link]

[skz-streamer]

A Lost Cause- Teaser (RELEASED!!!)

hi hiiiiiii!!!...This is my FIRST fic!!! (I'm really excited if u cant tell 😆)

Pairing: Felix (skz) x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, slight smut?

Warnings: mentions of suicide, scarred wrist, pain, car crash, PTSD, abusive/toxic boyfriend, substances, abuse, bruising, crying, um... lmk if I missed anything else❤️

Notes: This is just a teaser!!! things that are in the genre and warnings part might not be in the teaser...be patient 😘. Will fully release the fic on Wednesday :) Btw the two passages are NOT connected, just couldn't decide what part to spoil🤭

Word count: 736 ;)

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

With your body aching from both the emotional turmoil and the relentless hangover, you decide that today is not a day for work. You grab your phone and dial your boss's number, your voice is shaky as you apologize for your absence, blaming it on a sudden illness. They understand, giving you the day off to recuperate.

Now fully committed to nursing your fragile state, you make your way to the store to purchase some much-needed medication. The fluorescent lights and aisles filled with remedies overwhelm your sensitive senses, intensifying the pounding in your head. As you wander the aisles, searching for relief, you hear a voice—a deep, resonant voice that inexplicably soothes your weary soul.

Your heart skips a beat as you turn toward the source of the familiar voice. Standing there is a well-built man, his features etched with kindness. His eyes meet yours, and a strange sense of recognition washes over you. It's as if you've heard that voice before, offering comfort and understanding during your darkest hours.

Though hesitant, you find yourself drawn to him, compelled by the compassionate energy that radiates from his being.

You stand there, face to face with the man who seems oddly familiar, although your pounding headache and heavy hangover make it difficult to focus. He recognizes you from last night at the bar and greets you with a friendly hello, offering his assistance. Your throat feels dry, and you manage to mumble out a reply, grateful for his unexpected kindness.

His presence is a small relief as you navigate the store, desperately searching for the medications you need to alleviate the physical and emotional pain that seems to follow you relentlessly. He patiently helps you locate the items and hands them to you with a gentle smile. At that moment, he catches sight of the scars on your wrist, remnants of your battles with attempted suicide. His smile remains, trying his best not to make you uncomfortable, though you're oblivious to his concern.

As he leaves the store, his smile lingers, a glimmer of empathy and understanding in his eyes. You, lost in your thoughts, barely register his departure. Your mind is consumed by the familiarity he exudes, the feeling that you've encountered him somewhere before. Yet, the pounding in your head and the haze in your mind prevent you from making any meaningful connection.

..................

As you step outside, the world buzzes with activity, seemingly unaware of the storm within you. You put on a brave face, determined not to let anyone see your pain. With each step toward your car, you take a deep breath, reminding yourself that you can make it through this day, just like you've made it through countless others.

You grip the steering wheel tightly, your knuckles turning white as you navigate the familiar streets on your way to work. The radio plays a cheerful tune, but it does little to lift your heavy heart. The weight of sadness settles upon you, threatening to consume your thoughts.

Blinking away the tears forming in your eyes, you try to focus on the road ahead. This is a new beginning, a fresh chapter in your life. Reminding yourself of the toxicity and abuse that your ex-boyfriend subjected you to, you know deep down that leaving him was the right decision. He didn't truly love you, despite the pain it brings to acknowledge that fact.

But instead of finding solace in your newfound freedom, the realization only amplifies your emotions. The tears blur your vision, making it difficult to see the path ahead clearly. And in that moment, as sadness engulfs you, disaster strikes.

With a jolt, you run over a cone on the road, and time seems to slow down. Panic floods your veins as you lose control of the car, swerving dangerously into the neighboring lanes. The sickening sound of metal colliding with metal fills the air as you crash into a nearby truck.

In that instant, everything freezes. It's not the physical pain that holds you captive, but rather the rush of emotions flooding back into your mind. The sharp agony in your chest reminds you of the scars left by your ex's abuse. The haunting memories of his hits and torment resurface, intensifying the pain you feel now.

Darkness creeps in, threatening to engulf your consciousness. Amidst the chaos, a symphony of horns suddenly adds to your already brewing pain. As you lay there, eyes tightly shut, a soft voice breaks through, gentle and soothing like a beam of sunlight. It stirs something deep within you, a flicker of hope.

:) No moreeeee!!!!!

[refriedweeb]

AND WHEN YOU’RE GONE I’M GODLESS (HAWKS + READER)

AN: refriedweeb here! this is a continuation of this oneshot that I did (so if you didn’t read the first one go and read it now!), as requested by @roseanddaggerlarry  ! I’ve had the idea of this spewing around in my head and wanted to get as close to canon!Hawks as possible! So here you go! If you want a part three/to make this a series, lmk!

Tags: angst, fluff, general feelings

word count: 3,443

A side effect of your quirk was that you dreamt the nightmares of those that you used it on. While your quirk was something that was magnificent in its own right, being known as nightmare often became a literal translation for you. It didn’t matter how short of a period you kept someone trapped in their reality-made nightmare, or how severe it was. You dreamt what they saw. And the worst part was that they didn’t go away after just one dream. You’d see them time and time again, blended into the reel of dreams from every person you’d ever fought or used it on. It was an awful feeling, not being able to dream your own dreams, see visions of happiness that everyone else got to when you closed your eyes. All you ever saw was nightmares. All you ever saw behind sleeping eyes was horror. 

The world around you might have been black, in various stages of coming and going consciousness, but there was one thing that stayed the same. It was the nightmare you’d brought out of Keigo Takami’s mind the minute you’d snapped on your promise to never use it against him. It ran through your mind like a child with reckless abandon, a constant loop that you couldn't shake from your mind no matter how much you strained to jump into someone else’s dreams that had taken residence in your mind. It was a violation of Hawks’ trust in you, even if he had been the one to attack you, skewer you with a feather and leave you no other choice. You had known that Hawks’ childhood was anything but normal. The Hero Commission that you both worked for raising him, if it could even be called ‘raising’. Trained as a weapon that was expendable, that served no purpose if it couldn’t deliver results. Wholly different from what you’d had growing up, you hadn't realized how deeply embedded in trauma his entire life was, even when you’d been hooking up. 

Trapped in the nightmare, the first thing you saw was Keigo Takami as nothing but a child. Avian eyes still too large for his head, sunrise colored eyes looking around the blank walls with innocence, curiosity, and the hint of fear. A head full of hair that even in youth had an unruly characteristic to it. Red wings that would become his calling card sitting politely, folded against his back. He was a child that had deserved better, so much better, than what he’d been given. There’d been so much that Keigo had suffered through just for the sake of being a hero, that it would have made sense if nightmare solely revolved around what the Hero Commission had robbed him of with his childhood. 

What you weren’t expecting to see was your place in it. 

You were stood not far off from where Keigo’s tot form was, mirroring that same age yourself. Young, with a skinned knee and gapped smile from the baby teeth you’d lost. Hair in high pigtails and eyes wide with the same emotions sprinting through Keigo’s veins. The tinier version of yourself turned around, and trotted over to him, holding out a sticky hand that had no doubt been dug into a sweet of some kind at one point.

“Hi! I’m (Y/N)!” Came your excitable voice, young and full of life. “Your wings are pretty cool, can I touch them?” Before Keigo’s small, timid voice could even answer, there was a sharp tug on your arm. It caught you by surprise, and Keigo was helpless as a man dressed in a black suit started pulling you away from him. And though you were reliving Keigo’s nightmare, you were experiencing it through both yours and his perspective. “Wait, that’s my friend!” Came your cry, tossing a distressed look over your shoulder as you were both helpless Keigo and the scared child version of yourself.

“Wait...” finally came the small voice, shocking you how sad it sounded for a boy so young. You watched from the omniscient view as the handler that had come for you turned into something vile. With a grin too large and mines of pointed teeth that would have made a shark’s mouth look dainty. “Don’t...” Keigo’s childlike voice was a little louder, but still helpless. “Don’t take her!”

Defiance nestled in Keigo’s throat as he charged forward with his cry, running after you, seeing something only he could see while you were more than content to wander alongside a monster. His hand was outstretched towards you. A smile started to stretch across your features, glad to have this new friend coming with you, and reached a hand out in return. Only to have it sharply slapped away by the handler. You gave a cry of pain as you cradled your hand to your chest, about to cry when you heard Keigo’s boyish yelp of pain. He had been hit in the face, and harder than you judging by the welt of a hand print blooming against his cheek.

“Keigo...” you whispered, though your voice sounded further off, far from where you and your childhood presence were.

Young Keigo looked up at you from the ground, tears running down his cheeks. There was an indescribable pain there, and it ran deeper than anything you could identify with. For such a young child to have felt so much pain... “Kei...go...” you whispered again, extending a hand despite what happened, to cradle his head.

It was then that the scene changed, like the fast forwarding of a movie. The scenery swept past you in an unmarked blur until you settled into a new scene. There you were, a couple of years older and strapped into a chair. What looked like doctors were around you, a large needle filled with a substance of dreamy purple colors in it. They were whispering around you, a background of white noise you couldn’t decipher. Still from that omniscient point of view, you could feel your fear. The unease that gnawed it’s way through your belly running rampant. And there was anger, but you couldn’t detect the source. “Just think...if we can train her to turn her nightmares lethal, the commission would have a trained killer. Trapping someone in their nightmares to the point of heart failure...of fear...” came there trickling sound of one voice. “She could be the best hero the commission has ever produced...a weapon...” was another. “Alright then...inject her.”

Fear rippled our against your skin on goosebumps, and you start to fight the restraints as the syringe draws closer to you. “No!” You screeched, though it comes from the same far off place from before. You’re helpless as you snapped, kicked, and pulled as best as you could. “Don’t do this!” At the very same moment, you heard the overlapping sound of boots hitting the ground in a sprint, replacing the rapid sound of your heartbeat. While being both in that room and not in it at the same time, you saw an older Keigo bursting down the hall, the sound of boots belonging to him. His eyes are narrowed into predator-like focus, his breathing heavy as his wings extended out taking up the rest of the hall. His mouth moved, though he is silent.

“Keigo!” You scream this time, though still too far off for anything to register. His eyebrows narrowed over his eyes and he pushed himself harder. Pain erupted as the needle broke skin, the purple swirl of serum sinking into your skin. It sent a blur of blind pain coursing through your system, but all you could do is scream. Your voice feels raw, but there’s no noise coming out of it. The taste of blood is in the back of your throat, but you don’t feel any. Something collided with the window of the room you were trapped in, and through the overcoming haze you saw that it was Hawks. Anger etched into his face, beating his hands against the glass so hard you swore it shook. You screamed his name again, that same echo off in the distance vibrating through your ears. He screamed yours back, the sound a canon of noise as he continued to beat on the glass. There were tears in his eyes, a righteous fury that took your breath away. He was the source of anger, the need for rejection. You strained against your restraints, doing what you could to fight the wave of darkness that was threatening to overcome you, wanting nothing more than to reach out and take Keigo’s hand.

The world around faded once more, the next scene opening up to you like the beginning credits of a movie. Once the camera focused in you see...Keigo dressed in his hero uniform, cradling something...no, someone. Your heart clutched as it zoomed in closer and closer until you recognize the design of your own hero costume. Keigo wasn’t cradling just anyone, he was cradling you. Through your omniscient point of view, you come to stand just in front of the two bodies, Keigo with his head bowed over you and you...limp. Your head is slumped over his forearm, though your expression is one embedded into your mind immediately. Gone are the pupils of your eyes, the entire eye filled with a black and white continuous swirl, like something a hypnotist would use. And from your tear ducts..there’s blood. It ran from your duct to your hairline. The look in your expression is vacant. The sound of Keigo’s sniffles, the soft sobs, it confirmed what you had desperately wanted to ignore. In this nightmare, you’re dead. And it didn’t take long for you to put two and two together.

Keigo Takami’s worst nightmare wasn’t what happened to him growing up in the Hero Commission, though the elements were there and you didn’t doubt that there would be more glimpses of this nightmare for the rest of your life that you hadn’t seen. Keigo’s worst nightmare was someone he loved, you, going through the same thing that he had been put through. Though it won’t do anything, as it’s a dream, you reach out a fragmented hand to touch him. Just as you went to do so, he looks up. He looked directly at you, wet eyes and broken expression. “Wake up.” His words sounded like they were coming from right behind your ear, and you blinked. “(Y/N), wake up.”

You snapped open your eyes and sat up in bed. Immediately, you’re aware of the pain in your stomach, in your arm from where Keigo had impaled you with one of his feathers. The room is spinning, and the air you choked down in order to get some focus on your world isn’t helping. Nightmare. Keigo. Where’s Keigo? Wait, why did that matter? He was a villain, he’d attacked you. The air in the room felt suffocating and you didn’t think you could possibly get enough of it. Your fingers wrapped around the blanket that had been on top of you, only to pause as you looked down at it. This was Keigo’s blanket. As the world stopped rotating at a disastrous pace, you realize that this is Keigo’s bedroom. A place you hadn’t been in for months, if not longer. 

You felt like you were going to be sick.

“You’re awake.” You looked to the sound of the voice, already knowing who it belonged to. But hearing the somber, tentative tone doesn’t change your reaction as you scampered out of bed. The sheets were wrapped up in your legs, and you’ve tumbled out of bed in an attempt to be graceful. The fall to the ground landed you on your injured arm, crying out in pain as you crawled. You’re still in your hero uniform, which means it couldn’t have been long. Right? Right? Keigo said your name, and you heard the flex of feathers as he moved. “(Y/N), stop, you’re injured. Sto-(Y/N).”

You’d grabbed the nearest thing to you and flung it at him. A pillow that had likely hit the ground when you had. It’s easy enough for Keigo to grab, and he dropped it to the side as he looked at you with a stern look. “You’re a traitor,” you spat. The strained tone from your arm is evident, and Keigo sighs. “You tried to kill me! You attacked me!” By this point you’ve kicked your legs free from the sheets. 

“Kid,” Keigo says, his tone one of warning. “Listen to me.”

You’re on your feet, injured arm clutched in your hand. There’s fresh blood, but you don’t pay it any mind. “Why should I? So I let my guard down long enough for you to finish the job? Go off with your best friends in the League?” Keigo took a step forward. You shook your head. “If you take one step closer I’ll do it again.”

The reaction of pain that registered in his eyes before quickly falling away, lets you know that at least for now, the distance between you is on your side. You didn’t care that you were shaking, or that the images of Keigo as a child, wobbly and teary-eyed were burned into your mind. As far as you were concerned in that moment, Keigo Takami was your enemy. “It’s not what you think.”

“You kicked me into a wall and then had the nerve to stab me in the arm.” You grit your teeth. “How else is it supposed to look, Keigo?”

Keigo looked to the side, avoiding your glance. Out of fear of you using your quirk again or because he actually felt shame over what he’d done, you didn’t know. Told yourself you didn’t care. But that image of that broken little boy...it haunted you. Keigo ran his hands through the windswept mess of his hair, and sighs. “I can’t...I can’t tell you.” His mouth hung open and he closed it before talking again. “There are things I can’t...I have to keep private.”

“If you think for one second, I’m not going to tell the Hero Commission that you’ve switched sides-” You started, but Keigo cut you off.

“They know.” It’s your turn to be breathless. Keigo looked back to you, the miserable and lonely look back in his eye. There must have been a question in your eyes, because he repeated himself. “They know. They asked me to do this. To be a double agent.”

“You attacked me like it was real.”

Keigo’s eyes dropped to your arm, and on instinct you tried to hide the fresh spot of blood that had appeared. “I had to.”

“Keigo I almost died because you were trying to kill me.”

“I would have never let yo-” Keigo stopped short, his tone full of anger at the idea that you thought he would ever let anything happen to you like that, taking a draw of breath in. You feel his fear, and your mouth hung open just slightly. “I wasn't expecting you to use your quirk on me. You promised you wouldn’t.”

Keigo dropped his eyes. He wanted to know what it was you’d seen, though he couldn’t bring himself to ask. You’d told him about the nightmares that replayed after you used it in the past. The last thing he wanted was for you to look at him with pity because you’d seen his nightmares. Keigo never talked about his emotions, too numb to them because of the things he’d done. The lack of love he’d felt throughout his entire life ever since he’d been whisked into the Hero Commission. For so long he’d been seen as a weapon, a tool to use. He hadn’t been seen as a human being in so long, and then there’d been you. Dropping into his life at some silly hero convention with a mischievous look and it’d been a face he hadn’t seen in years.

A face that he hadn't been able to save all those years ago.

He’d been shocked that you hadn't remembered anything, or rather, wouldn’t. But seeing you...not knowing that you didn’t remember...it made Keigo want to get close to you all over again. To protect you a second time around where he’d failed the first. If you had even a notion that his nightmares were more than just nightmares...Keigo didn’t want to be responsible for the meltdown, it was more guilt and weight on his shoulders that he didn’t think he could handle.

“I thought you were going to kill me!” Your voice was raspy from the hands he’d put around your neck, and you don’t doubt it’s bruised. Your mind wandered to a much darker thought than you wanted to acknowledge. If he’d been willing to go toe to toe with you like that, how many other heroes had he fought? Were any hero deaths related to him?

“I could...” Keigo rasped. “I could never do that to you. I tried to warn you, kid. I told you to stay out of it.”

“I can’t do that, you know that. We’re...I’m a hero, Keigo. I can’t let villains escape.”

“It had to be me. Dabi..Shigaraki...Toga...they would have killed you, you wouldn’t have stood...it would have been bad, (Y/N).”

You took a step back, feeling as if you’d been slapped. “You don’t think I could have done my job, is what you’re saying? So you toyed with me instead. To protect your mission when they’re running around reckless and hurting others! Killing us!” He dropped his gaze, his hands clenched. “This is why you cut me out, isn’t it? Because the Hero Commission set you up for this. Because Keigo Takami is the only one who can do any of the complicated jobs and he just can’t ask for help.” You didn’t now when you got so emotional, whether it was from the pain wracked in your body or because of the escalating situation with Keigo. 

“I can’t let anyone help me. Someone...” you “Could get hurt.”

“Fuck you, Keigo.” You needed out of his place. There’s too many reminders of everything Keigo Takami in that space. Of nights in that same bed. How he’d told you he wanted nothing more than that right there. And now to hear the fact that he was a double agent, that he couldn’t have even shared that intimate of a detail with you. It was because he didn’t trust you. It was because he didn't think you were capable. “For your information, I can take care of myself. I have always been able to take care of myself.” Your body protested as you moved, energized with the anger from feeling so demented by someone you cared about. Keigo gingerly raised an arm as you made your way towards him, perhaps in an attempt to stop you. To continue the conversation. But as far as you were concerned, it was over. “Don’t you dare touch me.” Your voice shook, not even caring that your vision was blurred from the tears you were doing your best not to let fall. You stomped over to the door, grabbing onto the handle of a place you’d always thought was incredibly lonely.

At least now you understood why. 

“You know what, Keigo...I get that you went through some awful things growing up. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. But I trusted you, I loved you, and I thought there wasn't anything too high for you to reach.” You scoffed, feeling one tear roll down your cheek. “Apparently there isn’t anything too low for you to go after, either.” With that you wrenched the door open and slammed it shut behind you. For a moment, you leaned in against that door, the heels of your palms pressed into your eyes as the weight of emotions and pain and the awful reality that was both sank in. You couldn’t stay there for long, you knew that. You wiped the wetness at your eyes and pulled yourself together as best as you could, and left.

On the other side of that door, Keigo stood where your words had rooted him. His hand still raised, he stared down at his palm. There’d been so much he had wanted to try to say, to explain. But your anger had always been enough to plow down a city. Yellow eyes that usually burned so bright, were flattened down to a stormy sunrise. Keigo felt that guilt in his heart. That loneliness that he had only began to feel erased once he had you back in his life. How did he begin to tell you about what the Hero Commission had made him do in becoming a double agent when he couldn’t even tell you the truth about you? He would have denied any chin wobble as he looked down at his open palm, felt the overwhelming emptiness in his place start to settle in on his shoulders as it always did when he came home to it empty. “See you around, kid.” he breathed.

The knot in his stomach told him it wouldn’t be the last time he saw you. 

[kjmsupremacist]

TEASER!!! (if you share good things) you’ll become more lonely (u-know/reader)

***cover by the wonderful and talented @jongins-tiddies​; please go check out their work!!***

Reader meets Yunho under less-than-ideal circumstances, and makes the biggest mistake of her life. It leads her on a winding path of violence, crime, and dark secrets, and forces her to confront ghosts from her own past. The crooked romance that blooms against all odds only adds another wrinkle to the story of a world that is crumbling at her feet.

What then, you might ask, was her mistake? Simple and innocuous, even innocent.

She tried to saved Yunho's life.

Characters: TVXQ! Yunho, Female Reader

Genre: romance (if you’d care to call it that), enemies to lovers, smut, mystery kinda, gangs

Warnings: major character death, violence, guns, blood, knives, generally dark & gritty material, unhealthy relationships, like seriously both reader and yunho are kind of unlikeable and toxic and also stupid

Rating: Overall, explicit, but just teen and up for the teaser (tw for blood and injury)

Length: Overall, probably around 30k, but about 400 for the teaser

Projected Release Date: Chapter 1 coming this Friday, September 10! weekly updates after that; 8 chapters total

A quick disclaimer for this, I guess. This is probably the most stereotypically fanfic-y thing I’ve ever written (and probably will write). However, I’m doing it consciously as opposed to thinking that this portrays a healthy relationship, or romanticizing the, quite frankly, abusive behavior exhibited by both the [Y/N] character and Yunho. This fictional Yunho is really just five hundred red flags in a trench coat and honestly so is the [Y/N] character. I suppose I’m almost satirizing the stereotypical fanfic style with this work (while also having brain worm sexy times). While I cannot be held responsible for how you choose to interpret and internalize this work, what I can do is say my piece on how I feel about it in hopes that it will persuade all of you to think a little critically as you read. TLDR: this fic portrays an unhealthy and toxic relationship. I am not trying to romanticize any of these behaviors and neither should you. Love, in any of its forms and in all its power, is not always enough to save us.

lmk if u wanna be on the taglist! ^^

You fumble, forgoing the navigation app and pulling up your phone, stabbing at the numbers in your haste. 1-1-9.

“What’s your emergency?”

“I found a man in the street, I think he’s been stabbed,” you stutter out. “We’re in an alleyway between—between 6th and 7th Street. Please hurry, he’s lost a lot of blood.”

“Medical aid is on the way,” the dispatcher says. “Can you put pressure on the wound?”

You’re already on your knees, unwinding your scarf as the rainwater soaks through your pants. “Yes,” you say, balling the fabric. “I’m a nurse.” You press the cloth against the source, squeezing your phone between your shoulder and your ear so you can use both hands. “I don’t have any supplies on me. He’s going to need surgery, if he makes it at all.”

“Help is on the way,” the dispatcher repeats. “You have pressure on it?”

“Yes,” you say. You hear sirens in the distance. “I think I hear the ambulance.”

“Yes, they should be arriving soon.” You hear the squealing of tires, and then see the flashing of lights as the ambulance rounds the corner and barrels toward you. It stops a few meters away, and staff that you recognize jump out. “They say they’ve arrived?”

“Yes, thank you.” You release the man and hang up without waiting for a response, scrambling to your feet as they load him onto a stretcher, hands replacing yours. People shout instructions; they roll him towards the back of the vehicle.

“[Y/N]!” You turn; it’s your friend, Iseul. She’s a first responder at the hospital.

“Iseullie,” you mumble, never tearing your eyes from the man.

“What happened?” She wraps a blanket around your shoulders and guides you into the ambulance. “You’re soaked!”

“I just—I just found him,” you say, stepping up onto the vehicle floor. “I never thought I’d have to call 119 in my life.”

“Well, it’s good you did.” Iseul nods; they’re cleaning his wounds and have applied a Venturi mask. “We’re not too far away. He should be okay.”

“How can you be sure?” you ask.

“If it hit anything that important, he’d probably be dead by now,” Iseul says.

She’s right. You sigh, leaning against the cushion of the seat, tipping your head back as the ambulance rattles around you, siren wailing. “Hell of a way to catch a ride to work, I guess,” you say. Iseul laughs through closed lips.

[hayjeon]

Practical Tips on getting your fics out there!

I’ve gotten an influx of these types of questions here recently, and the more i thought about what i was gonna add, it became really long :(  

disclaimer: a lot of the things i bring up are just from personal experience as a writer on this site, what my followers have told me they appreciate, and what i tend to look for when im looking for fics to read! If you don’t like these tips then pls move on :) 

although i’ll mention them, i’m also not going to be focusing on cliche tips like “write for yourself” or “grammar issues” cause those are pretty obvious!

1. accessibility of your blog 

when you’re trying to get your name out there, make sure that you’re creating an inviting experience for any potential followers! this includes:

a memorable url! be creative!

have some fun designing your blog’s aesthetic! (i love cute blogs because it reflects a bit of the writer’s personality), and (i prefer blogs with white backgrounds because it’s easier to look through/read, say, in contrast to a pitch black one where the words need to be white!) 

put your masterlist link in your bio (even better if you can link most recent fic! found this most helpful when i revisit authors that i like and can easily see if they’ve updated or not)

an organized and easy-to-navigate masterlist (personally, i prefer masterlists organized by band, instead of types of fics ie. i hate when i have to choose between drabbles, oneshots, and series masterlists; i really prefer to see them altogether!) --> see section 3 

organized tags (if you’re going to be posting a lot of non-fic-related content like pictures or videos, tag them properly so followers can sort through and find your fics easily!), or (if you’re going to be writing in different mediums like drabbles, or answering asks, make sure to use a unified #mine or #writing or #fics to centralize your content) 

2. get your name out there!

write write write! once you have some fics that show your talent, don’t be shy! 

join writing groups: when i first started out, I joined a bunch of groups that would reblog my fics in the midst of the content of much bigger writers; these blogs developed a following, and as a result of my content mixing in with bigger blogs’ content, so did my own tumblr! there’s been a stigma recently with these groups, but im sure you can find one thats supportive and not clique-y! 

send your fics to rec pages: what’s the harm? the only bad thing that can happen is that they ignore you! who cares! get out there! 

if you can do the above, i really encourage you to ask your fave writers for advice/to read your fic: again, the worst that can happen is that they say no or don’t respond or don’t have enough time, but it’ll be a good opportunity to get some feedback! i for one read (or try to read) every single rec that falls into my inbox. if i like it, i’ll #rec it, and if i don’t, unless the writer asks me for feedback, i move on!! 

utilize your tags!!: i’m not entirely sure if this is still the same or not, but from my memory, it’s the first 3-5 tags that matter the most? so utilize them well; push back the tags that aren’t really relevant (ie. #writing, #fics) and push more the main subject line of what you wrote (ie. jungkook fluff, bts smut, namjoon angst). these will populate your fics into the tags better!

headers!: when i’m scrolling through an infinite page of fics, the headers catch my eye the most; try being creative! you can find a lot of info out there on how to make ur headers super aesthetic, but i can share my tips too! --> see section 3

3. your masterlist 

here are some practical tips! 

organize by band, not type of fic/member/centralize your masterlist: i went onto a blog recently and clicked their bio mlist link to find a page full of 20~ish “JUNGKOOK MASTERLIST”/ “JAEHYUN MASTERLIST” and when i clicked on each one, they only had like 2 or 3 fics per member. i think it would’ve been better if she’d centralized all her fics! that keeps whoever is looking interested and more likely to click on another fic while browsing

add info about the fics!: when scrolling through a masterlist, it’s easy to get lost; try to add some snippets of info (ie. a short sentence you liked from the fic, a quick summary, a description of the au/scenario, or even a header!) this all gives some info about the fics you have tagged! 

headers: this isn’t a requirement, but i personally love a good header on fics i read and i love making them myself as i finish up a fic and get ready to upload it; here are free sources: unsplash for HQ stock pics, crop/edit/filter in VSCO, and then add aesthetic script with fontcandy) 

try to fill it up!: after i visit a blog after reading one good fic, i usually browse through their mlist to see if there are any more that i’d be interested in. if there’s a lot to look forward to, i’ll almost always follow; try to write as much as you can in the first few months to try and fill up your mlist and give blog viewers a reason to visit your blog again, follow, or even reblog your content!) 

4. try not to reproduce cliche fics: 

honestly tumblr’s writing community (and armys) has grown insanely these past few years and, unfortunately, even from my perspective, in the past 3-4 years, all the writers have sort of become blended together in my brain. but, i can say that the ones who consistently stand out are the ones who produce consistent content and think outside of the box! 

i tend to gravitate towards fics that have really interesting plotlines (ex. btssavedmylifeblr’s VOID is always a surprise to read because it’s sO unique! i usually don’t read ot7 fics but this one is legit my fave) 

I know it’s tempting to try and just write typical smut fics to try and gain some traction, but tumblr is already too overloaded by that kind of content; try to write something that’s special and unique! this will set u apart from the thousands of other writers here --> see next section

5. create unique fics: 

this is also personal to my writing style, but i get so bored writing just casual fics about the members, and it affects the fics i choose to read too; i prefer unique fics which you can achieve through: 

circumstance/au: create a fun au!; don’t just create an arranged marriage, create an arranged marriage in joseon dynasty, or between a werewolf and a hunter! (shameless self plug); don’t just give me friends to lovers, but give me spiderman!jungkook friends to lovers! (ie. cupofteaguk’s exchanges)

jobs: give them out-of-the-ordinary jobs; don’t just give me enemies to lovers, but give me rival!anchors who end up loving eachother! (ie. jimlingss The Newscasters)

fun dialogue: create good back-and-forth, (something i’m still working on!)! this will help your characters develop personality, and that way, readers will start to develop that themselves as well (ie. dad!yoongi from insemination wars by prolixitae is such a specific character that i love so much!, or obiwrites’ garden characters were so memorable!)

create memorable personalities: don’t give me a flat character, try to develop 4d personalities in all of your characters! (im still working on this too!) this way you can really make an impression on your followers! a great way to practice/recognize this is: “Ask my Character.” Can your followers ask a specific character a specific question, and would you be able to deliver an answer that is very specific to that character’s tone/voice/personality? If yes, then ur doing well! If not, try to think of ways that you can make tht specific character from a specific story, really unique and separate from your other characters.

6. some practical writing tips

be yourself, write for your own pleasure, blah blah blah; yeah you know already haha but here are a few more practical tips! 

grammar check: if you can, try and hone your grammar! makes for an easier read 

write like you: i personally LOVE this by obiwrites, but even the way she writes exudes her personality and is so specific; try not to be caught up in adding hundreds of synonyms and exquisite language; in fact, simpling it down and being more concise and honest with your writing is better than a superfluous sentence; this will also give ur characters so much more dimension and funk

use those commas/sentence variation: try to use more commas; this will feel like you’re the narrator to your own story; it also makes it more fluid to read in my opinion, over those short. clipped. sentences. (ie. “he came over, sitting down on the corner of your bed with an expression you’d never seen before” over “he walked over. he sat down, looking sad.”) 

half-half dialogue/narration: a fic with too much dialogue can get confusing, and a fic with too much narration can get dry; try to balance them out, and weave in and out of each! 

quality over quantity: don’t feel burdened to write a 30k word fic. in fact, i think some of the shorter fics (ie. any of versigny’s stuff) made a bigger impression on me over the longer fics because they were short, left me wanting more, and were just so high-quality in such small quantities. try out your hand at drabbles and one-shots, and don’t feel too burdened to try and develop a series right off the bat! 

abandon pigeon-holes: i’m guilty of this; i start series and then end up with no vision for the stories and they end up giving me writers block. its okay. just stop or discontinue them or leave them on a hiatus; it’s okay. your priority is yourself, and if abandoning certain works are part of that, then go ahead. it’ll help you progress more. 

and finally.......

i’ll add more as they come up! but if you liked this, then pls lmk! i’d love to give more tips and tricks; i think i started this blog 3-4 years ago when there weren’t as many writers here, but im glad you’re thinking of starting out/wanting to grow more! don’t feel intimidated! it’s not all about the notes/followers but creating a blog you’re proud of. 

so write what you’re proud of, or interested in, and keep going. i truly thoroughly had so much fun writing this post. if there are any writers who read through this and have some more advice, pls msg me! 

all the best to you! 

[platonicteenwolf]

Wolf Moon (S1E1) Part II

Teen Wolf x Reader Series Rewrite

A/N: Let me know if any of the links are wacky or if I mess up on any of the pronouns cause posting three versions is sometimes a bit confusing so I can fix it if needed. Also lmk if there’s a misspelling or grammar issue too :)

They/Them Pronouns Version

He/Him Pronouns Version

Next Part / Masterlist

Warnings: dead body, swearing

Lacrosse stick strapped to his backpack, Scott pedals into the parking lot of Beacon Hills High School among the swarm of students. Skateboarders jump steps, potheads take barely concealed tokes, girls and guys hold hands, guys and guys hold hands, (yes it’s California.)

As Scott pulls his bike to one of the racks to lock it up, a pristine BMW with a license plate that reads: JCKSN37, blazes into the lot and stops in the space next to the racks. Scott, still kneeling, gets bumped in the back when the driver’s side door opens.

Jackson Whittemore, exceptionally good-looking and usually oblivious to anyone not within his social or financial circle, steps out to notice that Scott hit his car by being near it.

“Dude. Watch the paint job.”

He’s completely unaware of hitting Scott as he grabs his own lacrosse equipment.

“Yo Jackson!”

Hearing his favorite word, Jackson looks up and heads over to meet his friends. All good looking jocks with big smiles and expensive cars, pretty girls coming up to say hello.

—————

A school bell rings outside a brick building swarming with students.

“Alright let’s see this thing,” Stiles says, a little too eagerly. Now standing in front of the school, Scott takes off his backpack and pulls his shirt up a few inches to show Stiles and I the bandage on his lower back.

“Oh damn that looks bad!” I reach out to touch it and Scott flinches back. “Oops, sorry”

“It was too dark to see much but I’m pretty sure it was a wolf.”

Scoffing, Stiles countered “A wolf bit you? No, not a chance.”

“I heard a wolf howling.”

”No, you didn’t.”

“What do you mean ‘No, I didn’t?’ How do you know what I heard?”

Jumping in, I explained, “California doesn’t have wolves. Not for the last sixty years. The animals were almost hunted to extinction in the 1920s California Gold Rush.” Both boys looked at me in surprise. “What,” I questioned, “I like history.”

Seemingly accepting that answer Scott continued on. “Well, if you don’t believe me about the wolf, then you’re definitely not going to believe me when I tell you I saw the body.”

“Holy shit!” This was amazing!

“You what? Are you kidding me!?” He almost looked like a kid who just found the hidden candy cabinet.

“I wish. I’m going to have nightmares about it for a month.”

There was still one thing I’ve been wondering about though, “Which half of the body was it?”

“Oh- it was the top half. I saw her dead eyes staring back at me. It was scary.” Scott shuddered, thinking about her lifeless body laying in the forrest.

“Well I think that’s freaking awesome,” Stiles concluded. “This is seriously the best thing that’s happened to this town since...”

Stiles suddenly got very distracted by something behind Scott. I turned around to see what it is and you’ll never guess.

“...since the birth of Lydia Martin who’s walking toward us right now.”

A drop-dead gorgeous junior named Lydia Martin was walking towards the school doors like it was a fashion show runway in Milan. Stiles has had the biggest crush on Lydia ever since we were kids.

“Hey Lydia, how are you? You look--” She walks right past him not even giving him a second glance. “...like you’re going to ignore me.”

Scott chuckled at his failed attempt in flirting with the girl as I pat him on his shoulder.

“You’ll get her next time champ.” Stiles shot me an unappreciative glare as I held my hands up in defense and he started grumbling about how unfair everything was.

“You guys are the cause of this, you know. Dragging me down to your nerd depths. I’m a nerd by association. I’ve been Scarlet-nerded by you.”

As we reach the steps of the school I get ready to part with the dynamic duo to get to my class. “Alright boys, I’ve got first with Harris so I’ll see y’all later.” Mentions of good luck were lost behind me as I entered the thick crowd ready to start the day.

—————

First period English. Scott takes the desk next to Stiles as the teacher, Mr. Curtis starts writing instructions on the chalkboard.

“As you all know by now, there was indeed a body found in the woods last night. I’m sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened but I’ve been told that the police have a suspect in custody.”

Scott looks to Stiles who shrugs, news to him as well.

“Which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus on your desk outlining the semester. Read it now. And by read I don’t mean skim.”

As the students begin reading a cell phone starts ringing out of nowhere. Scott glances up and looks around. The other students quietly read the syllabus, seemingly not hearing the noise. Gazing about, he can’t seem to find the source until his eyes fall on the windows of the classroom...

Outside - across the quad, Scott sees a girl sitting on a bench who he will come to know as Allison Argent. Sixteen and radiating with an innocent beauty. When she puts the cell phone to her ear, it becomes obvious that, despite the closed windows and the distance, this is the ringing Scott is somehow able to hear.

More astonishingly, Scott can hear both Allison and her caller.

“Mom, three calls on my first day is a little overdoing it,” Allison teased.

“Just making sure you’re there okay and you’ve got everything you need.” But Allison digs through her bag, becoming alarmed.

“Everything except a pen. Oh my God, I didn’t actually forget a pen.”

“Don’t panic. I’m sure you can borrow one from another student.”

“Okay, okay, I gotta’ go. Love ya.”

Unable to take his eyes off the extraordinary girl, Scott watches the school’s principal join her on the steps.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” The Principal guides her across the quad, their conversation becoming clearer to Scott with every step.

“So you were saying San Francisco isn’t where you grew up?”

“No, but we stayed for more than a year which is unusual in my family.”

Even when Allison and the Principal disappear from view, Scott hears the clatter of the building door opening, the clicking of their heels on the tile floor of the hall.

“Well, hopefully, Beacon Hills is your last stop for a while.” The door to the classroom opened, causing the rest of the class to look up.

The principle turns to address the room. “Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome.”

Scott barely breathes as Allison heads for the one empty desk left in the room. Right behind him. She puts her notebook down, then glances up to see Scott turned toward her. Holding out a pen. With a relieved but curious smile, she takes it from him.

“Thanks.”

Scott gives her a nod, turning around with a proud expression. Looking up at the front of the room, Mr. Curtis stands up to start the lesson.

“We’ll begin with Kafka’s metamorphosis on page 133...”

—————

The school bell rings throughout the halls indicating its time to move to your next class. As I walked out of my classroom I spotted Stiles coming out of his. Jogging towards him to catch up, I shout his name to grab his attention. Whipping his head around he greets me with the classic, dopey, Stilinski smile. “Hey bub, what’s up?” I ask.

Rolling his eyes at the nickname, he grumbles all about how boring his English class was. “...oh! And there’s a new girl at school today!”

Interesting, I thought. Spotting Scott in the distance we both quicken our pace to meet with him at his locker.

—————

As he grabs his lock to open the door, Scott hears Allison just down the corridor. Looking towards where she stands they connect eyes. She starts to smile, recognizing the cute guy who gave her the pen. But then Lydia Martin swoops in front of her.

“That jacket is absolutely killer. Where did you get it?”

“My Mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco,” Allison explains.

Suddenly Jackson, Lydia’s boyfriend, walks up to the pair and puts his arm around Lydia and she greets him with a kiss.

Turning back towards his locker, Scott spotted Y/N and Stiles walking up to him.

—————

Looking at the Alpha Male and his arm candy across the hall, I turn towards the boys with a confused look on my face.

“Can someone tell me how the new girl is here all of five minutes and she’s already hanging with Lydia’s clique?”

“Because she’s hot. Beautiful people herd together,” Stiles answers. He’s got a point. He steps up to open his own locker next to Scott’s.

“Is that why Lydia isn’t herding with you?”

“Lydia’s a long term project, okay? And trust me, I’ve got all the patience in the world for a high yield investment like her.”

You’ve got to give him credit. He’s committed.

—————

Head cocked slightly, Scott tunes into the conversation from the other end of the corridor, voices coming into focus.

“So,” Lydia exclaims, “this weekend there’s a party.”

“A party?”

Jackson leaned on the lockers next to him, arm now wrapped around Lydias torso. “Yeah, Friday night. You should come.”

“I can’t. It’s Family Night this Friday. But thanks for asking.”

“You sure? Everyone’s going after the scrimmage”

“You mean like football?”

“Football is a joke at Beacon. The sport here is Lacrosse. We won the state championship the last three years--“

Cutting in Lydia praises, “Because of a certain team captain.”

“We have practice in a few minutes,” Jackson explains. “You don’t have to be anywhere, do you?”

“Well, no, I was just going--“

Lydia claps her hands in excitement, “Perfect! You’re coming.”

—————

A whistle blowing echoes across the field. The Lacrosse Team’s Coach gathers the team on the field, Stiles and Scott lagging behind.

“But if you play I’ll have no one to talk to on the bench! You really gonna’ do that to your best friend?”

“Hey! No fair.” I look toward Stiles pouting when he gives me an obnoxious look.

“You don’t count.” I shoved him sticking my tongue out and watched as Stiles accidentally collided with Scott.

“Oops sorry Scott,” I apologize.

With an amused smile after watching our banter Scott continued his argument. “I can’t sit out again. My whole life is sitting on the sidelines. This season, I make first line.” He heads for the field, pausing to see Lydia climbing the bleachers. And stepping right behind her... Allison.

I look towards the boy and follow his gaze behind me where I see the girls sitting. “Hey,” I nudged Stiles who was busy putting all his gear down around him in a destructive manner. “I think Scott’s got a crush on the new girl.”

“What? What makes you say that?”

“Look!” I point towards where Scott stands, still starring dreamily at Allison, but he’s suddenly interrupted when a lacrosse stick hits him in the chest.

“McCall! You’re in the goal.”

Scott turns to Coach Bobby Finstock, a man with little comprehension of the difficulties of teenage life. He tosses Scott the bundle of goalie equipment.

“But I’ve never played goal.”

“I know. Scoring some shots will give the boys a confidence boost. It’s a first day back thing. Get them energized, fired up!”

“What about me?”

“Try not to take any in the face.”

This is not gonna end well, I think to myself.

—————

Stepping into the net, Scott glances to the bleachers where Allison watches with Lydia, eyes focusing on them.

“Who is that,” Allison questions.

Him? I’m not sure who he is. Why?”

“He’s in my English class.”

Scott looks up, shocked to hear Allison asking about him. But with his hearing momentarily turned up, he flinches at the whistle blow, sound ringing through his skull.

One of the bigger players charges forward as the Assistant Coach passes the ball to him. Catching it, he whips his stick forward, hurling the ball toward the goal.

Still reeling from the whistle, Scott looks up too late to see the ball soaring toward him. It bounces right off his helmet and into the net. The team laughs wickedly. Even Coach snickers.

Cheeks burning under his mask, Scott readies himself for the next player. When the whistle blows again, he’s ready. The Assistant Coach passes the ball to the next player who catches it and fires it right at the goal.

Scott moves startlingly fast, almost an instantaneous reaction. Then he notices the player staring at him with a mixture of disappointment and surprise. Scott has the ball.

“Yeah!” Stiles shouts from the sideline, impressed with his friends newfound luck. “See I told you he was practicing,” I brag to Stiles.

When the next player takes the shot, Scott catches the ball again. And then again. And again. Nothing can get past him.

In the bleachers, Allison and Lydia sit forward.

“He seems like he’s pretty good,” Allison continues to stare at Scott practicing on the field

“Very good.” Intrigued, Lydia keeps her gaze locked on Scott who now stands with a far more confident posture. Until he sees that Jackson is next in line. Glaring at Scott, he practically strangles the lacrosse stick with his gloves.

“Oh God...” Scott croaks with fear.

The Assistant Coach tosses the ball up. Jackson launches forward, catching the ball and spinning around to fire it at the goal. But Scott moves with supernatural precision. The ball lands right in the pocket of the goalie stick.

Stiles and I let out hollers of excitement, jumping up from the bench. In the bleachers, Lydia stands and cheers as well causing Jackson to throw a look at her. She returns his glare with a sly smile, a warning to step up his game.

Grinning, Scott gives the goalie stick a whirl, spinning it with a flick of his wrist and sending the ball soaring right into the pocket of the stunned Assistant Coach’s stick.

—————

In the woods, Scott retraces his steps from last night with Stiles and I following behind him.

“I don’t know what it was. It was like, I had all the time in the world to catch the ball.”

Walking towards a bank we came to a river we had to cross. I hope Scott knows where he’s going. After seeing nowhere to cross we trudged through the river soaking our feet in the water. If my shoes smell after this I’m gonna kill him.

Reaching the other side, Scott continued with his worries. “And that’s not the only weird thing. I mean I can hear stuff I shouldn’t be able to hear. And I can smell things.”

“Smell things? Like what,” Stiles questions.

“Like the mint mojito gum in your pocket.”

“I don’t have any...” Stiles pulls out a lint-covered piece of wrapped gum.

Looking up at Scott in shock, he just shrugged, continuing his walk into the woods. Double checking, I ask him, “so all this started with the bite?”

“What if it’s an infection? What if my body is flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?”

“I’ve actually heard of this,” Stiles starts, “It’s a specific kind of infection.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I think it’s called... Lycanthropy.”

“Oh my god.” I roll my eyes at his accusation. He can’t be serious.

“No I’m serious! This is important!”

“What’s that? Is it bad? It sounds bad.”

“It is. But only once a month.”

“Once a month?”

“On the night of a full moon. Awroooo”

Scott looks at him. And then it clicks. Giving him a push, we continued walking.

“Stiles you’re such a dumbass sometimes,” I chide.

“Hey, he’s the one who heard a wolf howling.”

“There could be something seriously wrong with me!” Scott looks back at Stiles with a look of fear.

“I know! You’re a werewolf! Grrr!” He slashes his hands through the air in a claw motion and I take this opportunity to stick my leg out in front of him and watch as he trips.

As Stiles falls to the forrest floor Scott and I laugh at his stupidity. “Okay, obviously, I’m kidding. But if you see me in shop class melting down all the silver I can find it’s because Friday’s a full moon.”

We seemed to reach the destination because Scott started to look around the area.

“I swear this was it. I saw the body, the deer came running, I dropped my inhaler...”

“Maybe the killer moved the body.”

“If he did, I hope he left my inhaler. Those things are like eighty bucks.”

As the boys thought of different theories I looked towards the woods and saw someone walking towards us. Is that.. Derek Hale?

“Hello,” I greet, waving to the man.

Stiles looks up at me and then to the man and taps Scott on the arm, pulling him to his feet. Derek Hale. Nineteen and unquestionably handsome, he has a rougher look than the cleanly shaven Beacon Hills boys.

“What are you doing here?”

Both Scott and Stiles are too stunned to speak at first “This is private property.”

“Sorry, we didn’t know,” Stiles assures.

Derek stares at Scott, barely noticing Stiles or I.

Scott opens his mouth to speak to the man but then closes it, at a loss for words.

I take this as an opportunity explain. “We were just looking for something but we’ll leave. Sorry to bother you.”

As we’re turning to go, Derek tosses an object to Scott. His inhaler. When he looks up, Derek is already walking away.

Now finding his voice, Scott mutters, “Aight, come on. I’ve gotta get to work.”

“Dude, that was Derek Hale, “Stiles exclaims. “You remember, right? He’s only a few years older than us.”

“Remember what?”

“His family. They all burned to death in a fire like ten years ago.”

We used to have a class together in school. “I remember the cops pulling him out of class to tell him,” I tell the boys. “I wonder what he’s doing back.”

Scott eyes the inhaler in his hand, closing his fist over it. “Come on,” he says again.

—————

Tag List: @linkpk88

[crusader-kings]

Mycorrhizal; OC dump

This will likely be a long post, press J to jump!

Overall idea; In a distant future where humanity drove itself to extinction with nuclear weapons, not many organisms survived/can survive the high amount of radiation, those who did are now incredibly mutated and changed from their original ancestors. The wastelands do not offer much support for life as it’s mostly rock or places covered with radioactive dust, some live in the long forgotten human’s ruins while others live in whatever piece of land that life still grows, those patches of grass and places where forests and rivers run and grow free are called Cyolizers.

Overall insects and arthropods; Insects are, somewhat more emotionally intelligent out of the 3 dominant species and more crafty, they farm, breed livestock and build, their relationship with others often........depends a lot, altho they’re less willing to work with other species they will tolerate when time calls for it.

Overall fungi and the like; Fungi are extremely clever but incredibly dumb in a way (Do not mix wisdom with intelligence, reader!) their views are very black and white but can formulate many strategies for survival when working in a colony, however, many fungi do not tolerate each other even when territory can support all but they will work together for the sake of the colony/mycorrhizal network while still avoiding each other.

Overall trees, plants and the like; Trees fall in the middle of the spectrum, they have a mother tree and priotize their own young than the others in the forest much like in the real world but have way more mobility while still unable to move, they only speak to Mycorrhizal fungi and whichever possesses the ability to do so.

Somewhat goal; To create a story/characters with very to no little anthropomorfization and still be able to make the viewer feel sympathy for the characters, basing off actual behaviours from the real world (Insects, mostly ants do create fungi farms and breed ‘livestock for an example) more than making on the go and using a very strict language as most of the list do not feel emotions on human levels, if are there any misinfo you’d like to correct me on please LMK! I do love reading articles and the like so I’d prefer if you send me a source. ❤

There are 2 stories to this world, The Sundown society, focusing on the arthropods and insects perspectives and Mycorrhizal, that focus on the fungi perspective.

Overall insight to the fungi culture;

- Fungi, do not have names, they do not understand the concept of names at all.

- Fungi often do not recognize each other, meaning that if there are 2 fungus of the same species they will not remember who they’ve talked to before and pretty much treat each other as if they were the same person.

- Fungi have supernatural sense abilities and perspective, they are able to ‘feel’ each other from hundreds of miles.

- They are clever but dumb, meaning they learn extremely quick but don’t understand many things and also lack curiosity but can be intelligent in group due to shared information.

- They.........do not treat each other kindly.

Mycorrhizal focus on a group of 14 fungi of different species, which you can find here! (Some are still being designed)

CHAPTER 1

A Devil’s fingers fungus is accepted by the forest even not being benefitial to them, having formed an alliance with a Bleeding tooth fungus since formation, both believe that their shared wisdom is good for the colony which is why Devil’s fingers was accepted in the first place, a strange menacing unknown scent rises from the horizon causing many members of the network to flee, both Bleeding tooth and Devil’s fingers believe that remaining in the colony would be safer than running towards the wasteland and not knowing if they ever will find other Cyrolizers.

Fast forward, both meet Lion’s mane fungus that informs that they ran away from their previous Cyrolizer due to the same scent but could not recognize it, Lion’s mane is immediately shunned by the trees for being a tree-parasite species, Devil’s fingers offers that they should let them stay and get rid of the weaker trees and use what they know of the scent to find out what’s happening...the trees...accept this, but hesitant to let their members die like that.

CHAPTER 3

Many trees die due to the decay of the network since Bleeding tooth is the only Mycorrhizal fungus around, a Magic mushroom “traveller” appears and has named themself Carlos, this is new for the fungi who do not understand names, Carlos is the very few fungi who are emotionally intelligent and understand human culture, they talk about how they’ve been travelling alot and mention other Cyrolizers on the way. Bleeding tooth is relieved that they can bail out but Devil’s fingers will not budge and Lion’s mane is happy with a host, Carlos informs that they can aid their cause for a cost in which they happily pay.

They bring Ink cap who’s been following them and more or so a traveller (not by choice.), who’s violent and a fighter and later helps them with an clearwing problem alongside Lion’s mane, their insect problems only gets worse, they hear from one of them that they’re also fleeing from the same thing and this is the first Cyrolizer they found, luckily for the fungi, the merry month of augustus just starts bringing a herd of Cordyceps militaris, Carlos attempts to convince one of them to help unaware that they do not prey on clearwings, months passes with them insects problem until one of the herd is left behind, with nowhere to go they were brought to the colony and apparently their sight was enough to make the insects bail the hell out of there.

CHAPTER 4

With 6 fungi on their hands, the future looks a bit brighter, but many do not understand each other on a personal level except for Devil’s fingers and Bleeding tooth, Lion’s mane has no idea what a colony does for being a parasite and much less Cordyceps, Ink cap does not care for it either, the only willing to help is Carlos, this angers the trees for wasting resources and time on useless members, but once again! Devil’s fingers does not budge, trying to remain organized; they propose that like a normal colony each one should have a role, it took centuries to explain what a Colony was to Lion’s mane and Cordyceps but they got it, Lion’s mane job is more or like of a mortician, Cordyceps uses its cordycepin to keep the trees healthy, Ink cap patrols the entire Cyrolizer for insects and so on, Bleeding tooth is the mycorrhizal head and Devil’s fingers is often planning with Carlos what to do.

CHAPTER 5

The scent is on the rise again, Cordyceps mentions it’s familiarity - they recognize it and call it one of “them” (a parasitoid) but is unable to point out what it is and that it’s unlikely that it’s another cordyceps, they also point out that in migration their herd passed through a completely devastated Cyrolizer with the same scent and spores, Devil’s fingers ask the probability of the cause of the disaster being made by a fungus and Carlos laughs at the implication but their fears are only confirmed when Cordyceps mentions that yes, it could be somewhat a parasite on a giant host and that this phenomenon is not uncommon for their kind.

Ink cap rushes in to inform that there’s a ghost moth by itself alone, that seems desesperate and knows more about it, Devil’s fingers run to the scene alongside Bleeding tooth and Ink cap to meet Lunar, a ghost moth who lost their wing informing that some giant beast attacked and ripped it off but they managed to escape.

CHAPTER 6

 Lunar and Carlos seem to kick off, they talk about human culture and how interesting names are, Devil’s fingers is confused by this, Lunar mentions how their society used to build “huts”, the idea seems alien to them at first but later they understand it’s for warmth and protection from outside elements, Lion’s mane says that they can use the carcass of the dead trees around while Ink cap mentions they dig and only build roofs on the holes to save their lives, Devil’s tooth and Ink cap are in charge of building the huts.

Lunar finds out there’s a Cordyceps on the team and is already keen on leaving, Carlos jokes about how they “wouldn’t even hurt a fly” in which Cordyceps reply with; “I don’t prey on flies anyways.”, they’re kept apart at all times.

CHAPTER 7

Ink cap and Cordyceps become “allies” (Cordyceps has no concept of allyship), often hunting arthropods and eating them together, Ink cap explains allyship to them after that they’re mostly always seem together, both find Gyromitra and they bring it back to camp, they inform that they just stumbled upon and have been travelling for days with no end looking for a place to stay, the trees are happy with their arrival as they are also a mycorrhizal fungus, Gyromitra and Bleeding tooth often split their jobs,

.  .  .   .

[pommedelamer]

art of the pen

a/n: soo uhh it’s been a while. here’s a couple pages worth of a story idea I had, as well as my character design that inspired it! this is. extremely rough but I figured that I should get something up. hhhh I was considering turning this into a formal book with actual developed characters and plot advancement (oh god saying that gives me anxiety) but I don’t know if the content I have so far is very promising. lmk what y'all think lol

//

Character Description: This character is a young female writer. When the novel she has poured her life’s work into is denounced by publishers, she withdraws to a foreign country in attempts to kindle the flames of a new life and reignite her passion for writing. Rejection, coupled with extreme loneliness, causes her to sink into depression. She wanders aimlessly through her new remote town in search of a sense of community. She comes across this in the last place she expected when she discovers that the decrepit building in which she temporarily resides is inhabited by a troop of eccentric underground journalists. Alongside her intrepid neighbors, she tears into the controversies and secrets woven into the fabric of her town and writes like she never has before.

//

The sun peeked through the gaps in the verdant canopy above, but my journal pages were still mostly barren. My pen always seemed to still a few sentences in, flailing like a line unable to lure in a bite. I flipped back to the cover, sluggish in the evening heat. It was adorned with pressed indigo flowers on a cream-colored background. Some of the pigment in the flowers had escaped under the pressure, and each blossom was framed with a deep purple halo. The wind sent the pages tumbling in a delicate fan, and suddenly I was a vandal, a delinquent with the gall to tarnish such beauty with the aftershocks of a passion that had run its course.

A cloud crossed over the sun and the forest floor seemed to close itself off, a flourishing ecosystem in which I was a parasite, leeching off its natural resources to fuel my own unavailing pursuits. I felt the crabgrass clawing at the soles of my feet as I reread the fruits of my two hours. Oh. My breath thickened in my throat and the canopy of branches above shifted in the wind. I suddenly felt compelled to trek back to the little corner market and seek forgiveness for the heinous crimes I’d committed inside the lovely journal with the flowers festooned across the front. And then I’d make a pit stop back at my publisher’s to apologize for my persistence with that novel I’d probably packed with even more of my insufferable delusions. My pen felt leaden and foreign in my hand, and I let it fall to the forest floor in penitence.

I stood up and saw that a thicket of scraggly trees was eyeing me curiously. It could just be a hobby, I told them. They remained steadfast, bony limbs still contorted in thorny skepticism. I didn’t quite know what they sought from me, but I wanted to oblige them. Something to unwind with in the afternoons. The forest was drawing further and further away from me, the thrushes and jays flocking in the leaves of a far-off pine tree, the wind gently guiding the little saplings away on their scrawny legs. A shadow crossed over my bones, and I knew that it was a lie. I wanted to crawl out of the skeleton that had confidently put pen to paper every morning and leave the remnants to disintegrate on the forest floor. I scooped up the marred pages of the little journal and tucked it away. Just something to pass the time. If that.

                                                         ❋❋❋

The town had fully transformed itself when I crossed onto Washington Street. The daytime freshness had long since evaporated from the air, a numbing sense of finality sliding into its place, a reflective epilogue on the day passed. The possibility that I’d felt on my trek to the market that very morning remained in the air, and, silhouetted against the cloak of night, it was mystifying and beckoned me through the alleyways and over the crosswalks. In spite of my spirits, my eyes were dazzled with it. I watched as my shadow, elongated by the streetlamps, tapered off into drains and crept up the sides of buildings, beguiling the eye with its disappearances and reappearances.

I arrived at my complex and allowed myself a moment to take it in at nighttime for the first time. Unlike some of the buildings that retained their daytime charm in the dark, 42 Washington Street took on an air of its own. The streetlamps threw long, delicate shadows over the siding, and the balconies seemed to withdraw back into the wall for the night.

I fumbled with my keys and let myself in. I was immediately enveloped with cool air that seemed awfully artificial, if the sputtering air conditioner on the far wall was any indication. The lobby had also fully adopted the nighttime guise, the broad armchairs appearing to purposefully hold their poses in the dark, as if they had once been dancing. Even the idyllic watercolor gondola painting mounted on the wall behind the front desk had shifted in the night, now depicting rafts traversing the inky river Styx.

“Your first night at 42 Washington, I assume?”

It took me a moment to locate the speaker, tracing over the corners of the room that the moonlight had claimed. It was only when I stepped back and observed the room again, allowing my gaze to slip beyond the cool puddles of light on the wooden armrests and coffee table, that I found the source.

Completely submerged in shadow, a man was reclining on a velvet armchair. Even entirely cloaked in dark, I could tell that he was incredibly tall, almost larger than life. One of his legs draped over the side of the chair, and his foot still managed to touch the ground. His left hand curved over the other arm of the chair, spanning the entire width. He wore a plain button up, the hem of which fanned out onto the chair. I saw an object on his lap that I recognized from my own fruitless pursuits, as a journal. His was almost bursting at the seams, the binding probably beginning to fray under the stress. I saw movement inside the shadow that overtook half the man’s face, swallowing up his likeness so that his features were still up to my imagination.

“It’s a completely different place in the dark, all transformed and the like. One might say we have two buildings for the price of one. It’s a bit of a joke around here.” He spoke as if he were scribbling on a page, the drawl of his voice trying desperately to align itself with the words in his head – as if I’d walked in on him in the middle of constructing his own universe and it hadn’t quite stopped for me. My eyes fell on the fountain pen dangling between his fingers that I’d dismissed as a cigarette, and I realized that was exactly what he had been doing. “But it’s best to keep it between us. If the landlord catches on, you can expect rent to double in price. All the apartments are the same around here, and the landlords are no different. They’ll take anything they can get.” He laughed faintly, and the shadow shortened as if the man had tipped his head back, lost in thought. There was a brief silence, during which I realized I hadn’t yet uttered a single word. “Are you a writer too, then?”

The question was wholly disarming, catching me right between the ribs. I hoped that the night would obscure the rivers of uncertainty it sent ghosting over my skin and coursing through my veins. My heartbeat rattled against my ribcage as I willed myself to respond.

“I’ve dabbled in it. So one might say I am, but ... no, I suppose I’m not, by definition, anyway.” I was again grateful for the anonymity the night provided, for my voice was telling a story of its own, one that I’d recently established was no longer mine. “What might give you that impression?”

The man shifted forwards, the contours of his face revealing themselves inside the beam of moonlight that fell at his feet. I rushed to dismantle the collage of shadowed features I’d loosely fabricated in my head, although it was not far off from what the moonlight illuminated before my eyes. I observed that, for as much as he liked to talk about it, the man’s face was not like 42 Washington Street. “We have a certain look about us, I s’pose.”

My hands wrung behind my back as he propped his elbows on his knees. I couldn’t help but wonder what else he’d detected during this shadowed analysis. I was sure the distress his question had instilled in me had not gone unnoticed, but he did not question it. He did not question me, and I did not question him.

The man skimmed through the pages of the teeming journal and produced a piece of brown paper that, from the looks of it, had been folded up to four times. “If I’m right in my assessments and you’re interested, there’s a group of us around here. I think we’d all be open to more writers in a town like this.” He placed the paper in my palm, and I nodded.

I unfurled the paper and scanned it quickly as I walked.  I was already halfway down the hall when a blank space on the flyer piqued my curiosity. “Excuse me, sir, the address-- it seems to be missing?”

But the enormous man had already eased back in the armchair, hands closing around the journal as the shadows overtook him once more. “It does have the feel of a haunted house around here, doesn’t it?” He mumbled into the dark.

*~to be continued~* 

feedback would be appreciated :)

[blodreina-noumou]

I had fun with 6x02. It was angsty “why can’t our kids just get along” fun, but still fun!

The Big Things I’d be down to discuss:

1 - We got tiny little crumbs about Alpha/Sanctum itself, the people who live there, and how/why they’ve lived on this moon for the past century or so. The backstory with the very obvious Bellarke stand-in (that had to either be the best or worst little nod ever for shippers), including the sudden and unexpectedly violent death of Sanctum Clarke (I know she has a name I just forgot), shows us that the people of this world have been dealing with the eclipse psychosis for a long time, which definitely explains the kids’ books and general “this is a thing that happens sometimes” attitude of the people we’ve met. The mother, father, and daughter of that group are the Lightbournes (no idea how to spell that yet), who are seemingly worshiped in this world. How did that happen, when Daddy Lightbourne went nuts and murdered his wife and daughter? Jumping to the present, one of the lines between the older hijacker woman and her dying daughter - “the bodies, you have to make sure -” “I’ll take care of it” - definitely makes me think that there’s something about death/corpses on this planet that we don’t know yet. (Which makes me think of poor Shaw, quickly buried in that grave by that random field.) Both women seemed very concerned with recovering the bodies of their husbands, beyond the usual “respecting our dead” worries. And finally, that ending. The little girl, Rose, seemed to be dressed a bit more “royally” for lack of a better word, than the other children. Maybe it was just a design choice to make her stand out - if she’s got a name, she’s gonna be important. She had those “wise young leader” vibes though. The most interesting thing - her asking Clarke if they’re there to “take them home” and Clarke responding “isn’t this your home?” Sanctum believes they’re going to be rescued, I think we can safely guess that this is a big part of what makes them culty. So what are they going to do now that they know a rescue is impossible, because Earth is dead? Why do they still want to go home - to reconnect with a world an indeterminate number of lightyears away, where none of them were born? Why? Is it something about Sanctum that makes them long to return - something more than just the Eclipse Psychosis?

2. My favorite interactions were between Murphy and Clarke. I think something significant happened between them when Murphy finds Clarke holding that knife to her own throat. I think Murphy has a moment of realizing, “oh, maybe Clarke hasn’t let go of her baggage, maybe she carries more guilt and self-loathing than she shows us.” He gentles a lot as he talks her down, tells her that the radio she’s hearing all of those terrible things from isn’t even on. I do think they have a better understanding of each other now, and will probably snipe at each other less. Probably. Maybe. I appreciated Murphy telling Clarke that her taking some responsibility for being “the bad guy” was “a good start.” I do think Clarke needs to make serious strides towards apologizing properly, and she came closer than she had before to doing that in the argument she and Murphy had while they were locked up in the school. She was passive aggressive, but I think part of that is her frustration that anyone would think she doesn’t regret the things she’s done. She’s lost so many people who are important to her, and, given what Delusion!Abby said, Clarke also clearly blames herself for all of it. I think part of why she can’t apologize to anyone is because it’s hard for her to live with herself without justifying the why of those lives lost. She has to remember what she did it for, who she did it for, or she’ll lose it completely and surrender to her darkest, self-destructive impulses. This episode helped me with Clarke a bit, I’ll admit it. I hope this isn’t the only thing we’ll get, but I’m not holding my breath.

3. The different reactions everyone has to the psychosis is worth a hundred metas and at least twenty crack posts. I wanted to make a “tag yourself” meme about what everyone does (Echo “nopes” herself right out; Emori flips and attacks her “it’s complicated” lover; Bellamy becomes an Angry Rage Dad; Jackson and Miller try to protect each other to death; Clarke just hates herself (I don’t even have a good joke for it, it was honestly pretty sad); and Murphy would just be “????”; a bonus would be Octavia, who managed to behave as if she was under the Eclipse Psychosis, but it turns out our girl is just Losing It For Real Now, No But Like For REAL For Real - but I’m not good at the image-making thing, so anyone who sees this is free to steal the idea and adapt it to their own interpretations (just lmk ‘cause I wanna see it)!

4. Was Murphy affected? By the time Emori, Jackson, Miller, and Echo are all down for the count, Murphy becomes the voice of reason for Clarke and Bellamy. He has to protect himself, and them, from themselves and each other, and he does so in a very level-headed way. He isn’t shaking off the delusions like Clarke does when Murphy and Bellamy are fighting. He isn’t raging and ranting like Bellamy is. His craziest moments come from believing that he’s the only sane one left. Yet he shoots at Bellamy and Clarke, and clearly seems paranoid that they’re out to get him at certain moments. So what gives? Which parts were potentially Eclipse Psychosis, and which parts were just Murphy? I’m inclined to believe his needling of Clarke is 100% Him - given how he stomps off from their little fireside chat in 6x01 (that smile was sarcastic af y’all, not him really being like “you win”, he was pissed), I don’t think he’s able to hold himself back from speaking his mind to Clarke about her decisions, once they’re both tied up and stuck in the same room together. So when he shoots at Clarke and Bellamy, do we think he’s trying to protect them from themselves, or does he genuinely want to hurt them? So much to analyze. 

5. Speaking of Octavia, I am both elated and devastated to see that Niylah is pretty much her only friend right now - it makes my Niytavia heart happy, but it’s rough to see Octavia struggling so much, and being so alone in it. It’s clear Niylah is so scared for Octavia, and might be the only one who really sees how much she’s hurting. She’s the only one who recognizes that Octavia is egging everyone on, trying to get them to fight her, probably even kill her. Octavia is lashing out so much right now, and it’s definitely not a good look. I think it’s the only thing that makes sense for her character right now. She lost everything - all of the honor and respect and (yes) power she had, all of the hope she had for finding redemption in Eden, all of her closest friends and supporters (with the exception of Niylah - also, side note, I hope we see Indra and Gaia soon), and her brother. She’s never been good at actually reflecting on her mistakes. Now that she feels she has pretty much nothing to lose, of course she’s going to lash out and act like an angry kid throwing a tantrum, baiting people into punishing her. She wanted to die in that gorge - she believes she deserves it. Now, in her own words, “none of it makes sense”. I don’t know how much darker and angrier she’ll have to go before she finally confronts Blodreina, and all of the reasons she had to become her. She has to accept what she did, and forgive herself, before anyone else will.

6. What will the fallout from the Bellamy/Murphy fight be? Everyone was throwing out some sharp barbs, but Bellamy’s comment about Murphy being a court jester, and how that was “barely” better than useless was a low blow. It’s also a long way from the premiere last year, with Bellamy pinning Murphy and refuses to let him up until Murphy says he isn’t worthless. Will they brush by it as Eclipse Angst, or is this indicative of bigger problems between Murphy and Bellamy down the line this season? Bellamy definitely wakes up looking hella guilty about how close he came to killing both Clarke and Murphy. Does he really feel that way about Murphy, does he see him as an equivalent threat compared to Clarke? Why, and how?? Not to beat a dead horse, but Clarke has been pretty traitorous lately and has been much more dangerous to trust than Murphy has, for Bellamy for sure. Clarke’s own self-destructive thoughts seemed to be the genuine truth, what she believed about herself. Who’s to say we can’t assume Bellamy was being equally genuine about Murphy?

7. What’s going on with Murphy at the end there? Before he went into the water, he was mostly okay. After he comes out and passes out for a while, he’s suddenly near-death, with crazy black shit visibly running through his veins? I’ll admit I’m a little scared for him! I’m sure he’ll probably be fine, but the source is what unsettles me - the biggest difference between the three of them by that ...pond? puddle?... is that Murphy went under and inhaled a lot of water. Is even the water toxic when the eclipse is going on? That’s going to mean that the Sanctum people, who clearly have some safe place to go to during the eclipses, will have a lot of power over the safety of everyone on the planet, even more than we originally suspected. So our traumatized heroes are going to have to adapt and assimilate to this new society, and we really have no idea what that’s going to look like yet. We’ve already gotten some hints that it’s weird and culty though, and culty things have never boded well for our characters. Has it been mentioned how often these eclipses are? I don’t think so. We know they last two days, but not how often they happen. We also don’t know much else about the dangers in the world, and what life is like for other parts of the moon’s surface.

8. The parallels between Clarke and Octavia so far this season are delightful and frustrating. They both have so much in common, and it’s interesting to see the different and similar ways they’re reacting to the terrible things they were forced (and chose, at times) to do as young, inexperienced leaders. They both don’t think they deserve to be alive. They both have tried to hurt or kill themselves because of that. What frustrates me a bit about 6x02 is that it feels like a reversal from the way we saw Octavia at the end of 5x13. Octavia seemed ready to accept responsibility in that gorge “Wonkru is dead. I broke it.” and Clarke seemed more willing to stand by her convictions as a Mama Bear. Now Clarke is slowly starting to accept some accountability, and Octavia is calling out everyone for their “sins”. But I think on some level, they’re both motivated by the same self-destructive self-loathing. Both Clarke and Octavia attempted to sacrifice themselves (Clarke at the end of s4, Octavia at the end of s5) for the sake of their people, and also in an attempt to make up for how fall they’d each fallen from their own moral centers - they both wanted redemption and absolution for the terrible things they’d do to other people for the sake of survival. Both of them were robbed of this opportunity when they survived their attempts at martyrdom, yet their attempts do save the people they love. They’re both pretty much in the same place at the beginning of s6 - on the edges of their groups (although Clarke has been treated far more warmly by ReconKru than Octavia has been on the Eligius ship), feeling alone except for one special girl (Madi and Niylah respectively, although also Bellamy was being pretty nice to Clarke before the Psychosis thing happened), and they both have so much blood on their hands. Both have lashed out to an extent, but both have also directed their anger and guilt inward, and against themselves physically. I don’t know what the intention is behind these parallels yet - both women need a lot of peace and time to heal from what they’ve been through. Will they both actually be allowed that, on this show? I doubt it. That scares me, because as much as I complain about Clarke, I’ve never wanted a tragic ending for her. But if it comes down to a choice, I think y’all know what my bias would be. And right now, Octavia looks more likely to meet that dark end than Clarke.

This is long enough, so that’s it for now! Let me know your own thoughts!!

[cupidsbabie]

- melancholy

↬ bakugo x reader

↬ a/n: tried out a new format so lmk what y’all think ,, i also wrote this at like 3 am while i was sad so it’s like...bad

TW // suicide attempt, depression

Restless nights have become a habit lately. The inability to fall asleep has lead me to the same balcony night after night, staring up at the everchanging starry sky. It’s comforting. The peace surrounding me in those hours are the only time I can let my mind wander, not needing to wear the mask I wear during the day. There was no need to hold my tongue, or maintain that tiresome smile, or sit up straight like I was taught. I could finally be me because there was no one there to see it.

˜”*°•.˜”*°•.

It’s getting harder to conceal the dark circles under my eyes. Those restless nights of thinking are becoming more evident. I pray no one notices. My mask is crumbling, and I can’t put it back together anymore. It’s only a matter of time before it breaks completely. Although, there’s a part of me that wants this, to finally be vulnerable―to be real. I’m tired of having to be this person. I just want to be me.

˜”*°•.˜”*°•.

Anchoring myself to reality has become impossible. I know some have noticed, I can hear the whisperings, but, I just can’t bring myself to care. It’s as if i’m detached from reality. Like a ghost wandering through the real world.

I don’t recognize myself anymore. I don’t know the girl in the mirror staring back at me. She’s frail, with dark eyebags and sickly pale skin. Her hair is thin, unhealthy looking, and her chapped lips and boney body make her look almost like a zombie. This isn’t me, it can’t be. But it is.

A knock on my door snaps me out of my trance in front of the mirror. I try my best to put on the remnants of my broken mask as I walk towards the source of the sound. Opening the door, I smile weakly at the person in front of me. He looks at me warily as I stand in front of him.

“Hello Suki.”

He sighed in response, lifting up the object in his hand. I look down at it before looking back up at him questioningly. I was confused as to why he was here. He wasn’t the type of person to show up without good reason.

“What’s that Suki?” I ask.

“Food.” is all he responds with. His tone is soft. It’s a tone i’d never heard before.

“Oh, Suki, I appreciate the gesture but i’m not very hungry.” I respond apologetically. His eyes narrow, and his brows furrow in… worry? Anger? I can’t tell what is going on in his head, i’ve never seen this side of him before.

“Please, y/n.”

His voice cracks a bit as he speaks. He sounds desperate. I look down at the bag of food and see that his hands are slightly shaking. This isn’t Bakugo.

˜”*°•.˜”*°•.

It’s gotten worse, if that’s even possible. I don’t talk anymore. I stare absentmindedly out the window during class, and hide up on the roof during lunch so that I don’t have to interact with anyone. I stay in my room at all times if I’m not at school. I don’t even go down to eat anymore.

Everyone’s noticed by now. They don’t know how to help, although they try. Someone always comes up and leaves a plate of food at my door since any attempt to get me to leave my room is futile. I appreciate the gesture, but i wish they’d stop. I never eat the food. How wasteful.

˜”*°•.˜”*°•.

I don’t know how much longer I can take this. I feel numb, lost. I know what will happen to me if I continue like this, and honestly, I’m hoping it happens soon. I want to feel something, anything.

˜”*°•.˜”*°•.

I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. Glancing behind me, I see that the bathtub is filled. I turn off the water, and strip myself of my shirt and underwear before stepping in. The water is scalding, and I have to fight the instinct to jump out. I sit down and rest my head against the edge of the tub, letting myself slowly sink further into the water. I feel a small smile form on my face. I close my eyes, and I finally sleep.

˜”*°•.˜”*°•.

Loud shouts drag me out of unconsciousness. My whole body feels like it’s on fire. I can’t open my eyes or speak. I don’t think I’m breathing. But I can hear the noises around me.

Everything sounds frantic. The screaming hasn’t stopped, and it sounds like more and more voices are joining in. There’s too many voices for me to make out. Memories slowly piece together as I remember what had happened before I passed out. I feel myself being lifted, successfully ruining my train of thought. The air is cold, but I feel myself being warmed as my body gets pulled closer to whoever was carrying me. My head moves to rest against the persons chest, and their scent invades my nose. They smell familiar, and I feel my body relax into their grip.

“Su…ki…” my body whispers before I lose consciousness again.

˜”*°•.˜”*°•.

White lights and steady machine beeping greet me as wake up. My eyes scan the unfamiliar room before quickly coming to the conclusion that I am in a hospital. I sit up and grab the water from the bed stand next to me, drinking the entire glass in a matter of seconds. The door opens, and I set the glass back down before looking at the visitor.

No words are exchanged as he closes the door behind him and moves to stand at the foot of my hospital bed. I stare at the IV tube injected into my arm, not being able to meet his intense glare. Minutes tick by before the silence is broken.

“Why?” is all he says.

I see he is no longer angry as I look back up at him, melancholy overtaking his features. I don’t know how to respond. I wish he was still angry. I wish he was yelling at me, screaming how stupid and dangerous my actions were. I wish for anything but the hurt expression I see.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” I whisper

He clenches his fists tightly before relaxing them and moving closer to me.

“Hurting yourself hurts me.”

˜”*°•.˜”*°•.

It’s been a couple months since that day. Bakugo hasn’t let me out of his sights ever since, always by my side. Not that I mind.

I’m not by any means recovered yet, not mentally at least. There’s still those days where I try to slip on the broken mask. But it’s better. Those days are becoming more scarce as time goes on. I’m learning how to be me―how to be happy, and he’s been there every step of the way.

Thank you, Bakugo Katsuki, for giving me a second chance to finally be me.

[ukulelecal]

Biggest Fan

In which you’re a famous singer and Calum is a fan of your music. 

Warnings: There’s like one swear but other than that its just fluff

Pairing: Calum Hood x Reader

Requested By: Anonymous

“hi can you do a blurb on calum where you’re also famous and u find out he’s interested in you and low key loves your music? shebjdjsj idk jus make it fluffy and ill love u forever“

A/N: i really loved writing this auehfuesnf tempted to do a part 2 tbh, lmk what you think?

Requests are OPEN!

*Gif not mine*

Series Masterlist

“Thank you, New York! Good night!” You cheered into the microphone, taking one last bow and giving a wave to the crowd before exiting the stage.

You immediately went to your dressing room and packed up your guitar, then grabbing a water bottle from the mini fridge in the corner. Performing shows was one of your favorite things to do, and you would never grow tired of it. Seeing all the fans who came to see you, and hear them sing along to your songs never got old. 

You sat down on the couch and took a sip from the water bottle. There was enough time for you to relax and come down from your adrenaline high before having to get on your tour bus and move on to the next place. 

Setting the water bottle next to you, you wiped the sweat that beaded on your forehead and grabbed your phone from where you had tossed it on the couch before going on stage. You opened Twitter, starting a new tweet.

 “Had so much fun tonight. New York, I love you x”

You posted the tweet, then started scrolling through your feed. There was nothing out of the ordinary; just tweets from friends, family, fans. You liked a few tweets here and there, but mostly just scrolled through without giving much thought to any of them. Just one particular tweet caught your eye. It was a recommended tweet, from a user you didn’t follow.

“Absolutely love this song. Great job @/your/twitter/user/”

Attached was a screenshot of Spotify playing a song from your newest album that was released not too long ago. 

You grinned to yourself, seeing it was one of your more “underrated” songs that people seemed to not pay much attention to, at least compared to your more popular singles. Glancing at the person who tweeted it, you immediately recognized the name. Calum Hood; he was a bassist in a band. You knew quite a few of their songs, one of your favorites being their latest release, Youngblood. It was undeniably a beautifully written song. You couldn’t exactly call yourself a major 5 Seconds of Summer fan, but you did enjoy listening to them. 

You liked the tweet, then responded with a simple “Thank you! ;)”

You clicked on his name and followed him, noticing he was already following you. He seemed like a nice guy; unfortunately, you had never gotten the chance to meet him. Maybe one day. 

Then, a thought popped into your head. You recalled seeing 5 Seconds of Summer on the setlist for the B96 Summer Bash in Chicago, which you were also set to be performing at. It would be a perfect opportunity to meet him and see him live with his band. You smiled to yourself, standing up and grabbing all your things that you took into the dressing room. You walked out to the back door of the venue, where a security guard waited to walk you to your tour bus. You beamed and waved to the huddle of fans that were crowded behind a barrier, but scurried right to the bus. 

After you changed into some sweats and a t-shirt, you crawled into your bunk and continued to scroll through your phone. A few tweets from fans popped up, theorizing about something going on between you and Calum, just because he had tweeted you one time. You laughed softly to yourself, simply scrolling by. They could think whatever they wanted; truth was, you had never even met him in person. 

…

The day of the Summer Bash came around, and frankly, the idea of finding Calum to meet him had pretty much slipped your mind completely. You still had a tour going on, and you needed to focus more on that and promoting your new album. 

You stepped out of the van that drove you from your hotel to the venue, taking a deep breath as the warm air hit you. Thankfully, Chicago was mostly warm this time of year. A part of you wanted to stay outside and just enjoy the nice weather for a while, but you needed to get inside to get ready and rehearse a bit. 

After going through the mess of checking in with the crew and being told a very specific schedule to follow, you were finally shown to your dressing room to get ready and practice. Your stylists followed you inside, ready to doll you up for your performance. 

Once you were dressed, warmed up your voice and tuned your guitar, you still had a while before showtime. There was no point in sitting around in your dressing room the whole time when there must have been something to do around. 

You grabbed your phone and walked out, starting to aimlessly wander around the backstage area. You ran into a few people that you had met before, exchanging hugs and good luck wishes for the show. 

Eventually, you got so invested into replying to a text from your best friend that you totally stopped paying attention to where you were going. It wasn’t until you walked directly into something, or someone, that you were brought back to the real world. 

You began uttering out a rushed apology and looked up to see what poor soul you ran into, and you immediately recognized the face. It was the guy who tweeted you when you were in New York; Calum was his name. 

He clearly recognized you, too, because his eyes nearly popped out of his head.

“I am so sorry, I wasn’t paying atten-”

“It’s okay, really,” he interrupted your rambling, running his hand through his hair. He tried to act casual, but in reality, his heart was beating a mile a minute. He had been a fan of your music since you first started, and he always wished to meet you. That was finally happening, and the fact that you were ten times more beautiful in person was not helping. Not that he didn’t always think you were beautiful; it was just a whole different experience. 

“You’re Calum, yeah?” You asked, looking up at him with a grin. He nodded in response, smiling. 

“That’s me. And you’re Y/N...I really love your music,” he admitted, eyes falling to the floor in a sheepish manner. He usually never had a problem talking to people, but for some reason, you were making him flustered like never before. 

You blushed, fiddling with your phone in your hands.

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “I’m a fan of you guys, too. I’ve had Youngblood on repeat for a while.”

He chuckled, bringing his brown eyes back up to meet yours. You could get lost in his eyes. The beautiful chocolate brown was enough to make you melt. 

“I’m glad you like it.”

You bit your lip and looked around the hallway, not sure of what else to say. This was one of your least favorite things; awkward silences. Especially with Calum Hood, of all people. 

“So, this is going to sound really weird, but I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while now. I’m just such a fan, you’re music is sensational,” he rambled, tan cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “I’m sorry I sound like a creep, I’m just really glad this is happening.”

You laughed softly at his embarrassment, shaking your head. 

“You don’t sound like a creep. I’m really glad to meet you as well. You’re really sweet,” you said, the compliment rolling off your tongue easily. You the continued, “Would you like to hang out sometime, Calum? We could find a time when we’re both not busy, and go out if you want.”

He smiled, nodding his head in agreement. 

“I’d love to.”

The two of you exchanged numbers, and proceeded to say your goodbyes; the show would be starting soon, and you both needed to get back to your dressing rooms. 

“See you later, Y/N.”

“Bye, Cal.”

Cal. Oh God, you called him Cal. 

It was just a simple nickname, but your mind still raced. What if only his close friends called him that? You weren’t exactly close, you had just met. It probably wasn’t really a big deal, but you couldn’t help but overthink. 

Upon returning, you touched up your hair and straightened out your outfit. You were going on first, and 5 Seconds of Summer was scheduled to perform right after you. You knew you needed to focus on your performance, so you pushed your panic about the nickname completely out of your mind. It’s just a nickname, after all. 

A crew member knocked on your door, signaling it was showtime. You checked your appearance one last time before heading out the door. You found your guitar backstage and shook out your nerves. 

“Y/N!”

You turned around at the sound of your name, and smiled when you saw Calum walking up to you. 

“Hey,” you said, adjusting the strap on your shoulder. 

“Just wanted to wish you luck,” he said, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his pants. 

You grinned and opened your mouth to reply, but the sound of another voice yelling cut you off. 

“He has a crush on you!”

A laugh escaped your lips as Calum whipped around and raised a certain finger at whoever yelled; glancing past him, you found the source to be one of his bandmates, Luke, you believed. 

“He’s kind of a dumbass,” he sighed, turning back around to face you. 

You shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

Although trying to appear casual, your cheeks undeniably red. A crush? It seemed unlikely, he had only just met you, and Luke could easily just be trying to embarrass him. But, still...you wouldn’t mind it if he did have a crush on you. 

Before he could say anything else, a crew member tapped you on the shoulder and jabbed his thumb towards the stage. Showtime.

“I’ll see you later,” you said with a smile. He returned it, and you ran onto the stage. The sounds of excited screams filled your ears, and you beamed brightly at the crowd. 

“What’s up, Chicago!” You yelled into the microphone, earning a chorus of screams in response. It was a great audience, you could tell. 

You started strumming your guitar, and your band started to play as well; one of the singles from your new album. 

A smile found its way onto your face as the crowd sang along; that was a feeling nothing could ever beat.

After a few songs, you took your bows and walked off the stage, still buzzing on adrenaline. Calum, Ashton, Luke and Michael were standing backstage, waiting for their turn to perform.

“You did awesome,” Ashton commented, giving you a thumbs up. Michael uttered an agreement, then directing his gaze to Calum. Luke nudged the boy’s shoulder.

“Y-yeah, you were amazing,” he stuttered, grinning. You smiled, patting his shoulder. God, he was adorable when he got flustered. 

“Thanks, guys. Good luck!” You waved to them as they made their way on stage, and you handed your guitar off to a crew member. You opted to stay backstage to watch their performance, and you couldn’t help but grin. 

They all clearly loved music and performing, and it warmed your heart to see their passion. Calum in particular looked so into it, bouncing around the stage and playing his bass with such a fire in his eyes. He was beyond talented, too. 

At one point, he turned to look backstage. He saw you standing there, and quickly shot you a smile. You returned it with a thumbs up, showing you were enjoying the performance. He looked down for a moment, still smiling widely, before heading towards his microphone to sing during Want You Back.

“Would you mind going back to your dressing room, ma’am? We have to clear the area for the incoming stage setup.”

The sound of a voice snapped you out of your attention to the song, and you nodded your head. 

“Yeah, of course.”

You took one last look at the band before scurrying away. Once back in your dressing room, you grabbed your phone and opened a new message to Calum. 

“They kicked me out of the backstage area :( but you guys did awesome!!”

You sighed happily, reclining into the chair at the vanity. You were happy to have met the Aussie boy, even if it was briefly. A part of you thought maybe, just maybe, the fan’s theories on Twitter could become true one day. 

[scuzmunkie]

Run, Little Rabbit, Run...

A/N: My pretty, darling little pumpkins!! I’m back with a new series!! I hope you guys like it! Please lmk if you’d like to be added to the tag list and if there are any mistakes!! I absolutely adore all of you!!!!

Baron Corbin x OFC

Word Count: 1000+

Warnings: Swearing and slight thematic elements.

Summary: Run, Addie, the Constable is coming for you.....

+++

Chapter 1

+++

Addie sat backstage, cleaning her makeup brushes, as she watched the rest of Monday Night Raw on one of the nearby monitors. She had been working for the WWE as a makeup artist for almost three years now. She sat in her now empty makeup seat and fixed her hair. About a year ago Sasha had convinced Addie to dye her hair in a blue green ombré style and she couldn’t be happier that she took the diva’s advice. The green and blue really accentuated her vibrant green eyes especially against her pale skin.

As Addie redid the side braid in her hair, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. A feeling that she had been having for a while now. Casually she looked over her shoulder and locked eyes with Baron before he swiftly left the vicinity. Sighing, she slumped in her chair. She had become friends with most of the roster, most being the opportune word. For some reason, no matter how nice she was or how many acts of kindness she did for him, Baron always seemed to be annoyed by her presence. She wasn’t sure what she did to piss him off.

Addie stared at her reflection in the mirror. While she wasn’t exactly skinny, she was blessed with an hourglass figure. Her skin was clear, big green eyes and full plump lips. Her mother had named her Adelina which meant ‘noble’, hoping that it would fill her daughter with confidence, something, ironically, Addie struggled with growing up. She was an awkward teenager, a late bloomer if you will. She had a lot of self esteem issues but now she considered herself beautiful, a place she worked hard to get to. She just wasn’t Baron’s type... in anything. Friendship, love interest, hell not even as an acquaintance. The sad truth tho was that Addie was hopelessly head over heals for the lone wolf.

With a huff, Addie stopped her pity party, packed up the rest of her supplies and left for the hotel. Looking at her phone, she hadn’t realized how late it actually was, she hated walking down these creepy hallways when they were nearly empty. She couldn’t wait to get back to her room, knowing that a warm bath and a pint of ice cream was waiting for her. Lost in her thoughts she walked right into a hard chest. Closing her eyes and sighing, she didn’t need to look up to know exactly who it was she walked into.

Opening her eyes, she slowly looked up at Baron, a scowl currently residing on his face. For a few seconds she simply stared at him, his cologne clouding her senses. Her 5’7” frame faltering under his towering 6’8” body. Shaking her head, she snapped out of her daze.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” She said, offering a small smile.

Baron didn’t say anything, he just glared at her, a low rumbling, almost animalistic sound coming from his chest.

‘Hold up! Did, did he just growl?!’ Addie thought to herself. ‘No, I’m just being paranoid.’

“Well, um, goodnight.” She said, clearing her throat.

Before she could make a complete ass of herself, she ducked her head and walked around him, making her way towards the exit. Foolishly she looked back before she reached the exit. As she looked back, Baron stood at the end of the dark hallway staring straight at her, a single ceiling lamp above his head providing the only light. Addie felt a shiver run down her spine as she quickly rushed out the door.

Baron stood there, a smirk on his face, watching as Addie scurried away. Closing his eyes he cracked his neck, inhaling her scent. His bones were aching, fighting the urge to follow her. Rolling his shoulders, he decided that it would be a good night for a walk.

—-

Addie threw on her running shoes, wanting to let off some steam, she chose to forgo her beloved bath and ice cream plan for a night run. The hotel was surrounded by a beautiful forest with a lit path for those who wanted to walk through it at night without it feeling like a scene out of Friday the 13th.

Looking in the mirror, deciding that a tank top and her running shorts weren’t enough to keep her warm, she threw on her favorite red hoodie. Grabbing her, phone, earphones, wallet and brass knuckles, she left her room. Reaching the outdoors, she took a deep breath of the fresh night air and made her way to the running path.

—-

Baron looked up at the night sky, adrenaline coursing through his veins, his senses heightened. He loved the rush, the natural high that filled his body. Shedding everything man made, his skin felt ablaze as it morphed into something greater, something stronger... something deadlier. A dominant force that constantly sat in the back of his mind urging him to find something helpless to chase, sweet, supple flesh to sink his teeth into, a prey to satisfy the predator that lurked behind his eyes.

Taking in a deep breath, he felt the first snap of one of his bones. Falling to the ground, he crouched as a few others followed causing pain to burn through his body. Throwing his head back he let out a blood curdling scream as he felt his spine break and reform. His teeth elongated, piercing his bottom lip, grunting as the sweet metallic taste slid over his tongue. That’s when he heard it, the snapping of a twig followed by a fast beating heart. ‘Oh shit....’

—-

Addie ran through the woods, rocking out to‪ Lady Gaga, ‬when she heard someone scream. Ripping out her earphones, she took in her surroundings, trying to find the source. A few yards to her left, she heard someone grunting. Slipping on her brass knuckles and turning on the flashlight on her phone, knowing this wasn’t smart at all, she strayed from the safety of the lit path and followed the sound. She was doing the exact thing she’d scream at girls in horror movies for doing. Great, now she was the dumbass girl running towards the danger instead of away.

As she drew closer and closer, she saw a man crouching on the ground. Scratch that, she saw a very naked man crouching on the ground. As she tiptoed towards him, she could see that his body was inhumanly contorted. That’s when she noticed his hands, there were sharp claws where fingertips should be. Her heart started pounding, ready to leave when she stepped on a damn twig! Of course this would happen. Addie was scared stiff as she helplessly stared at the man as his head snapped in her direction. All at once she felt all of the air leave her lungs. Although his face was greatly altered, a muzzle forming where his nose and mouth should be, she’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

“B-Baron?!” She gasped, breathing hard.

He slowly crawled towards her, snarling. That was all she needed to snap her out of her fear as she turned and did the one thing all survivalists say never to do when faced with a wild animal: run. She took off as fast as her legs could carry her.

Luckily for Addie, Baron was still mid shift so he couldn’t pursue her. The smell of her fear was intoxicating, everything inside him wanted nothing more than to chase after her, pin her down and claim her. However, he knew better, knew now that she knows his secret, he’d have to make sure that she keeps her mouth shut, by any means necessary.

‘Run, little red’ Baron thought to himself, ‘I’m coming....’

@haven-raven012591 @kittysilver86 @wrestlingfae @neversatisfiedgirl @hanaslay @lost-in-the-stories @calwitch @team-elias @captainwinterwriter @imagine-all-the-fandoms

[platonicteenwolf]

Wolf Moon (S1E1) Part II

Teen Wolf x Reader Series Rewrite

A/N: Let me know if any of the links are wacky or if I mess up on any of the pronouns cause posting three versions is sometimes a bit confusing so I can fix it if needed. Also lmk if there’s a misspelling or grammar issue too :)

She/Her Pronouns Version

He/Him Pronouns Version

Next Part / Masterlist

Warnings: dead body, swearing

Lacrosse stick strapped to his backpack, Scott pedals into the parking lot of Beacon Hills High School among the swarm of students. Skateboarders jump steps, potheads take barely concealed tokes, girls and guys hold hands, guys and guys hold hands, (yes it’s California.)

As Scott pulls his bike to one of the racks to lock it up, a pristine BMW with a license plate that reads: JCKSN37, blazes into the lot and stops in the space next to the racks. Scott, still kneeling, gets bumped in the back when the driver’s side door opens.

Jackson Whittemore, exceptionally good-looking and usually oblivious to anyone not within his social or financial circle, steps out to notice that Scott hit his car by being near it.

“Dude. Watch the paint job.”

He’s completely unaware of hitting Scott as he grabs his own lacrosse equipment.

“Yo Jackson!”

Hearing his favorite word, Jackson looks up and heads over to meet his friends. All good looking jocks with big smiles and expensive cars, pretty girls coming up to say hello.

—————

A school bell rings outside a brick building swarming with students.

“Alright let’s see this thing,” Stiles says, a little too eagerly. Now standing in front of the school, Scott takes off his backpack and pulls his shirt up a few inches to show Stiles and I the bandage on his lower back.

“Oh damn that looks bad!” I reach out to touch it and Scott flinches back. “Oops, sorry”

“It was too dark to see much but I’m pretty sure it was a wolf.”

Scoffing, Stiles countered. “A wolf bit you? No, not a chance.”

“I heard a wolf howling.”

”No, you didn’t.”

“What do you mean ‘No, I didn’t?’ How do you know what I heard?”

Jumping in, I explained, “California doesn’t have wolves. Not for the last sixty years. The animals were almost hunted to extinction in the 1920s California Gold Rush.” Both boys looked at me in surprise. “What,” I questioned, “I like history.”

Seemingly accepting that answer Scott continued on. “Well, if you don’t believe me about the wolf, then you’re definitely not going to believe me when I tell you I saw the body.”

“Holy shit!” This was amazing!

“You what? Are you kidding me!?” Stiles almost looked like a kid who just found the hidden candy cabinet.

“I wish. I’m going to have nightmares about it for a month.”

There was still one thing I’ve been wondering about though, “Which half of the body was it?”

“Oh- it was the top half. I saw her dead eyes staring back at me. It was scary.” Scott shuddered, thinking about her lifeless body laying in the forrest.

“Well I think that’s freaking awesome,” Stiles concluded. “This is seriously the best thing that’s happened to this town since...”

Stiles suddenly got very distracted by something behind Scott. I turned around to see what it is and you’ll never guess.

“...since the birth of Lydia Martin who’s walking toward us right now.”

A drop-dead gorgeous junior named Lydia Martin was walking towards the school doors like it was a fashion show runway in Milan. Stiles has had the biggest crush on Lydia ever since we were kids.

“Hey Lydia, how are you? You look--” She walks right past him not even giving him a second glance. “...like you’re going to ignore me.”

Scott chuckled at his failed attempt in flirting with the girl as I pat him on his shoulder.

“You’ll get her next time champ.” Stiles shot me an unappreciative glare as I held my hands up in defense and he started grumbling about how unfair everything was.

“You guys are the cause of this, you know. Dragging me down to your nerd depths. I’m a nerd by association. I’ve been Scarlet-nerded by you two.”

As we reach the steps of the school I get ready to part with the dynamic duo to get to my class. “Alright boys, I’ve got first with Harris so I’ll see y’all later.” Mentions of good luck were lost behind me as I entered the thick crowd ready to start the day.

—————

First period English. Scott takes the desk next to Stiles as the teacher, Mr. Curtis starts writing instructions on the chalkboard.

“As you all know by now, there was indeed a body found in the woods last night. I’m sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened but I’ve been told that the police have a suspect in custody.”

Scott looks to Stiles who shrugs, news to him as well.

“Which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus on your desk outlining the semester. Read it now. And by read I don’t mean skim.”

As the students begin reading a cell phone starts ringing out of nowhere. Scott glances up and looks around. The other students quietly read the syllabus, seemingly not hearing the noise. Gazing about, he can’t seem to find the source until his eyes fall on the windows of the classroom...

Outside - across the quad, Scott sees a girl sitting on a bench who he will come to know as Allison Argent. Sixteen and radiating with an innocent beauty. When she puts the cell phone to her ear, it becomes obvious that, despite the closed windows and the distance, this is the ringing Scott is somehow able to hear.

More astonishingly, Scott can hear both Allison and her caller.

“Mom, three calls on my first day is a little overdoing it,” Allison teased.

“Just making sure you’re there okay and you’ve got everything you need.” But Allison digs through her bag, becoming alarmed.

“Everything except a pen. Oh my God, I didn’t actually forget a pen.”

“Don’t panic. I’m sure you can borrow one from another student.”

“Okay, okay, I gotta’ go. Love ya.”

Unable to take his eyes off the extraordinary girl, Scott watches the school’s principal join her on the steps.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” The Principal guides her across the quad, their conversation becoming clearer to Scott with every step.

“So you were saying San Francisco isn’t where you grew up?”

“No, but we stayed for more than a year which is unusual in my family.”

Even when Allison and the Principal disappear from view, Scott hears the clatter of the building door opening, the clicking of their heels on the tile floor of the hall.

“Well, hopefully, Beacon Hills is your last stop for a while.” The door to the classroom opened, causing the rest of the class to look up. The principle turns to address the room. “Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome.”

Scott barely breathes as Allison heads for the one empty desk left in the room. Right behind him. She puts her notebook down, then glances up to see Scott turned toward her. Holding out a pen. With a relieved but curious smile, she takes it from him.

“Thanks.”

Scott gives her a nod, turning around with a proud expression. Looking up at the front of the room, Mr. Curtis stands up to start the lesson.

“We’ll begin with Kafka’s metamorphosis on page 133...”

—————

The school bell rings throughout the halls indicating its time to move to your next class. As I walked out of my classroom I spotted Stiles coming out of his. Jogging towards him to catch up, I shout his name to grab his attention. Whipping his head around he greets me with the classic, dopey, Stilinski smile. “Hey bub, what’s up?” I ask.

Rolling his eyes at the nickname he grumbles all about how boring his English class was. “...oh! And there’s a new girl at school today!”

Interesting.. I thought. Spotting Scott in the distance we both quicken our pace to meet with him at his locker.

—————

As he grabs his lock to open the door, Scott hears Allison just down the corridor. Looking towards where she stands they connect eyes. She starts to smile, recognizing the cute guy who gave her the pen. But then Lydia Martin swoops in front of her.

“That jacket is absolutely killer. Where did you get it?”

“My Mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco,” Allison explains.

Suddenly Jackson, Lydia’s boyfriend, walks up to the pair and puts his arm around Lydia and she greets him with a kiss.

Turning back towards his locker, Scott spotted Y/N and Stiles walking up to him.

—————

Looking at the Alpha Male and his arm candy across the hall, I turn towards the boys with a confused look on my face.

“Can someone tell me how the new girl is here all of five minutes and she’s already hanging with Lydia’s clique?”

“Because she’s hot. Beautiful people herd together,” Stiles answers. He’s got a point. He steps up to open his own locker next to Scott’s.

“Is that why Lydia isn’t herding with you?” I tease.

“Lydia’s a long term project, okay? And trust me, I’ve got all the patience in the world for a high yield investment like her.”

You’ve got to give him credit. He’s committed.

—————

Head cocked slightly, Scott tunes into the conversation from the other end of the corridor, voices coming into focus.

“So,” Lydia exclaims, “this weekend there’s a party.”

“A party?”

Jackson leaned on the lockers next to him, arm now wrapped around Lydias torso. “Yeah, Friday night. You should come.”

“I can’t. It’s Family Night this Friday. But thanks for asking.”

“You sure? Everyone’s going after the scrimmage”

“You mean like football?”

“Football is a joke at Beacon. The sport here is Lacrosse. We won the state championship the last three years--“

Cutting in Lydia praises, “Because of a certain team captain.”

“We have practice in a few minutes,” Jackson explains. “You don’t have to be anywhere, do you?”

“Well, no, I was just going--“

Lydia claps her hands in excitement, “Perfect! You’re coming.”

—————

A whistle blowing echoes across the field. The Lacrosse Team’s Coach gathers the team on the field, Stiles and Scott and I lagging behind, Stiles complaining about Scott’s desire to make front line.

“But if you play I’ll have no one to talk to on the bench! You really gonna do that to your best friend?”

“Hey! No fair.” I look toward Stiles pouting when gives me an obnoxious look.

“You don’t count.” I shove him sticking my tongue out and watched as Stiles accidentally collided with Scott.

“Oops sorry Scott,” I apologize.

With an amused smile after watching our banter Scott continued his argument. “I can’t sit out again. My whole life is sitting on the sidelines. This season, I make first line.” He heads for the field, pausing to see Lydia climbing the bleachers. And stepping right behind her... Allison.

I look towards the boy and follow his gaze behind me where I see the girls sitting. “Hey,” I nudged Stiles who was busy putting all his gear down around him in a destructive manner. “I think Scott’s got a crush on the new girl.”

“What? What makes you say that?”

“Look!” I point towards where Scott stands, still starring dreamily at Allison, but he’s suddenly interrupted when a lacrosse stick hits him in the chest.

“McCall! You’re in the goal.”

Scott turns to Coach Bobby Finstock, a man with little comprehension of the difficulties of teenage life. He tosses Scott the bundle of goalie equipment.

“But I’ve never played goal.”

“I know. Scoring some shots will give the boys a confidence boost. It’s a first day back thing. Get them energized, fired up!”

“What about me?”

“Try not to take any in the face.”

This is not gonna end well, I think to myself.

—————

Stepping into the net, Scott glances to the bleachers where Allison watches with Lydia, eyes focusing on them.

“Who is that,” Allison questions.

“Him? I’m not sure who he is. Why?”

“He’s in my English class.”

Scott looks up, shocked to hear Allison asking about him. But with his hearing momentarily turned up, he flinches at the whistle blow, sound ringing through his skull.

One of the bigger players charges forward as the Assistant Coach passes the ball to him. Catching it, he whips his stick forward, hurling the ball toward the goal.

Still reeling from the whistle, Scott looks up too late to see the ball soaring toward him. It bounces right off his helmet and into the net. The team laughs wickedly. Even Coach snickers.

Cheeks burning under his mask, Scott readies himself for the next player. When the whistle blows again, he’s ready. The Assistant Coach passes the ball to the next player who catches it and fires it right at the goal.

Scott moves startlingly fast, almost an instantaneous reaction. Then he notices the player staring at him with a mixture of disappointment and surprise. Scott has the ball.

“Yeah!” Stiles shouts from the sideline, impressed with his friends newfound luck. “See I told you he was practicing,” I brag to Stiles.

When the next player takes the shot, Scott catches the ball again. And then again. And again. Nothing can get past him.

In the bleachers, Allison and Lydia sit forward.

“He seems like he’s pretty good,” Allison continues to stare at Scott practicing on the field

“Very good.” Intrigued, Lydia keeps her gaze locked on Scott who now stands with a far more confident posture. Until he sees that Jackson is next in line. Glaring at Scott, he practically strangles the lacrosse stick with his gloves.

“Oh God...” Scott croaks with fear.

The Assistant Coach tosses the ball up. Jackson launches forward, catching the ball and spinning around to fire it at the goal. But Scott moves with supernatural precision. The ball lands right in the pocket of the goalie stick.

Stiles and I let out hollers of excitement, jumping up from the bench. In the bleachers, Lydia stands and cheers as well causing Jackson to throw a look at her. She returns his glare with a sly smile, a warning to step up his game.

Grinning, Scott gives the goalie stick a whirl, spinning it with a flick of his wrist and sending the ball soaring right into the pocket of the stunned Assistant Coach’s stick.

—————

After practice the three of us find ourselves in the woods while Scott retraces his steps from last night with Stiles and I following behind him.

“I don’t know what it was. It was like, I had all the time in the world to catch the ball.”

Walking towards a bank we came to a river we had to cross. I hope Scott knows where he’s going. After seeing nowhere to cross we trudged through the river soaking our feet in the water. If my shoes smell after this I’m gonna kill him.

Reaching the other side, Scott continued with his worries. “And that’s not the only weird thing. I mean I can hear stuff I shouldn’t be able to hear. And I can smell things.”

“Smell things? Like what,” Stiles questions.

“Like the mint mojito gum in your pocket.”

“I don’t have any...” Stiles pulls out a lint-covered piece of wrapped gum.

Looking up at Scott in shock, he just shrugged, continuing his walk into the woods. Double checking, I ask him, “so all this started with the bite?”

“What if it’s an infection? What if my body is flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?”

“I’ve actually heard of this,” Stiles starts, “It’s a specific kind of infection.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I think it’s called... Lycanthropy.”

“Oh my god.” I roll my eyes at his accusation. He can’t be serious.

“No I’m serious! This is important!”

“What’s that? Is it bad? It sounds bad.”

“It is. But only once a month.”

“Once a month?”

“On the night of a full moon. Awroooo”

Scott looks at him. And then it clicks. Giving him a push, we continued walking.

“Stiles you’re such a dumbass sometimes,” I chide.

“Hey, he’s the one who heard a wolf howling.”

“There could be something seriously wrong with me!” Scott looks back at Stiles with a look of fear.

“I know! You’re a werewolf! Grrr!” He slashes his hands through the air in a claw motion and I take this opportunity to stick my leg out in front of him and watch as he trips.

As Stiles falls to the forrest floor Scott and I laugh at his stupidity. “Okay, obviously, I’m kidding. But if you see me in shop class melting down all the silver I can find it’s because Friday’s a full moon.”

We seemed to reach the destination because Scott started to look around the area.

“I swear this was it. I saw the body, the deer came running, I dropped my inhaler...”

“Maybe the killer moved the body.”

“If he did, I hope he left my inhaler. Those things are like eighty bucks.”

As the boys thought of different theories I looked towards the woods and saw someone walking towards us. Is that.. Derek Hale?

“Hello,” I greet, waving to the man.

Stiles looks up at me and then to the man and taps Scott on the arm, pulling him to his feet. Derek Hale. Nineteen and unquestionably handsome, he has a rougher look than the cleanly shaven Beacon Hills boys.

“What are you doing here?”

Both Scott and Stiles are too stunned to speak at first “This is private property.”

“Sorry, we didn’t know,” Stiles assures.

Derek stares at Scott, barely noticing Stiles or I.

Scott opens his mouth to speak to the man but then closes it, at a loss for words.

I take this as an opportunity to explain. “We were just looking for something but we’ll leave. Sorry to bother you.”

As we’re turning to go, Derek tosses an object to Scott. His inhaler. When he looks up, Derek is already walking away.

Now finding his voice, Scott mutters, “Aight, come on. I’ve gotta get to work.”

“Dude, that was Derek Hale, “Stiles exclaims. “You remember, right? He’s only a few years older than us.”

“Remember what?”

“His family. They all burned to death in a fire like ten years ago.”

We used to have a class together in school. “I remember the cops pulling him out of class to tell him,” I tell the boys. “I wonder what he’s doing back.”

Scott eyes the inhaler in his hand, closing his fist over it. “Come on,” he says again.

[platonicteenwolf]

Wolf Moon (S1E1) Part II

Teen Wolf x Reader Series Rewrite

A/N: Let me know if any of the links are wacky or if I mess up on any of the pronouns cause posting three versions is sometimes a bit confusing so I can fix it if needed. Also lmk if there’s a misspelling or grammar issue too :)

She/Her Pronouns Version

They/Them Pronouns Version

Next Part / Masterlist

Warnings: dead body, swearing

Lacrosse stick strapped to his backpack, Scott pedals into the parking lot of Beacon Hills High School among the swarm of students. Skateboarders jump steps, potheads take barely concealed tokes, girls and guys hold hands, guys and guys hold hands, (yes it’s California.)

As Scott pulls his bike to one of the racks to lock it up, a pristine BMW with a license plate that reads: JCKSN37, blazes into the lot and stops in the space next to the racks. Scott, still kneeling, gets bumped in the back when the driver’s side door opens.

Jackson Whittemore, exceptionally good-looking and usually oblivious to anyone not within his social or financial circle, steps out to notice that Scott hit his car by being near it.

“Dude. Watch the paint job.”

He’s completely unaware of hitting Scott as he grabs his own lacrosse equipment.

“Yo Jackson!”

Hearing his favorite word, Jackson looks up and heads over to meet his friends. All good looking jocks with big smiles and expensive cars, pretty girls coming up to say hello.

—————

A school bell rings outside a brick building swarming with students.

“Alright let’s see this thing,” Stiles says, a little too eagerly. Now standing in front of the school, Scott takes off his backpack and pulls his shirt up a few inches to show Stiles and I the bandage on his lower back.

“Oh damn that looks bad!” I reach out to touch it and Scott flinches back. “Oops, sorry”

“It was too dark to see much but I’m pretty sure it was a wolf.”

Scoffing, Stiles countered “A wolf bit you? No, not a chance.”

“I heard a wolf howling.”

”No, you didn’t.”

“What do you mean ‘No, I didn’t?’ How do you know what I heard?”

Jumping in, I explained, “California doesn’t have wolves. Not for the last sixty years. The animals were almost hunted to extinction in the 1920s California Gold Rush.” Both boys looked at me in surprise. “What,” I questioned, “I like history.”

Seemingly accepting that answer Scott continued on. “Well, if you don’t believe me about the wolf, then you’re definitely not going to believe me when I tell you I saw the body.”

“Holy shit!” This was amazing!

“You what? Are you kidding me!?” He almost looked like a kid who just found the hidden candy cabinet.

“I wish. I’m going to have nightmares about it for a month.”

There was still one thing I’ve been wondering about though, “Which half of the body was it?”

“Oh- it was the top half. I saw her dead eyes staring back at me. It was scary.” Scott shuddered, thinking about her lifeless body laying in the forrest.

“Well I think that’s freaking awesome,” Stiles concluded. “This is seriously the best thing that’s happened to this town since...”

Stiles suddenly got very distracted by something behind Scott. I turned around to see what it is and you’ll never guess.

“...since the birth of Lydia Martin who’s walking toward us right now.”

A drop-dead gorgeous junior named Lydia Martin was walking towards the school doors like it was a fashion show runway in Milan. Stiles has had the biggest crush on Lydia ever since we were kids.

“Hey Lydia, how are you? You look--” She walks right past him not even giving him a second glance. “...like you’re going to ignore me.”

Scott chuckled at his failed attempt in flirting with the girl as I pat him on his shoulder.

“You’ll get her next time champ.” Stiles shot me an unappreciative glare as I held my hands up in defense and he started grumbling about how unfair everything was.

“You guys are the cause of this, you know. Dragging me down to your nerd depths. I’m a nerd by association. I’ve been Scarlet-nerded by you.”

As we reach the steps of the school I get ready to part with the dynamic duo to get to my class. “Alright boys, I’ve got first with Harris so I’ll see y’all later.” Mentions of good luck were lost behind me as I entered the thick crowd ready to start the day.

—————

First period English. Scott takes the desk next to Stiles as the teacher, Mr. Curtis starts writing instructions on the chalkboard.

“As you all know by now, there was indeed a body found in the woods last night. I’m sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened but I’ve been told that the police have a suspect in custody.”

Scott looks to Stiles who shrugs, news to him as well.

“Which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus on your desk outlining the semester. Read it now. And by read I don’t mean skim.”

As the students begin reading a cell phone starts ringing out of nowhere. Scott glances up and looks around. The other students quietly read the syllabus, seemingly not hearing the noise. Gazing about, he can’t seem to find the source until his eyes fall on the windows of the classroom...

Outside - across the quad, Scott sees a girl sitting on a bench who he will come to know as Allison Argent. Sixteen and radiating with an innocent beauty. When she puts the cell phone to her ear, it becomes obvious that, despite the closed windows and the distance, this is the ringing Scott is somehow able to hear.

More astonishingly, Scott can hear both Allison and her caller.

“Mom, three calls on my first day is a little overdoing it,” Allison teased.

“Just making sure you’re there okay and you’ve got everything you need.” But Allison digs through her bag, becoming alarmed.

“Everything except a pen. Oh my God, I didn’t actually forget a pen.”

“Don’t panic. I’m sure you can borrow one from another student.”

“Okay, okay, I gotta’ go. Love ya.”

Unable to take his eyes off the extraordinary girl, Scott watches the school’s principal join her on the steps.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” The Principal guides her across the quad, their conversation becoming clearer to Scott with every step.

“So you were saying San Francisco isn’t where you grew up?”

“No, but we stayed for more than a year which is unusual in my family.”

Even when Allison and the Principal disappear from view, Scott hears the clatter of the building door opening, the clicking of their heels on the tile floor of the hall.

“Well, hopefully, Beacon Hills is your last stop for a while.” The door to the classroom opened, causing the rest of the class to look up.

The principle turns to address the room. “Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome.”

Scott barely breathes as Allison heads for the one empty desk left in the room. Right behind him. She puts her notebook down, then glances up to see Scott turned toward her. Holding out a pen. With a relieved but curious smile, she takes it from him.

“Thanks.”

Scott gives her a nod, turning around with a proud expression. Looking up at the front of the room, Mr. Curtis stands up to start the lesson.

“We’ll begin with Kafka’s metamorphosis on page 133...”

—————

The school bell rings throughout the halls indicating its time to move to your next class. As I walked out of my classroom I spotted Stiles coming out of his. Jogging towards him to catch up, I shout his name to grab his attention. Whipping his head around he greets me with the classic, dopey, Stilinski smile. “Hey bub, what’s up?” I ask.

Rolling his eyes at the nickname, he grumbles all about how boring his English class was. “...oh! And there’s a new girl at school today!”

Interesting, I thought. Spotting Scott in the distance we both quicken our pace to meet with him at his locker.

—————

As he grabs his lock to open the door, Scott hears Allison just down the corridor. Looking towards where she stands they connect eyes. She starts to smile, recognizing the cute guy who gave her the pen. But then Lydia Martin swoops in front of her.

“That jacket is absolutely killer. Where did you get it?”

“My Mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco,” Allison explains.

Suddenly Jackson, Lydia’s boyfriend, walks up to the pair and puts his arm around Lydia and she greets him with a kiss.

Turning back towards his locker, Scott spotted Y/N and Stiles walking up to him.

—————

Looking at the Alpha Male and his arm candy across the hall, I turn towards the boys with a confused look on my face.

“Can someone tell me how the new girl is here all of five minutes and she’s already hanging with Lydia’s clique?”

“Because she’s hot. Beautiful people herd together,” Stiles answers. He’s got a point. He steps up to open his own locker next to Scott’s.

“Is that why Lydia isn’t herding with you?”

“Lydia’s a long term project, okay? And trust me, I’ve got all the patience in the world for a high yield investment like her.”

You’ve got to give him credit. He’s committed.

—————

Head cocked slightly, Scott tunes into the conversation from the other end of the corridor, voices coming into focus.

“So,” Lydia exclaims, “this weekend there’s a party.”

“A party?”

Jackson leaned on the lockers next to him, arm now wrapped around Lydias torso. “Yeah, Friday night. You should come.”

“I can’t. It’s Family Night this Friday. But thanks for asking.”

“You sure? Everyone’s going after the scrimmage”

“You mean like football?”

“Football is a joke at Beacon. The sport here is Lacrosse. We won the state championship the last three years--“

Cutting in Lydia praises, “Because of a certain team captain.”

“We have practice in a few minutes,” Jackson explains. “You don’t have to be anywhere, do you?”

“Well, no, I was just going--“

Lydia claps her hands in excitement, “Perfect! You’re coming.”

—————

A whistle blowing echoes across the field. The Lacrosse Team’s Coach gathers the team on the field, Stiles and Scott lagging behind.

“But if you play I’ll have no one to talk to on the bench! You really gonna’ do that to your best friend?”

“Hey! No fair.” I look toward Stiles pouting when he gives me an obnoxious look.

“You don’t count.” I shoved him sticking my tongue out and watched as Stiles accidentally collided with Scott.

“Oops sorry Scott,” I apologize.

With an amused smile after watching our banter Scott continued his argument. “I can’t sit out again. My whole life is sitting on the sidelines. This season, I make first line.” He heads for the field, pausing to see Lydia climbing the bleachers. And stepping right behind her... Allison.

I look towards the boy and follow his gaze behind me where I see the girls sitting. “Hey,” I nudged Stiles who was busy putting all his gear down around him in a destructive manner. “I think Scott’s got a crush on the new girl.”

“What? What makes you say that?”

“Look!” I point towards where Scott stands, still starring dreamily at Allison, but he’s suddenly interrupted when a lacrosse stick hits him in the chest.

“McCall! You’re in the goal.”

Scott turns to Coach Bobby Finstock, a man with little comprehension of the difficulties of teenage life. He tosses Scott the bundle of goalie equipment.

“But I’ve never played goal.”

“I know. Scoring some shots will give the boys a confidence boost. It’s a first day back thing. Get them energized, fired up!”

“What about me?”

“Try not to take any in the face.”

This is not gonna end well, I think to myself.

—————

Stepping into the net, Scott glances to the bleachers where Allison watches with Lydia, eyes focusing on them.

“Who is that,” Allison questions.

Him? I’m not sure who he is. Why?”

“He’s in my English class.”

Scott looks up, shocked to hear Allison asking about him. But with his hearing momentarily turned up, he flinches at the whistle blow, sound ringing through his skull.

One of the bigger players charges forward as the Assistant Coach passes the ball to him. Catching it, he whips his stick forward, hurling the ball toward the goal.

Still reeling from the whistle, Scott looks up too late to see the ball soaring toward him. It bounces right off his helmet and into the net. The team laughs wickedly. Even Coach snickers.

Cheeks burning under his mask, Scott readies himself for the next player. When the whistle blows again, he’s ready. The Assistant Coach passes the ball to the next player who catches it and fires it right at the goal.

Scott moves startlingly fast, almost an instantaneous reaction. Then he notices the player staring at him with a mixture of disappointment and surprise. Scott has the ball.

“Yeah!” Stiles shouts from the sideline, impressed with his friends newfound luck. “See I told you he was practicing,” I brag to Stiles.

When the next player takes the shot, Scott catches the ball again. And then again. And again. Nothing can get past him.

In the bleachers, Allison and Lydia sit forward.

“He seems like he’s pretty good,” Allison continues to stare at Scott practicing on the field

“Very good.” Intrigued, Lydia keeps her gaze locked on Scott who now stands with a far more confident posture. Until he sees that Jackson is next in line. Glaring at Scott, he practically strangles the lacrosse stick with his gloves.

“Oh God...” Scott croaks with fear.

The Assistant Coach tosses the ball up. Jackson launches forward, catching the ball and spinning around to fire it at the goal. But Scott moves with supernatural precision. The ball lands right in the pocket of the goalie stick.

Stiles and I let out hollers of excitement, jumping up from the bench. In the bleachers, Lydia stands and cheers as well causing Jackson to throw a look at her. She returns his glare with a sly smile, a warning to step up his game.

Grinning, Scott gives the goalie stick a whirl, spinning it with a flick of his wrist and sending the ball soaring right into the pocket of the stunned Assistant Coach’s stick.

—————

In the woods, Scott retraces his steps from last night with Stiles and I following behind him.

“I don’t know what it was. It was like, I had all the time in the world to catch the ball.”

Walking towards a bank we came to a river we had to cross. I hope Scott knows where he’s going. After seeing nowhere to cross we trudged through the river soaking our feet in the water. If my shoes smell after this I’m gonna kill him.

Reaching the other side, Scott continued with his worries. “And that’s not the only weird thing. I mean I can hear stuff I shouldn’t be able to hear. And I can smell things.”

“Smell things? Like what,” Stiles questions.

“Like the mint mojito gum in your pocket.”

“I don’t have any...” Stiles pulls out a lint-covered piece of wrapped gum.

Looking up at Scott in shock, he just shrugged, continuing his walk into the woods. Double checking, I ask him, “so all this started with the bite?”

“What if it’s an infection? What if my body is flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?”

“I’ve actually heard of this,” Stiles starts, “It’s a specific kind of infection.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I think it’s called... Lycanthropy.”

“Oh my god.” I roll my eyes at his accusation. He can’t be serious.

“No I’m serious! This is important!”

“What’s that? Is it bad? It sounds bad.”

“It is. But only once a month.”

“Once a month?”

“On the night of a full moon. Awroooo”

Scott looks at him. And then it clicks. Giving him a push, we continued walking.

“Stiles you’re such a dumbass sometimes,” I chide.

“Hey, he’s the one who heard a wolf howling.”

“There could be something seriously wrong with me!” Scott looks back at Stiles with a look of fear.

“I know! You’re a werewolf! Grrr!” He slashes his hands through the air in a claw motion and I take this opportunity to stick my leg out in front of him and watch as he trips.

As Stiles falls to the forrest floor Scott and I laugh at his stupidity. “Okay, obviously, I’m kidding. But if you see me in shop class melting down all the silver I can find it’s because Friday’s a full moon.”

We seemed to reach the destination because Scott started to look around the area.

“I swear this was it. I saw the body, the deer came running, I dropped my inhaler...”

“Maybe the killer moved the body.”

“If he did, I hope he left my inhaler. Those things are like eighty bucks.”

As the boys thought of different theories I looked towards the woods and saw someone walking towards us. Is that.. Derek Hale?

“Hello,” I greet, waving to the man.

Stiles looks up at me and then to the man and taps Scott on the arm, pulling him to his feet. Derek Hale. Nineteen and unquestionably handsome, he has a rougher look than the cleanly shaven Beacon Hills boys.

“What are you doing here?”

Both Scott and Stiles are too stunned to speak at first “This is private property.”

“Sorry, we didn’t know,” Stiles assures.

Derek stares at Scott, barely noticing Stiles or I.

Scott opens his mouth to speak to the man but then closes it, at a loss for words.

I take this as an opportunity explain. “We were just looking for something but we’ll leave. Sorry to bother you.”

As we’re turning to go, Derek tosses an object to Scott. His inhaler. When he looks up, Derek is already walking away.

Now finding his voice, Scott mutters, “Aight, come on. I’ve gotta get to work.”

“Dude, that was Derek Hale, “Stiles exclaims. “You remember, right? He’s only a few years older than us.”

“Remember what?”

“His family. They all burned to death in a fire like ten years ago.”

We used to have a class together in school. “I remember the cops pulling him out of class to tell him,” I tell the boys. “I wonder what he’s doing back.”

Scott eyes the inhaler in his hand, closing his fist over it. “Come on,” he says again.