#like I have been allison all my goddamn life

[descended-from-aesthetics]

Tag Dump 1

[patolemus]

Uuuuuh here's my take on a Teen Wolf movie fix-it, because god do we deserve it.

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

“Stiles, think of her father! He finally has her back!”

“Think of his son! Scott, he’s a child,” Stiles’ voice breaks as he thinks of Eli, young and alone after losing his only parent. He thinks of himself, and who he might have been had he lost his dad at Eli’s age.

Mostly, he thinks of Derek. Selfless, martyr, stupid Derek who still thought he was disposable after all these years, after raising a son and settling down and getting the quiet life he always wanted. Stiles thinks of Derek, and he feels himself falling apart at the seams because why is it that life still likes to punish kind, battered souls like Derek Hale’s? Why couldn’t it decide that he’d had enough, why did it have to kill him before letting him rest?

Stiles can’t accept it. He won’t accept it. He’s going to bring Derek back from whatever kind of shit afterlife he’s in, and he’s going to force him to live out his quiet life with his son if it’s the last goddamn thing Stiles ever does. That is the only ending he’ll accept for this beautiful, broken man.

Fuck everyone who wants to stop him.

“Stiles, he’s gone. You can’t— he’s gone,” Scott says, voice softening, obviously trying to be placating. Stiles doesn’t care for it.

“You can keep your head in fucking Allison land all you want, Scott. Get your child bride, fuck off back to wherever it is you left Beacon Hills for. But don’t you dare tell me what I can and cannot do. If you want to keep her, you’ll do it far, far away from here,” and Stiles thinks maybe this is the moment Scott finally gets it. That he is not the same boy who left after high school graduation. Whatever soft spot Stiles had for Scott is gone, went away with time and therapy and the realization that Scott would never care for him the way Stiles did for him, that he was kept close for his usefulness until it ran out and he became disposable.

So yeah, Scott can keep Allison. Stiles will be happy for him, even. But if he dares interfere with his own plans, Stiles will put them both in the ground himself.

It’s not like it’d be the first time he’s done so.

[sharkneto]

Life's been crazy busy, but it's been too long since I shared any writing. Some WIP sharing has been going around, so I'll jump on the bandwagon. It's not a WIP, actually (I lied), but it is a "deleted scene" of sorts from my fic Holding It Together. To set the scene, the Hargreeves are killing time while the Fives (+Sarah) are working to figure out where Five's math went wrong---

“—that doesn’t even make sense. No, I’m right,” Diego complains, frowning at Klaus next to him at the counter. Viktor shrugs, exchanging a glance with Allison beside him as they lean against a cupboard. Movement in the corner of his eye catches his attention and he spots Number starting to step into the kitchen, see they’re in the middle of an argument, and retreat.

Klaus catches him, too. “Number, Number, Number!” he calls, waving his hands for their not-brother to join them, leaning precariously off his stool. Luther shifts in his chair at the table, an aborted move to catch him if he fell off. 

It’s a long second as they watch Number decide if he wants to get in the middle of their discussion. Klaus keeps waving his hand, smile plastered on his face. Number sighs and enters, slipping past Allison and Viktor to get to the sink. His attention pauses at the beers they’re all nursing, a pointed noting of each one they’re holding, before he makes it to the corner to get a glass out of the cupboard to fill with water. “What,” he says, wary.

“Perfect timing,” Klaus says. “Important question for you.”

Number finishes filling his glass and turns to face them all. He raises one unimpressed eyebrow. Viktor smiles at the familiar expression.

“If you were an animal, what animal would you be?”

Number blinks, as if waiting for there to be more. Then he asks, “What?”

“If you were an animal, what you would be?” Klaus repeats. He folds his hands in front of him to wait patiently.

Number’s face twitches. “What animal would I be.”

“Yes! Like, like, like, me,” Klaus splays his hands against his chest, “I’m a flamingo.”

“A… flamingo.” His voice is so flat.

“Yes! One of those ones in gardens.”

“Made of plastic?”

“Yes! I’m eternal.”

Number’s expression pinches as he processes that, but it’s fond.

Klaus waves a hand at him again. “Now it’s your turn.”

He considers them all, back to unimpressed, before he says, “No.”

“No?” Klaus starts to pout, exaggerated and off-putting.

“No,” Number repeats. He starts to move towards the door. “This is so stupid. This is really what you’re all in here arguing about? We’re in the other room trying to fix time and space and you’re talking about animals?”

Viktor shrugs again, an idea to get Number to play forming. “Diego is a wolf, according to him.”

“I am a wolf!” Diego defends.

They ignore him. Viktor continues, nonchalant as he can while cornering Number, “And that’s exactly what Five said, too.”

Number stiffens. “You asked him?”

“Yeah, when he came through a little bit ago. He said this was stupid and wasn’t going to do it, either.”

His jaw shifts. His gaze flicks to the door. His shoulders slump slightly. He rolls his eyes and lets out a sigh, but he stays, leaning back on the sink again. Viktor tries to clamp down on his smile, the corner of his mouth still twitching up. Luther catches his eye and raises an eyebrow – he’s impressed. Viktor’s lips curl more.

It’s quiet for a long second.

“Well?” Allison asks.

“I have to think of a goddamn animal,” Number complains, focus on the middle of the floor while he thinks, one hand in his pocket while the other holds his forgotten water glass.

The siblings exchange a smile – Number might think it’s stupid, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to give a stupid answer. It’s very Five.

Viktor is pleased with himself. He knew that would work. Five actually had played along after similar grumbling, although he’d had a quicker response (“Fine, I’ll play. Uhh… A cockroach, I’d be a cockroach. There. Happy? I have math to do.”) and left before they could talk to him about it. They’d moved on to Diego rather than sit in the weight of that answer.

Diego leans to Klaus and Viktor only hears his whispered, “Bet he picks the same thing as the old man?” thanks to his super-hearing. Klaus frowns minutely and shakes his head.

“Twenty bucks he picks something else,” he whispers back. They quietly shake on it.

Viktor smiles to himself – he’s pretty sure neither of them currently has twenty bucks. They’re all strapped for cash and are relying heavily on the Walters’ generosity.

After a minute of thought and when the siblings are starting to get impatient, Number announces, “Crow.”

There’s another flurry of exchanged looks – none of them had expected that.

“A crow?” Luther asks.

“Yep. Good?” He starts to leave again.

“Why?” Diego asks.

Number stops again. “Crow. They’re smart, problem solvers, inquisitive, ingenious. Good memory, they hold grudges. It fits.” He shrugs. Because he’s a Five, he doesn’t try to play off any of his explanation with a humble smile or laugh. He means it. The only hint of self-deprecation he has for any of this is around that he’s playing the game with them, although they can tell he’s pleased with his answer.

Klaus tilts his head, considering the answer. “They’re really family-oriented, too, aren’t they. With their murders.”

Number’s expression blanks as the siblings start to grin.

“Crow does fit, then,” Diego teases.

“Are we your murder, Numerino?” Klaus asks, pouting again for effect.

Number has hunched in on himself a little. “No,” he says, too defensive. “I gave you my answer, I gave you my reasons, I’m not responsible for things I didn’t know about fucking crows.”

Luther speaks up from behind Diego and Klaus, “You can just love us, Number. We love you, too. Even the us here.”

“Yeah,” Viktor adds. “It’s hard for it to not fit when we know the other you survived the literal apocalypse because he loved us so much.”

Number hunches further. His ears are just barely turning pink. He pulls on a sharp, aggressive smile. “Look. Your game is stupid, I gave you an answer, you are free to nitpick and not like it all you want. Not my problem.” He looks at them all, ending at Klaus. “And if you’re going to have a problem with anyone’s answer, it should be Klaus. A fucking flamingo? He’s obviously a raccoon. This game is idiotic but if you’re doing it, at least do it right.” And with that, he’s gone with a flash and a whumpf. They hear Sarah’s quiet greeting as he reappears in the living room.

They all sit for a second, staring at the spot Number used to be.

Then Allison leaks a small laugh. “I forgot he used to win arguments like that. I can’t believe he still does. He’s twenty-three, right?”

Luther smiles with her. “Can’t lose if the other person can’t make a counterpoint. I think the last time he did that with me was…” He trails off, smile slipping.

They all know what the last time was, seventeen years ago.

It was about time travel.

“A crow and a cockroach,” Viktor says eventually. “I wish Five had said crow, cockroach is depressing.”

“It kinda fits…” Diego says, point trailing off as they all give him a look.

Klaus asks, “Does Five know what crows are?”

“Fei had a whole bunch back in the Sparrow timeline,” Luther points out.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Klaus says, waving that away with a hand, “but does he know about crows. That they’re – what did Number say? – smart, problem solvers, inquisitive, ingenious, and murder oriented. Shit, I bet Five doesn’t know enough animals to pick a good one.”

Luther sighs. “And we know he does really know cockroaches.”

It’s an awkward beat as they all involuntarily think about how many cockroaches Five must have eaten in his life.

“We could ask…” Viktor stops as he realizes how stupid this question he’s about to ask is, but he commits anyway. “Ask if he wants to be a crow instead?”

“Ask Five if he wants his animal to be a crow instead of a cockroach for a game he already thinks is dumb. And is actually dumb,” Diego deadpans.

“He probably wouldn’t want to be a crow because Number said it, anyway,” Allison saves.

They at least can smile at one another over the Fives’ forever grudge against one another.

“Man,” Klaus sighs. “Maybe I am actually a raccoon.”

Luther glances at him. “They do have the little… hands.” He moves one of his huge hands in a pinching motion that might be supposed to evoke the tiny grabbing hands of a raccoon.

Diego gives a noncommittal shrug.

Viktor stares at them all and shakes his head, although he’s smiling. “The Fives were right, this is really stupid.”

Allison gives him a sideways look. “What else do we have to do until Five figures out how to get us home?”

“Good point.”

“So,” Klaus says, clapping his hands, “I think that brings us to dear Allison. I’m feeling… a bird for you.”

Her gaze cools as her attention snaps to him. “If you’re saying that only because of my power, I’m going to make you walk outside and stand in the snow until you think of something better.”

“It was just a starting point!”

[teamjacobthot]

(Ik we’re not at this point in your story, but in regards to canon world) what do you think sam’s mom thinks about the whole Leah/Sam/Emily situation? I feel like she would probably think he kinda turned out like his dad in a way(womanizing/abandoning). Also how do you feel about Emily still asking Leah to be the MOH 😐😐. Like obviously she accepted knowing the truth, but when I interpret it from canon it just feels like a big part of the reason is Leah feels like she has something to prove (tough enough). (Canon) Leah’s better than me, I wouldn’t even knowing the truth. too much pain and not a good way to try to move on imo.

first of all, I am so sorry I took this long to respond to your ask. I've been going through it lately. but second of all, thank you sending this!! I love getting asks abt Leah! and Sam! and Emily!! and any combination of the three!!!!

I def think Sam's mom was initially disgusted to see the similarities between her son and his deadbeat father. I'm not gonna lie, I have not done the best w writing Allison Uley in Nyctophobia so far. like I only know how to confidently write one type of mom, and that's Sue lol. but I do have plans for Leah and her to potentially have a little chat w Allison when Sam disappears. but also Sam's whole point to living lowkey, in my fic, is to be the opposite of his dad (a mild Lip Gallagher tea, if you will), so I think it'd make sense for Leah to defend him. but yeah no I def think Allison was shaking her head when it all went down.

regarding Emily, I maintain, to this DAY, that she was out of her goddamn mind to ask Leah to be the maid of honor in her wedding to SAM. smeyer threw that lil detail in to be cutesy-bootsy and dramatic, but like, in real life, I can't see how that would fly. like ever. especially without a world-class ass beating ensuing. in canon, iirc, Leah and Sam were broken up for a lil while before Em asked her. but that really doesn't matter to me, especially when the wound is CLEARLY still fresh in Leah's mind (word to the pack mind for Sam knowing exactly how Lee-Lee feels abt it everytime she looks at him) and Leah has. not. moved. on. it's cruel for Emily to even entertain that idea imo, esp while Leah very clearly hates her life and is still so upset over what happened. like that's just rude. Em could have gotten with Sam and then waited a couple years to ask Leah to be her maid of honor, and that would still be wildly out of pocket to me, given the circumstances.

I could imagine Em having a crumb of decorum asking Lee to be MOH at least 5-7 years after the whole imprinting thing, once Leah is definitely moved on and has a new partner and blah blah blah, but like....... Em was still nuts for that shit. getting with your best friend's ex under any circumstances is grounds for a terminated relationship. and Leah is better than me as well bc wtf do you mean you want me to be the maid of honor when you're on my ex's dick? honor these hands bitch!

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

I’m rewatching the teen wolf movie bc I hate myself and here are some of my thoughts:

First of all, I love the show. I started watching it from the very first episode way back in 2011. I was 15. And I was immediately in love / obsessed with the show. I’m 28 now and I still love it. But this movie is heinous. It’s a disservice to the characters, the actors, and the fans. I still wear my BHHS lacrosse sweatshirt proudly, but goddamn this movie is bad. If anyone cares, my feelings and thoughts are below 🐺

Did they think that we didn’t know who the guy in the black hood was? did they think we couldn’t tell? Did they think that we didn’t know it was Harris? In his first scene, they showed only the bottom half of his face- and it’s so obviously Harris. Then he starts talking, and it’s SO OBVIOUSLY HARRIS. Like did they think it was going to be a big surprise? Did they think it was a reveal??? At least change his voice a little or SOMETHING. Be so fr. When I watched it the first time, he was standing there in his very first scene and I said “oh, Mr Harris is back”. And then at the end they acted like it was some sort of reveal? I know that characters didn’t know, but it was extremely obvious to the viewer.

Why did Scott not become a vet? He deserved to be a vet!!!

Why tf does Derek own a garage? And he’s also an arson investigator? And he has a son?? This man’s like makes no sense. Who tf is his son’s mother? Why don’t they reference her even a little bit? So weird.

Stiles would never abandon the jeep tbh. When he went away to his FBI internship, he left it to Scott. And at the end of the show, it was stiles who had it. He’d never just ditch the jeep.

Mason is too smart to be a cop. I said what I said.

Allison comes back from the dead with red nails because she died with red nails. But if she came back to life exactly as she was when she died, does that mean she came back to life as a teenager? She died at age 17. And if that’s the case, it’s weird that she and Scott are together at the end. Cause he’s 30. It makes no sense honestly.

Why tf can Parrish not find a woman his own age? He was flirty and weird with Lydia when she was still in high school and in the movie he’s sleeping with Malia who he was friends with when she was 16-17. Very cool and normal.

I’m glad they brought the nogitsune back because it’s my favorite villain from the show, but obviously it doesn’t hit as hard without Stiles.

Eaddy Mays’s triumphant return as Victoria Argent- she serves so much cunt. I love her so much.

One of the only slays of this movie is that Melissa is a doctor now.

This movie is two hours and twenty minutes long and it somehow feels they didn’t do anything in that timeframe. Like obviously there’s a plot that moves along but it just doesn’t feel like anything happens for some reason?

In what universe was it Scott’s fault / Scott’s pack’s fault that Harris got sacrificed? It was the darach who did that- not Scott or his friends. Harris’s motive makes literally no sense. And wouldn’t have the darach known that Harris lived? Wouldn’t her rituals have failed because she needed three of each sacrifice for them to be successful? And since Harris lived, that means that there were only two sacrifices in his category. The nonsense is so strong with this movie

Scott playing in the lacrosse game is so hilarious, this man is thirty

Why do all of Harris’s lines at the game seem to be very poorly mixed ADR? Who edited this? 💀

Why the fuck did Derek have to die- and why did he have to burn alive? Truly he deserved so much better. He went through so much shit in his life and he shouldn’t have fucking burned to death. He deserved a nice quiet life with his kid. And to that point: I do not believe that he would’ve chosen to leave his son like that. Plus, Eli had to watch his dad burn alive! What kind of bullshit is that!

And tbh, the sacrificial death should’ve been Peter. I love Peter, but homie needed a redemption moment after the many many years of bullshit and schemes and double crosses. They should’ve made it so that Peter was there at the nemeton with them at the end. He could’ve stepped up to save Derek and Eli in that moment to show that he’d grown. Sacrificing himself- not just to save others, but to save his family too- could’ve been his redemption. But noooooo. They just had to kill Derek. Trash.

[arrowsperpetualcringe]

Okay I might get yeeted for this

Because I love the little mute ink baby as much as anyone else

but let's be so for real

Bendy and the Dark Revival was FUCKING AWFUL.

Like nothing in that game made sense

Complete lack of subtlety to the point everything was fucking CHEEZY

The ink demon has a voice now, are you fucking serious? Just COMPLETELY erasing whatever silent horror the concept of a monster stalking you has, also his voice is so cheesy sounding

and— I feel like they tried to make Batim make sense while simultaneously making the current game make NO sense.

Like

"Joey created a paper dimension to torture Henry endlessly because he felt betrayed in the real world?" Ok sure, I guess that can explain SOME things.

If Joey was so remorseful and moved by Allison's friendship why didn't he just destroy the machine or the dimension he created

Why didn't he move on

Why are we here

Why the fuck does the creepy janitor have access to it.

OH YEAH DON'T GET ME STARTED ON WILSON.

The least subtle villain with the shittest backstory and motive I have EVER seen

This elderly ass man is still so heavily affected by his daddy issues that he creates a cult in this paper dimension, and wants to kill a young woman to make his OC come to life, are you KIDDING me

The reveal of his shit stain of an original character as a plan to save the ink dimension is fucking laughable, LIKE I LITERALLY LAUGHED MY ASS OFF, THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE A SERIOUS MOMENT?

HELP.

If you think your dad is beyond saving why are you still trying to impress him!!! What is the point of this mister man?!

And it's so infuriating because on the video of Wilson's cutscenes people thing he's such a good villain and I can only pray it's irony because holy shit he is NOT.

I'm a villain enjoyer, but this is just silly.

And the reveal of the protag being Joey's daughter, I...

God...

There are so many reasons why this doesn't work for me, but I think the main one is "this man has been the main villain of the series for how long? He creates this dimension where he dooms his friend and coworkers to eternal suffering, and all of a sudden, off screen, he supposedly turns a new leaf and has a daughter and I'm supposed to GIVE A FUCK"

Maybe I'd care if I didn't find Audrey to be so goddamn boring.

I JUST....

I'M SORRRYYYY, I LIKED BATDR BECAUSE IT'S BENDY AND I LOVE BENDY, BUT LET'S BE SO FUCKING FOR REAL, THIS SHIT IS BAAAAAADDD

[cescalr]

stalia, 17

... I knew this was a big risk, given my taste in music. So.

Stalia + Yeah Yeah Yeah (V2) by Jack Conte, for the spotify wrapped ask game. I really don't know how to write this as actually stalia, since the whole song is about a failed relationship. Whilst this is accurate to canon, alas, it also breaks my weak little heart :(. So, fair warning. Angst ahead! Feel free to repeat request, if you weren't looking for heartbreak at half nine in the goddamn morning.

As a... consolation prize? I guess - have a link; my stalia playlist.

And finally, of course; read this on Ao3 instead, if you like!

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I knew it all along I knew it from the very start And I felt it in my heart If there's even one to feel, oh-oh   I bought you a gift It's a picture frame for my face When you decide to place me in the past 'Cause nothing lasts Yeah nothing lasts No nothing lasts   You're taking off your clothes I hear echoes of her breathing But she is fading into the past At last At long last At long last   Yeah, yeah, yeah, I knew it all along I knew it from the very start And I felt it in my heart If there's even one to feel (To—! To—! To—!) Let me be! Let me alone! (Water me) (My memories are wilting)   Yeah, yeah, yeah, I knew it all along I knew it from the very start And I felt it in my heart If there's even one to feel.

- 'Yeah Yeah Yeah (V2)' by Jack Conte.

It's been fifteen years.

Malia can hardly believe that sometimes; that she's lived this long, that she's thirty-fucking-five years old. That missing nine years as a coyote is now only... well, it's no longer half her life. Malia did not ever get great at math, and as soon as school ended, saynoara equations! Point being she doesn't actually know the fraction or, percentage 9 out of 35 is, but it's not nearly as significant as 9 out of 18. Malia doesn't remember it, anymore. Doesn't have that same desperate longing she once did for the simplicity of life as a coyote. 

Malia has grown as a person, is the thing. But not straight upwards. Not in all the right ways. Not even in all the ways she'd be proud of, or happy with, which are different from the 'right' ones. 

Case in point; Jordan Parrish. 

He's a sweetheart, really, is the thing. The thing being that that's the problem. Scott was a sweetheart, too. Didn't change jack shit about how it ended. Didn't stop their train from wrecking. Once is whatever, twice is coincidence, three times is a pattern. Malia doesn't want to find out she's the common thread, here. Malia doesn't want to... 

She doesn't want it to happen again. 

Malia's not really an introspective person. But reality prompts rumination, as Scott might say, either quoting Deaton or expanding his vocabulary, and he's... right, begrudgingly. Christmas is coming up soon. 

Malia turns up the volume. The car's speakers blast Malia's music louder, but it doesn't drown out her thoughts. Fuck.

- I knew it from the very start, and I felt it in my heart, if there's even -

Malia turns down the volume. Fuck. She knew co-opting some of Stiles' taste in music was going to bite her in the ass one of these days. 

... More than most of what's her's being someone else's first already had, anyway. 

He's coming home. Not to play the pronoun game - Stiles is... returning, to Beacon Hills. For Christmas. They haven't warned him about Allison, because both her and Scott agreed not to, and Malia knows that asshole, and she knows he won't take the surprise well, but whatever. Nobody listened to her fifteen years ago because she kept her mouth fucking shut about her memories of Stiles, for Lydia's sake, and she's still reaping what she sowed on that one. And god, just maybe Peter was right; she should've been more selfish. But anything that makes her think along those lines only reminds her of what happened in Mexico, and Malia nips the thought in the bud real quick. 

Peter's never right about anything. He can't be. It wouldn't be good for Malia if he was. 

Malia shoves open the door, dropping out of her car onto the Sheriff's driveway. Noah will be that, she thinks, until he's physically forced into retirement. 

Malia volunteered to help move some stuff around to help accommodate their guests. Stiles, of course, is staying in his own room, which hasn't changed much since he last saw it, other than maybe gathering some dust on the shelves that needs wiping off since the last cleaning session the Sherrif reluctantly forced himself through (which, agreed. Malia hates cleaning. You wipe a shelf and then have to wipe it again, and again, and again, for the rest of forever) at some point last month. 

Their other guest is Theo. Malia does not envy the Sheriff having to suffer his presence. But he's been hanging around Virginia, apparently, for at least a decade. Malia didn't know this, and it rankles she wasn't told. But it makes sense. Stiles is her ex. They never had the chance to be friends. Malia couldn't...

She just couldn't. It hurt. 

It doesn't really hurt anymore. Scott's a fresher wound, one that feels more solid, more real. Malia - it's not just Malia. Everyone's memories of Stiles will forever be slightly warped, just on the edge of wrong. That happens when a person is snatched from reality, a whole fake history is written, and then he's summarily dropped right back on top of it like he never left. Sometimes, the incorrect memory assimilates, and you think something that happened didn't, and something that didn't did. 

Lydia remembered kissing Stiles in high school. She didn't remember the context. She'd thought they might have dated, briefly. Malia hadn't been sure, had her own conflicting account of events that she'd kept to herself, had her memories of dating Stiles in high school as opposition to Lydia's vague idea. Maybe things would've gone differently if she'd been upfront about it, but Malia... is blunt, yes - 

Not quite honest, though. Not quite honest. Malia's Peter's daughter and Stiles socialised her. This should've been an expected outcome. But people are still surprised when she lies... or simply omits the truth. 

But Lydia broke up with Stiles. Two weeks. They lasted two fucking weeks. Malia threw away her whole - just for a fucking fling. Lydia got scared he'd die and ran away, and Malia can completely sympathise with a fear of a car crash for obvious reasons, but the thing is that that wasn't the only solution, and people die. 

Malia hates it. She hates it so much, she wishes she could make a deal with some kind of deity and stop death in it's tracks, but she can't. Nobody can. You can't halt your life because you're afraid it will end. That's calling quits yourself before death even has the chance to come knocking. A kind of living suicide. 

If there's one thing Malia's never going to do, it's halt her life for the sake of someone else. Malia's sacrificed things that make her happy, yes. She's put her continued existence in danger to save another, yes. But if she wants something badly enough, Malia's not going to be scared off by anything. Not even fate itself. 

Malia enters the spare bedroom, or what will be the spare bedroom once she's moved the desk out of here. Sheriff's just going to have to do his paperwork at the station, which is fine - might even stop him from breaking the law and taking boxes of files home he shouldn't be. 

One table downstairs and a mattress on a bedframe later, Malia helps herself to a sandwich. It's just ham. Nothing special. After, she leaves. That's all Malia was needed for - really anyone could've done it, including the sheriff, Malia just wanted to help out. 

Beacon Hills is a strange sight, these days. Deader than ever before, even when all the worst stuff was going down. The town's dwindled in revenue, she thinks. Shops are boarded up. Potholes aren't filled in. Malia wonders why; what changed, exactly, to make Beacon Hills less desirable than when there was a murder happening every week. There's fewer people on Main Street as she parks in the lot that used to sit in front of a video rental store, but Blockbuster failed years ago and this little independent never stood a chance. In it's place sits a nice little café. Malia gets a doughnut, a coffee, and stares at the swirls her stirring stick makes as she waits. 

Jordan shows up, like he said he would. He looks nice - always does, but Malia means he looks Date Nice, which normally gives her fight-or-flight response a little shove, but Malia's resolved to give him a real chance. He's been so patient, understanding. Kind in a different way to Scott, and more honest than Stiles by a mile. He's just as blunt as she is. Malia likes that. 

Jordan sits down across from her. It's... sometimes strange to recognise this man is dead, and has been for years. He doesn't look much older than when she met him, over a decade ago. Jordan ages, but slowly, much like Malia herself. She likes that, too, that she doesn't have to worry about being outpaced. Stiles is human. He's thirty-four. He probably looks it, though she wouldn't know. Malia's avoided recent pictures of his face for about five years. He looked thirty when he hit thirty, and that had spooked her.

Stiles is going to die long before Malia will. That's a fact. It's unavoidable. Weres can live hundreds of years. Humans can barely manage eighty, if they're lucky. Jordan's not human anymore, and already dead besides; Malia doesn't have to worry about sickness, or cancer, or really anything at all taking him out before her. Maybe that's just as cowardly as Lydia leaving Stiles because of her vision just in the opposite direction, but Malia didn't claim a lack of hypocrisy. Malia's never claimed anything about that either way, which would be telling enough on it's own if you'd paid any attention.

Malia bets on people not paying enough attention. 

"How was work today?" Malia asks, feeling trite, but this is how people talk on dates if they're normal, and Malia wants a normal date. She's never had one of those. Even with Scott, it was - loaded. Besides, when she was dating those two, they were teenagers, either not even or just barely out of high school. Malia's never had an adult relationship, only flings with men she liked sex with that she'd ditch as quickly as she could, so this is... new. Novel.

Jordan smiles, pearly-whites on show, pleased she asked. Malia smiles back, tentatively, which just broadens his grin. 

"Great," He said. "Nothing interesting happened at all."

In his line of work, Malia supposed that would be a good day. 

"Great," Malia echoes, and doesn't know how to carry the conversation further. This happens when you learn how to talk to people while your dad's old roommate is trying to commit genocide on his dime. And then your dad proceeds to try and murder all your friends also, for vastly different, being extremely power-hungry, related reasons. 

"How are you feeling about..." Jordan trails off. "You know, Raeken coming back?"

"Weird. Unpleasant," Malia says. "But it's been fifteen years, and Scott's always preaching about the benefit of the doubt. If Stiles is vouching for him, I can't really say shit. Stiles hated him from day one, after all. Theo'd have to do something really drastic to get his vote of confidence."

"That's fair," Jordan says. "But he did shoot you in the gut and sell you out to your mother. You don't have to forgive that."

"I haven't," Malia says. "He should be in jail. That's how we deal with people who do those things, right? But he could break out pretty easily. Maybe it is better he's helping Stiles do... FBI stuff. I don't know."

"Reform," Jordan says. "There's a lot of people with a lot of different ideas of how the judicial system should work. A lot of people who specifically think prisons, as they are, suck ass. Prison labour equals slavery, that sort of thing."

"Oh," Malia says. "I mean, if you can't say no to doing a job, isn't that literally the definition?" 

Jordan shrugs. "I was a soldier," He says, "Not an ethics student. Maybe, maybe not. They call it repentance. Doing a service for society in exchange for not getting the death sentence for killing a whole family."

"Right," Malia says, brow furrowing, then shrugs herself. "Yeah, I... have no idea about any of that. Sheriff said anything about having to host Theo?"

"He's not happy about it," Jordan nods. "But he's going to go along with it, since Melissa absolutely refuses point-blank."

"Fair," Malia says, "Since he killed Scott."

"Is Peter sticking around?" Jordan asks, "For Christmas?"

"No idea," Malia says. "He really enjoys annoying Melissa and Chris though, so probably. Until he gets bored, at least." Malia makes a face. "Honestly, I think he's flirting, which is just disturbing enough as a thought to get stuck in my head. Share in my misery."

Jordan laughs at that, which was Malia's intention, so. Score. She laughs, too.

It's only a few days until Stiles arrives. He left his jeep with Mason years ago, and replaced it with something more practical - and functional. Malia's pretty sure this car isn't half broken, like the Jeep had been, though - Mason, for the record, has taken good care of it. Got the whole engine replaced, new wheels, e-t-c. (Malia's pretty sure that stands for some Latin or something, but she's not Lydia.) 

Stiles and Theo must've carpooled, because Theo drops out the passenger seat a few moments later. Cora, also, exits the back. It's good to see her cousin - Malia greets her first, with a smile and a quick hug. "How was your decade?" Cora asks. 

"Not bad," Malia says. It wasn't bad, after all. Very quiet. 

"Hm," Cora says. She's a pretty reserved person, so Malia doesn't expect any more than that. 

"Yeah," Malia says. "You going to see Eli?"

"If I must," Cora jokes. "See you."

And she's off. If Malia's bluntness is that of a sledgehammer, Cora is a whole battering ram. And given how Derek was over a decade ago, how he learnt not to be with Eli in the picture, it's probably a Hale trait. Much better a thing to inherit than whatever Peter's got going on, that's for sure, even if it's not always a good thing.

"Stiles," Malia greets, then begrudgingly, "Theo."

Theo smiles at her, charming as ever. Seems more genuine these days, though. The chemo signals from his scent are more... easily discernible. And the corners of his eyes crinkle - he's not just slightly squinting to fake it.

"Malia," Theo greets in turn. Stiles has his hands awkwardly shoved in his pockets, which saves her from having to offer a hug. 

"Hey," Stiles says, "Good to see you."

It is, is the thing. His hair's grown. 

"Yeah, well," Malia says, "it's been like fifteen years. Good to know you're still alive," and she means it. Stiles laughs, abrupty. "Yeah," he says, "You too, Mal."

Malia helps them unpack. Cora's staying with Eli, so her stuff remains in the boot. The rest, they split between the guest room and Stiles'. 

"Isn't this the sheriff's office?" Theo says.

"Surprised he was willing to give it up?" Malia asks. "For you, specifically?"

Stiles snorts. Theo rolls his eyes at him, then shrugs at Malia. "Yeah," He says. "Guess helping with the wild hunt taking his son just gave me more good will than I realised."

Malia doesn't know the Sheriff's reasoning any more than Theo does, unfortunately. Stiles probably just asked him, though, and the Sheriff tends to cave when Stiles is the one requesting something. It's the 'only family left alive' thing - gets you every time. Malia and her dad - not Peter - have a similar dynamic, though it's... more strained. He hasn't stopped apologising for Eichen House since he started, but that first apology came later than it should have.

"Maybe," Malia replies, a non-committal acknowledgement, and moves on from fitting the bedsheets to dragging in a set of draws taken out of the attic earlier, when Scott popped over with a grocery delivery. (Scott was specifically chosen because he knew at least vaguely the kinds of food Stiles would buy, when he lived here. Malia hadn't paid much attention to that, because what the Sheriff ate hadn't been her business - and she'd have been much more lenient on his diet than other people. Malia agrees about salads, by the way. People are omnivores, for god's sake. Put some chicken in there at least.) 

Malia moves to Stiles' room when they start unpacking. She checks the highest shelves for dust, and wipes them down. Stiles arrives not long thereafter, with his own suitcase full of clothes for the holiday and some other things besides. Malia helps him pack things away. An old plaid flannel she used to borrow, that one stripped hoodie he never wore with the red line but he still kept, for whatever reason. Half of these clothes might as well have been her own, at one point. A point she barely remembers correctly. 

"Why'd you never wear it?" Malia asks, abruptly. She waves the hoodie at stiles, with it's red line, and he grimaces. "The nogitsune liked it," He said, and shrugged. "I didn't... not wear it on purpose, I'd just... choose something else instead. You liked it - hell, I said you could keep it."

"You know why I didn't," Malia says. "Or, didn't intend to, anyway."

"Why you returned my stuff after the Anuk-Ite? Yeah." Stiles glances away. He finishes his underwear and sock drawer, then stands. "Thanks for the help."

"No problem," Malia says. "You do this sort of thing for friends."

"Yeah," Stiles says. "Yeah, you do."

Malia wonders if anyone's told him about the Nogitsune's return, about Harris, about everything. Maybe they're waiting, like idiots, to hit him with it all at once. 

Malia goes on one more coffee date with Jordan before Christmas. She buys a nice watch for her dad, to replace his broken one, and a shitty cheap plastic toy watch for Peter that costs her less than a dollar. Malia finds Cora a nice jacket, and debates over what would be appropriate for Eli. Theo is halfway down the aisle from her, headed to the cards section. Unfortunately, he stops to chat.

"Great minds think alike," He says, self-aggrandising. Malia presses her lips together, looks back at the stock.

"Not even a chuckle," Theo sighs. "I know there's nothing I can say to make up for what happened," Theo says, cutting to the chase. "you don't have to forgive or forget, that would be stupid. But we can be civil, right? For our friends' sakes, if nothing else?"

"If nothing else," Malia says, begrudgingly. "I'm not getting you a present."

"That's fine," Theo says. "I don't like getting presents for people just for the sake of it, anyway. They should mean something, you know? But people always need money. World we live in, and all. How much d'you want off me?"

"Gimme fifty." Malia says. "And I'll be civil."

"deal," Theo says, and with a vaguely amused quirk of the lips, he holds out his hand to shake. Malia indulges this. 

"Great," Theo says, sounding genuinely relieved. "It's been a long time since Stiles was home - it wouldn't be great if we were fighting the whole time, you know?"

"You say that as if it'd be two sided," Malia replies.

"I'm going to defend myself, you know," Theo says. "I've done a lot of bad in my life. Can't say otherwise. I've been doing as much good as I can since then, though. Can't say otherwise about that, either."

Malia supposes this is true enough, or Stiles would have kicked him to the curb years ago. 

"Yeah, whatever," Malia says. "Go buy your cards."

Theo nods. He goes and buys his cards. Malia returned to browsing, setting aside Eli's present for that moment. Eventually she'd pick it, along with all the rest - Scott, Lydia, Liam, etc - and Christmas arrives shortly thereafter. 

Malia places the star on the top of the tree. Liam claps and Mason cheers. Hikari is helping Melissa and Chris and Stiles in the kitchen. Theo is somewhere, and Lydia is avoiding Stiles in the living room. Jackson and Jordan are setting up the dvd player, as the Stilinskis'  was unexpectedly broken (they had to run out and quickly borrow the McCalls'). Malia has been systematically taking down every single sprig of faux-mistletoe she sees, as stealthily as she can. Extremely terrible idea, that one, even if Allison and Scott think it's cute and funny and festive. It is none of those things. Worst holiday tradition by a country mile. 

"Dinner's ready," Melissa announces, so everyone piles around the table. It's really not made for this many people - too crowded. Malia is stuck between Lydia, who is using her as a shield, and Theo, who has decided to be Stiles' Lydia shield, apparently (entirely, it seems, without Stiles' input). This leaves an extremely awkward seating situation. Malia makes desperate eye contact with Jordan, who grimaces in sympathy and hooks his angle around hers, silent support. 

At least she's not next to Scott and Allison, Malia supposes. Small mercies. 

Malia had not been here for the session of informing Stiles about everything that happened. Derek's funeral has been scheduled for during his stay here. This is not the most festive of Christmases, but they're... trying. Eli and Cora are sat next to each other, quietly talking. 

Malia... knew her cousins. She started knowing Cora better in the past fifteen years, but Derek was many years her senior. They weren't peers; it was difficult, in some ways, to understand each other. Meeting as they did was also Not Great for their future getting along potential. Derek left as soon as she started figuring him out, and stayed gone for a long time. Malia had known Braeden better than Derek, to the point Malia was the one person (other than Cora, who had witnessed the whole event) that heard about their breakup from her as well as him. She's in Europe somewhere, now.

Sometimes, Malia thinks, this feels like the worst timeline. Like the sci-fi stuff Stiles espouses the virtues of, the one Lydia liked - Babylon 5. Like this was all always going to happen, and never should have. 

Malia finishes her roast dinner. Has a slice of pie. The mood is half-light, half-heavy, a kind of desperate joviality over genuine sadness. Scott and Allison couldn't be happier together, except for the fact they absolutely could, and neither of them appreciate what this has cost. 

Stiles, also, is deeply moody right now - brooding. It's not nice to hear the nogitsune's back, for him, and doubly so Malia thinks that nobody warned him. Nobody called. Scott chose not to call. It's one thing to forget in the heat of a crisis, and another to make an active choice to exclude him from something that's extremely, personally relevant. Malia hadn't called, either. Nobody had, so he's a little mad at all of them. It's... fair. Even if their choice is understandable, given how much trauma surrounds the nogitsune for Stiles and for the rest of them, but... blindsiding Stiles with so much at once and the fact they did all of it without him is going to drive home the truth that one thing Stiles never wanted, back in senior year, ended up happening anyway. Not because they chose to leave. Because he did. Over and over again. 

Malia never called. Neither did Stiles. It takes two people to ruin a friendship, most of the time. 

Malia picks at a slice of cake. Jordan nudges her ankle. Tilts his head, raises a brow. Smells - concerned, questioning. Malia nods, shortly. After he finishes, Jordan stands, stretches. "I'm wiped," He announces. "Anyone need a ride home?"

"I walked here," Malia says, standing, ignoring Lydia's widening eyes as they dart over to Stiles. She's a grown woman. Malia's not covering for her this time. "I'll take you up on that offer."

They escape the reunion into the cool midwinter night. Malia takes a breath, icy sharpness a shock to her lungs after the stuffiness of an over-filled house. 

"You doing okay?" Jordan asks, able to speak freely as they drive away, the quietness of his question and the loudness of the engine hiding his voice from the weres inside. 

"That was awkward," Malia lets out. "Oh god."

They laugh, a little, not out of humour. He pulls up on the side of the road a moment, turns on the overhead light. "Do you wanna go home?" He asks her. Malia thinks of her room in her old house, in the middle of the woods, about being alone in the dark all over again, because of Scott, because of Stiles, because of everyone else, because of herself, and decides against it.

"Let's go to yours," Malia says, instead, and Jordan smiles in understanding. He switches off the light, and drives. 

Boxing day brings cleaning day. The funeral's in a week. 

Malia helps take down the tree. Scott and Stiles are doing the same. Allison is putting away the box of tinsel and decor in the attic. 

"Left-" Malia grunts, turning the tree left. They eventually manage to get it outside, into the garden. Malia leaves the two to the rest of it, and goes back inside. Gets a drink.

Allison is doing the same, it seems. She smiles a little awkwardly in greeting. "Hi," She says. "Done with the tree?" 

"Almost," Malia says. "They've got it now though. Needed a drink," Malia gestures with her soda. "Are all the boxes in the attic?"

"Almost," Allison echoes, "Just a couple more."

Malia helps her finish up. They gather in the living room. Stiles rocks on his heels slightly, hands shoved in pockets. Scott drinks in the sight of Allison like a man who's lived in an oasis-less desert his whole life just got dropped on a random Caribbean island. Allison slips under his arm, smiles sweetly, all dimples.  

"We're good then? All done?" Stiles asks. "Because that was easy."

"All good," Scott says, smiling. Stiles is his best friend - it's been entirely too long since they last saw each other, Malia thinks. Speaking on the phone occasionally is different from meeting up in person. 

"Great," Stiles says. "Well, thanks for the help."

"You're welcome," Allison says. Stiles keeps looking a little surprised every time she speaks. Allison also just looks different - death and a decade will do that to a person, Malia supposes, but there's a kind of uncanniness about it all, because they missed the versions of her that would have sat between 17 and 35. It's probably jarring - for her to sound the same, but to appear so different. Plus, Stiles' own last memories of Allison are warped; he remembers everything the nogitsune did, as if he did it himself. That's bound to give a guy a complex or three, and it definitely did, but on top of that it just... makes the timeline strange. Simultaneous events are hard to place, mentally. Malia would know; the wild hunt proved it. That kind of taught them all how hard it was to reconcile two different versions of events. 

Malia's just saying that - it makes sense. Every time Allison speaks, Stiles' chemo signals spike guilty. They shouldn't, as it wasn't his fault, but Malia knows Stiles. She understands why they do. 

Scott picks up on it, obviously. His expressions are always too easy to read, though; Stiles can see right through him. And he doesn't like it when they do that, use their senses 'against him' - or, rather, put him on an uneven playing field. They can read him... he can't read them. It rankled Stiles 15 years ago just as much as it does now. Malia would know, again. This time, the reason is that... it's - part of why they broke up. Amongst other things, like miscommunication. 

Malia watches the conversation unfold, silently, for a few sentences. 

"So when are you going back?" Scott asks, casually. Stiles raises a hand to do the uncertainty motion, a little horizontal wobble. "Eh," He says. "Was planning for the 10th, but... plans can change."

"They don't need to," Scott says, "You-"

"I appreciate your concern for my mental health, Scotty, I really do," Stiles says, dismissively, "but I should be involved in this. It's the nogitsune, Scott. If we can't have Kira here-"

"We can't," Scott says, grimacing, "Her stay with the skinwalkers could last - hundreds of years-"

"Exactly," Stiles says. "If we can't have kira, and since Derek is dead - Scott, I'm the only backup you've got."

These days, very true. Unfortunately. 

"What about Isaac?"

"He has actual self-preservation instincts, unlike the rest of us." Stiles sends an apologetic glance to Allison. "He'd say no. And probably move to another country, again, even further away than last time."

Allison's lips twist in displeasure. "So much has changed," She murmurs. Malia pats her shoulder sympathetically. Missing a decade sucks. For the third time; Malia would know. This one should not need explaining.

"Yeah," Stiles sighs, sounding exhausted. "Yeah, it has."

Malia sits on the back stairs. Stiles joins her for a smoke.

"I can heal this shit," Malia says. "What's your excuse?"

"I'm an FBI agent," He says. "Part of my cover on an assignment, once. Stuck around, after. Know a witch or two with decent medical skills - I'll be fine."

Malia nods. They watch little clouds form in the air, smoke swirling around in shapeless, meaningless patterns. 

"I'm sorry, you know," Stiles says. "For - fuck, everything. I never said that. Should've. Didn't. Too late now. But... still."

"Too late now," Malia echoes, and sighs. "For both of us. I'm sorry too. I should have said something. You were spiralling, I could tell, and I did jack shit about it."

"You weren't doing so hot yourself," Stiles says. "Neither of us was in a good place."

"We were in a very bad place," Malia says, dryly. "Called 'Beacon Hills'."

Stiles snorts. "Yeah," He says. "You should - you should visit, some time. Virginia is nice."

"I might," Malia says. "Might not. You should visit more often."

"I might," Stiles echoes wryly, "Might not."

Malia ashes her cigarette, crushes it underfoot into the neglected lawn. "For the record," Malia says, "I loved you for a very long time. I liked Scott, but never truly loved him, and it got... messy. I think he knew that. I didn't want to admit it." Malia looks up at the sky. "I'm seeing Jordan," She says. Stiles makes a noise of surprise. 

"Oh?" He tilts his head. "How's that going?"

"Okay," Malia says. "He's great. I struggle with intimacy. Thanks for that."

Stiles winces. Malia shakes her head. "It's not entirely your fault," Malia says. "I never told you much of anything."

"You told me a lot," Stiles rebuffs. "I lied to you all the time."

"Not about the nogitsune, you didn't," Malia says. Stiles frowns, a little confused. 

"You told me about the crash," He says, gently. "That was - really brave of you, you know. To be vulnerable like that. You're an honest person, Malia. Extenuating circumstances force people to do things they otherwise wouldn't."

"I know that," Malia says. "I just..."

Malia lights a second cigarette, watches the smoke curl in the air. 

"I just wanted to say it," Malia says, finally. "We never did. Explicitly, I mean. 'I loved you'. Present or past tense, we never said it, and that was fine, except it means we missed it. Late to the station, you know?"

"It's probably pretty callous to say this, but... you're better off, you know. We both are. We... get each other, sure. And you - you are beautiful, really. But -"

"Communication," Malia says, "Is something we both suck at."

"Yeah," Stiles says. "And you deserve - just, so much. More than I was willing to give, then. Which means I didn't deserve what you were willing to give me."

"It's not about deserve," Malia says. "It's about what you can make work. You choose to love someone, every day you love them. A relationship requires mutual effort."

"We differ there," Stiles says. "I never found love to be an active thing. It hung around when I didn't want it and it left when I really would have appreciated it staying." Stiles finishes his cigarette.

"Romantic compatibility," Stiles continues, "Is... complicated. Which is why Lyds and I lasted two whole weeks," Stiles says, wryly, "Before she dumped me and fled the state, and now won't look me in the eye over Christmas dinner."

Malia taps her lighter. "Why'd you break up?" Malia asks.

"Lydia didn't say?" Stiles replies with a question of his own. Classic.

"Of course she did, she's my best friend," Malia says, "Since Kira's otherwise occupied." Stiles snorts. "I want to hear your side."

"I don't know," Stiles says, truthfully. "We had a fight, she broke up with me and left. I never got a real explanation. It... kind of sucked, honestly."

"Yeah," Malia muttered. "No kidding."

Stiles grimaces. "Yeah," He says. "Taste of my own medicine, there."

"We didn't fight," Malia says. "We disagreed, fundamentally, about the ethics of killing someone in self-defence."

"We didn't, really," Stiles says. "I was just - caught up in my head about it. I guess we didn't fight," Stiles allows, "But I didn't explain jack shit with any real clarity, and I broke up with you by implication, which wasn't right."

"It wasn't," Malia agrees. "But you are right that we're... better off, now. Maybe-" Malia presses her lips together. "I wasn't really honest with anyone, during the wild hunt," She admits, finally, for the first time. "I lied. Directly. To everyone except Peter, who remembered everything anyway so I couldn't have lied to him."

Stiles' brow furrows. "What did you lie about?" He asks.

"You," Malia says. "Non-stop. Lydia remembered kissing you in high school and asked me about it. I said that was before I showed up, so she should ask Scott. She did. He confirmed it. For a bit she assumed you'd dated, back then. I knew you hadn't. I knew I was your first girlfriend. I knew that, factually. I didn't say anything. When Scott reassured Lydia that he'd known you and her were meant to be or whatever, I backed him up. I confirmed what he said. I said I saw it too, and I never once brought up that we dated. To anyone. Because I chose to put Lydia first, I chose to set aside our failed relationship, and I chose to support what it looked like everyone wanted, and it lasted two non-consecutive weeks."

Stiles winced. 

Malia sighed. "I loved you," Malia said. "Once, a long time ago, for longer than we were dating, for less time collectively than it felt like. You helped teach me how the world worked. I'll be grateful for that for the rest of my life. You're a good friend, Stiles. I don't think we were ever solely friends - without sex, without romance... and I'm ready to be, if you want to try."

"I'd like that," Stiles says. 

Malia smiles. 

The funeral.... happens. It's kind of a tear-filled blur, and Malia won't relive the pain by recounting it. 

When the 10th arrives, so does the day of Stiles (and Theo's) departure. Cora is sticking with Eli for a while. Malia's got a date with Jordan on Sunday. Watch a movie. Eat a pizza. Have sex. A normal evening, all told. 

Malia sees off Stiles (and Theo). She does so last, after everyone else, and once Theo's situated in the passenger seat. 

"Hey," Malia says, "... call, okay? Skype or soemthing."

Stiles smiles. He offers a tentative hug, which she takes. It's a little strange, to give him the same kind of hug she'd give Lydia or Liam, but it's... nice. Malia's getting used to a lot of different things lately. This one should be the easiest. 

"Obviously," Stiles says, "You too."

Communication, Malia reminds herself, got Scott and Stiles too, at one point. Friendship requires just as much effort as any other dynamic. 

"Duh," Malia says. "Hey," Malia says. "You be careful, alright?"

"I try," Stiles says. "You too."

He gets in his new car, which is coloured a deep navy. Some things change, but Stiles will always think blue's pretty. There's a kind of comfort in that, Malia thinks; red is unsolved, yellow is working on it, green is solved, and blue's always pretty. Simple, uncomplicated, fact. 

Malia watches them go, and feels differently about it than she would have a month ago. Metaphorically, her shoulders are straighter, her back less bowed - no weight pushing her down. They all have a lot of baggage, Malia no different... but this, her and Stiles and all they could have been, is one stone-filled sack she can put down. It's a good feeling. 

Malia calls Jordan. 

"Hey," He says, sounding surprised. Communication is a two way street, Malia repeats. A two-way street. 

"Do you wanna go for dinner tonight?" Malia says. "That shop on Main, the one on the corner that's been boarded up for like, two years, got bought recently. Watched them put up the sign, some kind of Italian deal."

"That sounds great," Jordan says, and he sounds genuinely happy. Malia does not feel guilty - that would be unhelpful. This is simply an opportunity to step forward, this time, instead of waiting for Jordan to meet her where she's stood. It's a development, it's growth, it's good. Malia likes Jordan.

Malia would like to see where this goes, if she'll finally let it start moving forward. 

[memphisnovels]

Fade into you

Chapter 4. Killing me softly

 {I felt he’d found my letters and read each one out loud

I prayed that he would finish but he just kept right on

Strumming my pain with his fingers

Singing my life with his words

Killing me softly with his song

Killing me softly}

  Matt Murdock x ofc

Series masterlist here.

Chapter 4 is here early :)) hope you enjoy!

A little peak into Matt and Alli’s history and a little Marci time.

CW: Fluffy Matt & Alli + a touch of angst.

<3<3<3

“You slept with him?!”

“Oh my god! Will you please keep your voice down?” I whisper-shouted at Marci as we walked down a densely packed street.

She sent me a sharp glare in response. “What did you fall and hit your pretty head on the pavement you absolute idiot?”

I rolled my eyes at her dramatic words, smiling pleasantly at the waiter who greeted us as we sat down at Vincenzo’s. We’d been coming here for lunch weekly for as long as I can remember, even when all we could afford was a glass of wine and the complimentary breadbasket. “It’s not like it was planned, it just kind of happened.” I shrugged.

“I’m literally going to kill you! As if anything ever just happens with you, Allison Blake.” We ordered our drinks in between her scolding me. “You’ve got pro and con lists for your pro and con lists.”

“That’s slightly dramatic.”

She stared at me as if I’d grown an extra head. “You are out of your goddamn mind, your stupidity astounds me, seriously.” She sighed exasperatedly, fanning herself with her menu as if to cool the heat of her rage. I’d scarcely allow anyone else to speak to me like that, Marci wasn’t anyone else though, my best friend since freshmen year of undergrad. “God why him, you could have your pick of the bunch, couldn’t you choose someone else? Anyone else!”

Marci wasn’t particularly fond of Matt.

“I didn’t ask for his hand in marriage, Marce, it’s just sex.”

The look in her eyes then made me sick to my stomach. Glare long gone, no remnants remaining. The striking embers of her frustration were gone too, in its place was something so gentle, so sympathetic, pity. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Alli.” She tilted her head slightly, silently urging me to say what she knew I knew she was thinking. I took a long sip of the wine that had been placed before me. Just sex. That’s all it is.

It had been three weeks since that night at Josie’s. I’d seen Matt every second night since. The sound of his voice was heavy on my mind, the smell of his cologne, the feeling of his fingertips dancing over my bare flesh. I blinked heavily; there was nothing else. I had thought of nothing else since. It was just sex. He never stayed after, one of us always went home. Either way, when the light of morning came streaming through my window, I was alone with nothing but the ghost of his touch. It was just sex because neither of us ever slept over. It was logical, obvious to me in that way we lived our lives, as usual, there was no difference… The dead of night, however, was ours; ours to talk, to laugh, to feel nothing but each other. We’d decided to give friendship another go; well, he had asked me to try, and I’d reluctantly agreed. We were friends again, so it was just sex, again.

“It’s different this time.” She opened her mouth to respond but I continued. “We were bad at it last time, bad at… Compartmentalising. It’s not hard though, it's clear and finite we have boundaries, we are friends, and we have sex, that’s it.”

“That’s it?”

I nodded, finishing my drink in one gulp.

“That’s it.”

Marci had rested the tip of her index and middle finger of my pinkie for most of lunch. I didn’t question her motives, nor did I address the looks she gave me. She didn’t think we could do it, keep the physical separate from the emotions. She just didn’t understand. It was different in college, I was naïve, and I couldn’t control my feelings, those feelings were gone. It was different this time, nothing like before.

Marci asked me how it was different this time. I complimented her new watch before ordering another drink. When she asked again, I told her “It just is.”

…

I was grateful to be so swamped with work, it left less time to dwell over Marci’s reservations and the smell of Matt that had begun to linger on my sheets. I had a preliminary hearing in two days and my nerves were fraying quickly. I’d been working on this case for months, Daniel Briggs, a crook cop with a dozen complaints filed about him that never saw the light of day. They were always stricken due to some bogus circumstance, but I saw it for what it was. Violations of civil liberties. Excessive force, obstruction of justice, unlawful arrest, racial profiling, you name it. The thing about being a cop and doing wrong? You’ve got a whole squad of buddies ready to vouch for you. The thing about going after a decorated NYPD officer? Not exactly the best way to make friends. I was losing sleep over this case, witnesses weren’t exactly eager to come forward, who wants to testify against a cop? If I couldn’t pull together enough evidence to push this through to trial, I could kiss any chance of building a solid case goodbye, the few witnesses I had were hardly going to stick with me if I failed now. I knew there were others with worse experiences at the hand of Briggs. One of the most striking moments I experienced as an intern was seeing the hysterical woman leaving the DA’s office, her son had died in what was being officially classed as suicide by police, but she swore black and blue that her son was targeted by officer Briggs, she said there were witnesses who’d testify to it yet she was dismissed.

I pressed the heels of my palms against my closed eyelids as I hit another dead end. Subpoenaing the NYPD’s logs had proved completely unhelpful, whatever had happened the night that boy died and every other night in question when Officer Briggs was involved was either incredibly vague or meticulously documented painting him as the dutiful hero. I ignored the buzzing of my phone as I continued to re-read file after file.

“Alli, your dad is on line one for you, says it's important.” Came Lauren’s voice from the door of my office. I offered her a hum of acknowledgment, pressing the phone to my ear with my shoulder as I continued to skim over the words before me.

“Dad?”

“Allison, glad you could finally spare a second.” I closed my eyes for a moment, willing the sigh to dissipate before I let it out. “Your mother and I are going to be in the city for a spell, we wondered if you were available for dinner.”

I leaned back in my seat, asking him when.

“Tomorrow night.”

“I can’t tomorrow, sorry I’m working on a big case, but I can on Saturday night? Will you still be in the city?”

A huff of discontent sounded through the receiver. “Well yes, we will be, but we were really hoping to dine with you tomorrow night.”

“Why tomorrow night, is there something on?”

He sighed exasperatedly. “Can parents not want to spend time with their offspring sooner rather than later?” I opened my mouth to respond but he beat me to it. “Good lord, Allison, you act as though we must have some ulterior motive in wanting to spend time with you.”

A headache began to form at the base of my skull. I adjusted my rings, clenching my jaw for just a moment before opening my mouth to respond, the energy was drained from me in but a moment. “I just… I’m sorry, dad I can’t tomorrow night.”

“Well, we’ll give the Mitchells your regards then, they had been quite pleased with the prospect of seeing you.” There it was. No ulterior motives my ass.

When I’d told Matt my parents weren’t especially doting, I wasn’t really attempting to make a joke. I likely laughed at the thought, but the truth was it was the best way I can think to describe them. When I was a kid, I’d never felt particularly welcome in my own home. It never felt like mine. My parents were very successful and even more so ambitious. They’d both been born into old money, my father’s family in oil and my mother's in tobacco. Growing up, I tended to believe it was their fear of not being wealthy that pushed them to work so hard. It wasn’t until I realized that my mother filled her days with travel, spa appointments, and lunch with the girls that it dawned on me that perhaps she wasn’t so busy with work. I wondered on occasion if she was merely avoiding me. It was apparent to me early on that I was more of an inconvenience to my parents than the object of their affection. I was certain my parents were unaware of my existence most of the time. When they would enter a room, I was in, if they took note of my presence their only reaction was a startled one. It was as if I was a stranger, an unwelcome visitor in their home. They would gaze at me and behind their eyes, I saw nothing, no recollection, no warmth, only expectance and something I assumed was their search for the correct words to speak to me.

Richard and Sylvia Blake were not easily impressed. I was the top of all my classes in high school and college, I played tennis, chess, the piano, the violin and I excelled at each of them. I was in the honor society; I was valedictorian my senior year and I graduated Colombia Law School Summa Cum Laude yet there was not a single moment in my life that my parents had commended me. They liked to have me at dinner parties with their friends so they would resent their own children for not having such attributes, but when the guests were gone it was as if I simply ceased to exist.

“Yes, I suppose you will just have to tell the Mitchells that your daughter was unavailable for Hors d’oeuvres and light chit-chat.” I wasn’t sure I had ever taken that tone with my father before.

“I am your father, Allison, do not ever speak to me with such disrespect again.” The ache in my skull grew, as did the papery feeling in the tips of my fingers. “Tell me, next time I wish to have your company shall I first make an appointment with your receptionist? Perhaps, I’d have better luck if I were to schedule dinners six months in advance.”

I did not respond, only sitting in the utter silence of my office, only accompanied by the low hum of the static on the receiver. The next sound that filled my ears was a solitary click followed by the dial tone. I wasn’t sure how much time passed with me sitting there, phone still against my ear. Lauren’s voice filled my ears next after I dialed her desk.

“Next time my parents call your desk tell them I’m only taking work calls on this line.”

She asked me if I was okay. I told her she could call it a night and head off.

The only people still in the office when I left were security and a couple of administrative staff. My neck was stiff from being hunched over my desk and my stomach grumbled pleas for nourishment. I rubbed at my shoulders, attempting to ease the tense muscles. I’d decided to drive to work this morning, telling my driver to take the day off, I filled his paycheck, nonetheless. It was nice to drive occasionally, I didn’t get the opportunity very often, but it was satisfying to feel so in control. Relief flooded me as I spotted my car; the feeling dissipated almost instantly as I noticed something beige on my windscreen. I halted my path for a moment, studying the object. Taking a cautious step toward the bonnet I quickly realized what it was. Beneath my windscreen wiper sat a thick manilla folder, ‘ADA Blake’, inscribed across it in marker. I slipped it off the glass carefully, a glance inside showed a series of sheets each with an extensive list of names and addresses. I furrowed my eyebrows as I continued reading, my breath hitched as I read the next page, finally understanding what I was holding. I glanced around me then, surveying the area for signs of life, my eyes caught on a figure in the distance. Clad in black, the shadows seemed to curve around him. I knew who he was, the devil of Hell’s Kitchen. My heart rate picked up as nervousness washed over me, glancing back at the file in my hands my confusion grew. He had put this here, I know he did, but why.

I certainly wasn’t the president of his fan club. I’d commented on his extralegal activities only last week, asked by a member of the press what my take on the man in the mask was.

We do not need a lunatic in a costume beating people to a pulp to clean the streets, his cause is noble, I have no doubts about that. However, the only thing that Daredevil is achieving is perpetuating the cycle of violent crime that plagues this great city.

That is what I had said about him. I stood by the statement that is what had made this even more perplexing. The devil had just handed me a compiled list of witnesses who could testify against Officer Briggs, names upon names as well as their specific grievance with the dirty cop.

“Why?” I called into the darkness.

I was met with only silence in response.

My phone began buzzing the second I walked through the door of my apartment. “How come your apartment building smells like peonies and mine smells like stale beer?” My eyebrows furrowed at Matt’s words. It didn’t dawn on me until a series of knocks sounded on my door.  

“Matthew Murdock, what in gods name?” I spoke into the phone as I opened the door, his smiling face greeting me.

“Hi, I brought dinner.” He held a takeout bag up beside his head for emphasis. A range of emotions flooded me in that moment.

“I- you- why?”

His smile grew. “You gotta eat.”

“How do you know I haven’t?”

He raised his eyebrows at me, smile never faltering. “Have you?”

A huff left me. “You are so annoying.” There was that stupid smirk of his. “Get in here already, Murdock, oh and I get first dibs on whatever you’ve got in that bag.”

His laughter filled my ears as he stepped past me, arm brushing my own in the process. The smell of Chinese food caused my stomach to grumble painfully as he set out the takeout containers on my coffee table. Settling in beside him on the sofa, I popped a dumpling in my mouth, humming contentedly at the taste. Matt asked me about my day as we ate, and I answered honestly. I’d already told him about the Briggs case, sparing most details, of course, he knew it was kicking my ass.

I leaned my head against his shoulder when I was finished, staring ahead. “Thank you.” I breathed. His lips curved upward ever so slightly as he tilted his head toward me wordlessly. “For the food,” I added, knowing it was unnecessary.

“Are you okay?” I hummed in response to his words. “I’m not sure that’s true.”

“Why are you asking?”

He breathed steadily beside me. “You seem… Off.” A beat passed between us. “Isn’t that what friends do, ask?”

“Is that why you’re asking? Because we’re friends.” The word felt odd in my mouth, that’s what we were I supposed, friends with extra benefits.

For a moment I wasn’t sure he was going to respond.

“What happened, Alli?”

I shrugged in response. “I’m just tired, I guess.”

“That’s not all.” His fingertips found the delicate flesh of my wrist, drawing circles that stopped me from adjusting my rings.

“I can’t lose this case, Matt.”

His fingers stilled for a moment before wrapping gently around my wrist, he squeezed once. “You won’t.”

I shook my head. “All those families, that kid who was killed, it can’t be for nothing, I can’t let it be for nothing.”

“You won’t.”

“Matt.” I paused, closing my eyes momentarily. He was silent, awaiting my next words. “You don’t know that.”

There was another beat of silence. He moved beside me, and I lifted my head from his shoulder, we were facing each other now, and his glasses were still on, but I wished they weren’t. I stared at my reflection in the lenses. “What happened to being unbeatable?”

“You’re not funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.”

His grip hadn’t faltered on my wrist until he slid his fingers down to intertwine our fingers. “Do you want to know why I’m so sure you’re not going to lose?”

I leaned my shoulder back against the couch, watching him intently. “Sure.”

“I have never, ever, known you to let something go once you set your mind to it. Even if things don’t go your way the first time around, you keep fighting, keep trying until you get it done.” I blinked at him. “God knows your stubborn determination has kicked my ass a few times.”

“Just a few times?” I teased; my voice quiet now.

He laughed, tucking some hair behind my ear, his hand remained at my cheek after. “More than a few times.”

I clicked my pen in a series as I listened to the professor drone on about ethical procedure. This class had to be for the sole purpose of weeding out the kids who weren’t so dedicated to law school. The slow somber click of my pen was far more interesting to me in that moment.

“Could you stop that please.”

I paused my movements then, glancing over to see the boy who’d spoken to me, not a question, I noted. Matthew Murdock, how to describe him, my nemesis was perhaps the most apt description. We’d known each other all of three weeks and in that time, he had spared no opportunity to correct, attempt to outsmart, or plain disagree with me in every capacity. I hummed slightly in response, making sure to unclick my pen as I spoke.

“Of course, sorry.”

His lips upturned smugly.

Another click of my pen caused the grin to drop just as quickly as it had come.

I leaned my head into his hand slightly. “Was that all that was bothering you?”

“Mhm.” He frowned at my response. I hadn’t spoken aloud because he’d always had an uncanny ability to know when I wasn’t being honest.

There was silence once more. We sat comfortably in it for a long while. His arm laid across the back of my couch at some point, heat and his cologne wafting toward me.

“Do you still talk to anyone from college? Other than Marci, obviously.”

My eyes narrowed at his abrupt question. I shrugged once. “A few people.”

“Anyone of note?”

I breathed a laugh. “What exactly qualifies someone as noteworthy in your eyes, Matthew?”

He shook his head, shrugging nonchalantly, or at least that is how he’d attempted to make it seem. “I don’t know, it was just a question, forget it.” I glanced at him, bumping my shoulder against his chest teasingly.

“Absolutely not, you are not getting out of this one so easily!” He huffed at my words. “Why do you want to know?”

“I was just making conversation.”

A laugh bubbled in my chest. “Yeah right, what’s the real reason.”

“I just wondered.” He put his hands up in mock defense. “I didn’t really keep in touch with anyone but Foggy, so I just wondered if maybe you had.” My smile grew. “Kept in touch with anyone.” He was really overexplaining now, I knew I had him.

“Just ask me.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, hanging his head slightly and smoothing his palm over the leg of his pants. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

I remained silent, staring at him keenly. He was not getting out of this, no matter how much he dodged and played coy. He remained still, not offering me anything in response, I mirrored him. This had, evidently, become a stand-off. “You were a popular girl, you had a lot of friends and stuff.” He murmured.

“And stuff?” He clenched his jaw as I echoed his words. “Matthew Murdock, just ask me if I still talk to Logan.”

He took his glasses off then, rubbing at his eyes. A sheepish expression crossed his face as he tilted his head in my direction. “Well… Do you?”

Logan had been my boyfriend in my final year of law school.

“No.”

After a beat his head turned to me, sightless eyes settling around my cheek. “Why?”

“It just.” I swallowed heavily, shoving the thoughts of the night in the bar far from my mind. “Wasn’t meant to be.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay.” I could hear it in his voice then, the guilt he felt. Matt hated Logan; he’d never been particularly silent about it when we were in college. There was always something. Logan is too pretentious, he thinks he’s owed the world, he’s a spoilt rich kid who just decided to go to college one day. There were a myriad of things Matt had accused Logan of, those were the ones at the forefront of my mind.

To be fair, Logan didn’t like Matt either. The latter always said it was because the former was an elitist who couldn’t fathom the working class; that wasn’t the reason.

The day I’d met Logan was fresh in my mind. Unfortunately, not because of how nice he’d been to me, how sweet and unassuming he’d been. No, it was vivid to me because of what had clouded my mind so fully that I walked right into him, spilling his coffee all over the both of us.

Today was it. It had to be, I couldn’t spend another minute swallowing it down, either he would feel the same or he wouldn’t it was that simple; or at least that is what I told myself as I paced the corridor. I felt confident I wasn’t delusional, that I wasn’t alone in my feelings. The lingering touches, the easy conversation couldn’t be overlooked.

Matt Murdock and I had been sleeping together for almost six months now, we’d known each other since undergrad but we mostly loathed each other until Law School started and I begrudgingly befriended or more accurately gave into the duo that was Matt and Foggy. Regardless of how it started, here we were. For two years now he had been one of my closest friends, the one person I told everything to, including even Marci. The unlikely friend I’d made, the agony we’d navigated side by side, the secrets we’d shared, the laughter, the heartbreaks, the defeats, the triumphs. The way we’d protected each other from every hurt and patched each other up when that wasn’t enough. Yes, today had to be the day I came clean.

My hands were shaking as I rapped against the door of his and Foggy’s dorm. I waited with bated breath, going over what I planned to say in my head, eyes screwed shut tightly.

“I need to tell you something!” I spoke the second I heard the door open, it was not Matt, however, who stood before me. I took in the girl in front of me, she was vaguely familiar to me, I knew her name at least; Elektra. “Oh, sorry, I thought you were someone else,” I murmured quietly; eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion. There was not another moment in my life where I could say I felt as stupid as I did in that second. She stood before me, modelesque clad in only a worn Colombia University T-shirt. Matt’s T-shirt. An odd kind of heat traveled up my spine, white-hot and searing. My throat was dry and there were no words, my stomach churned as Elektra gave me an expectant look.

“Are you looking for Franklin or Matthew?”

I blinked rapidly. “Matt, but you know what, it doesn’t matter actually.” I took a step back. A call of my name brought my attention from the woman before me. Judging by his wet hair he’d just come back from the shower block.

“Alli, what are you doing here?” He didn’t sound like him in that moment, I wasn’t sure if it was the heavy nervousness that coated his words as he regarded me or if I’d just never really known him to begin with.

“I just, uhm, I was just coming to talk to you…” I paused momentarily. “About the mock trial, just wanted to see if you were ready is all but I can see that you’re busy, so I’ll get out of your hair now.”

He shook his head, swallowing and fiddling with the wet towel that hung over his shoulder. “Allison, this is, ah, this is Elektra.” He rubbed the back of his neck and I nodded wordlessly. “My girlfriend.” He added, just a touch quieter now.

I continued nodding, as if unable to do anything else as his words processed in my mind. My eyes were stinging now, and I felt like I was going to be sick. I hated the feeling that spread over my body, I never wanted to feel it again. God, I am far to smart to be such a complete idiot. “Right.” I nodded once more before biting down on my lip so hard I was surprised I hadn’t drawn blood. “Right, well I’m sorry to have interrupted your morning, uhm, I should get going. It was nice to meet you, Elektra.” I spoke, turning swiftly and fleeing the hallway, hands fisted at my side. My chest was heaving, and my heart was racing. My eyes kept stinging no matter how many times I blinked.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

[puppypackquotes]

Stilinski I think we both know you need to retire. Peter’s crawling scene is what made me cringe the most. Jeff must really love cringe. Jackson is a whole fucking mood. And I love how he was giving Lydia the inspiration to use her scream again. Real friendship right there. Allison… Allison… Allison. I AM SO HAPPY THAT SHE IS ALIVE. I love her character so much. And with her having another villain era is the best. Liam deserved more screen time. Every single scene he is in, Hikari is by his side. I get that, that’s his girlfriend but GOD, y’all can separate for about 5 minutes. Mason deserved more screen time too. He was like in the movie for 8 minutes total. And Jeff knows that Liam and Mason are best friends, so why not give them a scene together. They literally had one conversation with each other and that’s it. Hikari, I FUCKING LOVE YOU. She is like Kira but with her Kitsune powers controlled. I don’t even think she known the pack for long and she is already risking her life for them JUST LIKE KIRA DID. Hikari will never be a Kira replacement too me. If Arden Cho would have gotten a good offer, and said yes. A Kira & Hikari duo would be the fucking best. EVERY SINGLE THING ABOUT STILES, THEY PUT INTO ELI. I don’t ship Sterek at all, but come on Jeff, you know good and goddamn well what you was doing. Victoria coming back was so good. SHE IS STILL SCARY THOUGH. Deputy Ishida should have more of a storyline. And why is that ever single Japanese, Asian, and/or Korean person always come up to be a Kitsune. Except for Ken, he was just human but why couldn’t Jeff make them other supernatural creatures besides that one. The McCall Pack will be helpless without Alan Deaton. If they need help and they can’t go to Melissa, Deaton will always be their first and/or second option AND NOTHING CAN CHANGE MY MIND. Coach Finstock, is still crazy and funny. But it feels like he actually followed his lines instead of improvising them. Jacob, I thought he was a new love interest for Mason but I was wrong. He was just another extra with lines being a sitting duck waiting to get killed. Mr. Harris, I am so sick of him. He should have stayed dead and they should have used Alec. If Alec would have been the guy in the all black clothes, his motive probably would have been Scott leaving him. I saved the best for last. Derek Hale. It’s going to be hard watching the show knowing that he is going to be dead later on in the years. You will always be in remembrance and will never be forgotten.

Part 1

[pepperf]

I posted 1,294 times in 2022

That's 325 more posts than 2021!

192 posts created (15%)

1,102 posts reblogged (85%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@lochrannn

@bending-sickle

@ponyregrets

@bethanyactually

@wheresmytowel

I tagged 1,172 of my posts in 2022

Only 9% of my posts had no tags

#the umbrella academy - 262 posts

#tua - 259 posts

#diego hargreeves - 225 posts

#lila pitts - 162 posts

#dielila - 140 posts

#diego/lila - 138 posts

#david castañeda - 71 posts

#tua s3 - 59 posts

#tua s3 spoilers - 48 posts

#tua fanfic - 48 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#''and i listen to the sound / of the trucks as they move down / out on 95 / and pretend that it's the ocean / comin' down to wash me clean''

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

No.

283 notes - Posted May 25, 2022

#4

Hey, parts of North London I know well! So the places they visited in today’s Dracula Daily entry are all still there, and relatively unchanged since Victorian times I think, aside from the first:

Jack Straw’s Castle:

This is a massive white-painted pub at the top of Hampstead hill, now closed. In Stoker’s time, the building looked like this:

It was badly damaged during the Blitz, and rebuilt in the 60s. The current building looks like this:

See the full post

385 notes - Posted September 26, 2022

#3

My dearest darlingest TUA fic writers and fan artists: let me start off by saying that I love you all, I do, without bias or judgement, and I appreciate all the hard work that you put into whatever it is that makes your little hearts go pitty-pat.

That said, I have noticed an alarming trend recently: Diego is shrinking! He is getting smaller and smaller, in every lineup and fic description, inch by inch he is getting more and more petite, and I begin to fear that, at this rate, by this time next year he will have vanished entirely.

So, for your edification, I have put together this handy-dandy height reference chart for the Hargreeves siblings:

See how Diego (all 5′11¼ delicious inches of him) stands, taller than his sister Allison (5′8′‘), just slightly shorter than his sibling Klaus (an even 6′), and on a par with his brother Ben (5′11′‘)? See how he towers above his littlest siblings, Viktor (5′1′’) and Five (5′7′’ but still growing if he’ll only cut back on the caffeine)! See how he’s only a few inches shorter than his tallest brother, Luther (6′4′’)! Let us celebrate him, tall, proud, and erect (no, wait, wrong kind of fic...), and lofty!

I thank you for your consideration.

697 notes - Posted April 19, 2022

#2

See the full post

1,272 notes - Posted June 26, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

A love letter to the co-conspiritors

They have many names—beta reader, friend, Oh Fuck You—but you know who they are: they're the person who is as rabid as you about a ship or a character, the one you DM with your most twisted headcanons, the one who agrees that YES, he SHOULD be tied to a chair and slapped in the face—that she SHOULD be allowed a little tragic backstory, as a treat—that they SHOULD be roommates who are secretly pining for one another...the one who hashes out with you, at past midnight, how soon is reasonable for people with superpowers to have sex after one of them has been shot in the leg.

They’re the person who reads your fic before you send it to anyone else, and raves with you about that plot point that you COULDN’T WAIT for them to reach, or points out where you’ve forgotten that they were at the bar, not the library, so you need to remove the reference to book stacks, or pokes you to finish the goddamn next chapter because they want to read it, okay?

Fandom would not exist without them. They enable and encourage. Some of them are also fic writers, and you get to enable them right back. Some of them create fan art, or meta, or text post edits, or run prompt fests, or edit wikis...some of them are simply just as in love with the same thing that you are and want to feed the squee.

If you’re lucky enough to have someone like this in your life, you’ll know how much impact they have. It’s different to getting comments and kudos (wonderful though those are!), because they come in before the fic is finished, sometimes even before it’s started, and say ‘yes, do it!’. The fact that I've written so much for Community and The Umbrella Academy is completely down to @bethanyactually and @wheresmytowel respectively, and I count myself incredibly lucky to have them both in my life (and not just for all this, but also because they’re both incredibly lovely and smart and fun).

It was Fanfic Writer Appreciation Day yesterday (Aug 21st), and it made me think that we should also give a shoutout to the co-conspiritors, because without them, an awful lot more fic writers would be stress-scrolling through tumblr instead of working on their WIP, and there’d be so much less fic in the world.

1,945 notes - Posted August 22, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[floripire]

❝ how long has it been since you fed ? ❞

vampiric starter prompts // @scott94

"a while," flori admits quietly, tiredly. "i mean, i just got so wrapped up in all my research---" she inclines her head. scattered throughout her bedroom are books and papers. her laptop's still open and it's not too hard to see that she's been running the numbers again and again and again and again. "---it's a long shot, and it probably won't work. but if allison argent gets to come back and if she gets to have a second chance, then i can at least make an attempt to get my parents back too because they deserve another shot at life as well. my nosiness and curiosity was what got them killed." she's not going to cry in front of scott goddamn mccall because that would be embarrassing and she'd like to be able to look him in the eyes after this, thanks. "the least i can do is give it my all to get them back, you know? the least i can do is make up for the fact that i was - am - a terrible daughter."

[crestfallercanyon]

2, 5, 16 :~)

Hiya!! Thanks so much for the ask <3

2. did you have any writing goals? did you meet them?

Sort of!

My goals were to finish some of my longfics, get started on a major longfic, and explore more characters.

I finished one (maybe two?) of my longfics from the year prior, I did not get started on my major longfic (and that's okay!), and I did explore more characters (and fandoms!) so I think so?

My goals also shifted throughout the year, though, because I began to partake in more events which was a lot of fun! So, no regrets.

5. Favorite line of dialogue you wrote this year?

That's REALLY hard, oof! To give myself an out, i'm going to categorize three separate lines :D

Truly a favorite single line? "We keep a piece of all the monsters we survive; if this meant that we became them, there'd be no good people left." - Derek, Of All My Crimes

Favorite exchange? “If you’re gonna suggest somethin’ like that to me, then you say exactly what you mean. You tell me what you mean by that, Thomas.”  “You know what I mean,” Thomas insists.  “Shucking say it.”  “You’d have to kill me, Gally. You’d have to kill me.” - Gally and Thomas, Look Who's Inside Again

Favorite 'Monologue'? “Gally follows the rules. He makes life easy for himself. He tabs his Bluebook, he writes out all of colloquies even though he’s recited them a thousand times, hell, he labels all of his clothes so he knows what color they are. And he follows the rules. His house? You should have seen it, Newt. It was warm and taken care of and good. I always thought him like a raw material, stone, the crust of the earth, but that doesn’t give him the credit. He wasn’t born of stone, he has built himself, brick by brick, to be the way he is. ... ... I, on the other hand, am a goddamn disaster. And the worst part? After seeing the way he holds himself, I realize that I’m not even a natural one. I’m no hurricane or tornado. I do this to myself. Over and over and over, I am a self-saboteur, I am my own worst enemy. I can’t get out of my own head. I can’t stop acting on impulse, I get into so much trouble. And each and every night my mind cycles through every stupid thing I said, every stupid thing I did, realizing how many holes I’m going to have to pull myself out of tomorrow. And I try to be better, but I always end the day with more, and I keep counting them until it’s just me, driving myself insane until I fall asleep.”  - Thomas, Conflicts of Interest

16. Who was your favorite character to write?

I really liked branching into other fandoms this year!

Allison Argent from Teen Wolf was super fun because she's still both practically a child but also has seen so much, and having her pair with Derek in such an angsty story has been really really fun.

Colin from Bandersnatch was also a kick because I was trying to figure out how to write from the perspective of someone who truly believes in conspiracy theories and alternate realities to the point of fanaticism (which I happen to not). Thomas from TMR may have a one-track mind, but Colin truly believes that PAC-Man's name comes from the term "power and control" (it does not) and is a game meant to be a symbolic representation for a nihilistic perspective on government and how life itself operates.

Thank you so much for the asks!!! (The questions are here) Sorry some answers went long, they just... I have many feels <3

[markdyerhere]

The Best Burner Phone is an Apple Watch

Yeah I said it. Fight me! (Don't actually fight me😅)

I have eyed the Light Phone, the Punkt phone, the Nokia 3310 3G. I've thought about rocking an iPad Mini with cellular data. I've flirted with the idea of a goddamn pager. Anything to get me away from the ever present anxiety rectangle of doom that is the modern smartphone. I didn't get any of these (although I would love to play Snake and listen to MP3s on the Nokia 3310 — just look at how sick this thing is!).

I got an Apple Watch. And y'all, it's the best.

Okay, so the Apple Watch isn't actually a burner phone. It's more of a chill vibes, low stress, limited functionality device. It's basically a powered up wrist iPod that can make phone calls.

But honestly that's as good as you're going to get as cell providers rapidly work to decommission their 3G networks ,ruining my Nokia feature phone fantasies. With the Apple Watch I can send messages, listen to music, play podcasts, check off reminders, view calendar events, track a workout, pay for stuff, turn on my lights...oh and make phone calls. It lets me do just enough and get back to whatever I was doing — helping me avoid getting locked in a phone hole of pseudo productivity and passive consumption. Ironically, strapping a smartwatch to your wrist physically frees you from your phone as Allison Johnson puts it here:

"For me, embracing the smartwatch life makes me feel like I’m in charge of my phone rather than the other way around. I don’t need it on my person at all times anymore"

My phone lives on my desk or in a bag. I actually find it annoying to have it in my pocket now. So much so that I'm looking into getting a cellular Apple Watch in the new year so I can fully leave my phone at home most of the time.

With my Apple Watch on, my phone has become what I think it was always really intended to be — my field computer. A device small enough, yet capable enough, to get some stuff done when I'm out and about, but nothing more. It's a small change, a perceptual change, but it's been hugely impactful to me. The phone moving from the everything device back to a functional gadget in my arsenal of tech tools has helped put all of my devices into functional context. Phones are for outside, tablets are for the couch, laptops are for laps and desks and watches are well, for your wrist.

[luckycheesefoodie321]

TUA S2 Rewatch

Elliot sticks a gun up on Five, Diego and Lila. Diego: You wanna take this or should I? Five: No, I got him. Diego *turns to distract Lila*: Hey Lila- Five *deflects the gun*

Yknow what good on you Luther for coming clean. Could’ve gone the easy route and used Viktor’s memory loss to his advantage but apologised straight up and was honest about the terrible things he did

The Swedes are just weirdos and it is kinda sad how it’s just big brother Swede at the end trying to avenge his brothers

“I was alone for 45 years”… it’s still only been like… 2 weeks for Five, and he hasn’t had a moment to breathe

I maintain that Diego vs Reggie is one of the best fights in TUA. But the way Reggie just destroys Diego’s self-esteem once more with one word (even tho he doesn’t know who Diego is) straight after shanking the guy!

Five wanting to protect Viktor from the truth and saying it was an asteroid that caused the 2019 apocalypse (which is technically true)

Klaus having literal trauma mannnnn they all wonder why he has so many vices

Diego getting to meet Grace IRL >•<

Allison tucking in a drunk Klaus

Reginald Hargreeves sucks. Periodt (referring to his encounter with Luther)

“I can handle it” says the guy who burst into tears and stuffed chocolate into his mouth in front of her husband, got pummelled by a big dude during a pit match to avoid his emotional pain, and is currently gorging on scrambled eggs

Diego being bitter and shady about Viktor, but them immediately accepting his apology (partially bc he’s taking his feelings about Lila out on him) “I don’t remember what I did, but I’m sorry…if that means anything” “…it does”

JUST LISTEN TO DIEGO’S LOVE TROUBLES LUTHER

Ok but the epic music behind their reunion was fun

And the fact that even tho Viktor still doesn’t have his memories back, they’re all still so cuddly with each other. THE LIL “HI” FROM VIKTOR AND THE THE LIL KISS KLAUS PUTS ON VIKTOR’S HEAD

Five apologising for messing up the time travel!!!

“Klaus is… doing something weird and pervy but probably related” *Ben makes a semi-agree face*

Five desperately trying to contain his sorrow at finding his siblings dead (for a second time) but these fools are all so caught up in themselves they don’t see how messed up Five’s life and the past two weeks have been

“The healthiest long term relationship this family has had is when Five was banging that mannequin” VIKTOR’S LOOK OF CONFUSION HAHAHAHA

“Oh does this mean I have to face my cult?”

VIKTOR’S LIL HOPS INTO THE GROUP HUG

Ok I spoke too soon. I forgot about Five vs Lila set to Bad Guy. Also a dope fight

Ok but the Swedes losing their first brother and then they got the nerve to set his funeral to Hello in SWEDISH. WHY YOU MAKE ME FEEL BAD FOR THEM LIKE THIS

Is Big Brother Swede gonna come back in S3 like Hazel did???

Ok but being a black woman landing in the 60s in Texas??? Scary enough. Add to that she can’t even speak and as someone whose ability relies on her voice and not being able to use it is already rough, but then she can’t even call out for help even without her superpower? Goddamn terrifying… and it’s just personified by those white men who chase after Allison. And those women who don’t know a thing about her but just see a terrified woman immediately jump to her rescue

“I just realised who you sound like” “Who?” “Dad” “Don’t say that” Ben is not immune to the trauma caused by Reggie

HOLD UP BEN WAS 17 WHEN HE DIED. 1989-2019 = 30 years, + 3 for time in Dallas = 33 - 16 = 17?!??? So Justin’s been playing a 17yo this whole time?!!!! Bro I was like maybe he died in his 20s but no that is so young!!

Oh god the way Reggie sweeps in and immediately takes control of the room and they all immediately fall silent and sit even without a word from him. The freaking power this man has over them. Even Five who hasn’t seen or talked to the man for 45 years. The only one who isn’t significantly affected is Klaus and he’s always been irreverent and has had recent interaction with him in the afterlife and Viktor who doesn’t remember him

Just the descent into children in front of their father

Viktor’s little oops after flexing their power

I hear Allison is gonna get some trauma assessment in S3 and the fact she’s been doing some heavy day drinking this season is… set up??

REGINALD HARGREEVES IS A LIL BITCH (in reference to him completely ripping apart Diego’s self esteem)

Luther rips open his shirt “LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID TO ME” Five: “oh shit. why?”

CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TAKE KLAUS SERIOUSLY FOR ONE SECOND ISTG

Funnily enough this whole scene is the reason Reggie doesn’t choose these particular kids and ends up forming the Sparrow Academy

The fact Luther has to drag Klaus out the elevator

So interesting that Five can talk as equals with Reginald as a 58 year old. In turn Reggie treats him quite well.

I feel so bad for Elliot

The murder spree! The fbomb they let Aiden drop XD

My darling Ben WHO IS SIXTEEN being able to prance about the dirt and flowers and the situation quickly turns to sex with a woman who is anywhere between 17 and 25 (tho she’s prolly around 18-21 given she gave up university when she joined Klaus’s cult)

DIEGO AND BEN REUNITING DUDEEEE IT WAS SO CUTE AND YOU CAN TELL BEN IS STILL TECHNICALLY YOUNGER THAN HIM

Five has such love for his family and it makes me sad when none of them recognise that behind his actions. That said the fact that he and Viktor both powered up to fight but then simultaneously powered down to avoid a fight was both sweet but also so fun bc I’m wondering if they’ll pay that off later down the track

Ray is too good for all this Umbrella nonsense. But man Allison is gonna have it rough in the next season since Claire prolly doesn’t exist huh

I know they killed Elliot and I felt sad for Elliott and they were trying to kill Allison and Ray but man being forced to kill your own brother and the guy who plays big brother Swede sold it HARD. Like dude was ready to chop off his hand!!

The Reggie-Grace fall out was sad.

HAHAHAH THE 7 SYMPTOMS OF PARADOX PSYCHOSIS

Luther gently patting away Five’s sweat

Klaus you are so much more than sexy trash bby

Lmao Diego appreciating the Antonio Banderas compliment from Klaus

Diego sending back the fire hose for Klaus to hang onto before he lost consciousness

Klaus getting a shitload of numbers in just a sarong

KLAUS MAKING IT TO THE DOOR AND BEN BEING THE ONE TO GO IN FOR VIKTOR. But also interesting that Ben isn’t totally unaffected by Viktor’s energy waves

IM THE DADDY HERE. Five, please, you’re being unseemly!

they really Second-Death’d my boy Ben!! Sad that this version of Ben is effectively gone. And the fact he’s this teenager trying to desperately help his family

She really just ate that goldfish

Forgot Reggie was an alien

So Ben “grew up” as a ghost. So not technically a teenager like I thought. How much of that was Klaus projecting I wonder. Also Reggie you suck. Blaming your children for Ben’s death

Thinking about Klaus sobering up in preparation to attempt to summon Ben. And he freaking did!

ALL OF THEM PILING INTO THE CAR. AFTER VIKTOR ASKS THEM TO BE WITH HIM BC HE WANTS HIS FAMILY BY HIS SIDE. AND THEM SAYING NO. ONLY TO CHANGE THEIR MIND STRAIGHT AWAY

Diego blinks with Five. “Five, I think I’m gonna puke” “NO TIME”

DIEGO BENDING THE BULLETS. LUTHER WRAPPING HIS ARMS AROUND ALLISON AND KLAUS. And then wrapping tighter when they realise Viktor’s joining the fight!!!

FIVE PUSHING LUTHER OUT OF THE WAY OF THE BRICKS

Man the sequence where Five rewinds time is so cool

The big grin Luther gives Viktor when he takes the…alien powers?? Away from Harlan

Diego and Viktor sitting together

HAHAHA BIG BROTHER SWEDE JOINED DESTINY’S CHILDREN

EMO BEN!!!!

[sharkneto]

You mentioned yesterday that you had an idea for a Five and Allison post-S3 fic. Would you be interested/willing to ramble about that while on your train ride? (StacyandtheSnark, I'm not logged in on my phone)

Ah, the post-S3 fic. It's been slow going, I think I need to rewatch S3 again to get a better handle on where everyone is at. But it's mostly Allison and Five talking (shocking coming from me, I know).

The angle I'm working with on it is that Allison is a little estranged from the family living her Perfect Life with Raymond and Claire. They've been in the new timeline a few months. Allison still has her powers, the rest of them do not. Allison does not know this. Five reaches out to see each other - motivated both by wanting to see how she's doing after everything and because he needs to know where she's at after the "betrayal" of her making a deal with Reggie. He's been busy drinking and having a terrible time being 13 and powerless. Five learns Allison still has her powers and that only ups the tension on his end because he's too aware of the power imbalance between them. There's tension, there's miscommunication, there's an argument, there's real talk finally happening and the air being cleared.

I have snippets of dialogue but it hasn't wanted to really come together. I keep poking at it, rotating Five and Allison in my mind.

A snip, if mobile cooperates:

“Anything interesting?” Five asks mildly from behind her.

Allison stiffens despite being pretty sure she’s not doing anything wrong. “What is all this, Five?” She turns away from the desk of files to look at him.

He stares back, leaning in the bedroom doorway, a box of Chinese takeout in his hand. “Luther’s stuff to find Sloane,” he says easily. He pulls a fork out of the box to shove some noodles into his mouth.

“I got that. What’s this?” She holds up the first page on Hargreeves Enterprises.

It’s a long second as he chews and swallows before responding, “You aren’t curious about Dad’s monopoly on the world?"

“I thought you were retired.”

“A man needs a hobby.”

“And yours is corporate espionage?”

“Well, I’m very interested in capitalism.”

Allison gives her brother a long, flat look. Five holds it, taking another bite of noodles. She sighs; this isn’t what she wants this to be. She’s here for a reunion and she can be civil on her side of things. If it falls apart it’s not going to be her fault. Pushing herself past all of that, she backtracks. “So, there’s been no sign of Sloane?” She gestures to the piles of Luther’s papers.

“Nothing yet.”

“But… Ben was with you when you left the hotel. And Lila, right? Why not Sloane? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Five shrugs. He’s giving her that tight look again, like he’s looking for something in her. Too casual, he says, “No idea. It’s a new timeline, whole new reality. It’s hard to say.”

“Wouldn’t you know?”

“Your continued confidence in my knowledge in how every timeline works is flattering but no. Not without digging through to find exactly how things are different here and tracking down which thread is the relevant one to change that specific bit, and I’m limited on that front now.”

Allison’s brow furrows. “What do you mean you’re limited?”

Five’s hand falters slightly as he’s bringing a forkful of noodles to his mouth, but he recovers and takes his bite. After swallowing he says, “Because I am but one man. And as continues to be infuriatingly relevant, I look like a goddamn kid.”

That’s never stopped Five before. She keeps staring at him. Something is off. She studies him. He studies her back, slurping up a long noodle from the box.

The phone ringing startles them both. Five frowns and turns to wander back to the kitchen. Allison follows. They stand together and stare at the phone where it sits in its cradle on the counter. It keeps ringing, breaking through the quiet of the small apartment.

“Are you going to get that?” Allison asks as it continues .

“Not my phone.”

They keep watching it. The answering machine clicks and Luther’s voice says, “Hey, you reached Luther Hargreeves. Leave a name and number and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. After the beep.” Static flickers for a few seconds before the beep rings out.

On the other end, the person clears their throat and then, in a low, husky voice, says, “Hey, Five, pick up if you’re there. I know Luther’s out of town so you’re probably going to stay there but let me know so I know if I should order more Thai for tonight. Klaus might be coming, if that changes your mind one way or the other. Oh, and, um, the paperwork came for the GED stuff, I put it on the counter. The emancipation stuff I think is going to be harder than we thought but we might be good if we can get things that say you’re fourteen. I put the papers on that with the GED stuff… Um. Anyway. Call me back before you get too drunk tonight so we can coordinate. Love you.” More static and then it clicks off.

Allison turns to Five. “Made a new friend in the last few months?” That casual love you bounces around her head.

His expression pinches. “Viktor?”

“What? Viktor?” That doesn’t make sens—Oh. “Oh! I—"

Five has put together the same pieces she did. “It’s a recent development,” he hurries to say. “His voice, uh, only really dropped the last couple weeks.” He focuses on stabbing the lo mein some more.

“No, yeah, of course.” Allison almost wants to replay the message, hear that low voice again so she can place it to Viktor.

She really hasn’t talked to her family in months.

[willowbird]

I don't read fanfiction. I tried it a few times earlier and I didn't enjoy it. But I read a screenshot snippet of your aftg work on Pinterest and now I'm addicted. If someone told me it was Nora who'd written it all, I'd not doubt it. TYSM, I love you, I love your writing, your attention to detail, metaphors, everything. (selfish request, but if you ever find the time or will to write about Andrew learning to cut Neil's hair when they live together bc Allison no longer can, I'll be delighted)

omg you are so gd SWEET ;_; thank you so much for reading and sending me such a lovely message <3 <3 <3

as for your lil request, I think I'm able to whip up a bit a somthin ~

---

"Are you sure about this?"

"Of course I'm sure. Never been more sure about anything in my life. Chop chop now. I mean, unless you want it to keep growing into... what did that reporter call it, cave-man chic?"

Neil met his eyes in the mirror, and Andrew could tell there was no talking him out of it.

"What if I accidentally slit your throat or cut off your ear or something?"

This time, Neil turned fully around in the chair to look up at him. It wasn't a large bathroom and the movement was somewhat awkward, but Neil managed it. His expression was even, his tone completely serious as he then said, "There is no one I trust more with a blade near my skin than you, Andrew."

Really, Andrew should have stabbed him then and there.

Instead, he levied his best glare at his own personal menace and said, "Turn the fuck around, Josten."

Neil looked at him for a moment, too much knowing in those blue eyes of his, then he turned back around on the chair, facing the mirror once more.

Andrew took his time deciding where to begin, then forced himself to take a slow, silent breath. The first snip seemed too loud, too permanent. It held too much gravity for something as stupid as a lock of hair drifting to the floor of an apartment bathroom. Andrew watched it fall, then made himself do the next snip, then the next. It didn't help (or maybe it did) that Neil relaxed completely at the way Andrew hand to sift his fingers through his hair to part it so he could keep the cut at least semi-even. Andrew wasn't sure he liked how intimate this was, cutting someone else's hair (cutting Neil's hair), so he focused on the methodology instead. He thought back to the YouTube videos he'd watched in preparation when Neil had first suggested Andrew cut his hair, and followed those steps as he parted, measured, then trimmed around Neil's ears and the fringe that was overtaking the other man's forehead.

In all, the whole affair was both more and less traumatizing than anticipated. Neil definitely looked better, though the cut wasn't as clean as when Allison or Robin would do it for him. The most offensive part of it all was how the menace met his eyes in mirror and fucking grinned at him, one hand lifted to touch the newly trimmed ends that no longer threatened to poke him in the eye.

It was such a bright expression. It had no place in either of their lives. But it was right there, shining back at Andrew through the mirror, because of something so stupid as a fucking haircut.

"I am never doing this again," Andrew promised with all the vehemence of an expletive, knowing full well that in exactly six-to-eight weeks he would have Neil sitting right in front of him for a goddamn trim.

"That's okay," Neil said as he ruffled his hair, getting used to the new length. Then he turned around and faced him, and the warmth in those blue eyes only made Andrew want to punch things because of how much he wanted to curl up in that look like it was the only real safe place in the world.

After a moment where Andrew tried not to bask in that look, Andrew said, "What?"

Neil shook his head. "Just wanted to say thank you."

Andrew scowled at him, but he bit back his instinctive response of 'I hate you'. Instead, he lifted one hand and flicked Neil in the forehead, right between the eyes before turning to stride out of the bathroom.

"Get this shit cleaned up Josten," he tossed over his shoulder. "Dinner will be done in a half hour."

If he happened to make Neil's favorite perogies even though they'd been going to just pop in a frozen pizza? Well, Neil knew better than to say anything about it.