#so light him on fire Matilda (not literally but maybe literally)

[amarrymeinbostonwriter]

I drew this wayyy earlier in this NaNoWriMo Season. Like November 3rd maybe?  

So one of my main complaints with Anne Bronte’s Agnes Grey is actually the portrayal of Rosalie and Matilda Murray (none of my followers/mutuals are probably surprised, I’m sure).

So Vicar Hatfield is hitting on 17 year old Rosalie...Yeah, gross. In 1847 when the novel came out, it was acceptable for full grown ass adult men to do that. So instead of maybe demonizing the child (or children in this case because 15 year old Matilda functions as Rosalie’s side kick in Agnes Grey) maybe we should reframe that story in its proper light? Cue Kesha’s “Dinosaur” on full blast. 

Yeah, Rosalie is a bit of a Victorian Regina George and Matilda is her rude horse-loving sister (read Victorian gender/sexuality code: a butch lesbian). Basically, they are both supposed to be examples Anne Bronte uses to tell little Victorian girls how not to be. Ouch.

The top panel is Anne Bronte’s versions of Matilda and Rosalie because they’re technically the second arc villains of her text as they are unpleasant to Agnes, the heroine, specifically and everyone else in general. 

And the bottom panel is closer to how they are in my NaNo project. I felt bad for both of them in the original book. At the end of the book, Rosalie is in a loveless marriage (not to Hatfield thank God) and the new governess (not Agnes) is trying to break Matilda’s spirit and force her to conform to the ideals of a straight Victorian Lady. :/

So I decided to answer the question of what happens next for Matilda (and other characters though she was my focal character for this project) with my NaNo project. I also explain why Rosalie and Matilda were horrible when Agnes knew them as well as many other things. The Markhams from The Tenant of Wildfell Hall will appear briefly in the story too as well of a boat load of fictional Victorian lesbians and gay men who befriend Matilda as she lives multiple lives across the second half of the 19th century. 

I basically reclaimed the Murray girls and rewrote their stories. Is that unhinged of me? Very possibly- especially since they aren’t supposed to be the heroines- but that’s what I’ve been working on this past month along side my grad studies.

[bettyshoweduptotheparty]

Eras tour thoughts, part 3: Burning the Lover house

So, after my Anti-Hero/Matilda theory, here's another brain dump of thoughts on style choices for the Eras tour, now that the first leg has officially finished and we are on the international leg of the tour. Warning, this is bit of an essay...

This part is about maybe the most glaring visual choice of the whole tour, one that pretty much every swiftie has picked up on: The burning of the Lover house. I've seen a lot of confusion in the fandom about this and some theories about how this could represent 'burning down' her old work as she releases the re-recordings or making space for new albums because the house is full if every room represents an era.

In terms of gaylor theories I've only seen one and that is THIS one by @keepingsecretstokeepyoutk (I hope you don't mind me borrowing your theory for this post). It's a brilliant theory that burning the house is another step on the road to coming out and I'd like to extend this with a few observations on my own.

Firstly, I'd agree that the midnights cover image of Taylor holding the lighter was definitely a sign that something was going to get burned before the tour even started. Even with the midnights songs themselves, if we think of it as a journey of stepping into the daylight, the songs on this album are definitely pretty gay and only one song with he/him pronouns. But back to the lover house...

True to my TRUE Lover

So the lover house to me has always represented her public relationships, it's not where her real lover lives and that is for two reasons:

The OG lover house is in a snow globe (see lover mv) so it is to be displayed/looked at but not to be actually lived in. And

Maybe most importantly, the house doesn't have a kitchen. In all of Taylor's music the centre of her domestic life/the place where her lover is, has always been the kitchen. Dancing in the refrigerator light / barefoot in the kitchen/ you're in the kitchen humming, and so many more. Not to mention that her actual love story literally started with the line 'your kitchen or mine...' So yeah, the absence of a kitchen in the lover house has always been pretty telling to me, that this is the 'love's for show' house and her true lover is somewhere else.

What happens to the house during the Eras tour?

So not surprisingly, the house first appears during the lover era set which is the opening act of the tour. Notably though, it isn't furnished and 'lived in' anymore like it was in the lover mv, it's empty and the lovers have very clearly moved out. It's also not night time anymore, it's now daytime and the sun is shining in through the windows:

The only person we see in it, is Taylor in a yellow dress in the pink bedroom where she climbs into the big mirror and disappears. The first 'burning' then occurs at the end of the set, during the transition to fearless era. The last song of the set is the Archer, during which golden arrows fly around on the stage that form a ball of light that explores into a cascade of sparkling rain that sets the house on fire.

It doesn't really burn like a normal house fire though, it just stands in the rain of sparks, looking almost peaceful and golden. So much so, that she added a massive smoke effect to drive home the message that the house really is burning. Look how much smoke there is:

So at the end of the lover era, the contents of the house and a few of the walls have burned, but the house is still pretty much intact. It can be repaired. And that's pretty spot on for the actual lover era, which was meant to be her coming out era, but ended up just being a nice gentle golden (aka pastels and rainbows) fire that left some damage to her straight image but could ultimately be repaired and the public bearding continued. Keep that in mind, because we now don't see the house again until way later in the show.

1989 - Now it really burns

During the 1989 set (which is the second to last in the show) there is a ton of fire imagery, starting with the flame in the hand and the bed on fire during Wildest dreams and then finally, during Bad Blood, the final song, we see the house again looking a bit charred. Now, this is where things get interesting. We see Taylor walking in wearing Karlie's 2014 VSFS outfit, full strut and including the flick of the cape as she sits down at the vanity. She then flicks a match at the floor and the rooms lights up in blue flames.

So despite this being Taylor, I think the outfit and the strut make it pretty clear that this is Karlie who is lighting the house on fire again. And I think now in hindsight we can safely assume that this was foreshadowing Karlie showing up and setting in motion the events that follow. Even in the last few weeks since Karlie's appearance at the LA show, the fandom has been pretty much on fire over it, no matter what side of the fence you're on. And this time it's not a gentle sparkly rain, it's a blazing inferno, blue first, then it turns orange (or whatever colour normal fire is) before the house eventually collapses in a smoking heap and is gone for good.

video credit: ryan pily on YouTube

So...are we nearing daylight?

My interpretation is, that the blue flames indicate that 1989 TV will have a significant impact on this journey, and the different cover images that we have seen so far have confirmed that for me. They are all imitations of original 1989 era polaroids, but taken outside in broad daylight with seagulls flying freely and Taylor's face smiling on full display. They are also the first re-release covers that have the album title and Taylor's Version written on them so she wants her name on these, which feels significant. Now, I don't think that this will be the 'coming out era' or anything, I still think we are 12-18 months away from the end of this whole process, but I think Karlie showing up was a big shift in the story and I hope we'll be seeing a lot more of her and a lot less of any 'boyfriends'. But let's not forget that the general swiftie fandom still have a long way to go from 'she's straight and has only ever dated men' to 'she's been madly in love with the same woman for the last 10 years'. The house finally collapsing suggest to me that we are done with the bearding narrative, and tbh Taylor seems over it. She's been the happiest ever on this tour and didn't even attempt to look sad over her supposed breakup with Joe... I'm trying to collect my thoughts on how the remaining two re-release albums will further this journey, but it's all a jumble at this point. I wouldn't be surprised if tour visuals for the Asia/Australia/Europe leg of the tour change as time goes on to reveal more as we get closer to rep and debut re-release. And personally, I think that once the tour and all re-releases are done, we will get TS11 and that will be the gayest album yet, songs with she/her pronouns and all. 🤞😉

If you've made it all the way to here - Thank you indeed, you are a star!

(pictures and gifs not mine)

[crashdevlin]

Wham Bam

One Night at a Time Masterlist

Author’s Note: Part nine of One Night at a Time series.

Summary: Y/n gets close with her old friend Asa after being sent away by Dean. Of course, that's not something Dean can allow.

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Asa Fox x Reader

Word count: 5836

Story Warnings:  threats of harm to reader, poor self-esteem, angst, Jealous!Dean, Demon!Dean, Possessive!Dean, light stalking, unprotected sex, 18+! HERE BE SEX!! DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!!, oral (fem and male rec), fingering, creampie, cum eating, bit of pain to the reader.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Of course you can stay with us. You know my mom loves you."

Lorraine Fox does not love me. Though...she does have a habit of extremely warm hugs. "That's an exaggeration. But, I really do appreciate you-"

"We'll get the guest room set up for you. You can stay as long as you need. And hey, it's been a long time since we did a job together, maybe we'll find something to work on."

I smile and pick up a hashbrown round from the bag sitting on my passenger seat and pop it in my mouth. "We haven't worked together since, what, '09?"

"Summer of 2010. That witch in Pensacola," he reminds me.

"That’s right! God, you saved my ass on that one!" That witch would have killed me if Asa hadn't forced witch-killing potion down her throat.

"I was just returning the favor for the poltergeist fiasco in 2004."

I laugh at the memory. "Oh, God, that was so bad! I have never had to literally drag a full-grown man out of a burning house! A house he set on fire!"

"It was an accident! The lamp hit the curtains! Who has kerosene lamps in their house?!"

We both chuckle for a few moments before I clear my throat. "Thanks again, Asa. I'm, uh, about four hours out. I'll get back on the road and see you soon."

"Looking forward to it, darlin'."

Asa's sweet. I'm glad to have a friend like him. Oh, wait! I do have friends other than Matilda!

Weird.

I get back on the road and drive up the rest of the way to Manning. Lorraine opens the door of their glorious manor as I pull into the gravel lot outside. "Mrs. Fox! It's been a long time!" I shout as I get out of the car.

"It's been years, girl!" she exclaims, smiling as she walks over to meet me as I pull my bag out of the backseat. "Where did you disappear to?"

I bite my lip as I turn to her. "Things got pretty crazy."

"Where'd your scar go?" She reaches up and runs her finger over my cheek where my scar used to be.

"Oh. Um...got healed by a faith healer."

"Well, that's wonderful! You look gorgeous, honey." My cheeks heat up as she runs her fingers over my hair. It has been a long time since I had anyone be...nice to me. "Why don't you come in? We'll get you settled in the guest room next to Asa's and you can tell me how crazy things got."

"Is Asa home yet?" I ask, shutting the door and following her.

"He's on his way back from a...a siren, I think. He'll be home soon." I nod as we head into the foyer and up the stairs. I drop my bag on the bed. I can see the room's been recently dusted and the linens on the bed have been recently changed. There are fresh flowers on the dresser, too.

Okay, Lorraine might like me.

"You want some coffee? Let's go on down to the kitchen."

We sit at the kitchen table and have some coffee. I tell Lorraine about the Apocalypse and sending Marco down. I tell her about Dean and moving into the Bunker...I leave out the part where he put a knife to my throat, though. Don't want her too worried.

"He just got really, I dunno, dark after he got that Mark. I...couldn’t stay."

"He obviously didn't care about you, Y/n. You followed him for too long with no reward. I'm proud of you for finally standing up for yourself!"

Not exactly how that went, Lorraine, but thank you. I run my finger over the edge of the cup and shrug. "I probably would have stayed if it weren’t for the Mark. He's the only guy who's ever…" I trail off. He's not the only guy who ever gave me attention. He's just the only one I ever thought might want something real with me. I was so stupid to hope. "He said he wanted to build a relationship with me. I've never had that. It was enticing. But he didn't want a relationship. He just wanted a fuck buddy."

"You deserve so much more, Y/n. You deserve something real!" She leans forward to look me in the eye. "You deserve a man who will treat you right."

"Lorraine, that is so easy to say but not so easy to find." I shake my head. "I'm a hunter...been a hunter for fifteen years. I've got no chance with any guy that's not a hunter and I'm not aware of many hunter men that would treat me right. Hunters are, generally, a one-night stand sort of animal."

She sighs and leans back again. "Well, maybe you just gotta get close to someone and let him fall for you. If they've been raised up right, they'll treat you right."

I give her a tight smile. I'm not sure how many hunters other than her son and me that she's met, but it's a bit of a pipe dream to find a hunter that's been raised up right...unless maybe I can find one that's new to the life.

"Maybe I'm just better off alone."

"Don't let that Dean jerk turn you off from men. You don't want to end up a lonely old lady like me, do you?"

I chuckle. "Nothing wrong with being alone."

"Woman like you shouldn't be alone," a deep voice says, coming into the kitchen. Asa.

I smile and stand up to greet him. "How you doing, Asa?"

"Pretty good. Glad to see you, darlin'." He wraps his arms around me in a hug and I return the embrace. "Been too long since I've seen this beautiful face," he says, leaning back to smile at me.

"She had a faith healer fix her scars," Lorraine says.

Asa looks down at my chest, where the thickest scar used to be. He saw it, back in '08 when he dressed a bullet wound on my shoulder. "All of 'em?"

I nod. "Yeah. All of 'em. He was an Angel."

"Well, you look amazing, but...ya know, scars are sexy," he says. "That one on your stomach was badass."

"Well, chicks dig scars, Ace...men generally don't."

"Well, there's always an exception, Y/n." He smiles and so do I. He's a good friend. "Not that you need to worry 'bout it anymore. Did Mom set you up in a room?"

"Yes. Right next to you. We get to be neighbors for a while."

He laughs. "Well, I'll be sure to keep the noise down, neighbor."

"All right. Let's grab a few beers from the fridge and you can fill me in on how you ended up needing a place to stay."

"Sounds great."

~~~~~~~~~

"The Mark of Cain, huh?" Asa takes a drink of his beer and shakes his head. "Damn. That is a whole other level of crazy."

"Yep...and it's driving him a whole other level of crazy. He was gonna kill me if I didn't get out of there."

"Well, it's a blessing he sent you off, then."

"That was a setup by a psychic friend of mine. She gave me some advice that she told me was gonna do one thing but it was actually a way to get out of the Bunker and have it be Dean's idea."

Asa's eyebrows scrunch together and he sets the beer down on the table. The firelight from the study fireplace is flickering across his face. "You couldn't just leave?"

I shake my head. "He's always had this thing about me leaving him. Abandonment issues, I guess." I lick my lips and shrug. "He would have found me. He's done it before."

"Well...I'm glad I could provide a safe place for you to hide."

"I'm not hiding, Ace." I take a drink of beer and clear my throat. "He sent me away. He won't come looking for me. He doesn't care...never has." Well, that's a painful truth. "I'm kinda looking forward to being out from under his thumb, actually. I have spent years pining over him like an idiot. Really hasn't been worth it."

"He really has no clue what he threw away, does he?"

I laugh and shake my head. "Dean's like you, man. He can get any woman he wants."

He smirks. "Well, we'll just have to see if I can get any woman I want."

"I'm more than willing to be your wingwoman," I volunteer as he picks up his beer from the table. It's been a while since we hit a bar together. We spent a few fun nights with beers and dancing. I always helped him pick a hot chick to take back to the motel. Friends do that for each other, right? So Asa is a friend.

He laughs and shakes his head. "Maybe another time. Tonight is about you being away from your crazy ex; safe here."

"Is he really my ex if we weren't really dating?"

"I'd say so, but I'm also not the type to force a woman to stay with me for years without putting a ring on her finger."

I lean my shoulder into his and laugh. "You never keep a woman around for more than a night at a time!"

"Because I don't wanna settle down! I've got a system, Y/n."

"At least you're honest with yourself and all those women...unlike someone."

"All right, just gotta get your mind off of him. You and me, we're gonna take a few days to relax here and then we’re gonna go find something to kill, eh? That sound good?”

I smile and nod at him, lifting the beer for a cheers. “Sounds awesome, Asa.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam called while Asa and I were on a job. “Dean’s gone,” he said. Of course that required a lot of clarification. Dean’s gone often, ya know? Hell, Purgatory, random women's beds, Vegas that one time. Stabbed in the abdomen by an Angel blade wielded by a megalomaniacal Angel.

Dead. Gone, in this instance, means Dean is dead.

I shouldn’t be crying. I shouldn’t be hyperventilating and sobbing like this. I can barely get the words out of me when Asa asks me what’s wrong. For several hours, the words won’t come out. I can allude to them enough that Asa figures out why I’m crying and he tries to comfort me, but the liquor he leaves to buy doesn’t do anything but make me drunk and sad.

I wake up hungover and depressed...but I can get the words out now. “Why am I so sad that Dean’s dead? He never did a damn thing but use me.” I stand on shaky legs and grab a bottle of water from the minifridge. Yeah, exactly, Y/n. He fucking used me. Only thing he ever did for me was help me exorcise Marco and ya know what? I was fucking doing just fine before he decided that I needed his help. I didn’t need his fucking help. I never needed his help. He needed my help and my body and my devotion. I gave him so much and what did I get in return?

“Good morning. How are you feeling?” Asa asks as he wakes up and stretches.

“You shoulda made me drink water last night. I’m dehydrated as fuck,” I groan before taking his example and stretching out some of my muscles. “But I’m not sad about it anymore. I’m pissed he let Metatron fuck him over like that...but he fucked me over more than once. I’m not saying he deserved to die like that, but...I’m not gonna keep mourning him just because I made up a bunch of ‘mighta-beens’. Our relationship was never anything real...despite my personal wishes. So...I wish him happiness in Heaven and I will pray for his soul but I'm done wasting tears on him. Just time to move on."

Asa smiles and gets out of bed, coming over to hug me. "Let me take you out tonight. When's the last time you went dancing?"

I snort. "I don't dance. Do you dance?"

"I know my way around a two-step. I'll teach you."

I agree, just to have the image in my head of Asa Fox, legendary hunter, dancing a two-step in a country bar.

He's weirdly good, though. It takes a few whiskeys to loosen me up enough but then he's got me stepping and stomping across the dance floor. He's twirling me around and we're laughing and everything seems better. Asa is a torch in the darkness.

"You had fun tonight, didn't ya?" He opens the door to our motel room and I twirl through the door. "Didn't know you could move like that."

"I'm not usually a dancer, but damn, I learned a thing or two from you tonight! You were all boot-scootin' boogie! I'm exhausted!"

He shuts the door behind him and pulls his jacket off. Oh, I should do that, too. Asa's biting his lip. Oh, I just realized, "I forgot to wingwoman for you! You didn't get a pickup!"

He shakes his head. "Didn't bring you to wingwoman for me, darling."

My eyebrows come together. "Well, no, we went to dance but-"

He's either moving a lot faster than I'm expecting or I'm drunker than I thought because he's suddenly in front of me and he's got his hand wrapped around the back of my neck and he's tilted my head back and I'm looking up into his eyes and, whoa, when did his eyes get so intense?

"I don't need you to wing for me because the woman I want to take back to the motel is already in the room with me."

What? He's--what? No. Asa can't…

"What?"

"You're the most oblivious woman in the world," he says with a laugh. "I've been tryin' to get you in bed since we met."

"We met more than a decade ago!" No way. Just...not possible.

"I'm apparently a patient man." His smile goes soft. "You weren’t getting it, though, so I thought I'd give you a hand."

My jaw drops a little. "But you-"

"I have been flirting with you for years. Even my mom know I want a shot with-"

I pull away a bit but he doesn't release his hold on me. "This is weird. You want me...for ten years of want?"

He answers with a kiss. Asa, the hunter playboy...a bearded Canadian version of Dean...is kissing me. Not friends, then.

He pulls back and looks down into my eyes. “I know you’re not ready yet, after everything with Dean, but like I said, I’m a patient man. I’ll wait.” He gives me another kiss and then he walks away to the bathroom.

What? But...He likes me? No way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m kinda ashamed at how quickly I ended up with Asa, but...well, it’s not like I didn’t already know him and trust him with my life. It’s not like jumping in bed with a random guy in a bar. It’s different. It’s Asa. After I make sure he’s not a demon or a shifter or some other monster, I’m surprisingly okay to sleep with him.

He’s not as good as Dean, but I doubt anyone will ever match up to Dean. Dean was...well, he had something to prove most of the time. Asa is willing to put in the time, but he’s not as attentive. He doesn’t adapt to figure out what I need at any given moment and I’m just happy to have someone want me again so I’m not going to tell him what I need. I guess that’s on me, then, right?

We're working a case that seems like a straightforward cursed painting. Painting keeps getting sold at estate and yard sales and then someone in the house disappears. I haven't had a chance to look at the thing up close because the auction house that took control of the painting after the last disappearance didn't believe me that I was an insurance agent looking into a stolen Manet. I need to make some damn IYS credentials so they'll let me in the Acquisitions room.

I walk into the motel room and drop the keys on the table, going for my laptop to dummy up a badge to take to Kinko's.

"Your new partner's got a badass scar on his face." I freeze. No. It can't be. "You two coulda been twins before Cas fixed your shit."

It’s like my whole body has been doused in freezing sludge as I turn to him with heaviness in my limbs. Dean is sitting on the dresser, flatscreen TV is on the floor...cracked to shit. He’s got a bottle of tequila next to him, glass in his hand. That ugly bone blade is on the other side of the bottle. His hair is gelled different and that look in his eyes is...weird. This is not Dean.

“You’re dead. Sam told me Metatron killed you. You’re dead,” I repeat.

“Correction: Metatron was too much of a bitch to finish the job.” He jumps down off the dresser and sets the glass down where his ass was parked. “Speaking of bitches, you moved on quick.”

What? Really? “He’s a friend…and you almost killed me and then you kicked me out. I was supposed to just keep pining for you?”

He smiles and it makes me cringe. It’s not right. It’s not Dean. “I sent you away because I was scared of what I could do to you. I’m completely in control of myself now.” He steps closer and that gives me a jolt of adrenaline that breaks the sludge feeling. I jump at my weapons bag. If I can get my Angel blade-

He grabs my arm and pulls me up against him. He’s like lightning. What the fuck?!

“I’d rather you didn’t start a fight just yet, sweetheart. It’s not one you’d win.”

“What are you?” I demand. He’s not Dean.

“I’m still Dean, baby, I’m just...new and improved.” What does that mean? He smiles and runs his hand up to my neck. “See, this Mark on my arm that you protested so hard against? It won’t let me die. Little silver lining that Crowley dismissed as legend and Cain didn’t warn me about.” You didn’t listen to the warnings, you dumbass! “So, I woke up with a brand new attitude and a desire to get out and have a little fun. Imagine my disappointment when I catch up with my girl and she’s with another man.”

“‘My girl’? Since fucking when?” I snap. “You treated me like shit, Dean. You treated me like trash and then you threw me away so what do you want from me?”

His fingers tighten around my neck. He doesn’t cut off my airway, but it’s scary that he’s in a position to do so if he wanted. “You have been mine for fuckin’ years, Y/n,” he growls. “After Elizabethville, I couldn’t get you out of my head. No woman I ever fucked made me see the truth of myself like you did. That hit a chord.” My heart is pounding as he tucks his fingers directly underneath my jaw. “Fact that I fell for you over that shit is insane, but the fact that Lilith figured it out before I did is even worse, huh?”

Lilith?

He chuckles and I shiver as he leans down next to my ear. “You didn’t know? Meg told you why Marco targeted you, remember?” I swallow. “She wanted to break me by taking you away.” I can’t keep the gasp in. That’s not...he can’t...how he treated me… “Ooh. Love it when you gasp. Wonder how many other sounds I can get outta you.”

“You...didn’t...you don’t-”

“Oh, I don’t right now,” he interrupts, nipping at my earlobe. “But I did. It’s why I couldn’t stand to watch you leave. It’s why it killed me to make you leave, but I wasn’t gonna let myself hurt you anymore. If I hadn’t thrown you away like trash, I would have eviscerated you. Kinda think that woulda been worse, don’t you?”

“But you were so-”

“You think I know how to be in love? That shit’s scarier than any god or monster we ever been up against. I kept you at a distance because-”

“It wasn’t just distance! You were an ass!”

His fingers tighten a bit as I talk over him. “Because I was afraid of letting you get too close. But you’ve been mine for years, Y/n, and I really don’t appreciate seeing you with someone else.”

“I’m not with Asa, I’m just-”

“I watched you with him last night,” he cuts me off, pulling back to look me in my eyes. He was watching? “Ya think he knows you fake your orgasms?” My jaw drops a bit. How does Dean know I faked it last night? He smirks and runs his thumb across my jawline. “See, I’ve committed your O-face to memory, baby. Used to replay it in quiet personal moments when I needed that last push to tip me over. You didn’t cum last night. Be honest, he doesn’t get you there, does he?”

“I...I don’t...that’s not important.”

“Oh? Your pleasure isn’t important? I made it a priority every time we fucked.”

“He’s nice to me. He’s...he doesn’t lie about what he wants from me. He’s honest about-”

“He’s a dud in the sack and probably not good on a hunt if his scars are any indication.”

“He doesn’t treat me as expendable!” I hiss. “He doesn’t push me away because he’s scared of feeling things!”

“Oh, I don’t really feel things anymore so that’s not a problem now. What’s a problem-” He bumps his nose against mine and brushes his lips over mine. “-is that you’re mine and you’ve been fucking another guy.”

“Dean, I-”

“So, I’m gonna have to remind you who you belong to.” When did he get so possessive?

He kisses me hard and I whimper as he pulls my suit jacket off, yanking the fabric down my arms roughly. He growls as he grabs my white button-up blouse and rips it open. The buttons go flying as he shoves his tongue in my mouth. I should be doing something. I should be stopping him. I should be doing anything other than grabbing his jacket to ground myself as he unzips my skirt and pushes me backward onto the bed. He falls with me, immediately kissing down my neck and in-between my cleavage. God, his lips are so perfect.

His hand moves between my legs and I feel my nylons rip as he digs his nails into them. For some reason, that makes me clench hard around nothing. His fingertips rub at my pussy through my panties and I can feel how wet I am. Why am I so wet already?

“You missed me.” It’s not a question. “You hated bein’ used but you missed the way I used you.” Fuck, he’s right. No one will ever match up. His fingers slip under my underwear and along my pussy lips. “Ooh. Baby, you’re so wet.”

“W-wait,” I whimper. I just need a minute to think before this goes too far. “I need a minute.”

“Too bad.” He bites at the swell of my breast and I gasp. “I’m not gonna give you time to question. All I want you to do is moan and gasp and scream.” One of his fingers slides into me and I bite my lip. He’s so good with his hands. He’s so fucking amazing. I can’t--oh! There’s that curl he does. “Just like that.”

He pulls down my white lace bra and starts licking and sucking at my nipple, worrying the puckered-up bud with his teeth as he fucks that finger in and out of me. His finger’s so thick but nowhere close to what’s in his pants. I don’t want to want him or what's in his pants, but fuck I can't help it. I can't help the way I melt under his attentions.

He gets his teeth into my nipple and I moan as he tugs it before moving to the other side. My bra is shoved down under my boobs, pushing them up like a Wonderbra and he's still got the finger going, curling and pressing at my inner walls and I just…

"I need more," I whine. He chuckles into my breast and sucks hard. I arch up from the mattress and he sits back to smirk down at me.

"You need more, huh? Admit that Scarface hasn't been scratchin' your itch."

I make a squeaky noise as he curls his finger right into my g-spot. "He hasn't!" I clench my eyes shut and roll my hips up. "Please, Dean."

His thumb finds my clit and I gasp, but when he gets a second finger into me I moan like a whore. "Tell me what you want. You know I'd never leave you hanging, baby. Tell me how you want your first one."

I can't help but think about the way his tongue feels. He hasn't eaten me since Crowley was in the dungeon of the Bunker. "Your tongue. God, I've missed your tongue so much."

He smirks again as he looks down at me. "I'm sure you have. I've missed tasting your sweet fucking pussy." He twists his fingers in me and starts moving down my body, settling between my thighs…exactly where I want him. He presses a kiss to my inner thigh and I gasp. "Music to my ears."

He keeps twisting his fingers against my walls as he kisses my skin. Fuck, it feels so good. It's not long before I'm begging for him to put his tongue where I need it.

But he doesn't. He wants to torture me. Is this revenge for sleeping with Asa?

"I think…" he starts as his fingers still. "You haven’t missed me enough.”

What? “What d-does that mean?” He doesn’t answer, he just goes back to nipping at my thigh again, but now his fingers are just in me...doing nothing and it’s maddening. It’s frustrating. It’s horrible. “Dean, please, god, do something!”

He just chuckles and something snaps. I reach down and grab his hair. The gel breaks apart as I yank on the locks, shoving his face into my crotch and grinding upward. I can hear him growl into my cunt, but he takes the hint to stop fucking around. My fingers tighten in his hair as he starts licking at my pussy like a starving man. His fingers start fucking in and out of me. His lips wrap around my clit. He nibbles lightly on my outer lips. I cum, harder than I have in a very long time, on his fingers.

He crawls up my body and buries his face in my neck, biting lightly at my shoulder as he gropes at my breast. “That’s a good girl. Knew you had it in you to take what you wanted.” He leans back and starts to pull his red flannel off. “My turn to get what I want. Take the rest of the clothes off.”

I nod lethargically and start to pull my blouse off. He ruined this shirt. Dammit. Maybe I can find the buttons and sew them back on? “Move faster or I’m gonna rip that pretty lace set off’a you, too,” he warns...so I move faster to get nude. I toss the nylons in the trashcan right before he grabs me and tosses me to the bed. I bounce a couple times before shuffling backward to get my head on the pillow. “Ooh. Look at you. So fuckin’ sexy.”

Dean looks amazing, but kinda predatory, as he climbs on the bed. “You gonna suck this thing for me? You know you love havin’ this cock in your throat.” I look down at Dean’s hand wrapped around his dick. I really do love sucking his cock. Always have.

I push him backward and position myself between his knees, taking his cock in my hand and licking at the head. He’s already got precum leaking. Fuck, he tastes so much better than Asa.

He praises me as I start taking him down. He hasn’t praised me since before Kevin died so hearing “That fuckin’ magic mouth,” and “Take me so good, baby,” and “Never had it so good as you,” is getting me even wetter than I already am. I need him inside me.

I suck hard as I pull off of his cock and look down at him. “Can I?” I ask, gesturing at his lap.

“You wanna ride, Cowgirl? Go for it.” He hasn't called me that in years.

I throw my leg over his lap to straddle him, lifting up and reaching between us to grab him and line him up with my pussy. I sink down on him and bite my lip. It feels so fucking good. He stretches me better than anybody ever has. I try to give myself a few moments to adjust but he thrusts his hips up and makes me scream.

"Said 'ride', sweetheart."

I nod and start to roll my hips. There's a sharp pain and I hiss. Too fast, started too fast...not that Dean seems to care. He just bites his lip and reaches around to grab a handful of each asscheek, coaxing me to move faster. I do.

Despite the pain in my pussy, the pleasure is more impressive. It's not long before I'm bouncing, riding him for all I can, chasing the pleasure of his dick pushing and pulling at my insides, his cockhead ramming my cervix in a painful but beautiful way. It’s so good and when he starts lifting his hips to thrust into me on the downstroke, I scream again.

When I fall forward and brace my hands on his chest in exhaustion, or maybe it's because I'm overwhelmed, he takes over and there's nothing I can do but hang on for dear life. Not that I can hang on to anything with the way he's gathered my wrists behind me and pressed them into my lower back. My cheek is against his tattoo as he fucks into me hard. I can't speak. I can't move. I can only take what he's doing and moan about it.

It feels so fucking good, though.

"So fuckin' tight," he grunts before letting go of my wrists and pushing me off of him. I bounce off the mattress again and pant up at him as he covers my body with his. "Know what? Think I'm really gonna make you mine this time. What do you say?"

He doesn't give me a chance to answer before he's feeding his cock into me again. He moves slow for a few thrusts...but then he's hammering into me and I'm biting down hard on my bottom lip to hold in the screams that desperately want to escape. I can't even question what that means because my brain is occupied with "Feels better than anything, can't wait to cum again, God I missed him and it's only been a couple months".

He presses open-mouthed kisses to my neck and shoulder as he fucks me and I hold on to his shoulders. He grunts, his breath catches, his cock pulses, he keeps fucking me for a few moments, but he’s...softer? Shit. Did he cum?

“Did you-”

“Gonna be drippin’ outta you for hours.” My eyes go wide as he pulls out of me and leans back on his heels. He tilts his head as he looks down at my pussy. “All mine now, aren’t you?”

“Dean, you...you’ve never-”

“‘Bout time I did, isn’t it? Oh no,” he says, a mocking look of concern on his face as he reaches out and runs a finger around my entrance. There’s blood and cum on his finger when he brings it up to his eye level. I knew I ripped something, dammit! “Baby girl’s got a booboo. Let me kiss it and make it better.”

What?

He’s back between my thighs, running his tongue along my slit and down to my entrance, swirling around me before I can say anything. It’s an insanely dirty and amazing thing...it’s hot as fuck that he’s eating blood and his own cum out of me. Fuck, that should not be as sexy as it is. Why is this so hot? Fuck, fuck, fuck, he’s got his tongue inside of me. Oh, and now he’s sucking my clit and I’m right on the edge. Let me cum. Let me cum. Let me cum.

“Please, let me cum!” I beg, and he chuckles before pressing his fingers into me and pressing my g-spot. I shudder when I cum, barely holding in the guttural moan I wanna let out. He licks his lips as he sits back again. “Oh, fuck.” I’m panting.

“Don’t think I need to tell you to leave him, do I?” he says as he climbs off the bed. What? He’s just gonna lay claim and then leave? And order me to leave Asa? What the fuck?

“Dean, what-”

“I’m not stickin’ around. I got shit to do, but I’ve made it clear, haven’t I?” He turns to me as he pulls his shirt on. Fear washes over me like a tidal wave when his eyes go black. He’s a demon?! How? He’s still got his anti-possession tattoo! “You’re mine. If I see you with that scarred-up bastard again...he won’t be the only one with scars. Get me?”

“How are you...I saw your tattoo is…”

He smiles cruelly. “Tattoo keeps me from getting possessed. I ain’t possessed. The Mark fucked my soul. Made me better. You’re welcome.” He winks and pulls his jeans on. “Make sure you’re outta here before your friend shows up.”

“I’m not going with you?” I ask. He’s really just gonna leave? Wham, bam, leave your friend, thank you ma’am?

“You’d be a drag on my plans. Sorry, sweetheart. I’ll find you when I want you again.”

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I snap, standing and glaring up at him and his stupid black eyes. "You run me down, stalk me, break into my room, fuck me, lay claim to me as yours, cum inside of me when we both know I'm not on birth control and then you're just gonna leave?!"

He nods and his eyes go green again. "Yeah, sounds about right." He smirks. "I'll see you again. Don't worry 'bout it." He doesn't even tie his boots before he grabs his jacket and heads for the door. "If I see you with him again, I'll rip you to pieces. See ya next time, baby."

What the fuck just happened?

~~~

The Kitchen Sink Tags- @flamencodiva @sacriceria @lyarr24 @440mxs-wife @nancymcl @stephv213 @mariekoukie6661 @beachy2014 @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @cosicas-cuquis @queenoftheunderdark @myheartbelongsintz @squirrelnotsam @akshi8278

[fanficshiddles]

Trust, Chapter 17

Thor and Jane looked surprised when Loki appeared to head to Asgard, with Darcy in tow too with a suitcase.

‘Where’s the Bifrost then?’ Darcy asked excitedly.

‘I did not realise you were joining us, Darcy.’ Thor said, but smiled widely as he then looked at Loki.

Loki grinned. ‘She is going to save me from having to deal with any boring commoners. And will likely lighten the festivities greatly.’

‘Ah excellent!’ Thor beamed happily.

Jane looked slightly irritated. Not overly happy about Darcy going too, knowing the pair of them would likely cause too much mischief.

The group all headed outside onto the green, Thor looked up and called for Heimdall to open the Bifrost. Tony ran out towards them screaming like a mad man at them not to do it on what was essentially his front lawn. But it was too late.

All that was left when he got there was burnt grass again. ‘Bloody Asgardians!’

Darcy was in complete awe as they were whisked through space in the rainbow Bifrost. Then before she knew it, they were on Asgard, stepping into the observatory.

She noted Loki’s arm around her and she looked up at him with a smirk. ‘What’s with the death hold on me?’

Loki rolled his eyes as he let her go. ‘To make sure you didn’t fall out at the wrong place. I don’t exactly fancy spending years looking for you on some unknown realm.’

Darcy shoved his arm playfully. ‘N’awwww you’d come looking for me? How sweet!’

He chuckled and ruffled up her hair in return. ‘I wouldn’t trust you not to cause chaos on some poor unsuspecting race.’

‘Yeah, cause that’s your job.’ She grinned and Loki grinned back at her with a wink.

‘Welcome to Asgard!’ Heimdall said, tearing Darcy’s attention away from Loki.

‘Oh wow, cool sword. You’re the all seeing Himdall, right?’ Darcy asked.

Loki sniggered and bumped her with his hip. ‘Heimdall.’ He corrected.

Heimdall smiled slightly and nodded once. ‘Nice to meet you, Darcy.’

Then the sound of hooves pounding the ground towards them was heard. Odin, Frigga and a guard with some spare horses came riding across the bridge to greet them.

Loki did the introductions for Darcy, since Jane had already met them before. Jane bowed her head to Odin and Frigga, greeting them politely.

Darcy’s mouth fell open as she looked at Frigga.

‘Jesus, Loki. You never told me your mother was so beautiful!’ She said in a slightly high-pitched tone to Loki, then she turned to Frigga and curtseyed. The best she could anyway without actually wearing a dress. ‘It’s so nice to meet you, Loki’s told me all about you.’

Frigga smiled widely at Darcy as she reached out to shake her hand. ‘Nice to meet you too. I heard from Thor that you’re responsible for bringing Loki back to Earth. Figuratively and literally.’ She smiled kindly at her.

‘I kind of am.’ Darcy said smugly, holding her head high.

Loki just cringed awkwardly beside them and put his head in his hand.

‘Although, we didn’t know you were coming till last minute. We don’t have any spare chambers left, so we are in a pickle of where to put you.’ Frigga said regretfully as she looked at Loki.

‘I’ll just bunk with Loki.’

Loki raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Oh really?’ He folded his arms over his chest.

Darcy shrugged. ‘I’m not sleeping on the floor. Besides, we’ve shared a bed before.’

Frigga looked between them both in amusement and curiosity. ‘That’s settled then.’ She said quickly before turning around and heading back to her horse.

‘I am going to have to deal with your snoring for two whole nights?’ Loki groaned.

‘Hey, it’s not going to be a barrel of laughs for me either.’ Darcy said as she poked him.

She was then introduced to Odin. She could feel the tension between him and Loki, it was thick in the air. She didn’t say much to Odin, just bowed her head politely.

The group headed out to the horses and Darcy was handed the reins of one of them.

‘Loks. You better give me a leg up, I have no idea how to ride never mind get on.’ She said as she looked over at him, just as he was about to mount his horse.

‘You mean you’ve never ridden before?’ He chuckled as he wandered over to her and swiftly grabbed her leg, not even checking if she was ready, he hoisted her up and onto the horse.

‘Nope!’ She squealed a little as she sat up straight and gathered the reins.

‘Sit up straight, keep your heels down and don’t tug on the horses’ mouth if you can help it.’ Loki said as he put her feet into the right position and moved her fingers into the right place for holding the reins.

Thor had Jane ride with him on the same horse. She hadn’t ridden before either, even on her last trip to Asgard she didn’t ride.

Loki got on his horse and rode up beside Darcy. ‘Your horse is rather attached to mine, so you don’t need to worry about steering right now.’

Darcy only just noticed a hint of mischief cross Loki’s face, before he suddenly kicked his horse on into a canter. Darcy screeched in surprise as her horse cantered straight after his. Loki laughed as he looked over his shoulder and saw her bouncing around in the saddle, but laughing too. He knew she was perfectly safe on that horse and would be up for a bit of an adventure.

Thor chuckled at their antics as they went racing across the bridge ahead of them, Darcy holding on for dear life.

‘Don’t even think about it!’ Jane said to Thor quickly as she held onto him from behind, he just grumbled in response.

Loki and Darcy were long at the palace before the others were. He helped her off the horse and they made their way inside.

‘Holy shit! This place is incredible.’ Darcy said as she looked around herself with her mouth hanging open.

‘It’s alright.’ Loki drawled.

‘Come on, Loki. I know this place doesn’t exactly bring back good memories, but surely even you can tell this place is more impressive than the compound back home.’ Darcy said as she stopped walking and faced Loki.

He shrugged. ‘I guess so. There are some good memories too, I suppose. Racing Thor on our horses across the land, causing mischief to the maids and guards when we were younger.’ Loki gave a very slight smile that made Darcy smile too.

‘See, there’s always good too. Odin does seem… not so great, but Frigga seems wonderful.’ Darcy said sincerely.

‘She is, probably the only wonderful thing about here.’ Loki nodded and continued walking, Darcy followed.

Loki took her to his chambers. She couldn’t believe the size of the room.

‘Bloody hell, this is like the size of a house back on Earth!’ Darcy said as she looked around, checking out the en-suite too. ‘Am I dreaming? Is this for real?’ She said as she jumped onto the bed in a star fish, but still wasn’t even taking up half of the bed because it was that big.

Loki chuckled and used his Seidr to get the fire roaring to life. ‘Anything you need, just ring the bell by the door and a maid will come to see what you need.’

‘What, like, anything and anytime?’ Darcy quickly sat up straight.

‘Yep.’ Loki smirked, sitting down on a chair by the fire.

Darcy slipped off the bed and ran over to the bell, ringing it twice. Loki watched in amusement as not even two minutes later there was a knock on the door. Darcy opened it and was amazed to see a maid.

‘Good evening, anything I can get you, miss?’ She asked with a smile.

‘Some snacks would be nice please… Loki, what kind of snacks do you have here?’ Darcy looked over her shoulder to him.

Loki smirked. ‘Matilda, if you would be so kind to get us the cheese board selection.’

‘Of course, Prince Loki.’ She gave a small bow and smiled at Darcy before disappearing down the corridor.

Darcy stuck her head out of the room and watched her heading off. ‘Is there really someone on standby all the time? Even in the middle of the night?’

‘Yep. Cooks are always in the kitchen too, ready to make whatever you want. Within reason.’

She then snickered. ‘Prince Loki.’

‘What?’

‘Just funny hearing someone call you that. I forget you are a Prince.’

‘Maybe you should start remembering it.’ Loki grinned.

While waiting for the snacks, Darcy disappeared into the bathroom to put on her comfortable pyjamas, which was actually a Rolling Stones t shirt and plain black shorts, just in time for Matilda retuning with the biggest selection of cheese Darcy had ever seen, with crackers and some grapes too.

‘Oh my god, this is definitely heaven!’ Darcy climbed onto the bed with the board and got comfortable.

‘You’re not eating on my bed.’ Loki stood and made his way over, but Darcy was already tucking in.

‘Come on, chill out. Are you going to join me or not?’ Darcy patted the bed next to her.

Loki rolled his eyes. He knew that there was no point arguing with her, so he decided to just admit defeat and join her.

After stuffing themselves full, Loki read for a while by the fire while Darcy played a game on her iPad. There was no WiFi but she was still able to use some game apps without. She was so engrossed in one game she never noticed Loki disappear into the bathroom, until he reappeared.

‘Lights are going off, I want to get rest before tomorrow’s antics.’ Loki said as he made towards the bed.

‘Not like you to need ohhhhhhhhhh my god! LOKI! PUT SOME DAMN PANTS ON!’ Darcy screeched as she glanced up at him, only to see he was completely nude. She quickly averted her eyes like they were burning.

Loki smirked as he got into bed. ‘What? You are the one who said you would share a room with me. I told you before I sleep in the nude.’ He chuckled and got comfortable. He turned the lights out with a snap of his fingers.

‘Well don’t blame me if you get kicked in the bollocks in the middle of the night.’ Darcy said as she rolled onto her side and put her iPad down.

‘Goodnight, Darcy.’

‘Goodnight, Prince Loki.’ She teased, but that earned her a poke in the back. ‘Owww!’

‘Go to sleep.’ He growled.

‘Bossy boots.’ Darcy grumbled quietly.

[emachinescat]

So I've been wanting to write this since 5x10, but just now got the chance. This is a look at the ending scene from Murdoc's creepy, possessive obsession with Mac, and it plays with the idea of what might have happened if Bozer hadn't done the trick with the static (sorry Boze for taking away your moment of glory, but creepy Murdoc trumps hero time). Anyway, I hope you enjoy my twist on this episode. It was fun to write. Murdoc is fun to write. What does that say about me? ;)

Title: Murdoc + MacGyver - Everyone Else | Fandom: MacGyver 2016

Summary: AU ending to 5x10. Murdoc never planned on killing MacGyver in that skyscraper. Certainly not for the likes of Andrews. Or, in which Bozer doesn't do his trick with the comms and Murdoc sends a very clear message to all of Codex that MacGyver is HIS.

Characters | Pairings: Murdoc, Mac, Andrews, Riley, Desi

Words: 2,594

TW: Murdoc being creepier than usual, I guess

AO3 Tags: Murdoc Is Obsessed with MacGyver, Obsessive Murdoc, Possessive Murdoc, Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016) Whump. Hurt Angus Macgyver (Macgyver 2016), Season/Series 05, 5x10, 5x10 au, Implied MacRiley, Manhandling, Creepy Murdoc (MacGyver TV 2016), Obsessive Behavior, TW Creepy Obsession, Diamond + Quake + Carbon + Comms + Tower, Murdoc POV

Full story here or on AO3!

It was adorable, really, Murdoc thought as he lowered the improvised cutting torch slowly, steadily, agonizingly closer to MacGyver’s bruised and bloody face, that Eric Andrews thought that Murdoc was going to go through with this.  The general was a ridiculous man, the kind that Murdoc most enjoyed killing.  Arrogant and pretentious,yet stupid enough to believe he could manipulate, even control, Murdoc, he was a man who would look lovely with Murdoc’s gun pressed squarely between his eyes.

Yet despite his faults, he had been useful.  He’d helped Murdoc escape from the blacksite, and in return, Murdoc had vowed to help him set a trap for MacGyver.  Andrews wanted to broadcast Angus’s death to the heads of a terror cell.  It was his way of “interviewing” to become the head of the organization.  And what would Murdoc get out of this arrangement?  Other than his freedom, he would be given the opportunity to play with MacGyver before Andrews dealt the final blow.

So Murdoc used Andrews to escape the blacksite, and together they set this ingenious little trap for the genius himself.  He’d used Andrews and his resources as a means of playing his newest game.  He smiled and nodded when Andrews spouted his rhetoric, adjusted his plans as Andrews directed, and valiantly kept from gutting the egocentric wackadoodle – somehow – during the course of their time together.  He’d almost snapped and killed the guy, once.

He hated the way that Andrews spoke about his Angus MacGyver, gloated about how cathartic it would be to see the light go out of those blue eyes.  How he relished the notion of feeling MacGyver’s life sleep away, how he fantasized about wrapping his chains around that smooth, pale neck and squeezing , slowly and intimately, with all of Codex watching – after Murdoc had had his fun with him, of course.

Murdoc’s profession had always allowed him to maintain a rather fluid lifestyle, and until MacGyver had come onto the scene, the killer had moved from one job to the next without distraction.  He had never been one to get caught up or fixated on any one thing – as a killer, he understood the impermanence of life in a way few others could.

That is, until Angus “Boy Wonder” MacGyer.  Suddenly, Murdoc had a muse, a partner in his games, a worthy opponent, his very own Sherlock to his Moriarty.  And the thought of anyone – especially Andrews, that self-important crackpot who was so empty all he could do was spout the words of people who’d come before him – looking at Angus MacGyver with that kind of fire in their eyes, that kind of hatred, that dark intent, stirred something primal and angry deep within the hollow, twisted remnants of Murdoc’s soul.  Even worse was hearing that obnoxious, pedantic voice boasting about all the ways he planned to hurt MacGyver, all the ways he planned to kill him in front of a live studio audience.  A foregin, almost protective rush had overcome Murdoc.  The things that Andrews described, the torture, the killing itself – those were things that no one except for Murdoc himself could do to Angus MacGyver.

Murdoc could have snapped and killed him, then.  He almost had.  The trap had been set, MacGyver would soon be on his way.  Murdoc could take out Andrews in one surprise hit and wait for his BFF to arrive.  They might even get some time alone together before the rest of the love triangle showed up.  But he had stayed his hand.  He needed Andrews to contact Codex.  He had a message he needed to send.

And so he’d resisted the drumbeats of death so loud they blocked out his thoughts, and hadn’t put a bullet between Andrews’s eyes.

And now, here he was, in the moment of truth.  It had been a bold move, out of character, if you will, for Murdoc to take on MacGyver in hand-to-hand combat.  Normally, Murdoc avoided using brute force, not because it wasn’t fun – because, boy howdy, was it fun – but because his tools were much more precise than fists, and could cause more pain with less chance of unintended damage.

But this was a special occasion, and he allowed himself to indulge.  And it was a truly delicious situation, made all the more exhilarating with the knowledge that so many people were watching him work.  Not Codex – he hadn’t given a rat’s ass about Codex in that moment – but Phoenix, whom Murdoc had just manipulated and played with like a puppet master with his creepy little mannequins.  He kept an eye on the girls, and chills ran down his body as he saw the fear and desperation in their eyes, the way they strained helplessly against their bonds to get to their friend who was himself completely at Murdoc’s mercy.  He couldn’t see Matilda or Bozer or Taylor, but he could hear the fear in their voices when they spoke, and his mind’s eye conjured a splendid picture of their terrified eyes fixated on the screen, forced to watch as their golden boy was beaten and eventually murdered in front of them.  It was glorious .  Murdoc wished that moment could go on forever.

He truly had relished every hit he’d landed on MacGyver.  Bless him, he tried to fight back, but he was just a spy trained in field comat.  Murdoc was a killer.  Just because he didn’t use his fists that much anymore, it didn’t mean he didn’t know how to.  He was quick, and stronger than his lithe frame would suggest.  Beneath the long-sleeved shirts and black leather jackets, lean, deadly muscles lurked like a snake in the grass, always ready to strike – and strike fast.  Every kick, every hit, every punch to the face sent bolts of electricity up Murdoc’s arms.  He saw the moment when MacGyver’s cheek split open, watched the blood slowly trickle down as he wound up for another hit.  After about three hits directly to the face, MacGyver couldn’t hold himself up anymore and he made weak, desperate grabs for Murdoc’s jacket.  Murdoc felt the tug on the fabric, relished the feeling of MacGyver needing him in that moment.  When he threw MacGyver against the heavy metal support, he felt like a god.

Now here we was, with his greatest foe having literally just been under his boot.  His left hand was wrapped around MacGyver’s right wrist, pinning it down, his knee pressed against the half-conscious agent’s chest to keep him in place.  In his hands he held a tool that, as he had said moments ago, would be the most poetic end to MacGyver he could have concocted – finally silenced by one of his own fancy little inventions.  For a moment, Murdoc was tempted to plow ahead, not to kill, but to play, to hurt , to watch the dazed fear in his muse’s eyes turn to pain and sheer terror… but he had more important things to do.  Maybe he would take this toy with him when he left, and save it to use on MacGyver another day.

He leaned in close, his knee pressing harder into MacGyver’s sternum, and the boy wonder grunted in pain, gasped for breath.  Murdoc leaned closer, his face inches from his prey’s, and watched MacGyver’s concussed eyes go wide at the close proximity.  Murdoc noted with satisfaction that he’d really done a number on his blue-eyed buddy this time – the pupils were unequal, one dilated and the other not.  Murdoc whispered in Mac’s ear, “Don’t worry, friend, I would never let a pig like Andrews kill you.  I’ve got your back.”  He pulled back and winked conspiratorially.  Then, in one fluid motion, he dropped the torch, drew his gun, and shot Eric Andrews one, two, three times, right in his smug, ugly face.  The general didn’t even have time to be surprised by the betrayal.  He was already dead.

From across the room, Murdoc could hear one of the girls – probably the loud, bossy girlfriend – yelling something, but he didn’t pay attention.  Instead, he gripped MacGyver by the front of his jacket, hauled him to his feet (sort of; MacGyver slumped in Murdoc’s arms, unable to stand on his own, but Murdoc had no problem with that at all), and stood there facing the drone.  He could feel MacGyver trembling in pain, and it nearly sickened him that he was going to cut this meeting short.  Still, once he took care of this pesky Codex visit, he could look forward to plenty more games with his adversarial soulmate in the future.

Glaring up at the camera, Murdoc gave Mac’s weak, beaten form a little shake.  “See this guy?” he demanded, not waiting for an answer.  In the second of dead space between his question and answer, he did notice that Desiree had stopped yelling.  No one at the Phoenix was speaking.  Everyone was waiting, he knew, with bated breath, to see how this would turn out.  “Angus MacGyver, here, is mine. ”  He felt MacGyver stir weakly in his arms, protesting Murdoc’s claim even when concussed and barely cognizant.  “Hush, now, Angus,” Murdoc hissed.  “I’m trying to save your life.”

To Codex, he continued, “I love a good murder as much as the next guy.  Hell, more than the next guy.  Way more than him, actually.  So much more that I’ll kill the next guy just to scratch that itch.”  He grinned his most feral grin.  “But MacGyver is not on the market, you hear me?  The only one who is allowed to murder him is me .  Your Andrews was pathetic, a great brute who pretended at being a scholar because it made him feel important.  I meant what I said earlier, fellas – and ladies – this guy is so smart.  Way too smart for the likes of you.  Too smart for Andrews.”

He bared his teeth, shaking MacGyver once more to emphasize his point.  “Angus is my muse.  He’s my dance partner in this crazy murder-tango we’ve been doing for the past few years.  You thought I was being dramatic when I started reminiscing about the good old days earlier?”  He paused, thought, then amended, “Okay, so I was being dramatic, but I meant. Every. Word.  And it all boils down to this: The only one who’s going to end his life is me .”

A voice from the speakers, a female’s, cold and dead, offered, “Then kill him now.  Perhaps we can find a place in Codex for one as ruthless as you.”

Murdoc laughed out loud, throwing his head back.  His body trembled with giggles, and he heard MacGyver emit a grunt of pain at the motion.  “Whoops, sorry, buddy,” he apologized giddily, then shook him a bit more, this time for fun.  MacGyver stayed steadfastly quiet this time – bor -ing!

Murdoc sobered in an instant, letting every ounce of hatred, death, and chaos flood his gaze as his lips set into a thin line and he tightened his grip on MacGyver, who pushed feebly against his arms.  “You really think I want to be a part of your girl scout troop?  Please.  Codex before Angus MacGyver happened to it, maybe.  But now?  You all are ridiculous, dethroned kings who scrabble hungrily for any crumb left to you in your moldering ruins.  You aren’t powerful.  You aren’t smart.  That Leland was the only good thing you had going for you, and now he’s gone.”  He all but purred his next words: “And with what, a shot to the chest?  Precisely aimed, almost like a hit man had taken him out?  Hmmm….”

“ You are claiming responsibility for Leland’s death?”

Murdoc shrugged.  He finally, reluctantly released his grip on MacGyver, and the blonde tumbled to the floor.  Murdoc watched from the corner of his eye as he immediately began to drag himself slowly, agonizingly, away from Murdoc and toward his gal pals.  Murdoc rolled his eyes and clamped his boot down on MacGyver’s bruised back once more, effectively pinning him in place.  Too easy.  He peered into the camera again, rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and hissed, “Believe what you want about Leland’s death.  But do you really want to mess with the bastard who killed this great paragon of new wave terrorism?  Not saying it was me, but damn.  Whoever this guy is must be one tough cookie.  And I would advise you, friends ,” – never had that word held so much derision – “to not play with his toys.”  He ground his heel into MacGyver’s back a little deeper.  “The TL;DR?  MacGyver is off-limits.  If you kill him, I kill you, ten times more slowly and painfully than I plan to kill him.  Got it?”

Without giving the council a chance to respond, he raised his gun and shot the drone out of the air.  He tossed the gun aside, sighed, and stepped off of a weakly moving MacGyver.  He grabbed the genius under the armpits and dragged him to the opposite side of the room from the girls.  Producing another zip tie, Murdoc secured MacGyver to the nearest piece of equipment and stood back to observe his handiwork.  Paying no mind to the sorry state he was in, Angus was already stubbornly pulling himself up to a sitting position, bloody face set in pain and determination.  “You,” he panted, lifting his eyes up to meet Murdoc’s, “are insane.”

Murdoc laughed.  “I thought we’d already established that long ago, dear.”

“Don’t call me,” MacGyver wheezed, “dear.  Despite your… delusions, I do not … belong to you.  Or to anybody.”

“Expect maybe Miss Davis?” Murdoc mocked.  “And please , Angus.  Can’t you see that I was just putting on a show for the ‘evil Zoom meeting’?”  He hadn’t been, and he could tell that MacGyver was seeing straight through his lie.  “Look,” Murdoc said, “I hate it when we fight.  How about we both take some time and pick this back up when we’ve had a little time to heal and reflect?”

Through gritted teeth, MacGyver growled, “How about you go away and never come back?”

“Tsk, tsk, Angus .  That isn’t any way to treat your rescuer.  But you are concussed, so I’ll let it slide.  Actually, I need to motor.  Now that the situation’s neutralized, the authorities will be all over this place.  I really don’t fancy going back to that blacksite, so I’ll leave you here to wait for your buddies.”  He bent down, patted MacGyver on the face, grinned when his adversary jerked his head away from the touch.  “‘Til next time, Mac .”  He made a face.  “Actually, scratch that.  My calling you Mac is almost as unsettling as Taylor calling Miss Davis Riles .”  He heard an indigent noise from over the comm – he’d almost forgotten Phoenix was listening in, they’d been so quiet.  He chuckled, relishing how fun Russ Taylor was to annoy.  “Anway, I’ll see you soon, Angus.”

Murdoc removed the comm and crushed it under his boot, then backed away and sauntered from the room, whistling his slow, eerie funeral dirge, “Home on the Range.”

He knew that even while injured and concussed, MacGyver would be out of the zipties and releasing his friends before the polícia arrived.  He’d then be whisked away to a hospital, and all of Phoenix would have to deal with the fallout of the secrets that had been revealed.  He wondered if MacGyver would choose Desiree or Riley.  In the end, though, he knew that it wouldn’t matter who MacGyver chose.  He could deny it all he wanted, but in the end, there would be Murdoc.

There would always be Murdoc.

[imagine-loki]

Trust, Chapter 17

TITLE: Trust CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 17 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki kidnaps Darcy Lewis, in hopes of getting the tesseract in return for her. Imagine his surprise when he grows rather fond of the mortal, finding that she understands him better than anyone else ever has.  RATING: M

Thor and Jane looked surprised when Loki appeared to head to Asgard, with Darcy in tow too with a suitcase.

‘Where’s the Bifrost then?’ Darcy asked excitedly.

‘I did not realise you were joining us, Darcy.’ Thor said, but smiled widely as he then looked at Loki.

Loki grinned. ‘She is going to save me from having to deal with any boring commoners. And will likely lighten the festivities greatly.’

‘Ah excellent!’ Thor beamed happily.

Jane looked slightly irritated. Not overly happy about Darcy going too, knowing the pair of them would likely cause too much mischief.

The group all headed outside onto the green, Thor looked up and called for Heimdall to open the Bifrost. Tony ran out towards them screaming like a mad man at them not to do it on what was essentially his front lawn. But it was too late.

All that was left when he got there was burnt grass again. ‘Bloody Asgardians!’

Darcy was in complete awe as they were whisked through space in the rainbow Bifrost. Then before she knew it, they were on Asgard, stepping into the observatory.

She noted Loki’s arm around her and she looked up at him with a smirk. ‘What’s with the death hold on me?’

Loki rolled his eyes as he let her go. ‘To make sure you didn’t fall out at the wrong place. I don’t exactly fancy spending years looking for you on some unknown realm.’

Darcy shoved his arm playfully. ‘N’awwww you’d come looking for me? How sweet!’

He chuckled and ruffled up her hair in return. ‘I wouldn’t trust you not to cause chaos on some poor unsuspecting race.’

‘Yeah, cause that’s your job.’ She grinned and Loki grinned back at her with a wink.

‘Welcome to Asgard!’ Heimdall said, tearing Darcy’s attention away from Loki.

‘Oh wow, cool sword. You’re the all seeing Himdall, right?’ Darcy asked.

Loki sniggered and bumped her with his hip. ‘Heimdall.’ He corrected.

Heimdall smiled slightly and nodded once. ‘Nice to meet you, Darcy.’

Then the sound of hooves pounding the ground towards them was heard. Odin, Frigga and a guard with some spare horses came riding across the bridge to greet them.

Loki did the introductions for Darcy, since Jane had already met them before. Jane bowed her head to Odin and Frigga, greeting them politely.

Darcy’s mouth fell open as she looked at Frigga.

‘Jesus, Loki. You never told me your mother was so beautiful!’ She said in a slightly high-pitched tone to Loki, then she turned to Frigga and curtseyed. The best she could anyway without actually wearing a dress. ‘It’s so nice to meet you, Loki’s told me all about you.’

Frigga smiled widely at Darcy as she reached out to shake her hand. ‘Nice to meet you too. I heard from Thor that you’re responsible for bringing Loki back to Earth. Figuratively and literally.’ She smiled kindly at her.

‘I kind of am.’ Darcy said smugly, holding her head high.

Loki just cringed awkwardly beside them and put his head in his hand.

‘Although, we didn’t know you were coming till last minute. We don’t have any spare chambers left, so we are in a pickle of where to put you.’ Frigga said regretfully as she looked at Loki.

‘I’ll just bunk with Loki.’

Loki raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Oh really?’ He folded his arms over his chest.

Darcy shrugged. ‘I’m not sleeping on the floor. Besides, we’ve shared a bed before.’

Frigga looked between them both in amusement and curiosity. ‘That’s settled then.’ She said quickly before turning around and heading back to her horse.

‘I am going to have to deal with your snoring for two whole nights?’ Loki groaned.

‘Hey, it’s not going to be a barrel of laughs for me either.’ Darcy said as she poked him.

She was then introduced to Odin. She could feel the tension between him and Loki, it was thick in the air. She didn’t say much to Odin, just bowed her head politely.

The group headed out to the horses and Darcy was handed the reins of one of them.

‘Loks. You better give me a leg up, I have no idea how to ride never mind get on.’ She said as she looked over at him, just as he was about to mount his horse.

‘You mean you’ve never ridden before?’ He chuckled as he wandered over to her and swiftly grabbed her leg, not even checking if she was ready, he hoisted her up and onto the horse.

‘Nope!’ She squealed a little as she sat up straight and gathered the reins.

‘Sit up straight, keep your heels down and don’t tug on the horses’ mouth if you can help it.’ Loki said as he put her feet into the right position and moved her fingers into the right place for holding the reins.

Thor had Jane ride with him on the same horse. She hadn’t ridden before either, even on her last trip to Asgard she didn’t ride.

Loki got on his horse and rode up beside Darcy. ‘Your horse is rather attached to mine, so you don’t need to worry about steering right now.’

Darcy only just noticed a hint of mischief cross Loki’s face, before he suddenly kicked his horse on into a canter. Darcy screeched in surprise as her horse cantered straight after his. Loki laughed as he looked over his shoulder and saw her bouncing around in the saddle, but laughing too. He knew she was perfectly safe on that horse and would be up for a bit of an adventure.

Thor chuckled at their antics as they went racing across the bridge ahead of them, Darcy holding on for dear life.

‘Don’t even think about it!’ Jane said to Thor quickly as she held onto him from behind, he just grumbled in response.

Loki and Darcy were long at the palace before the others were. He helped her off the horse and they made their way inside.

‘Holy shit! This place is incredible.’ Darcy said as she looked around herself with her mouth hanging open.

‘It’s alright.’ Loki drawled.

‘Come on, Loki. I know this place doesn’t exactly bring back good memories, but surely even you can tell this place is more impressive than the compound back home.’ Darcy said as she stopped walking and faced Loki.

He shrugged. ‘I guess so. There are some good memories too, I suppose. Racing Thor on our horses across the land, causing mischief to the maids and guards when we were younger.’ Loki gave a very slight smile that made Darcy smile too.

‘See, there’s always good too. Odin does seem… not so great, but Frigga seems wonderful.’ Darcy said sincerely.

‘She is, probably the only wonderful thing about here.’ Loki nodded and continued walking, Darcy followed.

Loki took her to his chambers. She couldn’t believe the size of the room.

‘Bloody hell, this is like the size of a house back on Earth!’ Darcy said as she looked around, checking out the en-suite too. ‘Am I dreaming? Is this for real?’ She said as she jumped onto the bed in a star fish, but still wasn’t even taking up half of the bed because it was that big.

Loki chuckled and used his Seidr to get the fire roaring to life. ‘Anything you need, just ring the bell by the door and a maid will come to see what you need.’

‘What, like, anything and anytime?’ Darcy quickly sat up straight.

‘Yep.’ Loki smirked, sitting down on a chair by the fire.

Darcy slipped off the bed and ran over to the bell, ringing it twice. Loki watched in amusement as not even two minutes later there was a knock on the door. Darcy opened it and was amazed to see a maid.

‘Good evening, anything I can get you, miss?’ She asked with a smile.

‘Some snacks would be nice please… Loki, what kind of snacks do you have here?’ Darcy looked over her shoulder to him.

Loki smirked. ‘Matilda, if you would be so kind to get us the cheese board selection.’

‘Of course, Prince Loki.’ She gave a small bow and smiled at Darcy before disappearing down the corridor.

Darcy stuck her head out of the room and watched her heading off. ‘Is there really someone on standby all the time? Even in the middle of the night?’

‘Yep. Cooks are always in the kitchen too, ready to make whatever you want. Within reason.’

She then snickered. ‘Prince Loki.’

‘What?’

‘Just funny hearing someone call you that. I forget you are a Prince.’

‘Maybe you should start remembering it.’ Loki grinned.

While waiting for the snacks, Darcy disappeared into the bathroom to put on her comfortable pyjamas, which was actually a Rolling Stones t shirt and plain black shorts, just in time for Matilda retuning with the biggest selection of cheese Darcy had ever seen, with crackers and some grapes too.

‘Oh my god, this is definitely heaven!’ Darcy climbed onto the bed with the board and got comfortable.

‘You’re not eating on my bed.’ Loki stood and made his way over, but Darcy was already tucking in.

‘Come on, chill out. Are you going to join me or not?’ Darcy patted the bed next to her.

Loki rolled his eyes. He knew that there was no point arguing with her, so he decided to just admit defeat and join her.

After stuffing themselves full, Loki read for a while by the fire while Darcy played a game on her iPad. There was no WiFi but she was still able to use some game apps without. She was so engrossed in one game she never noticed Loki disappear into the bathroom, until he reappeared.

‘Lights are going off, I want to get rest before tomorrow’s antics.’ Loki said as he made towards the bed.

‘Not like you to need ohhhhhhhhhh my god! LOKI! PUT SOME DAMN PANTS ON!’ Darcy screeched as she glanced up at him, only to see he was completely nude. She quickly averted her eyes like they were burning.

Loki smirked as he got into bed. ‘What? You are the one who said you would share a room with me. I told you before I sleep in the nude.’ He chuckled and got comfortable. He turned the lights out with a snap of his fingers.

‘Well don’t blame me if you get kicked in the bollocks in the middle of the night.’ Darcy said as she rolled onto her side and put her iPad down.

‘Goodnight, Darcy.’

‘Goodnight, Prince Loki.’ She teased, but that earned her a poke in the back. ‘Owww!’

‘Go to sleep.’ He growled.

‘Bossy boots.’ Darcy grumbled quietly.

[janeyseymour]

rant because my life is a disaster

okay y’all know i’ve been sad lately. here’s the tea.

i work at 3 places... 2 wonderful. 1 not so wonderful. unfortunately for me, the not so wonderful place is my primary job. i work under a 53 year old man who is out to make my life a living hell, and is succeeding. he degrades me and treats me like shit on the bottom of his shoe. he’s trying to bully me into quitting my job because he doesn’t have a real reason to fire me. saying things like “if you still even want this job.” he treats me like shit, and he treats my kids like shit. i put so much time and effort into my girls, only to get talked about behind my back... not only to other staff members, but also to my children’s parents... who love me. told them i’m a “little girl who oversteps her bounds.” he’s also told one of my kids that she would never succeed as a level 3 gymnast (she’s 10 and how any grown man can look at a ten year old and tell her that is beyond me... absolutely revolting if you ask me.) 

and you know what? so many people have told me to leave. that i deserve to be treated better. but, do i? do i really? this is the situation i was handed. i had to have deserved it in some way, right? maybe i’m crazy. and so many people have asked me why i don’t just run away and never turn back. well, i was watching matilda the other day and miss honey (also known as the literal reason i want to be a teacher) summed it up pretty well... “i’ve often thought about it, but i cant abandon my children. and if i couldn’t teach, i’d have nothing at all”. why would i leave the kids who bring the one source of joy i have anymore? but i dont know. what am i supposed to do? continue on with his game and show those kiddos all of the light and love that i can, in hopes that they learn from it and are never put in the position i was in as a gymnast (because that shit royally fucked me up)... or do i leave, break their hearts, and feel as much guilt as i am now knowing that i’m leaving them with a monster and will be getting abused by him (and i know the feeling of being that gymnast who got left in the middle of the season)? at least if i’m there, i can take the brunt of it? and i know, that sort of thinking is so fucked up to begin with, but it’s not the first time i’ve been put in this position (different circumstances entirely, but the feeling is familiar). if he’s busy yelling at me, he isn’t yelling at them, right? i know logically i should leave. but it’s so hard. those kids love me, and i love them more than life itself. i cant subject those kids to the same shit gymnastics did to me. 

and i can’t afford to lose this job. it pays well, especially for a college student. i have college loans and bills to pay off. if i lose this job, i’m not making nearly what i need to to come out of this college experience alive. it also looks absolutely wonderful on a resume... being at the same place... working with children of all ages (which is wonderful because of my major)... for 6 years? at 20?! that’s incredible. but, mostly bills. i can’t afford to lose it. i really really can’t. i wish there was another way to be making this much as a college student, but when push comes to shove, it’s near impossible. and i have to think about how i’m going to support myself through this all. 

and while i’m at it, if i ever let my future child(ren) compete in gymnastics... someone needs to knock some sense into me. 

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Stella and the Wolf - Chapter 27. Final Chapter.

You can read it here on AO3, or find the Tumblr Chapter Index here. 

For everyone who’s stuck with it to the end, thanks for reading! 

Things settle, in the end.

Crazy Kate Argent and her crazy father are the subject of gossip at first, but then it fades. There are other small town scandals that take their place. Gossip is seasonal, cyclical. By the time Stiles gets his sling off, people have stopped asking him what happened the night he got shot.

Peter’s reappearance is the talk of Beacon Hills for a little while. Amazing, what a lengthy stint in a foreign rehabilitation facility and the world’s best plastic surgeons can do. You’d never even know he’d been in a fire.

Even the most dedicated town gossips don’t connect the Hales and the Argents, because why would they?

By the time the school year ends, life in Beacon Hills has returned to normal.

Well, the new normal, which for Stiles includes werewolves and banshees, and dating the Alpha of the Hale pack while trying to pretend to his dad that they’re still just friends. Dad knows better, of course. He presents Stiles with a pack of condoms the week before his seventeenth birthday, “Because god only knows you won’t wait until you’re eighteen.”

It’s a fair point.

It takes a while, but Stiles and Scott repair their friendship, on the unspoken proviso that they don’t talk about werewolf stuff. Scott is still frustrating. He doesn’t want to join Derek’s pack officially, even though it’s his bond with the Hales that’s keeping him from turning into a feral omega.

“It’s just… Allison doesn’t know about any of this stuff,” he says. “I just want to be normal.”

Jackson rolls his eyes. “You’re an idiot, McCall.”

It’s also a fair point.

“It’s Beacon Hills, Scotty,” Stiles says. “She’s not blind. She’ll figure it out sooner or later, you know.”

“Yeah.” Scott’s brow creases. “But, just for now… I want to be normal.”

Stiles feels a tightness in his chest at the longing expression on Scott’s face.

But you’re not, he wants to say. And the more you try to ignore it, the harder it gets for you. And it might be the truth, and they might both know it, but Stiles can’t be the one who says it aloud. He only nods, and watches as Scott walks away.

“I can’t wait to see how this is going to come back and kick him in the ass,” Jackson says.

“That’s my friend you’re talking about,” Stiles reminds him.

Jackson snorts. “So?”

Jackson’s still pretty much an asshole—getting the bite and joining the Hale pack, well, rejoiningthe Hale pack, didn’t magically imbue him with humility or anything—so some things never change.

***

Things settle.

Stella clings to Dad like a barnacle, and Stiles is hurt by that for a while. He feels a little like he’s been replaced or something, because he’s always straddled this strange line between being her brother and being her caregiver, and now it’s like she’s trying to cut him off from one. She wants Dad to tuck her in at night and read to her, and she gets huffy when he tells her to do her homework, and when she falls off her bike and scrapes her knee one afternoon, she refuses to let him put Band-Aids on it.

“Stiles,” she says. “I can do it!” And then she closes the bathroom door in his face.

“Kid,” Dad tells him when he gets home that night, “she saw you stuck in my cruiser, and she saw you with a gun in your face, and then she saw you in the hospital after you got shot. She’s seen, literally, that you’re not bulletproof. She’s seen that you’re just a kid too, and it’s scared her.”

“She doesn’t think I can protect her,” Stiles says numbly.

“No,” Dad tells him. “She just thinks it’s her job to protect you as much as it’s yours to protect her. She’s adjusting, Stiles. Give her some time.”

Things settle.

***

Stiles and Derek are taking things slow, because that’s the smart thing to do, right? Stiles is barely seventeen, and Derek isn’t, and their lives got thrown together in a series of traumatic events, and taking it slow is the smart thing to do.

Stiles knows that.

It’s just that sometimes when he looks at Derek he feels like he’s holding a secret inside him that just wants to burst free.

Because when he looks at Derek, he imagines a whole lifetime with him, spooling out in front of them like a piece of thread, and Stiles can’t imagine ever wanting to be with anyone else. It calms something inside Stiles that he didn’t even realize was so unsettled. He’s happy. It’s such a scant word to encompass everything he’s feeling, but that’s what it is. He’s happy. He loves Derek, and he’s happy.

They’re taking it slow, so Stiles doesn’t say it yet. But also, maybe it doesn’t need to be said?

Because he gets the feeling, when Derek looks back at him with that soft smile of his, that he’s thinking the exact same thing.

***

Stiles and Stella are grocery shopping one Saturday morning when they run into Chris and Victoria Argent doing the same. Stiles is thrown for a moment. Like of course hunters need groceries too, but meeting them in front of the dairy case is still kind of unexpected.

“Stiles,” Chris says. “Stella. How are you doing?”

Stella sneaks some chocolate pudding into the cart while Stiles isn’t watching closely enough.

“Good,” Stiles says, and wishes it didn’t sound so much like a question. “Um, you?”

“Good,” Chris says.

Victoria looks as cold as the yogurt.

“Not so bad,” Chris says. “Listen, have Derek give me a call, okay? It’s time we made an official treaty with the Alpha of Beacon Hills.”

“Oh, okay,” Stiles says. “I’ll let him know.”

Chris and Victoria move on, one wobbly wheel on their cart squeaking.

Stiles exchanges a look with Stella.

Stella shrugs and dumps some more pudding in the cart.

***

Stiles has good days and bad days. So does everyone; Derek, Peter, Dad, and Stella. Even Lydia and Jackson sometimes go too quiet, too still, and Stiles knows they’re thinking about that night Gerard threatened them. It’s…it’s not a small thing to have a gun shoved in your face by someone who fully intends to pull the trigger.

Sometimes Stiles wakes up from a nightmare, his breath sucked out of him, and it takes him a while to remember that he’s fine now, that he’s okay, that Kate is dead and Gerard is in jail.

And sometimes Stella wakes up screaming, thinking she’s seeing Peter burn to death all over again. By the time Stiles stumbles into her room Dad is usually already there, rocking her back and forth as she hugs him tightly, making soft shushing noises to calm her down.

It’s mostly good though.

Peter and Derek have moved into a loft downtown. Stiles and Stella were not happy about that—for very different reasons—but Dad muttered something about not running a halfway house for goddamn werewolves, which is fair. Stiles and Stella go there most afternoons after school anyway. Stella and Peter are working their way through all the Roald Dahl books. Stella reads them aloud while Peter listens avidly.

“I think he misses it,” Derek murmurs one afternoon, drawing Stiles up the stairs to his bedroom where they can make out in private for a while. “Not the coma, but having her voice be this one bright part of it, you know? And kids, too. He misses having kids around all the time.”

Jackson and Lydia are frequent visitors to the loft as well. Stiles has no idea what Peter has told Jackson about his past, but Jackson is a lot more settled these days. His relationship with Peter can be a little snarky, a little barbed, but then, the apple didn’t fall far from the sarcastic tree, did it?

And Stiles finally gets a look at the amazing Werewolf for Dummies book.

It’s totally in Latin.

Fuck. Now he needs to learn Latin, because Google translate is not as helpful as it pretends to be.

So that’s a project for his vacation, he guesses.

On the Friday afternoon that school ends, Stiles heads home, dumps his backpack on the floor, and listens to Stella regale him about all her plans for her vacation.

“Did you feed Matilda?” he asks her, because the kitten’s mewling like he’s going to starve to death if he doesn’t get nourishment now.  

Stella hurries off to give him some food.

“And change his litter!” Stiles calls after her. His phone buzzes, and he checks it. It’s a text from Derek: Peter says we’re going to pick up pizzas. Be ready at 6?

Stiles sighs. Really? Like they all need to go? But he texts back a quick OK. Then he checks to see that Stella is feeding Matilda like she said, throws some laundry in the washing machine, and kills time playing some dumb game on his phone for a while.

At just past six, Peter pulls into the driveway in his ridiculously expensive silver Mercedes-Benz GLS.

“Stella! Peter’s here!”

Stella bounces out the front door, leaving Stiles to close and lock it.

When he gets to the car, Jackson is climbing out the front passenger seat. “Peter says Stella gets to ride shotgun.”

Of course he does.

Stiles rolls his eyes and gets in the back.

All the way in the back, which is where Derek’s sitting, looking slightly harried and suspicious, the way he often does when Peter is in charge of any group activity.

Lydia turns around in her seat and clicks her tongue at him. “Plaid, Stiles, really? On a Friday night?”

“We’re going to get pizzas,” he tells her. “Not to the Met Gala.”

***

An hour later, listening to the audiobook of Matilda, Stiles jabs Derek in the ribs. “Hey, Der? We are going to get pizza, aren’t we? Because we’ve been driving for a while.”

Derek sighs.

***

Stella is snuffling in her sleep in the front of the car as they head down the highway.

Lydia and Jackson are curled up together in the middle seats.

Stiles is leaning against Derek in the back, their clasped hands on his thigh, watching the way their fingers twine together as the lights on the highway flash past.

The audiobook cuts out as a call comes in on Peter’s phone.

“Ah,” Peter says. “John, how are you?”

“Peter, where are you?” Dad asks. “And where are my kids?”

“Where are we?” Peter smirks at Stiles in the rearview. “We’re about halfway to Disneyland. See you in four days!”

Stiles turns his head and laughs quietly into Derek’s shoulder, and Derek squeezes his hand.

[esonetwork]

Timestamp #SJA24: Lost in Time

New Post has been published on https://esonetwork.com/timestamp-sja24-lost-in-time/

Timestamp #SJA24: Lost in Time

Sarah Jane Adventures: Lost in Time (2 episodes, s04e05, 2010)

It’s a good core with poor wrapping.

The Bannerman Road Gang is chasing a report of aliens in a local shop. While looking around, the team meets a parrot and finds both a music box and a bloodstained arrow. They also encounter Mr. Smalley, the shop’s proprietor. He tells Sarah Jane that the news article was a ruse to draw her team into a quest for three pieces of chronosteel, metal forged in the time vortex.

You see, the Shopkeeper is a guardian of time, the chronosteel can reshape Earth’s destiny, and the Bannerman Road Gang has no choice. They have until the Shopkeeper’s hourglass runs out to save the world.

Clyde awakens in a grassy field, Sarah Jane in a box, and Rani in a candlelit chamber with Mistress Ellen, all of them in unknown times. Rani is the Tower of London’s royal chambers and has assumed the role of lady-in-waiting for Queen Jane Grey. Clyde finds himself on a beach in 1941 with a boy named George Woods as they watch Nazi spies land a short distance away. Sarah Jane, released from her box in a spooky mansion, meets a ghost hunter named Emily Morris in 1889.

As each traveler makes way through their respective time periods, the Shopkeeper observes them through a crystal ball.

Rani changes into period-specific clothing and makes a good impression on Queen Jane by speaking to her as a person, not as a royal. Rani presents the queen with the music box from the Shopkeeper’s establishment. Rani also hints again at her budding relationship with Clyde. The mood is broken as Mistress Ellen brings word of Lady Mary and her armies arriving in London to claim the crown. Queen Jane is ready to relinquish her crown as an unlawful claimant.

Clyde and George confirm that the spies are Nazis – the uniforms are a dead giveaway – and scurry off to warn the Home Guard. The phone in the nearby church is dead, and the boys are forced to hide as the Nazis arrive and start setting up a base of operations. They’re discovered and taken prisoner in short order. The Nazis set up a device with a core they call Thor’s Hammer, which Clyde recognizes as the chronosteel object he needs to secure.

Sarah Jane scans the mansion with her wrist scanner. There’s a lot of energy in the house, and while Emily believes that the house is haunted, Sarah Jane remains skeptical. As the clock strikes eight, the haunting begins with howls, rattles, and voices from events gone by. Well, the events seem to be linked to the past at first, but Sarah Jane determines that the voices are actually from the future. Sarah Jane explains that she’s a time traveler as they approach a room where the voices have converged. The room is warm, which Sarah Jane determines is due to an inferno in the future as the children accidentally set a fire with a candle.

As the first half comes to a close, Rani overhears Lady Matilda plotting to kill Queen Jane, Clyde and George escape the church, and Sarah and Emily decide to save the children trapped in the burning room. The Shopkeeper worries that they are taking too long and if they do not get back soon, they will all be trapped in the past forever. As the hourglass runs out, the Shopkeeper and Captain the parrot believe that all is lost. They are buoyed up by the fact that the time portal has not yet closed. Unfortunately, the planet now runs the risk of being torn apart by the time window.

Rani saves Lady Jane from assassination. Lady Matilda claims that the queen’s death would have inspired thousands as a martyr, but now Lady Jane will be condemned to die forgotten and alone. Rani recognizes the dagger as the chronosteel MacGuffin. Matilda is confined, but the castle is surrounded by Mary’s forces. Lady Jane offers Rani the chance to return home, but Rani decides to stay behind in friendship. Queen Mary assumes the crown and Lady Jane is taken into custody. Rani promises that Lady Jane is never forgotten, then picks up the dagger as she bids the lady farewell. As Rani vanishes, Mistress Ellen believes it to be witchcraft but Lady Jane claims that she is an angel.

Clyde and George escape the Nazis. They encounter Miss Wyckham, George’s schoolteacher, who brings news that the village is under siege. She also has a handgun amongst her parcels. As they storm the church, Clyde and George find out that Miss Wyckham is really a Nazi double agent and that an invasion of the British isles is underway. Clyde stages a diversion by pretending that his mobile phone is a bomb, opening the way for George to grab Thor’s Hammer. They sound the church bells to alert the Home Guard. As the Nazis run, George wants to give chase and fight, but Clyde encourages him to stay behind. Clyde grabs the Hammer and returns to the Shopkeeper.

Sarah Jane consoles Emily, who is experiencing a bout of PTSD since her mother also died in a fire. As they leave the room, Emily laments that they will have to wait until 8 pm the next day, but Sarah Jane dials the grandfather clock back and starts the events all over. This time, however, the events are stronger and include a visual component. They discover that the woman they were following decided to lock the children in their room for the night, but continue upstairs to look for the chronosteel. The door to the children’s bedroom changes shape as the time fields begin to merge, revealing the key as the quest item. The children briefly detect the women as Emily’s fear rises, and Sarah Jane convinces Emily to harness that power to grab the key and unlock the door in the future. The children are saved and Sarah Jane takes the key, but Emily grabs it as well. Sarah Jane vanishes but the key does not follow.

With everyone back in the right time, the Shopkeeper places the first two objects into perfectly sculpted slots in a suitcase. As the room rumbles, a woman enters the shop and hands Sarah Jane the key. The Shopkeeper adds it to the collection, scoops up the Captain (who apparently was in charge the whole time), and vanishes.

The woman explains that she is Angela Price, Emily’s granddaughter, who told Angela to pass on the key. She and Sarah go for a cup of tea and a chat about her family. Later on, Clyde researches George and discovers the man was recently knighted by Queen Elizabeth II, and Rani reads about Lady Jane and finds she was happy in her final moments, assured of immortality.

On the one hand, each quest and story are well played between the writing and acting, focusing on the core strengths of each character. The pacing is good, though Rani’s quest seems to run out of steam well before Clyde’s and Sarah Jane’s. Clyde’s story also has a rather quick twist with the treacherous schoolteacher.

On the other hand, the framing story is lacking. It’s obvious that the Shopkeeper and the Captain know what items to look for, but they refuse to disclose that information or even explain the details of the overall adventure. They literally abduct the team and throw them into a life and death scenario with scant data.

Even the Doctor eventually explains the situation to keep the companions on track.

I initially wondered if the Shopkeeper and the Captain were Time Lords – or maybe even a Time Lord and companion, ala Frobisher – but the rules of the universe at this point are pretty clear: The Doctor is the last of the Time Lords. So, this pair remains a rogue but powerful duo with vague motivations.

Overall, the whole framing story is frustrating but the individual quests more than make up for it.

In trivial matters, this story links up with two classic Seventh Doctor adventures. First, Clyde’s quest included Norse mythology and Nazis, which echoes The Curse of Fenric. Second, the grandfather clock reset to make the “haunting” start again hearkens back to events at Gabriel Chase in Ghost Light.

Rating: 4/5 – “Would you care for a jelly baby?”

UP NEXT – Sarah Jane Adventures: Goodbye, Sarah Jane Smith

The Timestamps Project is an adventure through the televised universe of Doctor Who, story by story, from the beginning of the franchise. For more reviews like this one, please visit the project’s page at Creative Criticality.

[willandlyra]

things you said after you kissed me

requested by @hugsfornico from this ask meme | direct continuation of ‘things you said when you were drunk’

::

“You meant it, then?”

Will is the one who breaks the silence again. He always seems to be because he can’t stop stumbling through every little moment between them. Keeps tripping and blushing and losing his cool.

But then again, Nico is the one who turned to him, mid-walk around the camp grounds, stared him in the eye (was it a stare? Could’ve been a glare, Will supposes, or a glower) and kissed him, and then turned around again.

He still hasn’t actually said anything. He’s just kind of facing the other way, and he looks like he’s about to start walking in the opposite direction. But when Will speaks he pauses, and he lets out a small sigh.

“Meant what?” Nico asks.

Will furrows his brow. Can’t tell if Nico is deliberately being annoying, or if the guy is that oblivious. Honestly, he’d place his bets on the former.

“The stuff you said the other night,” Will says. Swallows. “At Percy’s party. Said - you know, you wanted to kiss me and I mean... you just kissed me.”

Nico actually faces him then.

“I...” his voice trails off. For a moment he doesn’t really say anything. “I guess I did.”

“You don’t have to guess,” as always happens when Will finds himself a little flustered, his voice has raised a few pitches and he probably sounds incredibly distressed.

Which he kind of is because drunk, soft, cuddly Nico was all up and looking at him like he hung the moon and then ordinary Nico acted like everything was all normal - oh, top of the morning to you, Will, not like anything happened last night - and that would have been fine but now this.

A warm spot on Will’s mouth where a cool pair of lips brushed, icy, quick like light chasing away shadows at dawn.

“..Will.”

“I mean,” Will all but shrieks. “You literally just fucking kissed me. As in. You know. Kissed me. Pretty sure I didn’t hallucinate it - although admittedly if I did this entire situation is somewhat awkward...”

“Will.”

Will stops.

Looks up, weakly. Tries not to look as hurt as he feels. Tries to pull himself out of all this weirdness, this confusion.

At the party when Nico dozed against his side, thinking, dreaming: please remember this in the morning. Well. He’s remembered. Hasn’t he?

Even though Nico’s voice had the purpose of slowing Will’s thoughts and words to a stop, he’s still not really saying anything. He’s kind of... fidgeting. Looking like he wants to shadow travel to New Rome. Or maybe fucking Fiji, actually.

(Don’t think about the boy who might be about to break your heart getting a tan, Will. Now is not the time, nor the place. Fucking idiot. His internal monologue is not amused.)

Will coughs before the awkwardness suffocates him completely. “Yeah?”

“I’m just...” Nico pulls at his sleeves anxiously. “I do like you and I meant all the things that I said the other night, even though I’m so, so stupidly embarrassed that I said them.”

Will blinks.

“But - but that’s a good thing,” he says slowly. “Why do you look like Gaea has been raised from the ashes and is sitting outside your house disguised as a speedboat salesman?”

Nico raises his eyebrow. “That was incredibly specific.”

“Matilda,” Will says quickly.

Nico nods.

Quiet.

Fuck sake, Solace.

“It is a good thing, right?” Will asks and his voice is small. He’s imagined, especially after the drunken Percy fiasco, this scenario a thousand times. Kissing Nico when they curl up to watch a film or kissing him by the lake or the trees or in a canoe, round the camp fire, preferably not at the foot of Hades’ Lord Of Death Throne but if that’s what it takes, he’ll do it.

But he never imagined this uncertainty. He never imagined that these would be the words Nico di Angelo would say after he kissed him.

“It is a good thing,” Nico says. His voice is small. More shadow than boy. “I like you and you like me and it should be happy.”

“...But?”

“But I’m still confused, and I’m still not sure - what all this means, there’s so much shit inside my head right now. So much - and I’m still, you know, I’m still there, where this is wrong.”

The 1940s, presumably. Bit of a headfuck.

“Oh,” Will says. He clears his throat. “It’s not wrong, though, you know?”

“I know that,” Nico tells him. “Just - not sure all the shadows do yet.”

Will nods.

“So why’d you kiss me? If you’re confused?” he winces when he says it.

Nico shrugs. “I don’t think I could stop myself from kissing you anymore.”

....Will may or may not squeak a little bit.

“And Will...”

“Mm?”

“You need to know. I’m not confused about you. I like you and I want to kiss you and I meant everything I said that night. All the things I said to you when I was drunk - I sounded like a dipshit, but I meant it. I’m not confused about you. I’m just... confused about how I feel about me.”

“That’s okay,” Will says, gently. Swallows back something that feels kind of funny in his throat. “I’m glad you kissed me. I... wanted you to kiss me, too.”

Nico’s eyes glaze over him, and he reaches out his hand, bony fingers clasped under Will’s touch and he squeezes.

“Can you give me just a tiny bit more time?” Nico asks, voice small.

Will squeezes back.

“Yeah,” he says. “Of course.”

And Nico doesn’t kiss him again - this time. But one day soon he’s going to. Will knows this, and waits for the day that he floods all the forestry with light.

[simonsoys]

So what movie genres do you think the UT cast likes? I can imagine Alphys and Sans nerding out and nitpicking sci-fi movies together for one thing heh.

Ooh! Good question! Asks like these are my favorite haha!

I’m actually going to broaden this to TV shows too. Maybe like, what their Netflix history is.

Frisk

Loves Pokemon. Has watched every single episode in sequential order. (Toriel insists on knowing what Frisk is watching, so she’s had to sit through all of it too. She’s mostly confused by what the point of all this is, and is going to barf if she hears “Gooomygoomygoomy” one more time, but admits she quite likes Brock.) Also watches a lot of Pokemon-like shows.

Occasionally watches Sesame Street, even though it’s below their age range. It’s hard to find monster-positive shows.

As for movies, its pretty much anything animated or based on a kids’ book and nothing else right now. Everything must have a happy ending.

But even more than watching Pokemon shows, they’re into Youtube Let’s Plays. They like Minecraft videos, especially Stampy. (Undyne thinks the concept of watching other people play video games is ridiculous and yells at Frisk to go outside.)

Ambivalent about Frozen. Liked Olaf but that’s about it.

Favorite movies: Matilda; The Little Prince.

Toriel

Likes PBS Masterpiece Classics, like Downton Abbey and Indian Summer. 

Probably likes Benedict Cumberbatch.

A sucker for soppy British movies.

Loves The Walking Dead more than you’d expect. Carol is her favorite.

Likes the variety of crafting shows that humans make and put on TV and YouTube. Has thought about making and uploading some of her own.

Gets overly invested into some of Frisk’s kid movies. Bought Frozen on DVD for Frisk. Honestly. For Frisk. 

Favorite movie: Philomena

Sans

Into Sci-Fi movies a lot, even though he knows the science is bogus. He and Pap both like Star Wars, it’s got a lot of non-humans who are good guys! (A head canon I ACTUALLY had previous to this ask– the two of them have seen the first Star Wars, but it’s the only one that’s fallen into the Underground and circulated. They don’t know about Vader’s relation to Luke or what a Yoda is. The monsters are possibly the only fans on the planet who haven’t been spoiled on the ending of the OT yet. Some kind human souls learn about this and set up a screening of it in a theater, so that monsters have a chance to see it properly before having it ruined for them. It’s beautiful.)

He also has a large appetite for 90s high school romcoms? Like 10 Things I Hate About You and Clueless. It’s light and funny.

Not as big on TV shows. Likes to have the experience done and over with in one sitting.

Falls asleep without fail during Frisk’s movies.

Except for Frozen, which Toriel’s watched so many times, he managed to stay awake once for it. He thought it was kinda stupid through 2/3rds of it, but the final act got him. SIBLING LOVE is relevant to his interests and now he kind of digs the movie.

Favorite movie: The Fifth Element.

Papyrus

Watches The Bachelor religiously.

Watches Dancing with the Stars religiously.

Still watches anything MTT comes out with. 

Not a binge watcher. He likes shows that are on live.

Likes to watch random YouTubers’ Vlog channels, and no one’s totally sure why. It’s so weird… watching them daily, they feel like friends that haven’t met you yet. 

Animated shows are for children. …But Power Rangers is cool.

Sees every superhero blockbuster that comes out in the theater. 

Doesn’t typically watch anyone else’s shows or movies. If it’s not something he likes, he doesn’t have time for it.

Forced to sit through Frozen at least once. Whined about Elsa’s amateurish ice magic technique and poor casting form throughout the ordeal. 

Favorite movie: Star Wars.

MK

Probably watches PG-13 movies eVEN THoUGH THEY’RE NOT YET 13??? Scandalooz!

Is more of a Digimon kid. Arguments have been had.

Also likes superhero movies a lot, and Godzilla movies.

Watches a lot of Ninja Warrior/American Ninja Warrior, and has decided they’re going to take the challenge someday.

Hates Frozen, 0/10,literally the worse movie ever.

Favorite movie: Any Godzilla movie where he’s a good guy.

Undyne

Is disappointed to learn that anime isn’t real. But that’s okay because soon afterwards she discovers Jackie Chan movies and that’s even cooler?? Martial arts are her new jam.

Likes the idea of Ninja Warrior shows, but just feels like there’s a significant lack of real danger. Needs more fire and deadly pits.

Likes watching YouTube videos of people playing musical instruments in really crazy and incredible ways.

Sometimes likes more artsy films? Like with music, she’s not all action all the time.

Still watches anime with Alphys, even though she’s learned the truth.

Frozen had fighting! And magical transformations! And a gripping love story! It’s practically an anime! (Though not the best one she’s ever seen.)

Favorite movie: Hero

Alphys

Continues to be anime trash. Probably likes most of the gay sports anime the best.  Also cute romances like Ore Monogatari!

Watches MST3K with Sans sometimes. They also found this old show where people build RC robots with sawblades on them and fight each other and they LOVE it. They’re considering organizing their own tournament at some point.

Not as into sci-fi movies– but is very into complaining about sci-fi movies. Likes to write long blog posts about why they’re bad/inaccurate.

Likes Dr. Who, despite the above statement.

Really likes cheesy romances. Watches a lot of K/J/C-Dramas.

Total weekly intake of movies and shows in hours is obscene and embarrassing to repeat.

Has blogged about Frozen’s clunky narrative and weak execution of its core themes, but has to admit the characters are lovable and has drawn at least one fanart of it. Has the unpopular ship of Elsa/Hans and just won’t let that shit go.

Favorite movie: Mew Mew Kissy Cutie: Super Lovely The Movie: Extra Doki Extended Cut Edition

Blooky

YouTubing music videos all day.

Watches concert recordings.

Watches MTT’s show every day.

Downloaded the Frozen soundtrack off the internet, but has never watched the movie and genuinely has no idea what it’s about.

Forgets they own a TV 90% of the time.

Favorite movie: ?? Doesn’t really have one. …Sorry…

MTT

Competition shows are great, but he gets frustrated by how long and drawn out human reality tv is. Between each commercial break it should be wall to wall excitement! That’s his philosophy anyway.

Is actually consuming as much film as possible now that he’s on the surface, from a variety of genres. Where Napstablook and Undyne are passionate about music, MTT sleeps and breathes film studies.

Watches the news a lot too?? Probably the best informed monster besides Asgore. He has a news program of his own, and filters a lot of the world’s current events through to monsterkind. He has to always be in the know! …It also helps for making funny, topical statements. His 1.5 million viewers love topical statements!

He’s actually a really effective reporter. There’s no region too dangerous for him, he’ll report from anywhere. War zones. Active volcanoes. Maybe even space? All while doing it in a stunning blazer and perfect hair.

He’s busy a lot, so doesn’t actually have time to watch too many things.

Frozen is exactly the kind of movie he’d make, except that Elsa’s sparkly dress did not have enough screen time. For that matter, more characters needed sparkly clothes. Someone bedazzle that reindeer, stat. 

Favorite movie: Grease; Moulin Rouge

Asgore

New to movies and TV, but is slowly getting into them. There are so many violent movies and shows out there! So he mostly lets other people recommend things to him. A member of Oprah’s Book Club. He watches the movie versions of the books he’s read.

He likes stories about peoples’ lives. Watches Dr. Phil every afternoon. Recently he’s been touched by the stories of My 600 Lb Life and Teen Mom.

Is the only sports fan in the bunch. Prefers being there in person to watching on TV, but that’s not always feasible. Paints his face, even when he’s watching from home.

Frozen was a good movie and he enjoyed it quite a lot. Thank you, Undyne.

Favorite movie: Tuesdays With Morrie; Fried Green Tomatoes

Flowey

Loves YouTube Poops and he doesn’t know why.

Hates sad movies. Hates any movie that makes any attempt to make him feel things. Up is a dumb movie.

Doesn’t really care about TV or movies, but likes to watch with other people and chatter over it to ruin their experience. He really just wants to be the center of attention.

Probably pretends to like Adam Sandler movies, but doesn’t actually like Adam Sandler movies.

Likes America’s Funniest Home Videos, especially the ones where people fall off water skis.

Frozen is disgusting and would’ve been better if everyone turned into ice and died. The end.

Favorite movie: Anyone else’s favorite, so he can ruin it for them.

Chara

Doesn’t have much experience with TV or movies outside of what Frisk consumes.

Secretly has the same crappy taste in anime and K-Dramas as Alphys, but is stuck with Frisk’s over-indulgence in YouTube and Pokemon.

Sibling estrangement and isolation is a theme too close to home. Spends too much time drawing parallels between themselves and the rest of the cast, to the characters in Frozen.

Favorite movie: Frozen

[kennedydevin-blog]

OOC WEEK: DAY THREE

RAPID FIRE:

Tea or coffee? Tea. I get this really great tea from this place in the farmer’s market here. I currently have an iced lemon cake & a Hawaiian Sunset tea. They’re amazing. 

Stars or planets? Planets. I’m a planets person! 

Sun or moon? Moon. I love the moon with all my being. 

Black or white? Black. I look much better in black than white. Plus my cat is black, so that cat furr totally 

The zoo or the aquarium? Animals living free away from human interference. Neither, to be honest. I love animals too much to put them in captivity like that. 

Drama or comedy? A difficult decision, but drama wins by just a hair. Mostly because a lot of what I watch has drama in the title. I watch more crime drama than anything else. 

Thriller or adventure? Adventure. 

Short walks to the fridge or long walks on the beach? I love to walk, but like... not really on the beach. 

Indoors or outdoors? Although it depends on the day, to be honest. I love being outside. 

Animals or plants? I cannot keep plants alive to save my life, but it’s always been a dream to have an apartment with white walls, & plants hanging on every nook and cranny in the place. 

Time alone or time with others? I love being alone. I mean... as long as my cat is with me.

Introvert or extrovert? I think the above question answers why I’m an introvert.

Silence or music? Both, really. There are times when I just like to listen to the sounds of the house. But there are also times where I love listening to music. 

Darkness or light? Except when I’m trying to write or read. 

Cats or dogs? I know I have a dog, buttttttt.... my cat is the love of my life. If she were an actual person, I’d marry her. 

Dancing or being the wallflower? Although it depends on the people I’m with, because I will dance if I’m with certain people. 

Right or left? I write with my left hand, so I guess left. 

Werewolves or vampires? Both are good. I have started to have an appreciation for vampires because of the Lore podcast. The first episode was about vampires, but there have been several on people that transform which are ALWAYS fascinating. Literally this podcast is my life. Check this podcast out, you won’t be sorry. My favorite is this episode about lighthouses.

Dressing stylishly or dressing comfortably? I say as I’m sitting here... in my Grace Potter shirt, my Hamilton sweatshirt, sweatpants, & neon socks.

Sunrise or sunset? I think the sunset colors are prettier.

Lead or follow? Yikes, depends on the situation, but most of the time, leader. 

Optimist or pessimist? There’s no doubt about that.

Staying up late or waking up early? I say... as I go to bed before midnight every night except Thursday.

Speaking up or staying silent? I’ll often get into fights for just saying what I feel in a situation, especially if something is disgusting. 

White lies or brutal honesty? I mean... I’m a compulsive liar, but... I normally tell the truth to people... most of the time. Depends on the human.

Ask for permission before doing the stupid thing or ask for forgiveness after doing the stupid thing? Kind of neither. I don’t really do anything that others would consider stupid. 

LONG FORM:

Pet peeves: human existence. I mean, I don’t get annoyed by people often, unless they are just being assholes. Like for instance the people that ask “how can you be vegan & pro-choice” LISTEN ASSHOLE, you’re asking for a fight. Other than people asking questions that are obviously just looking to pick my thoughts and opinions on stuff apart, I am super not annoyed by people. 

Bad habits: I pick at my cuticles, so a lot of the time my fingers start to bleed.

Favourite scents (your amortentia!): Burning wood, Sunkist ( like oranges are good, but sunkist smells amazing ), my cat, lemons. A few of my favorite  scents. I also like lavender, mint, & rosemary. 

Favourite animal: Cats, but don’t tell my dog. I have a lot of favorite animals, but cats are so adorable. 

Favourite colour: Green is my favorite color. 

Favourite place to go (local or otherwise) (photos get bonus points): Honestly, I don’t have any local places that I go because the area I live in is sort of... boring. In New York, there’s this comic book shop I always go to. So probably that’s one of my favorite places. I’ll post some pictures at the bottom.

Favourite meme: ??? I’m not up to date on all the memes, so I don’t really have a favorite. 

Do you have any creative or artistic abilities? Yes, I do! Besides writing, I do watercolors. I can’t draw as well, but I love watercolors. Also, sometimes I knit & I’m learning to make my own soaps because a lot of homemade soaps aren’t vegan??? 

Talk about something that made you happy today, yesterday, this week: It snowed over the weekend! We were supposed to get 7 inches, though it turned out to only be about 4 or 5, but it snowed. I live in North Carolina, so snow doesn’t always happen every year, or not a big snow at least. I just love winter weather so much. 

Talk about an experience that made you feel proud or confident: To be honest, I don’t really know what to put here. I’m not a very prideful person or confident for that matter. 

Talk about something/someone that makes you feel relaxed: Dungeons & Dragons is the only thing that really relaxes me. I have two characters. One of them, Nico Thornbrush, is a halfling ( basically they’re hobbits, but they’re only 3 feet. ) fighter, that recently started to become a paladin -- or holy warrior. He’s only 20 years old, barely old enough to leave home, but he’s just so good... just such a cinnamon roll. But he’s dumb & doesn’t reallly believe in death. My other character though... is a whisper gnome named Ludovic Silvermist -- he goes by Ludo -- ( because I wasn’t allowed to name him Ronald without getting judged ). He’s a trickery cleric, that isn’t very devout to his goddess -- he kind of hates her. He’s all about them lies & deception to get him ahead. He used to be an orphan until a priest took him in. He has a rat named Scabbers that he occasionally talks to because it’s his best friend.

Talk about something you’re yet to try for the first time but want to: Skydiving. 

Who are your role models & why: Okay, so I have a lot of role models. But I’m just going to put a few here, since I don’t want to write novels. 

Matthew Mercer - Matthew is such a great person. I could probably go on & on about the things he’s done that have really inspired me & made me think he’s such a great person, but it would be a novel. If you have played more than one video game, chances are that Matt was a voice in it. He’s got over 300 IMDB credits. Seriously... & his fiance Marisha Ray is very involved with getting better working conditions for voice actors. Matt is that over achieving person that you just want to deck in the face, but he’s so sweet you just can’t bring yourself to do so, but he’s also an evil genius, so there’s that. He always reminds everyone to have faith that everything will work out. Even if it’s about his game, it still translates into real life. He’s created so much & done such a good job at inspiring others to create that I just look up to him for that reason alone.

Practically the entire cast of Critical Role is a role model to me in some way, so I won’t talk about all of them in detail. 

Obama - I think just saying that is enough. His farewell speech was just so amazing & really says everything about why I look up to him. 

Kieron Gillen & Jamie McKelvie - If you don’t read the series The Wicked + The Divine, I highly recommend it because it’s really good. I’ve met Gillen, McKelvie & their colourist Matt Wilson. They’re all really cool people. They’re doing what the love to do, but not only that, they have brought forward political and social issues into a comic series like I’ve never seen anyone do before. I love how these three are doing what they love, while being very aware of what they are creating & how important diversity representation is in media. I mean seriously, read WicDiv. There are themes of sexism and racism. And cultural appropriation v. appreciation is a huge deal as a whole in the comic. Seriously it’s such a diverse comic, I can’t even begin to describe. Not just with sexuality, but gender as well. I look up to them as a reminder that people are capable of change & even our generation can be pressured into thinking things that aren’t true because of media. 

Basically WicDiv is about these pop stars that are actually gods, but instead of living forever, they only have 2 years to live. Then in 90 years, it happens again. Basically, we’ve been told everyone is going to die by the end of the series. Which means my trash son is going  to die :/

Mara Wilson - seriously, just scroll through her twitter. She tells it like it is. I’m so glad Matilda grew up to be such a wonderful adult.

Talk about something you want to do this year: die. Hmm, I’m not sure. One of the biggest things on my list is to try and go to a live Critical Role show, if they have one. I think it would be really awesome to be able to see this show live. I mean... it’s live every week, but they stream from California. Maybe also one of the Night Vale shows. 

Would not recommend going on a Wednesday if you’re ever in NYC. It’s pretty scary with all the people getting all the new comics. 

[itsallinmeee-blog]

Shaquan, Too

Pay attention to your kids. Read to them, talk with them, draw, color, paint, explore their interests, develop their talents, invest in your children… Not just monetarily either; don’t send them off to practices and summer camps and after school programs without investing time, love and patience in them. Become their best friend. Encourage them. Speak to them with love and compassion so they can see the clear difference between making a mistake and being disobedient. Raise emotionally intelligent children.

I believe life is like a really well written movie where you’re intrigued yet lost the whole time and everything comes together at the “end” or resolution stage. You flashback to all these milestones and years of wandering and confusion and see their key roles in preparing you for this moment. Right? Okay so I am currently a substitute teacher. How did I find myself here? Impeding quarter life crisis aside, I had bills to pay and a daughter to take care of, and right before the school year started I got fired from my fake-promising secretary job. I’m in a city where anyone making over minimum wage travels and hour to work and I literally can’t afford car trouble. So, yeah, substitute teaching it is.

My first day was a 3rd grade class. I got through to the class bad ass and thought “Maybe I can get used to this” because I am so passionate about making a difference, but you like… can’t. Every day you have a new classroom full of kids that know time and numbers are on their side. Meaning they’re used to sitting in these tacky, cluttered, lazily decorated classrooms for 11,000 hours days. They know there’s 18-25 of them and only one of you, you don’t know their names, you can pinpoint the noise if everyone’s making it, and you will run out of patience if they just keep wearing on it.

I care a lot. If you asked me what I wanted to be in high school, aware of all the money making professions I should have aspired to, I would’ve said “a high school English teacher at a Title 1 school”. I have always had a heart for “bad” kids; behavior problems that might really just have some learning problems, attitude problems, trouble makers, dropouts. These were all my favorite people and no one could understand that it wasn’t a bad boy fascination. I understood that children with no control of their environments or parenting were blamed for both and I didn’t like it. And I tried myself to make it up to the hood on behalf of the church and Upstanding Negro community across the country by simply caring.

Saying all that to say “bad” was not the problem.

“Bad” was never an issue and “boy” definitely wasn’t either. I thought my gift and purpose in life was caring for young thrown away black boys but I quickly learned that wasn’t necessary here: these black boys, for the most part, were coddled. “He’s really such a sweet kid” The older white lady that walked me down from the front introduced me to the class, then knelt at the boy’s desk to attempt to talk him out of giving me a hard time… then turned to me and said that. Girl, how the hell? What I found even more odd was his coddling was followed by the bad black girl in the class being reprimanded sternly for getting out of her seat. How, Susan? I see the dynamics have changed.

So although they normally aren’t my target audience, I began to pay more attention to the black girls. All my life we never got along, but there was something unique about almost every single little black girl I encountered now: they wanted me there. If I was holding the door open at a middle school for the students coming in their third period, trying to look like I knew what was going on, black girls would walk by and get wide eyed. “I wanna be in her class! Man she need to come to our class! Miss! You know you can come down here, right?” Once an aid came in and took over the second block of the fifth grade Science class that I was subbing for (ironically, the one full of little black girls). Before that day she was their friend. I could tell because she was comfortable calling them “gwarl” and “girlfriend” and snapping in S-formation. Oh, but that did not work on this day. “I want you to teach!” The cutest dark skinned girl said to me in disappointment. Her friend was turned around looking at me, too. Although I was happy they took over a science lesson, due to the fact that I hate science, I acted like it was out of my hands. “She kind of took over” I whispered back with a shrug. “Sometimes you gotta boss up” the other girl said. The way she said it with her hand motions almost made me laugh out loud. Maybe you’re right, girl.

Bad or not, all these kids were in desperate need of attention. All of them. Even the good, quiet and shy ones eventually warmed up to my kindness and turned into ankle bracelets. They all wanted to pile on top of each other to surround me at the table all day, eat lunch with me and “help me” get the rest of the class quiet (by talking even more to each kid individually about why they needed to be quiet). Dear God. There were very few ‘other’ kids in comparison; the good kids that were laid back and quiet, doing their work with an aggravated maturity about them. I started to wonder what the difference was in their rearing. I know the intensive classes were full of tech savvy children and found out a lot of the honors kids weren’t allowed to be on electronics for over an hour at home. It’s obvious when a child has structure at home and I will also tell you, in case you didn’t know, it’s obvious when they do not. When they aren’t asked about their day and what they learned. When no one is sitting down and helping them with their homework when they need it and when no one is even asking the child if they had homework. 

As passionate as I am about our children is as passionate as I have to be about the parents because the difference between needy students and the only three in the class that aren’t driving the teacher up the wall is their parenting. We have to raise our kids. You can’t talk about her parenting because her kids are ashy or you don’t like how she fixes their hair or dresses them if they can read, sit still and pay attention in school. Your kids are in schools clinging tightly to strangers like Matilda with Miss Honey, because I’m the first adult that wasn’t telling them to “Sit they ass down and be quiet” every 5 seconds. I pay every day for having a heart with these kids and have to keep in mind not to raise one when I get with my own daughter. It’s so easy to give her a toy with lights, music and sounds or find a YouTube video to play for her. I admit I don’t even know how to properly engage my daughter because she’s currently 11 months old. Well, I’m getting better, but all up until around 9 months I just did not know what to do with the child. I had a home visitor and all to teach me about the developmental stages, what milestones she should be reaching, things to work with her on and all… But it just didn’t come natural to me to play with a baby. Everybody would tell me to bond with her, hold her and talk to her, and I would just hold her, look at her… Lost. So yes, it is hard! When they’re children it seems like they can’t grasp things quickly enough ad they have a lot of unwarranted emotions. Still, that’s YOUR child. The job is mine alone (okay, her father’s too) to pour into my child. We have to constantly be aware of that. I mean, think about the way you are with everything. Your temperament, work ethic, self esteem, values, morals, humor. How much did you learn from school?

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Stella and the Wolf - Chapter 5

You can read it here on AO3, or find the Tumblr Chapter Index here. 

Stiles finds himself thinking about Derek Hale more than he should, if only for the sake of his own sanity. In the three days since the incident at Deaton’s clinic with the bone saw, Stiles hasn’t seen hide nor hair—pun absolutely intended—of his unfriendly neighbourhood werewolf. And as much as Stiles attempts to stay ambivalent about Derek Hale, he can’t quite manage it. He’s worried, okay? What if the Alpha’s killed him? What if the Argents have? Would anyone even notice he was gone except for Stiles? And that’s not Stiles trying to insert himself into Derek’s life or anything, or make himself a part of Derek’s story—it’s like a legitimate fucking judgement call on how depressing Derek’s existence is if Stiles Stilinski is the only person who’s thinking about him.

Well, almost the only person.

Stiles doesn’t miss the way that Stella scans the roadside when Stiles is driving, like she’s hoping Derek will just stumble out in front of the Jeep and into their lives again.

And, as much as Stiles doesn’t need the complication in his life, maybe a part of him is hoping it too.

It doesn’t happen.

Days pass.

Dad is back on day shifts now, so that means a return to family breakfasts and dinners. Stiles likes it when Dad’s on days. Sometimes it feels like they communicate entirely with text messages and notes stuck on the refrigerator, or the faint Morse Code of Dad’s footsteps creaking on the stairs when he’s leaving for work late at night, or coming home again just before dawn. It’s weird, Stiles thinks, to miss someone you share a house with.

Stella, of course, makes up for lost time by filling Dad in on every single thing he’s missed while he’s been on graveyard shifts.

“And,” she says that night at dinner, barely pausing to shovel her mashed potatoes in her mouth, “I’m in the Reading in the Community program!”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Dad chides her gently.

She chews and swallows. “I’m in the Reading in the Community program. It’s only for the best readers. I’m the best reader in our whole class.”

“I’ll bet you are,” Dad says. “What’s the Reading in the Community program?”

“You have to sign a form,” Stella tells him. “We go to the old people’s home and the hospital and we read to people.”

Stiles makes a face. He literally can’t imagine anything worse than being a captive audience to a bunch of little kids stumbling over their words.  

Dad gives him a look that says, Son, you’re right, but keep your mouth zipped.

Stiles gets that look a lot from Dad, actually.

“I’m going to read Matilda,” Stella says. “So you need to sign the form. Oh, and I need to buy a birthday present for Faith, because I’m going to her birthday sleepover soon. I need money for two presents.”

“Who gets two birthday presents?” Dad asks, his forehead creasing.

“Faith and her twin brother,” Stella says. “Duh.”

Stiles snorts at the look on Dad’s face.

“Makes sense,” Dad says, and then he grins and says, teasingly, “So, has Stiles been letting any more werewolves in the house?”

Stiles freezes.

Seriously? What is his life, even?

“No!” Stella exclaims, wide-eyed, and then clamps her mouth shut.

Dad throws a questioning look at Stiles, like he’s wondering why Stella’s not playing along.

Stiles answers with a shrug.

Little kids, right, Dad? Weird.

“So,” Stiles says, anxious to change the subject, “I got a B on yesterday’s chemistry pop quiz.”

Dad raises his eyebrows. “Good job, kiddo.”

“It would have been an A, except Harris said some of my answers were illegible,” Stiles says. “Which is bullsh—bullcrap, by the way!”

“Stiles,” Dad says with a sigh. “Language.”

“I saved it!” Stiles insists.

“You were going to say bullshit,” Stella tells him, and then turns to Dad. “It’s not rude if I’m not using it as a swear! I’m just saying what he was going to say.”

“It’s still a swear,” Dad says, shaking his head. “You two. Jesus.”

“And that’s a blasphemy,” Stiles says smugly.

Dad snorts. “Yeah, well, we don’t have a blasphemy jar.”

“Maybe we should,” Stiles says, poking his fork towards Dad. “You’d owe it twenty bucks in a week!”

“Which is why we don’t have a blasphemy jar,” Dad tells him. “Now, hurry up and finish your dinner, both of you. I saw that ice cream in the freezer, and it’s got my name on it.”

Stella gasps, and shovels her mashed potatoes in like it’s a race. Stiles wishes he could say that he finishes his meal much more slowly, but who is he kidding? There’s ice cream on the line.

***

Stiles wakes up with a start as his window screeches open and a dark shape steps inside.

“Derek?” he asks, his voice scratchy with sleep.

A grunt is his only answer, and probably the only one he needs. A home invader would be more forthcoming, right?

Stiles throws his comforter back and rolls out of bed, ending up more or less on his feet. He squints at the Derek-shaped form by the window. “My dad’s home.”

“I know.” Derek is as loquacious as always, his voice pinched with customary tension.

“Okay…” Stiles scrubs his fingers through his hair, and squints again. Then, since his zoom function is clearly broken, he shuffles forward in an attempt to bring Derek into focus instead. “What do you want?”

“I,” Derek begins, and then just stops. And stays stopped.

Stiles takes another step forward. Derek is a silhouette in the moonlight. “What’s going on?”

He’s close enough to touch, so of course Derek takes a step sideways. He hip-checks Stiles’s desk, bumping it hard enough that Stiles’s computer monitor blinks into life, bathing the room in a light blue glow.

Derek’s holding a hand against his abdomen. There’s a black stain spreading from underneath his palm, like ink in blotting paper.

Stiles’ s heart stumbles over a beat. “What happened? Did you get shot again?”

“Stabbed,” Derek mutters.

“Oh, mixing it up. That’s good.” Stiles fights not to laugh at the ludicrous tragedy of Derek’s existence. “Do you need like special wolfsbane or something?”

“No.” Such a short, curt word, but it sounds somehow soft. It sounds like the loneliest word in the universe. “It’s healing.”

Stiles lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“They’re looking for me.” Derek says. “Hunters. I couldn’t go back to my house.”

“Okay,” Stiles says. What is Derek’s life that Stiles’s house is his only port in a storm? His chest aches just thinking about it, and he swallows. “I mean, I’d say you could have a shower, but that might wake Dad. I’ll go get you a washcloth, okay? And you can grab a clean shirt or something. Just wait here.”

“Okay,” Derek says softly as Stiles shuffles toward the door. And then, so quietly that Stiles barely even hears him: “Thank you.”

It makes his stomach twist.

***

Stiles wakes up when the alarm on his phone goes off. He rolls over onto his side so that he can reach his bedside table. He fumbles for his phone and shuts the alarm off just as Dad knocks on the door. Then his gaze drops to the floor, and to where Derek Hale is lying there, staring at him.

“Kiddo?” Dad calls. “Breakfast!”

“Don’t come in here!” Stiles yells back. “I’m, um—I’m—I’m jerking off!”

And realizes, a second too late, what words just fell out of him. He freezes, and drops his phone with a dull thunk onto Derek’s face.  

What the fuck? Derek mouths at him, and Stiles doesn’t think it’s for the phone.

“Too much information, Stiles,” Dad says in a long-suffering tone from outside the door, and then his footsteps tread down the hall.

Stiles reaches down very slowly to reclaim his phone from where it’s ended up beside Derek’s head. Derek expression grows impossibly sour when Stiles’s fingers brush his jaw.

“What?” Stiles whispers down at him. “You know I wasn’t! These fingers are clean, dude. You’re not going to get Stiles cooties!”

Derek glares at him.

Stiles retrieves his phone. “Anyway, Dad will be going to work soon, so if you want to hang around for breakfast you can or whatever.”

Derek’s expressions softens into something slightly less than glacial.

Stiles takes that as a yes.

“Okay,” he says, not thinking about Derek thinking about him jerking off. Definitely not. Because that would be awkward. “Breakfast.”

Stiles rolls out of bed—the non-Derek side—and closes his door when he leaves his room. Downstairs, Dad is finishing off his coffee while he tries to tame Stella’s hair into a braid. There’s a half-eaten piece of toast on his plate, and Stiles reaches for it only to get his hand slapped away.

“Wash your hands before you eat,” Dad tells him.

Stiles’s face burns. “Oh. Right.”

“Are you good to get Stella to school?”

“Yup,” Stiles says, crossing to the sink and grabbing the hand soap. “And good to pick her up too.”

“Okay.” Dad finishes off Stella’s braid. It’s a little lopsided, but he was mostly working one-handed and juggling his coffee at the same time. He stands up, and then bends down to give Stella a kiss on the forehead. “Be good for your brother.”

“I always am,” she lies blatantly.

Dad pulls Stiles into a hug. “And be good to your sister. I’ll be home by five, if nothing comes up, but I’ll text you if anything does.”

“Gotcha,” Stiles say. “We’ll see you then.”

Stiles waits until Dad leaves and he hears the cruiser heading down the street before he turns to Stella. “We need to make some more breakfast.”

Stella stares at the pan of scrambled eggs. “Why?”

“Because I told Derek he could have some.”

“Derek’s here?” Her face lights up like it’s Christmas.

And that must be the signal Derek’s waiting for, because he steps into the kitchen looking almost shy.

“Derek! Stella exclaims, and rushes forward to wrap her arms around him. “You’re here, and you’re not dead!”

Derek looks at Stiles.

“Little sisters, dude,” he says, and shrugs.

“Yeah, I know.” Derek pats Stella gently on the back, and breaks Stiles’s gaze. “I had one.”

Shit. Of course he did. Was it eight people that died in the Hale house fire? Stiles doesn’t really remember. But Cora Hale was in the year above him at school. He remembers dark hair and a glare as intimidating as Derek’s. She was older than him, and a bit scary. Weird to look back now and realise she was just a little girl. Weird to think that’s all she ever got to be.

“So,” Stiles says, pushing the word out, “you like scrambled eggs, right?”

“Yeah.” The side of Derek’s mouth quirks briefly. “I like scrambled eggs.”

***

The answer, Stiles thinks as he watches Stella shovel more eggs onto Derek’s plate, isn’t to pretend Derek Hale and werewolves don’t exist.

The answer isn’t to sit back and do nothing.

The answer is to help Derek.

Because Stiles is already in danger, isn’t he? The whole town is, including Dad and Stella. And Scott’s already tried hard enough to pretend nothing is happening, and that suddenly being turned into a werewolf is totally not going to change anything, but Scott’s wrong. Scott’s already in danger too.

And so is Derek.

And Derek isn’t someone Stiles can pretend doesn’t matter, or doesn’t exist at all.

Derek is a guy who needs help, and he has nobody else to help him.

He watches as Stella pulls her chair up right next to Derek’s so they can eat together, and sees how Derek makes room for her, his mouth twitching.

He watches as Stella drowns her eggs in ketchup, and Derek wrinkles his nose in disgust.

He watches as Stella laughs and elbows him, and Derek shows her a genuine fucking smile.

He thinks of how he promised Stella someone would always look after her, and wonders if Derek ever heard the same promise from the people who loved him.

A knot tightens in Stiles’s chest.

Yeah.

Derek Hale needs someone, and Stiles guesses he’s just volunteered.