#i want him to make an infographic and everything!!!

[everythingcriminalminds]

Excuse the rant…

Yes, the BAU is his family/circle of friends in some ways for Spencer but they’re always making jokes whenever he info dumps. And fine, tease him a bit, but it’s difficult to live in a society where you just want to be able to talk about this thing for so long and everyone just goes “shut up”. And I understand that some peopl don’t want to hear about the history of Halloween. For some people they’re like, oh it’s so cute. And then suddenly it isn’t.

I just need Spencer to have someone in his life who will sit with him and not only listen, but happily sit and enjoy his info dumps for hours, and maybe asks questions. Then the friend can info dp and Spence will happily listen and throw in his anecdotes. Someone who will never tire of it. I want that for all the people out there who feel misunderstood or forgotten or left behind because they JUST WANNA SHARE SOME INFORMATION ABOUT SOMETHING THEY KNOW ABOUT OR HAVE A SPECIAL INTEREST IN!!!

[megumifuckmeguro]

A-Z [almost] SEX WITH CHOSO KAMO

As most of my sexy supporters know [171] as well as my poor infographics, long-form writing is not for me but I tried guys!!!!! 🎀

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

 Cuddling, cuddles, being cuddled. No cleaning, he doesn’t wanna. I no no wanna :(

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

Yours: Everything about you, if your in a relationship with him he expects that you will accept him for who he is, despite his interesting background, as he does the same for you. He cannot even fathom favouritism for any part of your body but he does unconsciously touch your hands a lot, during sex, cuddling, tracing them with his own. He’s very expressive with his hands in the show too (breaking Mahito’s game piece when he’s angry, crushing Mechumaru…when he’s angry)

His: He’s proud of his big arms and built back, it makes him feel masculine and worthy enough to protect you..and his tongue…so he can taste you everywhere

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

 Patient zero for hyperspermia (producing too much cum to a medical level)

Piercing cum

His cum is so projectile, it moves his dick side to side as it spurts out.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

If you just allowed him, he would be more than willing to do dirtier things to you. The curse part of him gives zero fucks and would eat you out during your period or drink your squirt, just to make you feel good. Since he hasn’t been in his human form for too long, the preconceived associations of body fluids being disgusting just isn’t conditioned into him, especially when it comes to you. He rlly dgaf

 E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?):

 0 pussy in 150+ years…yet a quick learner

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

 Missionary, to see your face and learn your reactions. Mating press when it gets very passionate.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.):

N/A

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):

He doesn’t pay attention to it but if you point it out he’s more than willing to groom himself for your approval.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect):

 Very romantic, he only wants sex for romance, just another means to show his passionate love to you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

He lowkey feels guilty for jacking off as he’s wasting cum that he could’ve spent making you feel good and one day impregnating you, you’ll probably have to reassure him that it’s okay for him release himself because you won’t always be there to take care of it.

He rubs off to pictures of you, not even a nude, just like..you and him smiling next to the Eiffel tower or something.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

 Bed, coach somewhere safe, and away from people and curses. you could convince him to do it in the woods but he should feel like it’s safe enough.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):

 He doesn’t need motivation. He’s needy 24/7 but just doesn’t wanna overwhelm you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs):

 Just doesn’t want to harm you, physically or emotionally. If you ask him to be rougher with his words or to choke you or something…he’ll try…but it will come off half-hearted or hesitant “you’re such a…slut..” he frowns “y/n” he says softly “why do you wanna be called this again?” LOOL

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

Definitely prefers giving, because he just wants to please you, and honestly blowjobs can be too stimulating for him, he would rather cherish your pussy by eating it slow, eyes droopy, dark eyebrows slightly upturned, kitten licks on your clit like it would produce milk. Much more enjoyable to him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):

 Can be both, it depends on the mood if your egging him on with dirty words he might clench his teeth and push you into a mating press fucking you deep and fast like an animal.

He could also be loving and breathless and whiny, fucking you slow and deep, holding your head down with both hands staring into your eyes intensely. He’s breathing harshly through his nose, trying not to succumb to overwhelming passion.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):

 He doesn’t really like them, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need them, he definitely yearns for you in public or when your busy, he would fuck hard and fast in the moment but gets post-nut clarity, he wishes he savoured you longer. He pushes his dick slower and slower, trying to prolong the moment even after cumming giving you pleading but knowing eyes, that the moment was just a quickie.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.):

 No way, your safety is his top priority, as an older brother he has confidence in his ability to protect and make the right choices for their safety, that will also include yours. So he wouldn’t risk hurting you or having sex in a comprising environment.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?):

However long you let him, he can stay hard as many times as he likes since he can control the blood flow in his body.

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):

He’s okay with them as long as his dick or his hands or mouth is inside you too. He doesn’t wanna miss out, otherwise he’ll probably get jealous of the dildo lol.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

 N/A

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):

 At first, he tries not to make too much noise, as he is a man who’s only ever known to fight, vulnerability like slipping the control of his voice, subconsciously he tries to make sure it doesn’t. He’s not very good at it though, just reassure him once and he’ll be truthfully loud and whiny from then on just because you accept him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):

He really really enjoys it when after sex, you place your head on his lap and innocently seek comfort in the warmth of his flaccid cock and balls while you’re both watching tv or cuddling or something.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

Red tip dick due to increase blood flow, very stiff and very girthy. Many many stiff textured veins. Big heavy balls.

Z=Zzz(How fast do they fall asleep after?):

Regularly he doesn’t fall asleep very easily , he’s a light sleeper, but his cock being warm in his pants after cumming for you helps him fall asleep better and faster.

[joifee]

is Bigb a watcher in your swamprot art? I noticed the many eyes around him.

Additionally, I would love to hear about your heart monitor headcanon plz

First: No I don't headcanon BigB as a watcher - I actually don't headcanon any of the creators as watcher! But yes this is a reference to the watchers; hinting that they are behind the boogieman curse and watching bigb do it^^ Second: Yes let me explain it, I even drew infographics (i love drawing infographics)

The heart monitors show of the amount of life/time a player has. 3rd life is simple, just three hardcore hearts stacked on top of each other. Last Life shows the amount of hearts you have as a number. Beneath that there is a "GIVE" button you can transfer a life with. I think you do it by pressing the button and making the heart monitors touch (kinda like paying with a credit card) Double Life has two rows of hearts. Your own and the one of your soulbound mirrored on the bottom. In the middle is a "soul string" that represents your relationship. Limited life shows three hearts just to fit in with the others (it isnt really a necessary thing, it just looks cute). It also displays your pulse and the time you have left. (More info and more graphics below)

The heart monitors change depending on whats happening. If you loose a life and turn yellow or red, the missing hearts get blacked out while the rest turn yellow/red.

In Last Life the number just goes down.

When a player turns red in last life, the button gets crossed out and looses its function.

For Lim. Life the more time you loose, the higher beats your pulse (even if it doesn't)

In Double life the "soul string" on the monitor shows the relationship with your soulmate. If you haven't found them, it shows a "?". If you doing well it shows a heart. When you are fighting/not working together/divorced it shows a messed up ball of string. The string is displayed broken when you and your partner run out of lifes.

Elimination turns all the hearts black.

If you are the boogieman, a purple watcher eye appears on your screen that is only visible to the affected player. It overshadows everything else displayed on the monitor. The eye vanishes once you killed another player.

If you recieve or lose time/life a lil purple notifications pops up telling you how much you earn.

Your screen gets messed up if a player doesn't record or is missing an episode (this does not count if a player gets replaced aka gem or lizzie in limited life don't have this.) Example would be Bdubs during in limited life (also yes he uploaded his movie, no I not gonna change it)

Gosh i always wanted to talk about it. Here are some more examples

[cyberrat]

84th Batch Of Fics: 12th Fill

Vox/Lucifer/Valentino – Part 1/4 – prompter has been inspired by this comic (tumblr link) – Lucifer tries to keep Vox out of V Tower for a while so Charlie can enact a little thieving scheme. He thinks it's going to be easy peasy to keep the TV demon occupied but did not account for him being hot.

---

“Again, dad, thank you… just… so much for doing this?? Like we could never do this on our own, they wouldn’t trust any of us for a second, but you can do it, I have no doubt about it!”

Lucifer is smiling like an idiot as he listens to Charlie ramble on the phone. He’s lightly bouncing on the balls of his feet, staring out the window at the Hellscape outside and occasionally twirling his cane around. He’s in the best mood possible, and all of that thanks to Charlie’s little suggestion that he could maybe, possibly, if he has tiiiime – go and keep Vox busy while they snuck around the Vee tower.

Make sure he doesn’t immediately pick them up on his millions of cameras while they get the job done that they need to be doing.

It’s easy. He’s the King of Hell! How difficult could it be?

A knock behind him has him turn around, cane placed in front of him and both hands stacked on top of it. He feels better than he has in years. This is going to be easy.

The door opens and in comes Vox, a huge grin on his face, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. Maybe it’s because it’s not an actual face, but there is something calculating about his expression even as he explodes in an exuberant greeting, letting the door fall closed behind him and stepping toward Lucifer with both hands outstretched.

Lucifer’s smile has gone a little stiff as he extends a hand and gently places it between Vox’, letting the other clasp it and hold it secure.

Oh… he has some lovely claws on him. Oh… and he’s… very handsome. Lucifer doesn’t really do television but… mmh. Mh.

Vox leans forward and Lucifer feels the brief brush of smooth glass lips across the back of his hand. The feeling jumps up his arm and down into his stomach like an electric current.

“It is a pleasure to finally be meeting face to face,” Vox says smoothly, tilting his screen until he can peer up at Lucifer while still bend forward. “I am absolutely certain this will be a very fruitful endeavor.”

Ah.

Lucifer has to fuck him.

.o.

“So you see by my calculations, if you were to show up and endorse Miss Velvette’s Love Potion-”

Lucifer has to give it to him. There is something about the cadence of his voice and the way he talks that makes it very easy to listen to Vox even when he starts projecting all kinds of dry infographs into the air. In all honesty Lucifer hadn’t really thought about the… business side of the business meeting when he agreed to help Charlie out with her little scheme.

Mostly because there wasn’t any business in the first place. In his mind. He’s bad at business. He’s got at fucking shit up and dreaming and making ducks, but business had always been Lilith’s sort of domain, but now Vox is here apparently having thought of things and is thinking Lucifer has any idea what he’s talking about when for the past hour or so he has just been wondering what he needed to do to get the other to snap out of that telemarketer persona and realize that the King of Hell wanted to bounce on his dick. Badly.

Or wanted to make him bounce on his dick. Lucifer isn’t picky. He can roll with the punches.

But what is he supposed to do when he literally rubs his leg against Vox’ shin beneath the table and all the reaction he gets is a brief, bland glance and a vague little grin. 

There’s not even a hitch in his voice. He just keeps talking to the point that Lucifer feels his right eye start to twitch, a finger tapping restlessly against the long table they are sitting at.

Maybe he has to be more offensive. It’s baffling, really; everything in Hell is so intrinsically and immediately wired to sex that Vox’ complete disregard of Lucifer’s touch is making him wonder if the other is asexual or something.

It’s been hundreds of years since he last had to put in any effort. Usually Lilith had been the one to… no. That’s not a good road to go down on. He brushes those thoughts away and puts his elbow on the table, head leaning on his fist.

“So!” he brightly interrupts Vox mid-sentence. The other’s face glitches for a second, his pupils flicking over to Lucifer. There’s an ugly twist to his mouth like he is about to rip into the Lord of Hell for interrupting him, but it leaves as quickly as it had come and instead is replaced by another large telemarketer smile.

“Yes, my Lord? Whatever can I do for you?”

Lucifer smiles back at him, his eyes going heavy lidded as he reaches out and drags a finger against Vox’ chest. “Your uh… business strategies are wildly fascinating; but we’ve been at it for a while and I was wondering what one had to do for a little… fun… around here?”

His finger wanders upward until he playfully flicks Vox’ bow tie.

There’s a small spark between the other’s antennae. His smile slowly dims as his eyes flick over Lucifer, trying to figure out something that Lucifer is not all too sure of until the other suddenly says slow and with a low voice that sounds much more real than the one he had used until now: “Wait… wait you… are you actually interested? I…”

Lucifer blinks slowly, confusion creasing his expression as he starts to sit up a bit straighter. “I… yes? Why else would I be-” As a demonstration, he drags his leg against Vox’ shin again, brows lifting.

“Oh… oh! Well! My associate does these things all the time so-” he interrupts himself, his eyes and mouth having drifted toward opposite sides of his screen before suddenly snapping back in place, that manic energy from before back in full force as he leans forward, one hand clasping Lucifer’s hand, incredibly sharp claws gently curling across it; the other carefully palming his elbow and lifting his arm until he can once again brush a smooth glass lipped kiss against his King’s knuckles.

The feeling goes straight through Lucifer in an exciting fizzle of interest.

“I would be delighted to share some… quality time with you, my King,” Vox croons against Lucifer’s fingers. “If it is fun you’re looking for… my associate is a professional in that regard. Why don’t we shift this meeting to V Tower, and-”

“Oh! No, no… not there! Uh… not there,” Lucifer tries to reign himself back as he sees Vox’ face glitching with surprise at his vehemence. He laughs, nervous and eager at the same time, heat pooling low in his stomach.

He doesn’t think Charlie had meant for him to actually do… this… but as long as it kept the Tower free of danger… even better if he could get two of them out?

“But I like the thought of your uhm… friend… joining in.”

Vox doesn’t miss a beat, leaning up and standing from his chair, two fingers against the side of his screen. His face vanishes and instead a line reads calling Valentino… with a rather revealing picture underneath.

“Of course, my King. Whatever you wish for,” Vox’ voice says as he turns away. “I will arrange everything. It will be nice and discreet. Do not worry.”

[shoko-komi]

The Komi Report - Communication 450

Komi is a day early!? This week in Komi Can't Communicate:

Broth is sampled...

...and dreams are dashed upon the stones.

Read It: Mangareader Mangakakalot Viz Media (North America Exclusive) Mangadex (English updates are dead, but there’s the backlog; and Spanish + Portuguese language updates)

I was caught completely by surprise this morning when I woke up and had a notification from the r/komi_san discord server (I exclusively use it for the new chapter notifications. All other notifications are muted and I never go in there because I value my sanity aklsdnlkasndlaksnd).

Now that tensions within the broth crew have been loosened they can get into the favourite pastime of friends everywhere - good-natured bickering.

Nanoda was so timid when she first appeared, so it's really nice to see her coming out of her shell.

I've only eaten good restaurant ramen once - other than that it's been 2 minute stuff - so I don't know what to make of this smelly-ramen vs unsmelly-ramen conflict. Where do you stand?

My girl is flopping so hard at this aksdlkansd.

I might have a hard time explaining this one, but; I love seeing Komi fail. She tried her best to settle the ramen dispute but doesn't know what to do and is sort of useless.

Part of it is I want her to learn that she doesn't need to be problem solver girl all the time, and her friends will like her and want her around even if she isn't "usefull". She's a leader among her peers but it's ridiculous to put everything on her own shoulders, and her peers can solve their own problems such as in the case of the broth. All Komi needs to do to be valuable is be there.

The other part of it is my sadism flaring up.

Really funny that she blames him here. A girl needs her tantrums

Only a brief glimpse of them..... Oda you tease me.....

Also add an entry to the list of left-handed Sukida appearances

My complements to tumblr user fareasterncurlew for this infographic which I think about every day

Classic Najimi gag

Miwa Omojiri my beloved, hello again. Also Tsubo is so me... I would be laughing so hard....

Such heart-breaking news after all their hard work. I love how the camaraderie of the class keeps them in good spirits!!! So many times I've been in a bad situation but I've felt alright because I could laugh about it with good company.

It brings a tear to my eye....

This is really funny but also!! Ogiya comforting Kori is super nice after them being recently at odds. Kori blended into the group so quickly after they figured him out.

The culture festival!!!! AAAAAA I'm excited

We've been shown this beautiful glimpse of what Hiki and the girls are up to. Aaaahh, maid cafes. Literally what would we do without them?

Oda I'm still waiting for a follow up to the Susumi/Hiki yuri...... and I want Yamai/Nakanaka band yuri.... and I want SukiYama yuri.... Oda give me yuri please I'm starved Oda I'm starved to death and dying fatally.......

I hope the culture festival is 50 chapters long and every character is featured and has a super funny joke and there's lots of yuri and wakai dies mysteriously between chapters and is never mentioned again and we find out the details of the Ase/Naruse kiss and Benujit Spopo appears and Tadano is force-femmed permanently and there's happiness, free, for everyone!!!!! And no one is left behind!!!!

Stay safe! I'll see you next week!

[margowritesthings]

The Long Night

pairing: modern day!Arthur Morgan x Reader word count: 914 words warnings: sick doggo, anxiety, vet waiting room authors note: I wrote this last week when my love @cowboydisaster was in the vets with her doggo Moose, but I've found myself reading it for comfort so I thought y'all might wanna read it too <3 it's just a lil comfort drabble, but I think it's kinda cute

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @counteveryfreckle @elifsukirdaghehe @reaveries @delilah-grimes @mrsarthurmorgan7 @twola @photo1030

You don’t know what time it is, can’t bring yourself to check your phone and see his little smiling face staring back at you from your wallpaper screen. Arthur is running his thumb over your knuckles softly, while you grip onto him as hard as you can. He’s your lifeline, your tether to the Earth right now and you can’t let go lest you fall off. The crook of Arthur’s neck fits your head perfectly, his muscular shoulder the perfect pillow in amongst possibly the least comfortable room you’ve ever had the displeasure of sitting in. His light blue shirt has little pools of a darker shade where your tears have fallen and clung to the cotton. 

You tired eyes scan over the posters on the wall opposite you, seeing adverts for tick treatments and infographics on spaying and neutering. You and Arthur are the only two in the waiting room, as they said you could wait here until Moose was ready to be collected, so the silence is agonising. You focus hard on the sensation of his calloused thumb pad running over your softer skin, trying to keep your mind on Arthur as to not let it wander. It’s hard, not thinking of all the things that could be going wrong right now.

“He’ll be okay. Everything’s gonna be alright.” Arthur whispers, as if he has a map to exactly where your mind is right now. You exhale deeply through your nose, not enjoying how clinical everything smells whenever you try to inhale to calm yourself down. 

“I know. I just miss him. Time goes so much slower when you’re in a waiting room…” you sigh, nuzzling more into Arthur’s side. You want to melt into him, want to shut your eyes and be back in your home with your boys, but you have to wait for one of them to come back from theatre. 

“Lil’ man’s strong, darlin’. You raised him strong, and you did right by him. He’s gonna be fine.” 

You’ll never understand how Arthur always knows just what to say. The worry swirling around in your mind that this is somehow your fault dies a little with each of your husband’s words. You did right by him. He’s gonna be fine. 

“You think we did the right thing? He’s so small, I just don’t-“

“I know we did. You always do right by him. Hell, I ain’t ever seen you drive like that to get him here on time… you’re his momma, darlin’, of course you did right by him.” 

There isn’t anything on this Earth but your lil guy in your arms that could possibly make you feel better, but somehow Arthur manages, just a little bit. You laugh weakly, shaking your head slightly.

“I did nearly run that poor old woman over, didn’t I?”

“I think I saw her get back up, should be alright.” He jokes, glancing down at you to witness the very first smile of the night creeping across your lips. You nudge Arthur in the side gently, just so grateful to have him. You’re about to attempt a witty comeback, but are interrupted (thank god, as you're sure reminding him of the time he ran John over on his own driveway wasn’t going to win this argument for you) by a nurse entering the room. In unison, you and Arthur stand, grasping each other's hand tightly. 

“Moose Morgan?” She asks, despite you two being the only people in the room. You nod, feeling your heart pounding in your chest and your knees shake with pure anxiety. It’s only after a few seconds do you notice the smile adorning her tired face, “Everything went well. He’s awake. A little drowsy, but awake. Do you wanna see him?”

═══════☆═══════

“Hey, little Moose!” Arthur speaks in a hushed voice, not wanting to disrupt the peace of the room. Moose perks up, peering out of his tiny cone to find the origin of the noise. He loves Arthur, has done since the day you first brought him home to ‘meet the kids’ (your dogs and horses), and it shows by the way his tail wags at the very sound of his dad’s voice, “How you doin’, buddy? We missed ya’.”

Words fail you when you finally lay eyes on him, his fluffy little body all curled up in a blanket. He sits up when he sees you, so very excited to see his momma that he lets out a little yip. Tears pool in the corners of your eyes as you kneel down to him, lifting the blanket up and him with it. It takes a second of manoeuvring around the cone, but you managed to place a soft kiss on Moose’s head. He tries to return the gesture, but his tiny tongue won’t reach past his new outfit. You giggle, holding him close to you.

“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you- Momma’s got you.” 

Arthur wraps an arm around your shoulder, rubbing up and down your arm softly. He glances out of the window of the clinic, suddenly struck with the best idea when he realises the sun is rising. 

“Hey, how ‘bout we go get you both a treat? Starbucks should be open soon, and I think this calls for one of them pup cup things. Whatchu’ think?”

Moose yips, apparently already feeling much improved. 

“I think Moose has spoken.”

Arthur chuckles, reaching to scratch behind the little dog’s ear,

“Right you are, boss man.”

[maresirenum]

I always find it so funny when other professionally dx’ed folks preach against self diagnosis to me as someone who has been dx’ed autistic, but not yet adhd.

The reason why is that after I left school, my mother bought me the box set of teen wolf, which meant I spent days and hours watching the entire thing sometimes without going to bed until 2/3am. I related so hard to Stiles Stilinski. How he acts, how other people perceive him, etc and then I found out he’s canonically an adhd’er. After that, everything fell into place for me, I finally understood myself.

Now this post might ruffle a few feathers, but I quite literally couldn’t care.

My self diagnosis journey, which has lead me to getting put on a waiting list for an ADHD assessment, started because I figured out that I have ADHD through a goddamn fictional character who has a werewolf as a best friend, his ex girlfriend is a werecoyote and his current girlfriend is a banshee…

So if anyone ever tells me that self diagnosis is not valid, not only are they wrong it makes me want to laugh because you can find out you’re neuro spicy from literally anything.

You can talk to someone who’s neurodivergent and find out. You can watch a canon neurodivergent character and find out. or you can even look at videos and infographics from neurodivergent content creators and find out.

There is no right or wrong way to find out you are neurodivergent. We all start our diagnosis/neurodivergent finding out journey somewhere.

[nitewrighter]

I posted 13,228 times in 2022

That's 428 more posts than 2021!

2,199 posts created (17%)

11,029 posts reblogged (83%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@andthentheywilleatthestars

@telltaletypist

@hotvampireadjacent

@pyropiano

@spacepunksupreme

I tagged 7,507 of my posts in 2022

Only 43% of my posts had no tags

#we queue - 2,700 posts

#overwatch - 243 posts

#dracula daily - 189 posts

#dc - 176 posts

#asoiaf - 175 posts

#spy x family - 154 posts

#fe3h - 154 posts

#dracula - 149 posts

#elden ring - 142 posts

#sw - 104 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#she shouldn’t even fucking have it you can bet your ass that ‘tswift’s plane’ is being used as a selling point for the rich fucks using it

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

hi! is there any chance of you writing a series/more snippets around the cinderella telling you posted a bit ago? i really loved it!

Continuing from this post.

---

The prince is sitting on the steps, his eyes aren't quite focused and he's turning over the glass slipper in his hands. What the hell was that? He's trying to place her face in his memory but everything’s just... fffft. Gone. Blank. He remembers what she said. But even the pitch is weird--it could be any voice.

“Your highness?”

The prince glances over his shoulder at the Captain of the Royal Guard.

“Oh--hey---” the prince blinks a few times.

“...awfully odd, that girl,” the Captain folds his arms.

“I--” the prince draws a breath in through his teeth, “ I need to find her.” 

“Understood,”  the captain of the guard nods, “I’ll send guard details on every road leading out of the palace.”

“What?! No--that’s insane! She’s going to think I’m--No, I can’t approve of that...” the Prince is pressing his fingertips to his forehead, his other hand still gripping the slipper.

“I gotcha,” the guard captain says with a wink, “’Don’t’ send horsemen after her.”

“Did you just--Brad--don’t--no. I said no. No winks. Don’t send any guards after her, I’ll look psychotic.”

“Eh. Little late for that.” Brad the guard captain shrugs.

“What?”

“Well she and her whole carriage slipped past security somehow, and she got into the ball without even being announced by the Master of Ceremonies. That’s a security risk. And she seemed suspiciously chummy with the waitstaff. And if she ditched the party in this much of a hurry, she might’ve taken state secrets or something. So, obviously, I sent the horsemen...” he checks his pocket watch, “3 minutes ago.”

The prince pales. “She just--she said she needed to get home before midnight. I think she has a messed-up family situation, if I make things worse for her...”

“Or maybe she needs to reach a drop off point for whatever she’s stolen.”

 “You don’t know if anything’s missing!”

“Not yet, we don’t.”

“Brad!”

“It’s protocol.”

“Protocol!? I’m the goddamned crown prince! And you’re sending armed guards after the love of my life!”

Brad blinks at him, not really sure how to process that. “Uh...”

“Ig-ignore that. Don’t tell my dad I said that,” the prince pinches the bridge of his nose, “Brad I swear to god, don’t tell my dad I said that. I was panicking and--and--You know how weird he gets about this stuff.”

“Yeah--no--totally, your highness,” Brad looks out over the palace gardens, “Look, we can just say we wanted to make sure she got home safely.... when we catch up with her, I mean.” 

“Send a messenger pigeon telling them to hang back from her actual house--but get her address--maybe I can find a way to--to explain things... figure out what’s going on...” He’s wrapped both hands around the shoe again. 

“That hers?” Brad nods at the slipper.

“...yeah...”

“Love of your life, huh?”

See the full post

7,164 notes - Posted February 1, 2022

#4

Here’s the original thread from Twitter but I want all my followers protesting the recent supreme court decision to stay safe. 

[Image description: A screenshot of a tweet from Rh3t0ric (@avglibsoc) that says ‘In lieu of Roe V Wade being overturned, I’m going to compile a thread of any protest advice I can find’ followed by an infographic illustrating the following:

PROTESTING SAFELY

What to Wear:

-Nondescript, solid color clothing; cover identifying tattoos.

-Goggles & mask

-Heat resistant gloves

-Emergency Contacts written down

-Tie your hair up

What to bring:

-Water for drinking & tear gas

-Snacks

-Cash/change & ID

-Bandages & First Aid supplies

-Washcloth

-Earplugs

-Protest signs

DON’T BRING:

-Cell phone without first turning off Face/Touch ID, going into airplane mode, and disabling data

-Jewelry

-Anything you don’t want to be arrested with

-Contact lenses

/end image description]

15,521 notes - Posted June 24, 2022

#3

38,194 notes - Posted September 8, 2022

#2

I was about to make a post about like... how my family has this lemon tree out front, and one of the funniest things about having a lemon tree is occasionally I’ll be out in front doing whatever and I’ll see someone walking past and quickly grab a lemon off the tree and stuff it in their pockets as quick as they can like they’re shoplifting. 

I was about to make a post about how that’s funny and how, y’know people can have our lemons, it’s not a big deal because the tree pumps them out like gangbusters, but I really can’t make that post without thinking of... them...

50,633 notes - Posted March 10, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

“The prince just fell in love with Cinderella because of her looks!”

Wrong. Okay, picture this--

So there’s the prince, okay? He’s like, smack dab in the center of the ballroom, and he is like, horrifically aware that this whole ball thing is a result of his dad falling into a panic about the royal lineage or whatever and he’s stuck listening to highborn girl after highborn girl, all lined up, introducing themselves like, “Oh yeah my family’s been a longtime supporter of the crown, and I think you’re cute, *cough* I’ve been told I have child-bearing hips *cough* Who said that? Anyway--” and Princey boy is just smiling through it, he has been the center of attention for entirely too long, he misses his emotional support horse, and is just internally like “Someone please kill me now.” And then... he sees her--This isn’t a love at first sight thing, this is a ‘what the hell is going on over there’ thing, because this girl has not gotten into the Debutante line for a solid 45 minutes. 

She’s just at the hors d’oeuvres table going HAM on the prosciutto-wrapped asparagus, and like, she’s polite about it, she’s happy to move aside for other people grabbing punch and canapes (and she’s really so sweet with the wait staff, it’s kind of cute because they’re like... definitely not used to being acknowledged) but it’s like, “Damn girl, did you not eat today?” and then the prince is kind of stuck with the uncomfortable thought of ‘how many girls starved themselves to fit into a corset for this.’ And then the Prince realizes he’s missed the past 4 Debutante introductions because he’s watching Mystery girl hork down crab rangoons. So he’s like, “Excuse me” and manages to break free from the never-ending parade of girls who will hop on his dick for status.

 And as he’s approaching Mystery Girl, it’s kind of hitting him that something’s not quite natural about her. Not fake, but not quite real. But at the same time this whole evening’s been just a whole circus of people acting fake as hell, so like, someone seeming a little off doesn’t seem bad, necessarily. And he sidles up to her like, “Hi,” and she’s like, “Oh--hey, have you tried the tapenade?” and she points to one of the plates, and at this point, he could hit her with the “You don’t know who I am, do you?” deal or the “Very funny, I see your play” deal, but at this point it occurs to him that, no, he hasn’t had anything to eat throughout this whole damn ball, partially because of being stuck in the debutante parade, partially because of nerves, and there’s something so disarming about the question that he grabs a crostini and she still seems so food-focused that it doesn’t seem possible that this is a play. So they both grab little plates and ditch the party.

She pretty much clears her plate in under two minutes and then has half of his plate, he’s cool with it, mostly he’s just absolutely fascinated listening to her.

See here’s the thing about Cinderella:

1. She doesn’t know he’s the prince. Like yeah, he’s been at the center of the room, but she’s kind of spent half the party eagerly looking around everywhere she’s allowed to go (”Have you seen rose garden? Have you seen the solarium??” further confirmation that she doesn’t know who she’s talking to) and the other half stuffing her face with food. 

2. She assumes she’s never going to see anyone here tonight again, and no one recognizes her, so she has no filter.

So she’s just talking about whatever with this guy. He seems cool. She talks about her friends, who are rats. She makes little outfits for them. Sometimes they bring her little gifts. She is already the coolest person the prince has ever met because of this. She pretty much offhandedly talks about whatever is fucked up about the kingdom that would take his advisors two hours of hemming and hawing and watering down to address. She just says it like it’s nothing, just funky little things she’s observed, and again, she’s not aware that he’s the prince, but it’s still pretty damn bold to bring up at a literal royal ball.

She... seems to have the majority of graces that lots of girls from Respectable Families™ have, but there’s something strange about it, something simultaneously broken and hardened, like the way you can see where ice has thawed and re-frozen. Also the way she talks about her family, and the way she avoids talking about her family-- is raising several red flags, not in the “Oh this is another person trying to take advantage of me” sense, but in the “Oh fuck, something’s gone really wrong and you need help” sense and also lowkey a ‘damn is she even getting fed?’ sense. But he can’t say, ‘Hey, that’s not fucking normal for people to say that to you or treat you that way. We need to get you out of there,’ without sounding crazy himself, so for now, he’s just going to chill, make sure she’s comfortable, and keep enjoying the evening. She’s somehow befriended like 4 of the waitstaff so they’re willing to cover for them while they disappear for a little bit, and they get plenty of time to talk, but eventually it hits her that she hasn’t danced yet and she’s like “Come on! I bet we can make the prince jealous!” and he just bursts out laughing at that like “hell yeah, let’s make the prince jealous. He’s a real asshole.” Like clearly she’s having a good time, so who is he to make it weird? So they head back to the ballroom and they dance. And our girl, Mystery Girl, Cinderella, while they’re dancing, becomes acutely aware that everyone is staring. That doesn’t seem quite right. Like, yeah she’s hot, she knows she’s hot, but at least a good third of the party should still be focused on the prince, right? Where is that guy, anyway?

Oh.

Oh wait.

Oh shit.

And Princey Boy actually picks up on her realization and they whisper argue for like 3 minutes. “Why didn’t you tell me?! Now I feel like a goddamn idiot!” “I dunno it was nice being treated like a normal person” “Well me treating you like a normal person makes me a goddamn felon or something did you consider that?!” “Hey--Hey--it’s cool--you’re cool--I think you’re amazing, and if anyone says shit about you, I can shut it down.” “Well I don’t like that! That’s fucked up!” “I agree. It is fucked up, but I believe in you, and I think you should have a chance, and I’m here to back you up. I know power is fucked up right now. I know. But are you cool with working with me to change that?” And our girl Cindy pauses on that for a couple seconds, because.. she’s just spent hours with this guy and like.. she knows he’s a good guy, she knows he means well, so she’s like, “I don’t know how long I can actually work with you.” and the prince is like “Look, I know your home situation is complicated right now, but I really think we can--”

And then the bell starts ringing.

It’s midnight.

And then she takes off in a panic, and our prince just met the coolest person ever, and like, he’s pretty sure whatever situation they’re headed back to is fucked up, and all he’s got going to find her is a shoe. A shoe. 

94,718 notes - Posted January 29, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[underestimated-heroine]

Not my twelfth archive post 😭

General

My turn dog video

What happened with John green was fucked up

If Wallace from Wallace and gromit died

-core "and none of you have sex"

Peggle 2

Size comparison between prehistoric animals and modern descendants

If you found out you were pregnant right now tiktok

The Minecraft poem is public domain now

Deaf culture reference post

Human pet guy

This makes me personally uncomfortable to malicious scale

Worst opening sentence competition

My fish brain want to go home video

Explain the Jewish holidays to me like I'm 5

If I was famous I'd release a bad song nct

The pigeon post

Harriet Porber

I hate you Christmas I hate you Christian hegemony

On writing plotting made simple

How to tag posts which might trigger epilepsy

Martin Bühler bike guy activism

How to search tags on Tumblr

Neil gaiman you have to practice writing

Zhao on "authors that made social media work for them"

Can you do a horse drawing reveal

2023 I hope you all kys

This post is like running through a minefield girl boy palette

The departed Matt damn Mark Wahlberg different people

On writing - writing is a skill practicing descriptions advice

2022 Tumblr Year in Review Month By Month

What data Tumblr live takes

Good fucking Lord quit sex-shaming people

I hate job hunting - wait did Anne Boleyn die? post

Share your genome sequence in ur bio

On writing: Plot Structure infograph

Finally some actually constructive criticism on a post

Jewish Concept of Lashon Hara

Riverdale banned fanfiction?

"everything's fine" knitting pattern

Mitch and bitch story

"I'll let this white girl say it since very few people listen when we do" mental illness social currency tiktok

Pornbot dms comic

Atla southern raiders were looking for hama

Why you hating on the red hot chili peppers longboarding across campus world heritage post ask

Harry Potter Legacy Chick Fil-A

Why is the US like that (Christian cults)

Ratatouille rogan Shapiro video idek

No doesn't exist on the internet anymore

"I forgive myself for doing that" and "I shouldn't have done that" can coexist

The US did not come together during the pandemic

If someone told me they felt like Harry Potter after we had sex

Anti-aging outrage post idek

Anime "is this the episode where he lost his house"

Ancient people fish with the sexy tits tiktok

Scooby Doo post "I've heard people say this website is free but you pay in other ways"

repeat after me: rest for art

Beautiful by ordinary days comic

Glaze comes out data-poisoning against art thieves

Reylo Lord farquad

Hippo post

Do not stand over my grave and weep poem comic

Monty Python Lady of the Lake quote 💀💀

Cops searched afroman's house and then tried to sue him for making a music video of the search

Fairy tail's strongest team freaks rating

Personal

Loid Anya younger than he thinks

Support voice actors

Black and white movies gripe

AU were race horses

My Nasha hair headcanon

Fairy tail AU where Juvia joined ft first

Gajevy vs. Gruvia

When this website was obsessed with astrology

Iconic spy x panel finally animated

The irony of picky eaters

Gray loved being in Juvia's body

Pops & Mops

Lake mungo Joel Anderson legend

Lamborghini-sized breasts and pills

2023 is cockdickpenis year

"um yeah that's called an addiction" fuck off

Google thinks I'm being bullied for baby names

Fandom influencer types -_-

This website defending the reputation of bees

Shrek "I need a hero scene" dad looks like he's watching a car wreck

Scrimp scrive fuck around

Sailor moon redraw redeaw

Laxus Jellal BrOTP

Comedian vs. rich housewife video

Jan 4 2023 antiwork screenshots

I wanted Natsu to beg for forgiveness

Rankin bass Rudolph

Don't take your managers on good faith. Ever.

Gray Fullbuster to an enemy

Pornbot "how dare you block me" dream

Goodbad boy (yes it's tod)

Rieklings

Fairy Tail Chasing Tails fic

Poll vampires werewolves etc.

Fairy Tail Gendercross Big4 Guys

[fabdante]

Hey, I love your art!

If you're still doing the artist ask game, could I request 3, 4, 16 and 22?

Have a nice day! :)

Hello!! Thank you so much!! And I am absolutely still doing the artist ask game! (Ask game here for anyone else interested in asking, I'll answer as long as I remember the ask game!)

3) What ideas come from when you were little

This is such an interesting question I love it a lot!

In a very direct way, I feel like a lot of my Avatar and Teen Titans stuff indulges ideas from my childhood. Both shows (especially Teen Titans) were part of how I learned how to draw. Sometimes I'll remember old Avatar ideas I had and rework them into things.

In a less direct way, I feel like a lot of my approach of drawing people is influenced by growing up Arab American and giving my childhood self art I think she kind of needed. It's definitely how my noses got like this.

In a something in the middle kind of way, I always loved drawing people and clothes as a kid. I was really into space which I think started my love of cosmic/sun and moon imagery. I was really interested in trying to tell stories and make characters.

The art style I've stumbled into also I feel is the result of my childhood self boldly declaring she wanted to 'draw anime' before learning how to draw Norman Rockwell type realism. I somehow landed here.

4) Fav character/subject that’s a bitch to draw

Vergil from DmC: Devil May Cry is the worst, hands down. It's his hair, his hair is always a nightmare. I cannot figure out why, but it has not gotten easier with time. Dante's is also difficult butt it's at least black so it is just kind of one mass of hair.

I feel like I also struggle with Links hair? I have a lot of hair struggles I guess but like other Zelda characters I don't have this problem with, it's just Link asdfghj. I think it's because his hair is very characteristic to his designs over the years, so finding the sweet spot how I want to draw him and keeping him recognizable can be tricky and always very dependent on his hair.

16) Something you are good at but don’t really have fun doing

Comics, probably. Every comic I draw has this cycle of starting out excited, questioning everything I have ever done, panic, then finish. Once it's finished I'm really excited and happy with the comic and forget everything else. But it is definitely a process.

Similarly, I usually hate shading. I'm not sure I'm like...good at shading exactly but I'm also not bad at it, it works. But most importantly, I hate it asdfghj

22)  What physical exercises do you do before drawing, if any

This is something I need to do more consistently! I try to do hand and arm stretches before and during work, especially with my dominant hand, though I often forget because I get in the zone.

This infograph by Kaitlin Brunder shows a lot of the exercises I try to do though, especially the first three stretches. If I'm having a period where I've stressed my arm too much, I'll try to do them every hour or so.

I see some artists who do more intense and varied stretch routines and sometimes I'll shake things up and try new stretches, but I find these ones both easy to do and easy to remember so I always go back to them.

Also I hope you are having a nice day yourself!!

[gentil-minou]

There are plenty of posts going around about Adrien and his responses to trauma, and in light of the recent trailer @flightfoot made this great post about how Kuro Neko highlights Adrien's trauma response

But I want to explain how Marinette's actions this season are also trauma based. Which is why I'm here because you cannot tell the story without both sides.

IMPORTANT: if you like what I wrote and want to share it somewhere else, PLEASE ask me first so I can get credit and monitor the post. I have seen this post on Twitter, Instagram, YouTube, Reddit, and those are just the ones I've found or have been shared with me. I'm flattered you like my post but please ask me first. I've come across people making extremely cruel and invalidating remarks and I am trained to handle that but you might not be. Trauma is an extremely sensitive subject and needs to be handled with care and I don't want to be responsible for causing someone harm without even knowing it.

First a refresher of Mari's trauma: Pressure related to being Ladybug, Losing Master Fu (aka the only person she could trust), and most notably in this instance: Chat Blanc and recently Ephemeral (where she doesn't know what exactly went wrong, only that something did when identities were revealed)

I wanted to find an infographic that had everything I wanted but I couldn't so here's a link to the US Department of Veteran Affairs and common reactions after trauma.

Specifically, I'm looking at this list, where I've highlighted what Marinette has shown in canon since the events of Chat Blanc/S3 finale

I explain each of these with examples under the cut

1. Losing hope for the future: Truth and Gang of Secrets where Mari actively stops pursuing all romance. (Though Mari has managed to heal from this in Mr Pigeon 72, but she doesn't know Adrien is Chat yet so that will likely change things)

2. Feeling distant, detached: Distancing herself from Chat, whether this was intentionally or intentionally done.

3. Being unable to concentrate or make decision: could also be ADHD but she usually is able to figure out akumas even then. Ephemeral was the best example where she appeared all over the place (remember the notable absence of Chat)

4. Feeling jumpy/getting startled easily: Truth and probably other instances.

5. Feeling guard and alert all the time: Gang of Secrets, likely other episodes as well

6. Having dreams/memories that upset you: Sentibubbler nightmare

7. Having problems at work and school: Gang of Secrets and one can argue being Ladybug is her "job" and she's also had challenges there.

8. Avoiding people, places, things related to event: See Chat Noir, putting more on Alya instead (possibly due to worries of letting Chat too close or reveal to him)

9. Trouble sleeping: Low energy early in the season and canonical nightmares

(There are less physical symptoms because Mari doesn't complain about those much and the show doesn't focus on it, but if it did I can bet she has some of those)

10. Feeling nervous, helpless, fearful, sad: See pretty much the entire season but especially early on and what I suspect we will see more of in Kuro Neko

11. Being irritable or having angry outbursts: Kuro Neko, as well as other instances. There are also unconfirmed spoilers as well, I can't remember if that one leak from the VA was the finale or Kuro Neko but that is there as well.

12. Getting easily upset or agitated: See above, also Gang of Secrets and a little bit of Mr Pigeon 72

13. Being unable to trust, getting into fights: See, Chat Noir, especially Ephemeral and Kuro Neko.

14 (made this its own one) trying to control everything: Mr Pigeon 72 where she tries to fix adrigami. Also Hack-san and her 500 tips to care for your catboy. In general, she feels and does this alot and partially it's her being the leader but she does it to the extent that it seems physically impossible for her to relax

15. Feeling detaches, not wanting intimacy: intimacy can have more than one meaning and if you ask my her relationship with Chat Noir is incredibly intimate. She's pulling away.

If I did a trauma screening for Marinette, I have no doubt she'd meet criteria for PTSD. So folks, please don't salt on EITHER of these characters. They've been through so much at such a young age and I cant be surprised at the result.

[valaruakars]

Let’s Get Physical (Part 2)

Viktor/F!Reader || 4.6k || Modern!AU + Gym!AU || SFW (for now!)

A beefy gal looking for a better place to workout, your friend Jayce invites you over to his home gym. He offers you everything you could ever want: great equipment, great company, and a ridiculously hot roommate who might just hate you. 

Part 1 

The next morning finds you sore from the waist down. That sensational burn in your thighs has you hissing as you fold yourself onto the couch, banana in hand and a protein shake tucked into your elbow. With a lid, of course, given your penchant for clumsiness.

In your groggy state, you’ve taken to mindlessly scrolling through your socials, trying to wake up. Kitten reels of the cutest order, vacation pictures from people you hadn’t spoken to in years, and far too many targeted ads pass by in colorful flashes beneath your thumb, yet nothing piques the interest of your fickle brain. Nothing could be that engaging when it’s dawn and your heavy body craves oblivion.

Maybe the couch is too comfortable, or the morning sky is too drowsily overcast, your living room washed in cozy shades of gray.

Your eyes feel heavier and heavier. You slouch lower into the cushions and tuck a plush blanket into your lap, poised to fall asleep again.

A mealy bite of your breakfast helps just a little. But a reel of Jayce showing off his push-up form? That helps a lot.

It gets your mind firing on at least half its cylinders. Reminds you of something you’d meant to do last night, except that Jayce had run you so ragged that the moment your head hit the pillow, you went out like light.

Just some light social media stalking. Everyone does it.

You tap through Jayce’s story first on the off chance your curiosity can be sated quickly. But it’s all fitness infographics, a cute little flexing boomerang time-stamped right before you arrived yesterday, and a shared picture from late last night captioned with three huge heart emojis. Of the most stunning woman, a serene smile on her lips, sitting on a yoga mat in lotus position.

In tiny white letters under the picture: Mel.Medarda.

You click through to her profile. Find yourself looking at a collage of beautiful pictures that raise the age old question: Do I want to be her, or do I want to bang her?

Plenty of them feature Jayce, standing close or with a massive arm slung around her waist. That and the way he looks at her, with the dopiest puppy eyes you’d ever seen? Definitely his girlfriend. 

Toned and lithe to his broad-shouldered brawn, they make a gorgeous couple.

But you were getting distracted.

Navigating back to Jayce’s profile, a quick glance over the rows and rows of tiles reveals nothing eye-catching. Mostly him solo, or with familiar faces. The sane thing is clearly to start scrolling through them one by one, reading the captions as you try to scratch that itch in your brain. 

You just like to know things. Totally normal.

You scroll and scroll and scroll, skimming over comments from your mutual friends too, until you find a piece of what you’re looking for.

It’s a caption beneath a black and white picture of Jayce in the garage, dimly lit at night, squatting low with a barbell spanning his shoulders. Probably around two hundred pounds loaded onto the bar, but he’s clearly trying to look cool by graduating the stack of plates instead of using two fifties on each side. “Very cool,” you snort, delving past the part where he waxes poetic about ‘dedication to the grind.’

What you care about is just below that, right at the end.

‘Shoutout to the best roommate/photographer a guy could ask for!’

And below it, a comment chain between Jayce and Vi.

knockoutVI: how can i book viktor for my next meathead photoshoot?

j_talis: He’s pretty busy and probably going to say no since you called me a meathead. Very rude :(

Roommate.

Viktor.

Got it.

You tap on the picture to see if he’s tagged, but nothing pops up despite the fact that technically he’s in it too. The faintest blip, you notice, pinching your screen to zoom it in. He’s hidden almost entirely by the reflection of the flash, and what little of him is visible has been distorted by his poor positioning on the seam of the mirror. Makes it look like he has three tiny legs. 

It tells you nothing about him, besides that he likely isn’t a boulder of a man like Jayce.

Ten more minutes of digging, and you find nothing else telling; nothing to link you to this mysterious roommate’s page. You scroll up and consider looking through Jayce’s following list, but the number is four digits and you don’t actually care enough to waste that much time.

Sure, you want to know who’d been watching you last night, but you’ve mostly gotten over it. If you were Viktor, you’d probably be curious about a stranger at your house too. 

No harm done. You’re not ready to make assumptions about him quite yet.

You’d have to meet him first.

—-

Over the span of two busy weeks, you head to Jayce’s three more times. Once in the morning, twice in the evening, and still you never encounter his illusive roommate. Always there, never seen. Jayce hadn’t said much about him either aside from an initial, offhanded warning to be mindful of Viktor if you ever came alone, but you hadn’t yet.

You’re with Jayce again that weekend.

Eight AM, Sunday morning. Overcast again and finally a bit chilly, but that hasn’t deterred him from a crop top. You could’ve slept in, stayed in the warm cocoon of your duvet, but show up anyways. What was that about dedication to the grind?

But, to be fair, it has nothing to do with that.

No, it has much more to do with the invitation to an early brunch afterward at a spot you’ve always wanted to try, to meet up with Mel after her yoga class. Intimidating, but at least there’s going to be bottomless mimosas for your nerves. You’ll submit to an hour of core torture for that, easily. 

Jayce has you listening to his eighties hits playlist, set to a considerate volume, from the moment you step into the garage. Not that you have a complaint about today’s choice. They’re fun classics to sing along to when you can actually breathe, and the energetic synth is exactly what you need to wake up and get into gear.

That, and the body-weight exercise circuit you’re thrown into after your bag gets properly put up and you’ve finished chatting about your week—alternatively known as stretching out together. The sluggish feeling dissipates quickly as a blissful mix of adrenaline and endorphins flood your system lunge after lunge, into the weighted portion of your workout.

Just over halfway through, you take a quick sip from your water and notice there’s a timer pulled up on Jayce's phone. You��re in for it then. 

“Alright—hold a plank. Ninety seconds or longer. I’ll time you first, then we’ll switch. Easy right?”

“Pfft, yeah.”

Well, okay, maybe two thirds of that increment is easy, but you’re not about to share that secret. 

“Great, then I’m sure you can do it with a weight on your back! Ten or fifteen?”

“Neither.” You scowl at his wicked grin just to be contrarian and squat down on your haunches. “I’d like to live to see a stack of pancakes, thanks. Maybe even be able to laugh at your lame jokes too, unless you’re really out to murder my abs.”

“Ouch, someone’s mean this morning,” he pouts. “Now we’re doing it again at the end, just because you said that.”

“Fine by me,” you shrug, dreading it privately, dropping onto your forearms to bear your weight into the gritty, rubber floor tiles. “Let’s go.”

“Starting… Now!”

The full body tremors come on quickly as you dig the balls of your feet into the floor, trying to compensate for the worn treads of your shoes, with your back parallel to the ground and your head down. 

Funny, how time only seems to slow when you’re doing something as miserable as this. 

You resort to tapping your fist against the ground to the beat of Sweet Dreams, trying to distract from that deep burn rapidly building in your abs. 

Jayce distracts you, instead.

“Hey! You leaving?” he suddenly shouts.

Your instinct is to ask him, breathlessly: “What?” Especially since you hear no other response over the music and the throbbing rush of blood in your ears, and see nothing but the floor in front of you, facing the wrong direction. 

“Not you,” Jayce laughs, brushing you off. “Focus. Twenty seconds in.”

But you can’t

With sudden clarity, you know who he’s talking to.

Certainly not you as he raises his voice again, a little distracted by having two conversations and watching the time creep by. “Wait—You are?!” 

Again, no response, but Jayce says, “Okay! Drive safe!”

And then, to you, as you contort your body to hold the plank and look behind you down the driveway: “Hey! No cheating! Get your ass out of the air.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you hiss, and Jayce, the cruel bastard, only chuckles at your suffering.

You fight to control your breathing as the burn escalates and you genuinely think about being a quitter. Talking has done you no favors.

Instead you listen. To Jayce, counting down in fifteen second increments. To the music, its steady beat keeping you grounded. To the sound of an engine sputtering to life, and tires grinding against the concrete.

“Ten more seconds, unless you want to try and hold it longer?”

You can only shake your head pathetically as a hefty bead of sweat slides down your temple.

“And… Done!”

Typically you’d just collapse into a gelatinous pile, face down on the floor. But you were just so curious. 

With deep, heaving breaths, you push up to your feet. Steadily, so you don’t stagger with all the grace of a newborn giraffe. Slowly, so that you don’t look overly enthusiastic to get a glimpse of his roommate.

You’re too late, though.

All you see is his car backing down the end of the driveway, a glare on the windshield. 

And then he’s gone.

You’re staring. Too concentrated, until you’re aware of the tension in your face enough to release the little furrow from your brow. Too long, and Jayce notices.

He’s already looking at you with a smile when you pivot toward him, ready to get back to work. Typical of him, sure, but the arch of his scar slashed brow turns it quizzical and expecting. You get the sense he knows something you don’t.

More like he knows someone you don’t and frankly? It’s started to bother you.

“Aw, he doesn’t want to work out with us?” you pout, casual and flippant, teasing your way around the question you really want to ask.

That is: Is your roommate a total weirdo or what?

You worry briefly that he can read your mind, the way he cringes at your question, grits his teeth and sucks in a breath right through them. But he recovers quickly and stutters out an awkward laugh, scratching at the stubble on his cheek. Looking distantly down the driveway, he says, “He um… He really can’t. It’s not his thing.”

“Oh…” you mutter, at a loss for words with the distinct, shameful impression that you’ve said the wrong thing. Not sure how to interpret Jayce’s response, you try, neutrally enough, “I get that, it’s not for everybody.”

He shrugs it off in that easy manner. “Y’know, I’ve really been meaning to introduce you, but—” Jayce looks down at his phone in hand, its screen thoroughly shattered despite the bulky, black case. Then to you again, brighter than before. “Wait, why didn’t I think of this before? Hang on just a second.”

He starts tapping at it. 

A text? 

But as soon as the music cuts off, right at the chorus of ABBA’s Lay all Your Love on Me— which, great song, that’s a shame—you realize exactly what he’s up to.

It rings twice over the bluetooth speakers before Viktor picks up.

“Yes, Jayce?”

There’s a weary quality to his voice. He sounds put upon, the sigh implied, as if Jayce has been petulant, blowing up his phone all morning. 

Jayce isn’t phased by that. Not in the slightest.

He does take Viktor off the speakers though, holding the phone to his ear and gesturing for you to wait just a minute with the flat of his calloused palm. All before you can hear enough to decipher that curious accent, which is disappointing. 

“—Yeah, sorry, I’m here. Listen, what are you doing…” 

Jayce wanders out of earshot, just out of the garage. If you strain to listen—which you, nosy thing, absolutely did—you can pick up a few words and phrases.

“…hour…” 

Yes, brunch is in an hour. 

“…want you to…” 

Meet me? Pretty likely. 

“…being difficult…” 

Oh interesting, is he now?

You hear nothing more after that.

But you can guess the outcome by Jayce’s final stance after a few minutes of failed negotiations. Phone to his ear, fist on his cocked hip—very pissed off suburban dad of him, standing in the front yard like that.

He mashes the end call button with a meaty thumb. Heaves a sigh that’s all shoulders before he turns and hustles back toward you, looking overly cheerful about whatever just transpired.

“Everything alright?” you ask gently.

“Yup, great! All good!” he says with a smile that heralds an eye twitch, though it never comes. “I couldn’t get Viktor to come with us. Full schedule, apparently.”

“It is short notice, Jayce.”

“Yeah… I know,” he says, fraught with an unfamiliar tension. Like there’s a lot he isn’t saying, and it weighs on him. “It’s just disappointing. I think you’d get along great if I could get you two in the same room.”

“What makes you think that?” 

“Just a feeling,” he shrugs. “Or wishful thinking, maybe. I always want my friends to be friends with each other too. Easier to get everyone together that way. Speaking of which…” He hands you his phone, timer pulled up again. “Last thing before we get back to it: I’m throwing a Halloweeen party at the end of the month. Low key, costumes optional—it’s gonna be fun and I think you should come.”

“Big party?”

“Medium party, if I have anything to say about it. But hey, no pressure. Think about it.”

“I’ll let you know for sure, but it’s probably a yes.” 

It’s definitely a yes, let’s be honest. You have no other invitations to consider. 

Back on task and keen to see him suffer, you taunt him with a shake of his phone. “Now, if you’re ready?”

“Definitely am,” he says, and proceeds to put your sweaty struggle of a plank to shame.

—-

The week blows by after that. You blink and it’s Friday again. Though, with nothing better to start the weekend with, you pull out your phone and fire off a quick text to Jayce.

[3:58pm] Headed over after work to squeeze in some cardio. You in?

He’s assured you that you can use the gym whenever, but it feels right to get his blessing. Better to ask first than find out the hard or even embarrassing way that there might be an exception to the rule.

But… No response. 

Just radio silence from Jayce until an hour later and you’re sprinting to your car in the pouring rain. Then, of course, it vibrates in your pocket. Damp and chilly, clothes soaked through as you clamor inside, you still check your phone before you crank the ignition and turn on a little heat. 

Priorities.

[Jayce Talis, 5:12pm]: Gonna be out with Mel, sorry! Have fun :)

He gets a simple smiley face and a thumbs up in return. 

Prepared with an extra pair of leggings and sneakers in your car, you head straight over after that.  

Alone today, you’ll be brave too. You’ll wear the cute, translucent crop top that has, up until now, been shoved deep into your closet for fear of drawing attention to parts of your body that could stand to be more refined. Like you aren’t good enough, toned enough, shredded enough to wear it yet; like confidence is something to earn and the finish line keeps shifting farther away. But if Jayce can do it?

So can you.

He’s a lesson in self-confidence, and you’re an eager student.

When you pull up, you see immediately that you’ll be well and truly alone today. There’s no cars in the driveway, no lights on in the house.

You do another soggy sprint through the rain and wind up wetter on your left side as you punch in a garage code you’re still trying to memorize and mess it up a good three times before it takes. You have to shut it promptly behind you to keep the water from seeping beneath the floor tiles, but with the summer humidity now past, the garage is pleasantly cool. And as it heated up—or, well, you heated up—there’s always the fan.

But first things first, you let yourself into the house.

You’ve never been inside before. And it feels odd that the first time is in dead silence, without Jayce, like you’re an intruder in his home. 

Their home, you keep having to remind yourself, because stranger or not, Viktor lives there too.

It occurs to you, then, that it might be inconsiderate not to let him know that you’re coming too. Something to bring up to Jayce next time you’re together—it doesn’t sit well with you that his roommate might think you’re rude. 

At least this time, if Viktor comes home first, he’ll know you ‘re here by your car in the driveway. He has to know it at this point, even if he knows nothing else about you.

You hurry down the short hallway into the first door on your left, wet shoes squeaking comically on the hardwood floors as you go to change in the tiny powder room off the garage. 

Nothing fancy, but it’s probably the most boring room in the house. Clean and simple and tidy, but is it all this way? You have to ignore that shameful urge to explore further. It feels like a betrayal of trust, though you’ve been explicitly permitted as far as the kitchen to get water or a snack.

If you ever want to be righteously nosy, you really need to stop coming so prepared.

Back in the cool sanctity of the garage, you plop onto the padded floor to do a few simple stretches and meditate briefly on your plan for the next hour, give or take. Cardio, for sure, but the sweet, sweaty temptation of upper body work calls out to you from the weight racks. A few rounds of chest presses, bicep curls, and tricep extensions with mid-range dumbbells should make a great addition to the evening, nothing too taxing or dangerous. You’ll probably add more to that circuit after time to consider it on the treadmill, knowing yourself a glutton for punishment of your own creation.

You hop on the treadmill, setting the speed to a crawl to walk and tap away at your phone; to connect it to the sound system, as Jayce has shown you how, to play your favorite workout playlist.

It’s not noticeable at first. 

The volume is considerably lower to start, even as you up the speed from a snail’s pace to a healthy powerwalk, warming up your joints for the impact to come. 

But after you press 6, the belt moving faster, your feet slamming down on it, your heart beating harder and your breath coming quicker, you have to make it louder. And you can tell, then, that someone had changed the ratios to boost the base.

It was fucking fantastic.

You feel it in your bones, feel it hammering in time with your heart. It makes you feel like you can sprint faster, push harder; do more and more and more until you’re gasping for breath and loving every second of it. But you aren’t there yet.

In short little bursts—sprint to walk, walk to sprint— you keep upping the speed and the volume in increments as you fight to hit your top mileage, even for a second. That’s the goal before you can allow yourself a long recovery lap.

You finally, finally reach for that number on the control panel.

And then you’re catching yourself on the handrails instead.

Stumbling bodily.

Scared shitless.

Because out of the corner of your eye, you see the door to the house wrench open. You hear your name over the music, shouted like you’ve never heard it shouted before.

It’s the accent, laced with frustration, curling hatefully the vowels of your name.

It’s Viktor.

You fumble in quick succession to turn the treadmill off, then the song. It leaves the sound of your heavy, labored breathing and rain pelting the metal garage door echoing through the space. It’s a strange, awkward ambiance made worse by your gasping inability to speak.

You try to mitigate it, lifting your arms and lacing your fingers behind your head. Your shoulders, your biceps ache with lingering soreness, and your shirt rides up far too high, but your lungs have more room to expand within the vice tightness of your ribcage. 

It helps, just not fast enough.  

You feel strikingly uneasy beneath his stare and more than a little embarrassed. So you say—or rather, try to say: “I’m—! I’m so sorry…” Do you look like a fish out of water, sucking in air through its mouth? You feel like it. Your lungs burn. “I…um, I just…”

“Catch your breath,” he says. His voice is even and merciful, but it doesn’t disguise the displeasure simmering just below the surface. It’s all in his eyes and the heavy, low set of his brow. A look that pins you in place, heavier than any weight in that gym, even if it doesn’t settle on you for long. 

He waits—patiently or not, you can’t tell—and comes no further past the threshold.

Staring is rude, but try as you might, it’s hard not to look at him overmuch. He’s the embodiment of that voice on the phone. 

Put simply: He looks like shit. 

He’s got eyes rimmed with sleepless purple, like he’s never seen more than three hours of rest in a night. Painfully thin through a graceful face, framed by dark hair that could stand to be washed. Probably skeletal under that sweater, too. He’s not three legged either, as it turns out; it was his cane distorted in the picture that he both was and wasn’t in. 

Yeah, he’s not anyone you’d expect to hang around literal health nut Jayce Talis. 

Let alone live with him.

But he’s… attractive beyond the physical neglect, if wispy nerd is your type. 

Which it is. 

You sigh—because you can breathe again, of course.

“Okay… Okay, I’m good,” you finally tell him, hands dropping down, useless at your sides, as self-consciousness creeps up. It whispers a reminder of what you’re wearing; of how flushed your face usually gets when you run; of how disgusting you feel drenched in sweat. Suboptimal conditions for meeting someone new, but you muster up a pathetic, “Hi,” and wave with a wiggle of your stupid little fingers.

He looks so unimpressed, leaning heavily against his cane. Worse, he hardly even looks at you, like you’re the least interesting thing in the room. 

You want to wither and die on the spot.

“If you could keep the volume down?” he says without preamble—not hello or nice to meet you, not even his name. It’s phrased like a question, but it’s certainly a demand that he has every right to—you can’t deny that. He adds a clipped, “Please,” as an afterthought, but it comes too late to soften his blunt approach.

“Oh, yeah, I’m really sorry about that…” You laugh nervously in the way Jayce often does to diffuse tension, but with none of his success. It’s probably a mistake to try a conversational approach, knowing nothing about him other than he’s cute and very unhappy with you, but your mouth just moves since it can’t seem to shut up. “When did you get back?”

“What?”

“I just didn’t know you were back from… Um, y’know, wherever it was,” you gesture vaguely, feeling more helpless by the second. 

“I never left,” he says, matter-of-factly, like you should’ve already known. Makes you feel entirely to blame for your ignorance, though you aren’t—just very out of your depth. “I doubt you would’ve heard anything, regardless.”

“Not unless you walked straight through here. I just… I get so into it sometimes that I can’t tell how loud it is. Especially when I’m alone.”

He shrugs, carefully neutral, “Jayce is the same.” 

Does that translate to I understand? Or is he calling you both inconsiderate in a two birds, one stone sort of way?

You aren’t sure. But you offer him an olive branch anyways.

“Would it help if I brought headphones next time?”

“If you’re that inclined toward hearing damage, then yes,” he says, dry but not devoid of humor if you catch his tone correctly. “Otherwise, I don’t mind the sound system. Use it if you like, I just prefer not to hear it across the house.”

You feel lighter, reaching a tentative understanding. It was only a poorly timed accident, you hadn’t meant to disturb the peace. No harm done. Not a damnable offense. 

“Fair enough,” you nod, smiling at him, small and convincing and giddy, deep down. “I’ll do better.” 

But adrenaline and that jittery thrum of anxiety made for a bad mix—made you do odd, unthinking, impulsive things. 

You set the speed to low again, sensing the natural end of the conversation. And you—why, idiot? Why?— throw him a goofy, thoughtless little wink as you say, “Promise not to bother you again tonight.”

He nods curtly to that, and you could swear the thinnest wisp of a smile twitches his lips.

But you have to be mistaken. Surely you saw it wrong, because then he says, “Not at all would be ideal, but thank you,” with the audacity to sound good-natured about it. 

You, blinking mute with shock, can only stare as though he’d come close and slapped you. He might as well have. That stings, and if you hadn’t felt self-conscious before, you surely feel it now—that overwhelming urge to curl into yourself.

You finally can read him then, for the shame on his face. Like he’s accidentally said out loud what he’s been thinking; like he’s accidentally revealed his budding dislike of you, to your face instead of behind your back. Privately to Jayce, you can only assume.

He can’t look at you again after that.

It pretty much proves your assumption, the way he turns and wordlessly skulks back into the house. 

Leaves you standing there, berating yourself for fucking it all up. For not saying the right things. For, despite it all, feeling that familiar, constricting ache in your chest, though you haven't felt that sensation in a long time. Not looking at another person. 

This has to be salvageable. It just has to be.

And it can't get worse than that, right?

…Right?

[faithinlouisfuture]

Solo louies have all the shit to say about us larries when you do exactly the same shit! I see all of you shipping louis with both the cute band members from his band even making threesome jokes which is disgusting. How are you any different from us?

Hello my pressed and bothered friend,

Since you asked, let me elaborate for you in somewhat detail while using relatively simple words since I know your side of the fandom is used to being fed “information” through first grade style diagrams and infographics.

The difference is:

- solo louies recognize that Louis Tomlinson is first and foremost an artist, who we have the privilege to even perceive in the first place because he wants to get his art out into the world (I say art cuz you see our baby’s mad multitalented; musician, lyricist, fashion designer, fashion icon, music industry mogul, British pop rock royalty just to name a few)

- solo louies know that when any of us talk about Louis with Matt or Michael (that’s the names of the two cute guys btw, obviously you wouldn’t know the names of the people in Louis’ band, I’m not surprised at all) it is a joke! A light hearted way to have fun and imagine a good time for Louis. You see how none of us have “loumatter” or “whatever the ship name is for Louis & Michael” in our cards?!? Cuz that not how we define ourselves. That’s not how we define our fandom experience. That’s not what or who we’re here for. Literally all that matters is Louis.

- you will never see any of us at Louis’ solo world tour with signs asking him to sing a song that is already on his set list to confirm if loumatt is real. Or dress up dolls of Louis and Michael as bride and groom and wave them in Louis’ face. Or sing one of Michael or Matt’s songs outside of his tour bus. Or associate colors to either boys and then trick Louis’ team members into sharing stories with those colors on their socials and then celebrate that madness as a victory or proof *rolls eyes into back of head*

- you will also never see solo louies associate anything and everything that Louis does/says/wears as proof of him “signalling” to let us know that he’s with either of them.

That’s the difference anon. It is a literal joke when we do it, let people have fun things. It’s not a way of life for us, and we’re not living our lives trying to prove it’s real. We’re literally just having some fun, you remember what that is?

[excuseyouclarke]

The fight for equality in the UK is far, far from over.

Last night, a 14 year old black boy playing football in the streets in was murdered by a group of men. Birmingham Police are trying to say it was not racially motivated, I say that once again that police are talking shit. I see no reason why a group white of men would get out of their car to chase down a group of teenagers and stab one of them to death. This a boy who was out enjoying the sunshine on a bank holiday Monday, ready for half term with his friends, a boy with his whole life ahead of him. He had a family at home, probably waiting for him to come home for his dinner, now they’re mourning their son while his killers are still out there.

This comes just weeks after Sasha Johnson, a BLM activist in the UK was shot in the head.

The government claim there’s no systematic racism, that is a clear lie. They have tried to put a positive spin on past slavery. Our invasions and colonastions throughout history are not taught in schools, 95 percent of young black people have witnessed or heard racist language at school in the UK.

We need to step up, we need to be calling out racism and showing that this is not okay, and we should not be standing for this. I hear casual racism being brought up in conversation all the time, it took me a long time to educate myself and get the confidence to not only call out this behaviour, but attempt to educate. I’m sick to my stomach with what has happened, i can’t even begin to imagine how the black community is feeling. I’m linking some resources below, please, please support anti racism causes in the uk, we have such a beautiful and diverse culture, we should be embracing it.

Resources below.

Organisations:

Stop hate UK - anti-racism charity

Show racism the red card - anti racism charity

Charity So White

Black Lives Matter

BMECP Centre – a sustainable resource centre which champions the Black and Minority Ethnic (BME) community in Brighton and Hove and supports BME communities and their families.

MOSAIC Brighton – Black and Mixed-Parentage Family Group

Immigration and Asylum Helpline from Rights of Women

Southall Black Sisters – addresses the needs of BME women empowering them to escape Domestic Violence, Forced Marriage, Honour Based Violence, FGM, Rape

Karma Nirvana – supporting victims of honour-based abuse and forced marriage

Imkaan – “addressing violence against Black and minoritised women and girls”

Justice for Grenfell

Movement For Justice

Stephen Lawrence Charitable Trust

The National Memorial Family Fund is the first permanent national resource of its kind specifically for those that are affected by deaths in custody.

UK Black Pride

Imaan London – LGBTQ Muslim Charity

Liberty help challenge injustice, defend freedom and campaign to make sure everyone in the UK is treated fairly.

The Black Curriculum

Runnymede Trust – the UK’s leading independent race equality think tank

The United Families & Friends Campaign, is a coalition of those affected by deaths in police, prison and psychiatric custody.

BAME recruitment consultancy website

Black LGBT organisations you should know about: a list from Stonewall staff

Books:

Why I Am No Longer Talking to White People About Race, by Renni Eddo Lodge (non-fiction)

Me and White Supremacy, by Layla F. Saad (non-fiction)

White Fragility, by Robin Diangelo (non-fiction)

Kill the Black One First by Michael Fuller (non-fiction)

Brit(ish) by Afua Hirsch (non-fiction)

Black and British by David Olusoga (non-fiction)

Girl, Woman, Other by Bernadine Evaristo (fiction)

The Windrush Betrayal by Amelia Gentleman (non-fiction)

Black Feminist Thought by Patricia Hill Collins (non-fiction)

Ain’t I A Woman by bell hooks (non-fiction)

Redefining Realness by Janet Mock (non-fiction)

Sister Outsider by Audre Lorde (non-fiction)

Me, Not You, by Alison Phipps (non-fiction)

Queenie, by Candice Carty Williams (fiction)

Sula, by Toni Morrison (fiction)

How to be an Antiracist by Ibram X. Kendi (non-fiction)

Assata, by Assata Shakur (non-fiction)

Articles and social media posts:

Welcome To The Anti-Racism Movement — Here’s What You’ve Missed

“Where are the Black girls?” about (in)visibility in Childhood Sexual Abuse bu Jahine Davis

Report from Imkaan: Reclaiming Voice: Minoritised Women and Sexual Violence Key Findings

Intersectionality infographic from Listen Up Research CIC

The Truth About Women and White Supremacy

How We Make Black Girls Grow Up Too Fast

White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack

What will you do to continue the work? (IG)

What to do if you can’t protest on the streets for Black Lives Matter

Why you need to stop saying “All Lives Matter”

10 Steps to Non-Optical Allyship

When Feminism Is White Supremacy in Heels

I want to be an ally but I don’t know what to do (IG)

What does black British activism look like in 2020

We revolt simply because, for many reasons, we can no longer breathe – statement from Diversity & Ability and resource list

Structural Racism vs Individual Racism (IG)

Everything else on Gal:Dem, an online and print publication committed to sharing perspectives from women and non-binary people of colour.

Black Ballad, a UK based lifestyle platform that seeks to tell the human experience through eyes of black British women.

A more extensive list can be found here, please feel free to add more!

[voidstilesplease]

Written for @steodiscord's Steo Secret Santa (2021). This one's for @stilesshipper. Hi Em, sorry the Tumblr post is late. I knew I would pass out after I posted the fic on AO3. It took forever to post because I did everything on mobile 🥴. I'm still drunk on caffeine, I think. LOL. But as promised, here's the amazing aesthetic for the fic created by a dearest friend, @sunel0. Sonya, thank you SO MUCH!!! It was fun designing the mood board with you (and by that, I mean: I'm relieved to finally attach a structured one to my work at last 😂).

title: can't believe his luck

ship: Stiles/Theo | word count: 11.5k | rating: T | tags: AU, A/B/O dynamics, friends to lovers, fluff, getting together, werefoxes & werewolves, Stiles and Theo are neighbors and childhood best friends, their parents are best friends as well, Claudia is alive, Theo's parents are very much alive, Stiles & Theo & Scott are best friends, Jackson's an asshole

summary: Stiles, Theo, a treehouse, two gold rings, and three hundred sixty-five volumes of Stiles's favorite manga.

i. take me back when our world was one block wide

Stiles can't believe his luck.

He springs from his desk over to his open window at the sound of the car horn, eyes glinting in excitement as he eyes the family stepping out of a silver car next door and the giant U-Haul truck tailing them. Their new neighbors have arrived. Oh, how long has Stiles waited.

He flips his storybook close - a tale of adventure and friendship between a young fox, much like Stiles himself, and a young wolf. He enjoys those stories the most.

Stiles loves wolves; his best friend Scott is one. His dad is, too.

He gawks at the group, watching each one like a hawk. There's a couple, about the age of Stiles's parents, and two children. Definitely wolves, Stiles confirms to himself with his nose hunched up the air. While the new neighbors' daughter looks too old to want to hang out with Stiles, their son is definitely young enough to be Stiles' wolf buddy!

When Stiles's parents invite the new family for a welcome dinner, Stiles practically leaps down the stairs in his hurry. And when he comes face to face with his prospective new friend, he grins at him through a missing front tooth.

The boy, Theo, frowns and sticks his eyes down to his plate the entire meal. But Stiles isn't deterred by his rather lackadaisical response. It's understandable to be shy at first, after all. His sister, though, Tara, is more amiable. They quickly find something in common: werefox manga. They chatter about it all night and discover that they have the same favorite: The Fox Prince!

At school, Theo enrolls in Stiles's first-grade class. He immediately becomes friends with Jackson, though, and Stiles deflates. Stiles hardly likes that boy. He's mean and a bully. He picks on Stiles because he's smaller than the average bunch and teases him 'omega' like it's an insult. Stiles isn't an omega. He won't know until he's sixteen - no one knows until they're sixteen. And if he was, it wasn't anything to be ashamed of - his parents always make him repeat that. There are also infographics put up all over the school; even educational tapes during orientation and first day in homeroom are available. Pro-omega rights are all over in different media, but some choose to be ignorant.

Their bedrooms, he realizes, are across from each other, overlooking through the side windows. Every night, Stiles shouts his good night to Theo. Even though he never says it back or closes his window pointedly at his face.

Stiles helps his mom bake cookies every Saturday, and he saves some to bring over next door to see Theo. The boy is always upstairs playing when he comes over, and Tessa, Theo's mom, smiles apologetically before inviting him in for a homemade milkshake. Theo comes down only when Stiles is bidding his thanks and is already by the door to leave.

Siles figures - after a few weeks of this pattern - that Theo dislikes him. But why, is the question? Is it for the same reason that Jackson doesn't like Stiles? Because he's small and clumsy, and his mouth spits rapid fire? He really wants them to be friends.

It's kind of rotten, really, because Theo has no problem befriending Scott. They meet when Melissa drops off Scott for an overnight stay, which coincidentally is on one of the nights when Stiles's parents host dinner with the Raekens. Yes, it's how close their families are now. They have a calendar of alternating schedules for dinner. And Saturday park dates. And even Sunday barbecues.

They hit it off pretty fast, and it... stings. Scott is smaller than some of their classmates, too. He's asthmatic and needs his inhaler most of the time. Though, his lungs are starting to get better as Scott grows older, according to his labs - his wolf-healing doing its job at last. He's not mouthy like Stiles, but he's gullible - even for his age. He likes everyone. Which, Stiles admits, is pretty naive but also admirable. All those, and Theo likes him. Enough to compare canines with him whenever Scott comes over while not sparing Stiles a single glance. So, is it because Stiles is a fox that Theo dislikes him?

In his books, the fox and the wolf become friends even when they start off suspicious of each other. Maybe Stiles will have to wait a bit more for Theo to warm up to him? Yes, he'll do that.

But three months after Theo moves into Beacon Hills, Stiles stops waiting.

In the first grade classroom at lunch, he's flailing his hands, explaining to Scott why the new volume of The Fox Prince is the best one so far.

In the middle of it, he hears Jackson fake-whisper to a friend, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Yeah, because he dreams of becoming the Fox Prince and finding a Wolf Knight to build him a palace, like in the comics," Jackson's friend snickers, spraying food all over their shared desk. Jackson grimaces but waves it off to continue, seeing as he has an audience now. "He's too weak to lift a hammer, you see. So limb-y and small. And he's not even pretty. He's too mole-y." Then he turns to Theo, "Theo, you better start running. We all know he's got the most pitiful crush on you."

Stiles tears up even as the teacher reprimands Jackson and tells his classmates to stop laughing. He looks at Theo, hoping that he, at least, looks the slightest bit chagrined on Stiles's behalf.

But Theo smirks at Stiles and says, "Foxes are naturally faster than Wolves. I think I'll just beat him up."

Stiles speeds out of the room, wiping angry and humiliated tears off his face, with Scott following close behind.

It's not because of Stiles that Theo doesn't like him. This, Stiles is finally sure of. Theo is really only - pardon the language, mom and dad - a natural jerkface.

***

ii. take me back to the house in the backyard tree

Stiles can't believe his luck. That is to say: he can't believe how much the universe hates him.

Five years have gone by, and his parents still insist on shoving Stiles and Theo on each other. It's like they never listen. Stiles tells them, over and over, that his and Theo's friendship is never going to happen. But they only roll their eyes at him.

"You were obsessed with him when you were seven," his mom says, placating like Stiles is just being petulant about this. "Of course, it's going to happen. Just be a little less snotty to him."

Be a little less snotty. Right. As if Stiles is the reason for their nonexistent friendship.

Today's Sunday. Therefore, Stiles finds himself in the Raekens' backyard, sulking on the picnic bench with a smug Theo sitting across from him.

"You're gonna climb up to my treehouse, whether you like it or not," he tells Stiles confidently after Stiles shots him down harshly. "Your mom will make you."

Stiles scoffs.

But Theo's right.

Theo and Stiles's dads man the barbecue, talking about the recent werewolf rugby preliminaries, while their moms are sipping red wine and laughing pleasantly at each other's account of embarrassing baby stories of Stiles and Theo. After all these years, they still have more to tell.

Stiles is huffing and puffing, sipping grape juice while kicking aggressively at Theo's feet under the table.

"Really, Theo built that by himself?" Stiles's dad, the Sheriff, exclaims in surprise.

Theo's dad, Richard, laughs delightfully. "Well, I assisted some."

The two of them look over to their table, grinning proudly at Theo. Theo straightens in his seat, preening at the attention of two elder alphas. Stiles scowls.

"He's going to present as an alpha. I tell you, Rick."

Their moms hum in agreement.

As if strength is all that makes an alpha.

"Unlikely," Stiles mutters under his breath, full of petty disdain. "Omegas create the den."

Theo hears him, but he only smirks.

"It's beautiful, Theo!" Claudia, Stiles's mom, gushes loudly, and Stiles groans into his hands. He knows what she will say next. "Why don't you show it to Stiles, honey? I'm sure he would be ecstatic."

Stiles is not ecstatic.

Especially when Theo's dad jokes to Stiles's dad after he grudgingly stomps behind Theo in the direction of the treehouse, proclaiming, "They look good together, wouldn't you say, Noah?"

"I definitely wouldn't mind having Theo as a son-in-law, Rick."

Their moms coo and Stiles briskly walks away, flushing in embarrassment and avoiding Theo's eyes.

The ladder up to the treehouse is rickety, there's a nail protruding by the door that almost brains Stiles, and there are gaps between some of the wood planks on the floor - obviously, that half is Theo's work because it screams amateur. It's spacious but dusty inside. The window is only the size of Stiles's head enough to poke out, and the sill is rough. And Stiles is sure it shakes just a bit as Theo climbs in after him.

"So, what do you think?"

Stiles looks around some more. A blue paint would be nice, he thinks. There's also a skylight as he looks up. The branches are trimmed mindfully so that the sky is visible from where Stiles is standing. He thinks it's amazing.

"It's all right," he offers, at last.

Theo snorts. After a pause, he says casually, "You can come by whenever."

Stiles turns to Theo, drawing his brows. "Why would I?"

"So they'd stop pestering us to talk to each other."

"So we come here instead," Stiles gestures at the general vicinity. "To do what?"

Theo shrugs. "Anything but talk."

Stiles narrows his eyes suspiciously, but Theo's expression betrays no hints of nefarious plans to smother Stiles when his back is turned.

Stiles huffs. His new mini bookshelf will look nice in that one corner, he admits. It doesn't mean he hates Theo any less, though.

Stiles tells Scott about the treehouse at lunch the next day.

"Theo built a treehouse for you?" Scott blurts out dramatically, attracting the attention of a few lunch-goers.

"Theo built a treehouse," Stiles corrects him, gritting his teeth. His cheeks heat up consciously at the passing glances. "Period." Actually, his dad did while he butchered his part of the share.

Scott looks confused. "You said he told you that you could come."

Stiles rolls his eyes, wiping cafeteria pizza grease on his school pants. "That doesn't mean he built it for me."

"Well, did he ask anybody else to come up to his treehouse?"

"No," replies Stiles, dragging the syllable like explaining to a child. "Not that I know of."

"Then he built it for you," Scott concludes, grinning triumphantly into his soggy burger. He adds thoughtfully a bit later, "Maybe it's his odd way of saying sorry."

Stiles sighs. Scott can be stubborn sometimes; it's really no use arguing with him. It doesn't matter anyway. Theo didn't build it, and definitely not for Stiles. Especially not to apologize for a cruel comment he made when he was seven.

But-

"Why did you even build this treehouse?" Stiles asks during the succeeding Sunday afternoon barbecue at the Raekens.

Last weekend, when Stiles's family hosted the afternoon affair, Theo helped Stiles set up his foldable mini bookshelf in the treehouse. And Stiles, in turn, helped Theo arrange pillows and blankets once they polished the floor together. It was wide enough to give them berth, keep them in their half of the space. It was the most agreeable they'd been together in… ever. Theo didn't act obnoxious, and Stiles didn't act snotty. It was actually quite pleasant. But he refused to make any of it. Theo doesn't add to Jackson's mockery anymore, but he still laughs at Stiles's expense. He's not any less a jerk than he was five years ago.

Theo looks up from his portable gamepad, frowning. He's been moody today. "I told you."

"Why didn't you invite Tara, then? She wanted to see." Stiles challenges. He wants to prove to Scott that Theo did invite someone other than him to his treehouse. He doesn't know why it's so important, but it is.

Tara is sixteen, and she recently presented as an alpha. She's living with her grandparents in their old home city. She's here to visit after her presentation to give the news to her parents.

Theo's chest makes a gurgling sound, and he looks appalled by the idea, "I don't want her to see."

"Why not? You let me see."

Theo growls low in a warning.

Stiles continues hotly, "You let me put my bookshelves and books in. You let me lay in your blankets. You let me stay. My scent is all over the place. But you hate me."

Theo gnashes his teeth, "I don't hate you."

"Right," snorts Stiles. He finds himself so worked up over this. "You just enjoy making fun of me."

Theo's face turns a giant blotch of red. The atmosphere inside the treehouse is dense with the scent of his anger. "I don't enjoy making fun of you. I thought I should, to fit in."

"Oh, yes!" Stiles cries out. "You're doing a spectacular job fitting in with the assholes."

Theo's fists are clenched tightly around the gamepad, and he looks ready to burst. "That's why I asked dad to help me build this treehouse, okay?" snarls Theo. "Because I'm-"

Theo cuts off sharply. Huh. What do you know? So, Scott's right, and Theo's buttering him up for an overdue apology. But he can't even say it. He's gnawing his lips hard, chest heaving, as if it's so difficult to push the words out.

Just say it, Stiles thinks. Just say it, and you have it. I won't even make it hard.

After all these years - underneath his grudge - Stiles still wants them to be friends. Wants to open his side window again and yell good night to the boy across his room. Wants to bake cookies and share them with Theo. Wave at him in the school hallways and get a response.

Stiles scoffs, shaking his head. "You probably can't even say it, even if I dare you to."

Theo straightens at that, lifting his chin in a challenging stance. "I'm not scared of anything," he hisses defensively. "I can do whatever you would dare me to do."

Egotistical jerk.

Stiles rises to the game. "Whatever, huh?"

"Whatever," Theo agrees.

"Anything at all? I'm not so sure about that."

"Stiles,"

He doesn't know what makes him blurt it out. Probably his growing amusement at the strange situation they've fallen in. But whatever it is, Stiles says:

"Then kiss me, I dare you."

He's so sure Theo would blink, balk in disgust, and finally beat him up, as he said many years ago. But, at least, Stiles has made his point, right? So, Stiles is not prepared when Theo stands - his head almost brushing the roof - and stalks forward, crossing the invisible barrier they set to separate the space.

Stiles's smile instantly drops, "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to kiss you," Theo replies decisively. "I can't do it from the other side of the room, can I?"

Stiles meeps, eyes quickly darting to the exit. "I- but- what," He's only twelve! Not that having his first kiss hasn't crossed his mind or that he's against sharing it with Theo, but neither is the point.

A lone fox in a fight or flight situation. Of course, Stiles bolts out.

Theo's laughing when he pokes his head out of the window. He shouts down at Stiles, "I thought you were a fox, not a chicken!"

He glares and makes rude gestures at Theo before running back to where their parents are busy with the food prep, unaware that Stiles's fast-beating heart is not because he's been running at all. Stiles is still blushing hard when he settles on the picnic bench with his traitorous brain unhelpfully chanting what if.

He still has the most pathetic crush on Theo, apparently.

***

iii. take me back to the creek beds we turned up

Stiles can't believe his luck.

Being friends with Theo is not, at all, how Stiles imagined it would be. Especially when Theo presents as an alpha shortly after turning sixteen.

Scott has also presented as an alpha. Which, frankly, surprised everyone, even Scott himself. For the longest time, they assumed Scott would be a beta. He's just too easy going to be one of the temperamental knotheads. He knocked everyone's breath away when he came to school smelling like kneel before me. He never exploited that, though. Scott would never. He's still the same Scott who's loyal to Stiles and finds the good in everyone.

Stiles has yet to present, although he's a good few months older than both Theo and Scott. But now, he has two alpha best friends. He's basically untouchable at this point. But Theo's protectiveness is noticeably different from Scott's. Enough to catch the attention of Lydia Martin, an alpha werewolf, top of the class, who never once spoke to Stiles even though they shared plenty of classes in middle school, freshman, and sophomore years.

She sits next to him in AP English. "You're Stiles, right?"

Taken aback, Stiles can only nod.

Lydia hums, her kohl-rimmed eyes giving him a deliberate once over. It's really intimidating. Because it's, well, Lydia. When her eyes settle back on his, she says, "Your boyfriend broke my boyfriend's arm during lacrosse practice yesterday."

His eyes widen. None of what she said computes.

"Jackson," she thankfully clarifies after pursing her lips, noticing his utter confusion. "Theo broke Jackson's arm."

Stiles's eyes widen some more. He didn't know about it. Stiles skipped track practice yesterday, and Theo didn't mention it last night when they played Uno on Stiles's roof until midnight. Everything felt normal, but he does remember Theo saying that his mom's miffed at him. He passed it off as nothing serious because it's a fairly regular occurrence. Then, his forehead creases, processing the rest of Lydia's words.

"Theo's not my boyfriend," he adds hastily.

Lydia scoffs, smiling sharply, "He sure acts like it."

Stiles corners Scott by his locker going to the third period.

"What happened at lacrosse practice yesterday?" he demands without preamble.

Scott blinks at him. "Theo didn't tell you?"

Stiles huffs impatiently, "I wouldn't be pestering you if he did." He can't find Theo anywhere, too. Now of all days.

Scott closes his locker door, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, I don't know the entirety of it," Scott starts cautiously. "They were already pretty tense when they came out of the locker room. Then, they just started baring their fangs out and pouncing on each other."

"You've no idea what they could be fighting about?"

Scott looks uncertain for a moment before he sighs resignedly. "Jackson made inappropriate comments about you," he confesses. "I told him to shut up. But Theo totally... snapped."

Stiles pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes with a deep inhale. He opens them again after a second, "Jackson called me omega again, didn't he?"

Scott nods, flattening his lips wryly. "And more."

It's Stiles's turn to sigh. Ever since Theo started hanging out with Stiles, he hung out less and less with Jackson and his lackeys. It's only one more reason for Jackson to hate Stiles and for him to start growing bitter feelings against Theo. They still talk, being in the lacrosse team and all. But Theo openly shuts off anyone who badmouths Stiles and threatens them with bodily harm - and makes good of his promise, see: Jackson - when push comes to shove.

"Theo got suspended for a week," Scott adds after a moment. "He'll also be benched in the next game."

Considering what he did, it's a pretty light punishment. But the new alpha aggression is easy to blame. It's an acceptable excuse. Still.

"Stiles?" Scott places a gentle hand on his shoulder. Stiles looks up, lips wobbling just the slightest. He hates to cause his friends trouble. God knows how many times Scott set aside his amicable nature to warn people off of Stiles's business. Scott's fingers squeeze consolingly, "It's not your fault, okay? He just wants to protect you."

Stiles is not entirely convinced, but he nods.

Later, after school, Theo pulls his truck up deep into the Preserve, to that one spot they both think is the best-hidden treasure within the woods of Beacon Hills: the creek.

They'd discovered it together during a Saturday run after they called a truce and went back there during family date runs, sometimes with Scott. They visit more frequently after Stiles inherited her mom's Jeep and Theo's dad bought him a truck, usually without Scott. He's got a girlfriend now, Allison, who's such a nice girl, a sweet beta. He's trying to win over Allison's family, so he spends a lot of time with her. It's not a problem. Courting is a serious matter, and the Argents are a clan of old conservatives. Stiles and Theo are perfectly capable of enjoying themselves.

It's… nice. Sitting practically flushed together on the tailgate of Theo's truck, their pinky fingers linked innocently in between them. The streaming water, soft snaps of wood in the distance, and their own heartbeats close to each other are the only sounds they can hear. Theo's scent is basically the same as Stiles's own, and it feels like comfort to him.

They're playing sideward footsie with shoes on, and Stiles hates to be the one to break their companionable silence.

"You got suspended," he starts. There's no point posing it as a question. By now, Theo must have figured out that Stiles already knows about it.

Theo nods, hopping off the tailgate.

Stiles tracks his movements. From taking off his shoes and socks, rolling up his pant hems, jumping down a shallow slope to the creek bed, and dipping ankle-deep into the cold water. He picks up a handful of pebbles and starts casting them onto the deeper parts of the creek.

He speaks after a moment, "It's nothing."

Stiles frowns at his dismissive tone. "It's not nothing. You broke Jackson's arm and got suspended."

Theo shrugs. Another throw. "He'll heal."

Stiles sputters in disbelief, "I know he'll heal. But that doesn't mean you had to hurt him."

"I was supposed to do nothing?" Theo snaps, turning bodily to look at Stiles. "He disrespected you."

"It's not like I was there to hear it to get affected," he reasons, though he knows it's a weak argument.

Theo's eyes flash, jabbing at his chest. "Well, I was there to hear it and wanted none of it. Scott and I already warned Jackson, but it's like he's testing me. He thinks my threats are all bluff. They're seriously fucking not."

"Language," Stiles admonishes reflexively.

Theo ignores it, dropping the pebbles mindlessly, as he walks out of the water, up the slope, into Stiles's space. His knees make contact with Theo's abdomen, and they're close enough for Stiles to feel the heat of his body.

Theo's hands settle around his lower thighs, and Stiles's breath catches. "He's not gonna call you a 'hot piece of ass for alphas to bend over', and get away with it unscathed, the sexist bastard."

Stiles inwardly grits his teeth at Jackson's disdainful words. But his indignation is dulled by the fluttering in his stomach. Theo moves just another inch closer. Their position and proximity, Theo's warm hands on him, are distracting. "So, you broke his arm."

"I would have gone for the balls," replies Theo flatly. "If it wouldn't have sent me straight to juvie in two seconds. Procreation is still an alpha's greatest pride, and it's against the law to sabotage it."

Stiles's mouth twitch. Then he remembers, "Lydia called you my boyfriend because of what you did."

Theo pauses, processing the information. Then his face breaks into a grin, "Nah. I'm worse than any boyfriend or girlfriend you will ever have. I'm a permanent fixture."

Stiles throws his head back in laughter because there's no doubt about that. "I'm counting on that."

***

iv. take me back to the time we had our very first fight

Stiles can't believe his luck.

When Stiles's heat finally comes, it comes unexpectedly, as it's wont to do. Stiles in the treehouse with Theo, snuggling under Theo's bedcovers and telling him about the final volume of his favorite manga, The Fox Prince. All day they've been extra tactile. Like it's physically impossible not to reach out and touch each other. The amount of times Stiles stared and nuzzled absently against Theo's neck is embarrassing. And the smell they make together should have been a dead giveaway. But no, they have to suffer the first-hand ramifications of alpha and omega pheromones clouding one's judgment.

"So, they lived happily ever after," Theo comments drily after Stiles's long and detailed regaling, playing with the short strands of his hair.

Stiles twists his head on Theo's chest to send him a narrow-eyed glare. "And what's wrong with that?"

"It's plenty predictable."

Stiles rises on one elbow to properly have a look at Theo's face. "Of course, it's going to end happily. All of the fans knew from the beginning," Stiles says matter-of-factly. "But the ending's hardly the reason why fans stick to their favorite book, or movie, or TV show. It's the in-between that matters the most. How they got their happy end."

Theo arches a brow, and the corners of his lips pull up to a soft smile. His big hands settle around Stiles's hips. "All right. If you say so, Fox Prince."

Stiles's cheeks heat up, glancing at Theo's mouth and looking away quickly. He's been doing a lot of that today. He mutters, "I'm not calling you Wolf Knight."

Unlike Stiles, Theo shamelessly stares at his mouth. Theo's been doing a lot of that today, too. It's a rather jarring development, but he refuses to overthink his way out of this. His body's telling him it's right. Who's he to oppose? Theo's voice lowers imperceptibly, thumbing under Stiles's shirt and tracing circles around his soft skin. "Why not?"

The heat spreads in Stiles's body at once; strong, and all-consuming, making his toes and fingertips tingle and his core burn. He splays his fingers on Theo's chest, pressing himself against his best friend, and slowly rubbing their scents together. His brain turns hazy with the smell of alpha.

He peppers open mouth kisses on Theo's collarbone as the hands around him grasp tighter, running up to his spine. He arches into the touch, kissing the underside of Theo's jaw. Stiles whispers, "Do you want me to?" but he almost forgets what they're talking about, too busy putting his hands under Theo's shirt to clutch mindlessly on his defined torso without the fabric barrier.

Theo moans, maneuvering Stiles so their bodies align. Him underneath and Stiles above him. He slips a knee in between Stiles's legs, taking the back of his head with one hand and gripping meaningfully at his hair.

Stiles obediently bares his neck.

Theo growls, biting the proffered skin with his blunt teeth before nuzzling his nose along the line of Stiles's shoulder. "You smell so good. Why do you smell so good?" He mutters absently.

Somewhere in his brain, Stiles hears a warning that they're moving too fast, close to crossing a line. But most of his senses are clouded with want, a yearning he's never known before.

"You're so hot," Theo whispers.

Stiles kisses the shell of his ear, instinctively grinding against Theo, chasing the satisfaction he instinctively knows he will find in Theo's body. What was it they were talking about earlier? He can't even remember. His mind is filled to the brink of thoughts of alpha, need, and please.

Suddenly, Theo's body goes rigid, and his hands pause. "Stiles," he says, tone sharp. "You're hot."

Stiles's lips journey down to his chin. "You too," he murmurs.

"No," he shakes his head, and suddenly Theo is yanking on Stiles's shoulders to pull them apart. Stiles looks down at him with hooded eyes. "You're burning."

Stiles is confused. But now that Theo mentions it, yes, he does feel unusually… warm. And he can't think straight. He knows he prefers there to be less distance between Theo and him though. He wants to roll around in their den, clinging to the scent of safety, of home, of unbridled want.

When he moves to close their distance again, Theo immediately sits upright, knocking Stiles off of him like it's a do or die to physically separate them. There's panic in Theo's eyes, and Stiles feels the sting of shame and rejection in his bones. His whimpers, feeling small and inadequate.

"Stiles," Theo scrambles to stand, untangling the sheets from around him. His pupils are lust-blown, but the look of abject horror overpowers it. "Oh crap. You're in heat."

He doesn't remember much of what happens after Theo hurries down the treehouse, but he knows it's a torment without his alpha. He whimpers and whines, smelling his own agony overtaking the atmosphere. Then his parents come, the same look of panic he saw on Theo in his dad's eyes before he, too, scurries to the exit. Theo's mother, Tessa, takes his dad's place, and she and Stiles's mother help Stiles down the treehouse and into Stiles's room.

Then eternity of hollow emptiness after that.

But it's actually only a week. After the seventh day, his heat breaks. And all Stiles is, is a mess.

His mother pokes her head into the room, seeing Stiles lying on the bed staring at the ceiling, reeling from the aftermath of his presentation.

So, Jackson is right after all. He's an omega.

Claudia sits on the edge, reaching to pet his head. She smiles, "How are you, honey?"

Stiles manages to croak out, "Like Hell swallowed me and spat me back out."

Claudia chuckles. Then she sobers up and tells him, "You were lucky you were with Theo when you presented."

Anywhere else would have been dangerous, Stiles knows that much. There's always the risk of some alpha taking advantage. Although, it's more uncommon at present, ever since the emergence of more specified omega laws and pro-omega support groups. It's still a terrifying possibility.

Stiles nods, "I was."

Melissa calls him, asks about his well-being, congratulates Stiles, and tells him he will have Scott bring over omega pamphlets from the hospital. Scott rings him next, sounding like he's a mix of ecstatic that Stiles finally presented nine months after he turned 16, and worried about his orientation.

"Are you all right?" Stiles translates it as: are you all right with being an omega?

"I am," replies Stiles honestly. "I think I kinda knew all along." He's only been reluctant to embrace it because of Jackson and a few other sexist dickheads at school.

But this is him now. And like his parents have always implanted in his brain, like the signboards all around the school say, like the theme of the media he consumes: being an omega is nothing different than being an alpha or a beta. It's only biology, and like everything in the ecosystem, has a purpose no less important than the other species.

"I'm glad Stiles," he can hear the sincerity in Scott's voice. "Remember you have me and Theo."

The next time he sees Theo is when it's his family's turn to host dinner. Their eyes meet, and his face goes up in flame. Stiles can't look his best friend in the eyes without the memories of the treehouse flooding to the forefront of his mind.

God, the way he rubbed himself wantonly against Theo. Definitely not the proper thoughts to be having at the dinner table.

He doesn't know the extent of their parents' knowledge on what took place before Theo sobered up and ran out of the treehouse, but Stiles's mom and dad look at Theo like he had saved the world from an extinction-level event.

Noah claps Theo's back and places a hand on Theo's shoulder. He grins, "Son if you ever need it, you have my blessing."

Stiles's mouth drops. He hisses from his seat, aghast, "Dad!" Because now's the time to joke about them getting together, why not. Stiles fights the urge to burrow underneath the table.

Theo's parents only laugh, but their eyes twinkle, too.

"Uh, thank you, sir." stammers Theo. His is bright red, looking to the world like he wants to be anywhere else but there at the moment. At least, that makes two of them.

Claudia rolls her eyes, playfully smacking the Sheriff's arm. "Stop teasing the boy, Noah." she chides with a smile. Then she leans over the back of Theo's chair and pecks his cheek affectionately, "But for what it's worth, you have mine, too."

Stiles groans and sinks lower in his seat. What do they say about grounds opening and swallowing a person whole? Where's one of those when you need it?

After dinner, one spent sending furtive glances at one another across the table, Theo excuses them, asking Stiles's parents for permission to take Stiles driving around for a little bit.

They try to do it surreptitiously, but Stiles catches the knowing looks that both his and Theo's parents exchange as they make their way out the door.

They take Stiles's Jeep. Theo drives - Stiles trusts only two people to drive his Jeep: Theo and Scott - and Stiles fiddles with the pebble he keeps in his Jeep's compartment, doing his best to reign in his thundering heart. This is the first time they're alone together after… that. He doesn't do a very good job at it, he thinks. He can smell his own nerves.

"I didn't know you kept that," Theo says, breaking the silence.

It takes Stiles a moment to understand what he means, "Oh, this?" He raises the pebble, about half the size of Stiles's palm, smooth and distinctly shaped like a deformed heart, but a heart nonetheless. "Yeah," he says, looking at the object fondly. "It's pretty. I've grown attached since the first time you showed it to me."

"Say the word, and I'll scour the entire creek bed for more."

Stiles blushes but laughs, forgetting his previous anxiety. "I don't think the local environment office will appreciate you rearranging the creek bed, but thanks. The one's enough, though."

"If you say so," replies Theo with a grin.

Their eyes meet briefly, and Stiles uses the easing of tension to finally say it. "Thank you, Theo."

Theo's brow arches in amusement, "For giving you a pebble?"

"For the treehouse," Theo glances at him in surprise. Stiles licks his lips, forcing himself to continue speaking before he loses the gall again. "For being more in control and calling for help. For-" the image of them necking and feeling up each other plague his brain, and he feels himself flushing crimson from the neck up again. He also recalls Theo's panic and pushing Stiles away before running. Stiles doesn't want to think about what else he would've done, what he would've let Theo do if Theo's senses got completely fogged by his omega pheromones. "For saving me from complete and utter humiliation."

Theo doesn't say anything for a while, but Stiles can smell the trepidation on him.

"You don't have to thank me," starts Theo. "I-" he cuts himself off and heaves a deep breath, swallows, tries again. "If anything, I should apologize. I'd noticed the change in your scent before we came up, just thought it was because of that manga you were so excited about. I should've known immediately."

"I should've known immediately," Stiles counters. "I couldn't stop thinking about your neck."

Theo snorts, but there's a remaining scent of guilt lingering in the air.

Stiles reaches out a hand to rest over Theo's on the gearshift. It's such a small gesture, one that he's done countless times throughout the years, but Stiles feels the weight of their touch much more now. Theo glances at their joined hands, then at Stiles. Stiles smiles at him in assurance, "I'm glad it was you."

Theo smiles back, his unease settling at Stiles's words. He twines their pinky fingers, something they've also done countless times before but somehow means differently now. Stiles sighs in contentment, and so does Theo.

When he comes back to school, all eyes are on him. All noses, too, it seems. Stiles expects no less. There aren't many omegas in Beacon Hills and much less in BHHS. In fact, there's only one other currently enrolled. She happens to be in Stiles's year and a werefox like him. And they also have homeroom together.

When Kira enters the room, her eyes immediately find Stiles, and she beams, making her way to him. Everyone's eyes track the progress of her steps, shameless in their gossiping and obvious in their sniffing. Apparently, Stiles and Kira are the hottest topics at school now.

"Hi, Stiles!" She gestures at the seat beside Stiles. "May I sit here?"

Stiles nods eagerly. It's not unsurprising that they instantly fall into a comfortable companionship. Stiles had been Kira's first friend when she first came to BHHS freshman year, helping her figure out her schedule and pointing her in the right directions.

At lunch, Stiles waves at Kira to sit with them. Them being: him, Theo, Scott, and Allison. She comes over smiling, bringing a friend in tow.

"Hey," she greets everyone, high-spirited. She points at the boy behind her. "This is my friend, Isaac. Is it okay if we sit with you, guys?"

Stiles readily scoots to make space, and the two set their trays down. Isaac nods at Theo and Scott. They're teammates in lacrosse, so they're familiar. But while Scott moves to start a friendly conversation, Theo swoops in for his neck.

"So," he starts, unmindful of the pleading expression on Scott's face. "How's Jackson's arm these days?"

Isaac stops short, then shrugs. "We don't hang out much lately."

"Really?" The sarcasm drips from Theo's tone, and Stiles sends him a warning glance. "Weren't you one of his most loyal puppies?"

"Theo," Scott sighs tiredly. It's like they've had the same conversation before.

"Well," Isaac straightens, leveling him with the same look. "Weren't you, too?"

Theo scowls, but before he can retort, Stiles grabs his hand. Theo takes one look at his face, then turns away with a roll in his eyes. He picks up curly fries from Stiles's plate, with Stiles forcing himself not to swat his hand, and opens his phone instead. He keeps Stiles's hand curled against his own and doesn't speak to Isaac the whole lunch period.

Later in the afternoon, Stiles finds Isaac loitering by his Jeep in the parking area, in his lacrosse uniform, clearly waiting for Stiles. The boy lifts his head, likely smelling Stiles, and offers a bashful smile.

"Hey," he says when he's near enough. "What are you doing here?" Stiles asks a little dubiously.

It's not that he doesn't trust Isaac. He's friends with Kira, and Kira is the sweetest girl Stiles knows next to Allison. She wouldn't be comfortable with him if he's still an asshole. But the fact remains that everyone else is in practice, and he's here seeking Stiles out. He can't help but be a little conscious of their privacy. Isaac, after all, used to be one of Jackson's closest friends. He used to laugh along at Jackson's gibes against Stiles. He only distanced himself after Theo left.

Isaac shifts on his feet, not quite meeting Stiles's eyes. "I just- wanna say sorry."

Stiles pauses. "What for?"

He shrugs. "For, you know, teasing you before."

He doesn't expect it, but it feels nice all the same. Stiles nods, smiling. "Yeah, dude. It's all good."

"It's just - I was never a popular kid or anything," he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck with his gaze averted over Stiles's shoulder. "So when Jackson wanted to hang out with me, I thought I had to do everything to keep him around."

Stiles eyes him softly. He's never been this up close to Isaac before, always afraid that he might say something awful. Stiles prefers not to hear what they think about him. But here today, he only looks vulnerable and honest. It's probably the omega in him that wants to console people in distress, even ones that used to cause him anxiety, but he moves forward, a display of trust to Isaac.

He rests a hand on one of his shoulders, drawing Isaac's attention to the touch. "You don't have to explain."

Isaac exhales in relief. "If I could take back all the nasty things I did, I would."

Stiles smiles, "As I said, it's all good. Just don't be a stranger."

Isaac and Stiles end up exchanging phone numbers. He gives Kira's to Stiles, too. They sit together every lunch, and Theo gradually starts talking to Isaac, albeit passive-aggressively. Kira and Stiles grow a sort of bond, being the only omegas in a school full of alphas and betas, and it's all nice, adding two more in Stiles's little group of friends.

Junior year passes. Theo gets into another fight with Jackson, but thankfully, nothing gets broken this time. Scott says Allison's father asked him to go on a hunt with him, which is stellar news for the courting couple because it means they're trusting Scott implicitly to provide for the pack. Kira reveals that she's secretly crushing on Isaac, and Isaac enlists Stiles's help on finally asking Kira out.

"I don't know, Stiles," he says nervously over the phone the evening before the first day of Senior year. "I don't think Mrs. Yukimura likes me that much."

"How can you say so?"

"She gives me the stink eye whenever I come over, and I haven't even hinted at my intention to court Kira."

Stiles snorts, "The stink eye. What are you, twelve?"

Isaac huffs, a little annoyed. "Not everyone's parents play matchmaker like yours and Theo's, you know."

Blushing, Stiles ignores the comment. "Look, stop overthinking. Just do it."

It takes a moment for Isaac to form his reply. When he does, his voice is quiet, "I have nothing to boast. I'm an alpha with no self-confidence. An antithesis to my kind." It's like he doesn't mean to say it out loud when he adds, "My father made sure to beat it all out of me."

Stiles closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. It's a subject they don't talk about. Everyone knows that Isaac's father is in prison for domestic abuse of his son - a result of losing his wife untimely, turning to alcohol to quell his grief, and taking out his anger on their only son. It was a whole commotion in their middle school, just a few months short of Isaac leaving Jackson's group. People gossiped. But since Isaac already established a reputation for being an asshole, nobody dared talk about it. At least, to his face. Isaac moved into his aunt's ever since, who doted on him, but instead of growing out of his shell, he burrowed deeper into it. He maintained the asshole persona, joined the lacrosse team, and pretended nothing could shake him.

He met Kira through her dad in their freshman year. Mr. Yukimura teaches history, and during freshman year, Isaac was the first to receive a detention from him. Isaac sorted through a century's worth of archived international print media, and Kira eagerly jumped in assistance when she came in after her class. Mr. Yukimura invited Isaac to dinner the same night, and it had only been the first of many. He became an almost permanent fixture at the Yukimura's, with Kira's dad taking him as his unofficial student assistant. It gave him so much time to know Kira, grow fond of her, and eventually fall for her.

Even though Isaac doesn't talk about his past abuse, it left a dent in his self-esteem, and it shows. He refers to himself as a dysfunctional alpha because of certain societal stereotypes and unworthy of Kira's attention.

"I'm not good enough for her," Isaac says after a long time of silence.

Stiles replies, "Let her decide for herself. You're a good person, Isaac. Kira knows that. Give it a chance to blossom before you try to kill it."

"Theo's a lucky guy," says Isaac after a second of silence. Before Stiles can ask him what he even means by that, he's already saying his goodbye. "Thank you, Stiles. See you tomorrow."

Stiles spends another minute staring at the ceiling of his room, contemplating Isaac and Kira's mutual feelings for each other and the sure chance that, should things go to plan as they likely will, his friends will officially begin courting. The thought brings a smile to his face.

He's settling into his blanket when he hears it: a soft tapping pattern on his window. He gets up, already knowing who he's going to see on the other side. Theo has knocked on his bedroom window - the one facing the front of the house, not the one overlooking Theo's own bedroom - so many times now that Stiles is in tune with the pattern.

He slides the window open, smiling at the beaming face of his best friend. "I thought you guys were doing a family thing?"

Tara is home from college. After tonight's dinner at the Raekens, one which Stiles spent talking to Tara about the ending of The Fox Prince even though they'd already freaked out to each other on Skype the week of the release, Theo understandably cancels their evening stroll in the creek. They are taking Tara out because she's only staying for a few days.

"We just got back," Theo helps Stiles climb out the window and onto the terrace roof.

When they are seated, facing the full moon, Theo says, "I gotta give you something," and takes out a small velvet box from his pocket.

Stiles looks at the box, stunned. The logo at the top makes his mouth drop open, gasping, "It's The Fox Prince limited edition collectible ring set!" Stiles takes the box from Theo with the utmost gentleness, as if the wrong brush of his finger will dissolve it into a mist. "Oh my god!" he exclaims, turning to Theo with shining eyes. "Did Tara give this to you?"

Theo pauses, but Stiles is too busy admiring the box to notice. Instead of answering, Theo nudges Stiles's shoulder, "Open it."

Stiles looks at him again, astonished, and nods. Carefully, he opens the ring box and squeals in excitement at the sight of two gold bands, genuine 18 karat gold bands, that he only ever fantasized about while reading the manga. Now he's holding the impression marriage rings of his most favorite fictional couple.

Theo takes the band with the symbol Ω and takes Stiles's left hand. Stiles watches in awe as Theo smoothly slides the ring to his pale finger, the exact size for it, and drops a featherlight kiss on his knuckles.

Stiles admires the ring as it glows under the moonlight. "It's so beautiful." After a few more seconds, Stiles moves to take it off, but Theo stops him, confused.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking it off," replies Stiles, also confused.

Theo frowns, "I thought you liked it."

"I do!" Stiles hastily affirms. "But if it's Tara's-"

"It's yours," Theo cuts him off, rolling his eyes. "I put it on your finger."

"But-"

Theo abruptly interrupts his protest. "Stiles," he intones his name a little exasperatedly. "Remove it only if you don't want it."

Stiles hesitates, stares at the perfectly-sized ring around his finger, and chooses to indulge. He's wearing the promise of commitment of the Wolf Knight to the Fox Prince. It only took them years to arrive at that moment.

Picking up the box from his lap, he plucks the second gold band, one marked with Α, and smirks playfully at his best friend. "So I take it you want to be my Wolf Knight," he jokes. "You didn't have to beat me up after all."

"I want to be," Theo replies seriously. "If you will allow me."

Stiles shivers slightly from the night air, mostly from the look in Theo's eyes.

He swallows, reaching for Theo's hand. He slides the ring into his finger, and it fits. Stiles can't believe their luck. The rings fit exactly like they're made for them. They fit perfectly like Stiles sometimes thinks he fits perfectly with Theo.

This childhood crush is going to be the death of him.

Or maybe his obliviousness will. And Theo's temper.

It crashes a month into Senior year. Isaac ended up not confessing his intentions of courting Kira the night before Senior year, and both he and Kira are getting frustrated, and by extension, Stiles. The scent is all he can smell from them whenever Stiles is around one or both of them. He takes to spending more time talking Isaac out of his nerves - at school, during track practice together (because Isaac also does track on top of lacrosse), over the phone, even during the weekend. And Kira, too, to listen to her wax poetry about Isaac's blue eyes and blond curls. And how she's sure he feels the same, but he looks away when she thinks they're gaining progress, and she's back to square one.

Ultimately, Stiles has Isaac writing his confession if talking isn't cutting it. Isaac cocks his head thoughtfully, then nods and writes a whole freaking narrative poetry or something. It's so well constructed, all of his thoughts flowing smoothly like the water in the Preserve creek, and Stiles is dumbstruck. They should've done this a long time ago.

He keeps the draft of Isaac's letter, thinking about framing it for his friends' first wedding anniversary in the future, and of course, Theo finds it.

And he absolutely flips.

Stiles can't believe his luck.

"We're you ever going to tell me?" Theo growls in anger, knuckles white on the steering wheel, eyes red as he drives home.

Stiles can't help but whimper. The scent of Theo's fury is sharp against his nostrils, and it hurts. He wants to reach out and appease the alpha, but he's also upset for being yelled at for no reason. His eyes sting with tears threatening to spill any second. He holds onto his own keys, his Jeep abandoned in the school parking lot, and snaps back.

"Tell you what?"

Theo growls again, pressing the car horn hard, the opposing cars veering away in alarm, and bares his fangs at the road. The veins in his arm and neck stick out prominent, and Stiles really sees the physical difference between an alpha and omega. Stiles has always been taller than Theo. His long, lithe, agile legs are the most remarkable features, the apotheosis of a werefox. But while he's always been lean in structure from the omega gene, Theo is broad, strong, and imposing. He loves it about Theo. So Stiles hates that it's scaring him now.

"That you were courting with someone else!"

"I'm not!"

Theo's eyes flash, "I saw Isaac's confession, Stiles. Don't lie to me!" He doesn't give Stiles a chance to speak, to correct his assumption, because he continues, still as livid, but the hurt is also bleeding in his voice. "How are you still wearing my ring if you're breaking intentions with me?"

Stiles is gobsmacked, "Breaking intentions- what?"

"His scent is all over you, fuck!" He swears, turning to their block with a hard turn. He grits his teeth, jaw clenching tight. "How could I be so stupid?"

When Theo screeches to a stop in Stiles's gate, Stiles hurries to get off his truck. The atmosphere inside is suffocating. "Yes!" He cries indignantly. "The confession was for Kira if you cared to read the entire letter before going feral on me. So, yes, how could you be so stupid?"

Stiles slams the door of Theo's truck, the gate, the front door, and the door to his room. He slams his windows shut, both of it, rolls the blinds down because Theo will try to reach out, and Stiles just doesn't have it in him to deal with him right now.

He refuses to go down to dinner, telling his mother to absolutely not let Theo in no matter what he says. Scott drives his Jeep home with the spare key but doesn't ask to talk to him. Scott shoots Stiles a message instead, telling him to call whenever he can. His dad knocks on his door, asking if he needs to snap someone's neck off.

"It's just a misunderstanding, dad," he says weakly.

"You're not eating dinner or going out of your room because of a misunderstanding?"

Stiles sighs, deep-set. "It's a really crap misunderstanding."

His dad also sighs behind the door, "All right. Tell us if you need anything, okay?" He walks away, leaving Stiles to his thoughts.

He's staring at his ring, replaying the conversation in the car again and again, when he hears the faint rhythm of Theo's rapping on his window. He sighs.

"You don't have to let me in, or say anything, or even listen to me," Theo says to begin, sobered up and apologetic. The scent of remorse pouring out of Theo is evident even with the wall barricading them. Stiles hears rustling and the sound of Theo's back thudding against his windowpane. "I just- want you to know I'm sorry."

His heart has always been soft for Theo. He could never resist him when they were boys, and he doesn't know how to start doing it now. Stiles seeks him out, missing him when they're apart for an indefinite amount of time. It's not because he's an alpha or Stiles's best friend. He has two of those. But his affection for Theo is for a different reason.

Theo heaves a deep breath, "I acted terribly out of line."

Stiles throws his blanket aside and gets to his feet. Theo momentarily falters, startled by the sound of Stiles's movement. Stiles imagines him straining his ear, trying to determine whether Stiles is moving closer or away. As Stiles takes his steps toward the window, Theo's heartbeat steadily grows louder and faster, matching Stiles's own. They'd always been perfectly synchronized, now that Stiles thinks about it.

He stops, right by where Theo's sitting. Stiles waits until Theo speaks again.

"I was jealous," Theo admits, voice tinged with embarrassment. "It's not an excuse, but it's the truth. I knew you were friendly with Isaac, and that's fine. But I started catching his scent on you even when he's not around. It drove me insane. The letter was the last straw."

"It wasn't for me," says Stiles quietly.

Theo sighs, swallowing. His head thuds softly against the pane. "I know that now. I was hasty to think of the worst. I just- I was scared."

Stiles takes one more step, putting him right against the window. He places a hand over the blinds and imagines touching Theo's back without the barrier between them. He looks at his ringed finger and says, "You don't have to be. Scared, I mean."

Theo holds his breath in reply.

Stiles rolls up the blinds, revealing Theo, who shifts to face him immediately. Their eyes meet; Theo hopeful and Stiles in wonder.

He lifts his window and leans over the sill. They stare at each other for a few more, Theo not moving further before Stiles finally asks the question he's been longing to ask. "Do you really want to be my Wolf Knight? Like, for real?"

Theo answers without missing a beat. "Since we were twelve."

Stiles is stunned. He gestures at their ringed fingers, "So- the rings-"

"Aren't Tara's," Theo finishes for him. "I've been saving to buy an actual ring since we were fifteen. It's by chance that your favorite book sells an actual pair of gold promise bands. I asked Tara to buy them in Los Angeles before she came home."

Stiles can't believe his ears right now. All this time?

Faintly, he asks. "The treehouse?"

Theo nods, "Is for you. It's an experimental project for when I give you the real thing."

It's taking everything in Stiles not to tear up right now. It's so… romantic, damn it. He wishes he could bottle up this moment to visit it, over and over again. He only ever felt this while reading The Fox Prince.

Stiles moves first, reaching out to curl a hand at the back of Theo's neck. Theo follows his beckoning, crouching low and drawing near until their foreheads are touching and their breaths mingling.

"You have me at day one," Stiles confesses. Theo cups his neck as well, tracing patterns against the moles of Stiles's skin, his own ring glinting in the night light. Stiles grins, "So, all right," Theo's face breaks into a blinding smile of his own. "I'll be your Fox Prince. For real."

Theo closes their distance, and they kiss, the first of many they will share. And it's gentle, no more than a pressing of the lips, but it's a vow. And, god, will they make good of it.

***

v. take me back to the time when we walked down the aisle

Stiles can't believe his luck.

After that first kiss on the window of Stiles's room, Theo officially asks Stiles's parents for their blessing to court him. Their dads shake each other's hands, joking for old time's sake.

"I always said they looked good together, Noah."

"And I always said I would love to have Theo as my son-in-law, Rick."

Their mothers are absolutely delighted with the news, smacking kisses all over their faces.

"My baby," Theo's mom coos, "Not a baby anymore."

Theo groans but doesn't pull away from her.

Claudia cups Stiles's face and whispers so no one else hears. "I'm glad it's Theo."

"Me too, mom." Stiles laughs. "God, me too."

The news quickly spread around the school. After all, the only two omegas in attendance are both exclusively courting almost at the same time. Isaac's letter worked. And though he almost shit himself while revealing his intentions to Mrs. Yukimura, she accepted. With no ounce of doubt that her only daughter is in good hands.

Jackson walks up to Stiles in the cafeteria. Theo moves to intercept him, but Stiles stops him with a hand to his chest. Jackson looks reluctant, but he forces himself to smirk.

"Congratulations, Stilinski," he says. "Although, I think you could do better than Raeken."

Theo growls in warning, and Scott sighs exasperatedly like they've had this conversation before. "Jackson,"

Jackson pays him no mind, slipping his gaze to Theo. He casually shrugs, "You couldn't have run fast enough, anyway. He was always going to catch you."

He backs away, nodding one last time at Stiles. "Have a good life, Stilinski." Then he walks back to his own table and kisses Lydia in the mouth. Their eyes briefly meet over Jackson's shoulder, and she, too, smirks before giving her full attention and brightest smile to Jackson.

It's the closest thing to an apology Stiles could get from Jackson. It's good enough.

Senior year passes by in a blur. Lacrosse finals find BHHS winning against Devenford Prep for the first time in many years. Stiles says goodbye to the track team and grimaces his way through Coach Finstock's speech about how the losers left on the team better start watching werefox documentaries to learn how to match up to the speed of one. Prom comes and goes. A whirlwind of college acceptance letters, and then graduation.

Stiles and Theo work through a long-distance relationship. With Theo attending UCLA - where Tara is taking her graduate studies - to study architecture and Stiles attending a pre-FBI program in Quantico while gearing up for criminology. It's both a surprise and not. Stiles has always admired the work of his father, appreciates law enforcement. And though he never particularly voiced his desire to follow the same steps, his parents support his decision. And so does Theo.

They communicate a lot, but it unavoidably almost fractures their relationship the first year apart. The end of the second year finds them agreeing to take a break from the courting without fully being uncommitted. Stiles struggles the first half of the third year, missing Theo so much and worrying about him finding someone else in his absence. When they come home for Christmas break during the fourth year, Theo drives Stiles up to the Preserve creek.

They sit on the tailgate of Theo's old truck, flushed against each other, their pinky fingers twining in between them. Stiles can feel Theo's Wolf Knight band against his finger and smiles to himself. After they broke up, they never talked about returning or removing the rings. It was to stay true to the plan to pick up their relationship when time allows them a better chance.

Theo hops off the truck, Stiles tracking his movements like he always does. Theo rolls his pant hems up and steps into the flowing water, picking a handful of pebbles and throwing them one by one back a little further.

"You'll be staying in Virginia after graduation, right?" Theo asks suddenly.

Stiles's mouth opens in surprise, hesitates, closes again. Then he clears his throat, "Yeah," he replies tentatively. "How did you know?"

"Your dad told me," Theo admits without breaking his pace.

Stiles sighs. He says weakly, "I was going to tell you."

No answer.

"It's only for a couple of years," he adds abruptly. "Scott's dad, he's an agent, put in a recommendation, and his seniors are recruiting me into the Bureau after my final exams. And they'll be assigning me specifically to the Omega Special Task Force. I just- think I'll do a really great job specializing the omega cases." he finishes, voice getting quieter in the last few words.

Theo stops, turns to Stiles, smiling faintly. "I'm sure you'll be one of the best."

"Are you- " Stiles pauses, dreading the answer to his next question. It's only been companionable thus far, but this crucial discussion about their relationship is always going to come. "Are you upset? Do you want to... terminate our commitment? For real?"

Theo gets off the water, drops all the remaining pebbles with a splash save for one, and walks into Stiles's space without hesitation. He pushes the pebble into Stiles's palm - another heart-shaped one would you look at that - and takes Stiles's face in between his hands. Their gazes lock, and he says, "My love is not fragile, Stiles. It can wait."

Stiles's breath catches. They have never used the word love in their relationship before. But after all this time, he knows what they have is that. He closes his hand tightly around the pebble.

"I love you, too," Stiles whispers.

Theo smiles wide, "Just think of this like that time the Fox Prince and his Wolf Knight had to part to work on making themselves ready, their warring clans consumed by old vendetta ready, for when they fall back together."

They drive back home more faithful of their bond that by the time Christmas and New Year are over, Theo drives Stiles to the airport without the anxiety of separation but the anticipation of seeing each other again.

Two years fly by quickly. They see each other twice in that period: once when Theo and Stiles's parents visit him together. And the other when Theo visits him alone.

They talk through Skype and Facetime and the old school phone call, sometimes with their other friends, too. About what they've been up to, their work, their plans. Theo's been busy; overseeing a project for the past year now, but he says it's almost through. He tells Stiles that he can show it when he comes home for Christmas - two years from the first Christmas when they said their first 'I love you'.

Theo picks him up at the airport, and Stiles launches straight into his arms. He nuzzles Theo's neck, practically inhaling the scent he's yearned for so much, mumbling how much he misses him and pulls him into a passionate kiss right there in the crowded arrival area.

Stiles's parents host the Christmas dinner with the assistance of Theo's parents. Tara comes home, a beta boyfriend named Jordan in tow, who's, coincidentally, Sheriff Stilinski's newest deputy. Melissa comes over with Scott and Allison. Isaac and Kira, too, who's four months pregnant with their first child. When it's time for the presents, Theo leans into Stiles and whispers in his ear that his gift is outside.

Everyone shuffles to the backyard, and Stiles gasps when he sees it: a bed of the first edition copies of The Fox Prince - all 365 of them - lying on the grass in the shape of a heart, surrounded by candles and a smattering of rose petals. Theo moves forward, handing one to Stiles, open to a specific page. Stiles can suddenly hear his heart thundering in his ears because he thinks he knows what he will see when he looks down.

"Spend the rest of your life with me, my Fox Prince."

"My afterlife is yours as well, my Wolf Knight."

Stiles's mother starts to weep behind him, his dad consoling her. Kira is crying, too, full-on sobbing in Isaac's chest. Pregnancy hormones, she will say later. Scott looks like he's close to losing it, too. After all, they're his best friends. And this is a long time coming.

Theo takes Stiles's hand in his, caressing the ring on his finger, the one he slipped into Stiles many years ago.

"Spend the rest of your life with me, my Fox Prince," he says.

Stiles's throat closes up, his eyes welling up in tears. "My afterlife is yours as well," he replies in kind, voice hitching. "My Wolf Knight."

***

vi. take me home where we met so many years before

"Almost there," Theo says, guiding a blindfolded Stiles to the backyard of his childhood home.

Stiles chuckles, holding onto Theo's hand. "Where are you taking me?"

Theo snorts, "Yeah, it's not like you don't have these directions memorized by now."

"Right, okay," concedes Stiles. "So we're going to the treehouse," Stiles laughs, stumbling a little and Theo catching him immediately. "But why?"

"I told you, my wedding gift to you is in there."

"I'm really starting to feel insufficient," Stiles mutters in a half-assed complaint. "First, you give me a real-life 18 karat omega gold ring from my favorite manga's limited collectible items - when you were seventeen. Then you buy me the entire first edition collection of said manga, which, by the way, I'm still not convinced that you got on e-Bay." Stiles practically hears Theo's eyes rolling. "And now, you have this mysterious wedding gift that took you a while, and probably a lot of money, to acquire. But then there's me. Aside from my lifelong devotion and virginity, I gave you nothing on par with what you've given to me."

They stop, Theo taking off his blindfold. Stiles blinks, mouth falling open at the sight of pictures and hanging lights adorning the outside of the treehouse, like a waterfall of stars and memories.

Stiles climbs the same rickety ladder, almost brains himself from the same protruding nail by the door, they have to crouch low to fit inside, the wood planks are old and creaky, and the window is slightly smaller than Stiles's head now. The space is clear save for Stiles's old mini bookshelf full of werewolf and werefox tales, the blue paint is faded, but the branches are still mindfully trimmed for the stars to be visible through the same skylight of their childhood. Stiles thinks it's even more amazing now with the years of memories it holds.

In the center, where the pictures and hanging lights cascade more densely, is a velvet box.

Stiles laughs from inexplicable joy. "I'm already married to you. Why are you still gifting me more rings?"

Theo nudges him forward, "Open it."

Stiles kneels, takes the box, and opens it.

"A key?" He turns to Theo, curious. "A key to what?"

Theo smiles his little lopsided one that always makes Stiles's heart tumble. "To the palace that the Wolf Knight built for his Fox Prince."

Stiles stops short, eyes widening. The project that Theo's been working on for close to two years now, that he's very secretive about. It makes sense now. Stiles almost investigated but reckons Theo will tell him in time. And finally, the key to that pet project is in Stiles's hands.

"Someone told me before that omegas create the den," Theo adds, kneeling in after Stiles. He wipes the wayward tear that escapes Stiles's eye. "And you're wrong, you know. You give me everything I need. I can't wait for you to turn our house into a home."

Stiles sniffles, shaking his head. "I don't deserve you."

"You deserve the world," corrects Theo.

And, oh, Stiles can't believe his luck.

***

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 7

Hemorrhage 

Cult girl visits the doctor and deals with the reality of being pregnant.

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warnings: pregnancy, scary medical terminology, mention of alcoholism

The plan was simple, but could go wrong at any turn.

Step one: confirm with the gynecologist that you were, in fact, pregnant. While you were there, you made sure to get a new prescription for birth control.

"It's absolutely certain." The nurse midwife said, pulling off her plastic gloves. "You are, without a doubt, expecting."

"Thank you." You responded, lowering your head to obscure your face.

She sat down in her swivel chair and leaned forward with her elbows against her knees. Open, comforting body language. "Now we should discuss what's next. Have you taken some time to consider your options?"

You nodded. "I think I'm going to see the pregnancy through and put the baby up for adoption."

"I see." The nurse midwife stood up, looking concerned. "At the risk of being intrusive, may I ask for the reason why?"

You had forty-five million reasons, but none you could articulate. "I'd rather you not."

"Let me rephrase the question." She clutched her clipboard. "Is somebody coercing you into carrying out this pregnancy against your will?"

Does bribery count as coercion? You thought.

"No." You lied.

"It's just that pregnancy is a very invasive, life-altering process." She rationalized. "A woman at your stage of life shouldn't feel obligated to go through it unless she really wanted to."

Thinking on it for a minute, what she said made sense. By all accounts, you'd be the perfect candidate for an abortion. You were a damned doctoral candidate in the middle of your graduate program. But sometimes, money spoke louder than reason.

"I'm sure." You said, before you could change your mind.

"In that case," She scribbled something down on her paper. "We will be seeing a lot of each other over the next forty weeks."

"Forty weeks?" You repeated.

"You're only a few weeks along, so we'll schedule an appointment to check up on you early next month." She continued. "At that point, we can bring the father in to discuss any potential problems. But you're young and healthy, so this should be a fairly low-risk pregnancy."

"The father?" You said, almost making it sound like an objection.

She gave you a disarming smile. "I'm sorry, I should have asked. Is the father in your life?"

"Oh, yeah." You nodded, realizing what you accidentally implied. "It's my fiancée. We've been living together for, like, three years now. It's just that-"

She raised an eyebrow, urging you to finish your thought.

"He's also a doctor." You said. "A male one. Y'know how it can be annoying when another doctor is in the room, trying to mansplain everything to you?"

You stopped talking before you could dig yourself into a deeper hole.

Great work, [F/N]. You thought. Now your doctor thinks you're dating an anti-choice chauvinist asshole.

Her mouth turned into a smile, but her eyes asked if you needed help. You probably did, all things considered.

"That won't be a problem." She assured you. "Do you think I made it through medical school without learning how to handle sexist male doctors?"

"I guess not." You shrugged.

She cleared her throat. "Let's talk a bit about what to expect."

"Oh, yeah." You said, remembering where you were.

She pointed to your lower abdomen. "Your uterus is about the size of your fist. But as the baby grows, it will grow with it."

You made noises of agreement as you followed along.

"Right now, what you have inside you is an embryo." She explained. "At the end of twelve weeks, it will be a fetus. At that point, most of the major organs and muscle tissue will have developed-"

She dumped so much information that you couldn't even begin to process it all. You tried to keep bullet points in your head, but your brain kept fixating on the scary verbs like "stretch" and "rip".

"Is the third of February good for you?"

You snapped back to reality. "Huh? Oh, yeah."

"Great." She scribbled on her clipboard again. "I will see you then."

She shoved several handfuls of colorful printouts and infographics into your arms before seeing you out.

Before climbing into the car, you sent Hannibal a text.

[F/N]: Definitely, 100% pregnant.

You expected him to take his time, but your notification sound chimed before you could even start the engine.

Hannibal: That is to be expected. I'm rarely wrong about this sort of thing.

You rolled your eyes and fired off another message.

[F/N]: You did this to me and I'll never let you forget it.

Hannibal: I could live with that.

At home, you sat at your computer, trying to familiarize yourself with every unknown word the nurse midwife threw at you. 

“Hey babe?” You called out. 

“Yes, dear?” Hannibal cooed back. 

“How do you spell ‘hemorrhage’?” You asked. “Is there an ‘ae’ or not?” 

Hannibal stepped out of the bathroom, wearing a towel around his waist. “I think it’s spelled with an ‘ae’ outside of the United States. Why?” 

He peered over your shoulder at the search results for ‘antepartum hemorrhage’. He wasn’t fazed in the slightest by the results, but could sense your discomfort. You clutched a stray pamphlet titled ‘First Trimester Dos and Don’ts’ in a tight grip. 

“Are we having second thoughts, my love?” He asked, with no indication of whether this was a good or bad thing. 

“I don’t know.” You sighed, closing the laptop in frustration. “I don’t know if I’m just emotionally numb or in complete denial, but all these scary medical disasters don’t scare me as much as having to give up wine for the next nine months.” 

“And sushi, most organ meat, and charcuterie.” Hannibal added. “Also, anything too high in caffeine.” 

You threw your head back and groaned. “Kill me.” 

Hannibal smirked to himself. You turned on your swivel chair and glared up at him. 

“Enjoying my misery?” You asked, folding your arms. 

“Just admiring the fact that in the face of life-threatening medical emergencies,” He placed his hands on your shoulders. “Your biggest concern is not being able to partake in the culinary adventures to which you’ve grown accustomed.” 

You turned back to your computer. “I’m sure, one way or another, we’re going to come across some fresh meat. I’ll just have to pair it with Sprite or something for the time being.” 

“The infographic doesn’t say anything about properly-prepared human meat, does it?” He tilted his head. 

You leaned back in your chair. “Nope.”