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i hate that this is on “bad two sentence horror” because its actually good

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Sure, I met the most unbearably awful sword. But, it also met me.

When you accidentally picked up a cursed sword, hearing it speak you expected the worst; demands of bloodshed, violence.. you didn’t expect that it would consider itself equally cursed to be attached to you.

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If u want to write a story about a character that's just you but hotter with a dark twisted backstory and magical powers and a pet falcon or something, I think u should just go ahead and do that. Who's gonna stop you? The government?? Fuck the police.

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In a way, in MDZS, Lan Sizhui is the key and answers to the big moral questions in the story: was it all worth it? Was it all worth it when Wei WuXian lost so much, even his life, when the Wens almost all died anyway, when there was so much collateral damage?

The narrative says: yes, it was worth it, because one child survived, and thrived. Look at that lovely, loveable young man! He is the reason all this was not for naught.

But what I find interesting is, Lan Sizhui is not even that exceptional, he doesn't make a big difference in the world, does he? He's still young, but despite his really good character and keen mind and aptitudes, he's not a genius, he's not renowned, he's not a Hanguang-Jun or a Yilling Laozu. He's just a kind, good-mannered, well brought up young man. Anyone would be happy to claim him as a son or a disciple or a son-in-law. But he's not some big game changer. Even though being a cultivator sets him apart from a good chunk of the normal population already, in his habitual context he's a normal kid. He makes friends, acts silly sometimes, hasn't slayed any Shuanwu of slaughter, got easily led into a trap by a trail of beheaded cats. A normal kid.

And that's important, because this reward is as the sacrifice Wei WuXian made. He didn't make some grand gesture for important people. He did what was right in his view, no more, no less. It wasn't for some greater good, even less for fame. It was simply what was right. And if you do what's right you're not really adding up and subtracting the wins and losses as in a giant thought experiment of the trolley problem. There probably would have been ultimately less death and suffering had Wei WuXian let the Wens to their misery and death quietly. There wouldn't have been a Lan Sizhui, but there would have been a Jiang YanLi, a Jin ZiXuan, and many people that got killed when they attacked him would have lived. But it wouldn't have been right, and so Wei WuXian doesn't think about it that way, and the narrative doesn't either. It tells you life is complicated, and sowing violence reaps more violence, and you can't always "win". But if you do your best, if you keep doing what's right, even if you are only human, and make mistakes, and everyone is against you, it still counts.

It counts. Not for the greater good, not for fame, it counts. Because the whole point is Lan Sizhui gets to live, and grow up, and be a normal kid and have a good life, and that's enough. He doesn't need to be or do anything "more" than that.

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hiding in the tags #possibly the only one who at no point thinks he’s the main character#he is here to protect his little bastard man because it’s his JOB and that is it#stop you from talking yourself into a trap? provide critical info? stop you from drinking poison? NOPE#anyway it just occurred to me#that wzl’s ‘i destroyed jc’s core but now wwx doesn’t have one’ reaction#and xy’s ‘i blinded sl but now xxc can’t see’ one#are the same and both are confused math lady

Wen Zhuliu + knowing what’s up but deciding doing anything about it would be well above his pay grade

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bored

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Shapeshifting!au p.2

Animal forms were an open secret, a legendary enigma. Everyone knew the tales of the heavenly peoples, who came down to earth to share cultivation with the humans. They used their power to take on human likeness so as to be able to better teach and relate to those living in the earthly realm - even as their true likeness reflected the elements they drew strength from.

Mostly, the heavenly visitors passed on their knowledge and then re-ascended to live out thousands of years in their realm of relative peace and balance. Some though - it was said, stayed. They joined the sects their followers created, fell in love, and added to their numbers. The dragons of Gusu, the great beasts of Qinghe, the tortoises of Yunmeng, the firebirds of Qishan, the tigers of Lanling. Some, it was said, stayed to wander the earth forever, hiding in plain sight.

Legends and reality rarely crossed, however. Most folk hardly even remembered more than the five great sects and those within the cultivation world kept their strengths even more closely hidden than their weaknesses.

In private, shapeshifting was a thing to take pride in - to practice to perfection. Full shifting was rarely used out in the field, but even partial attributes could be the difference between success and failure on a nighthunt. Madame Yu made mercilessly sure Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian remembered this.

To the public, she was the Violet Spider - supposedly for her violent temper and long-reaching lightning. Those who truly knew her well understood that the hidden danger of her moniker was that the fox shifter was only one tail away from immortality.

Jiang Cheng, who took after his mother rather than his patient father, had laughed when he’d first learned of Wei Ying’s fear of dogs. 

“How can you be afraid of what you are?” He’d scoffed. “You can’t be my shixiong if you’re going to be afraid of me too.”

Still bitter and sad about having to give up his spiritual companions, the young boy hadn’t listened, no matter how many times a young Wei Ying had shouted, “that’s different!” He’d sobered that night when he and Jiang Yanli had to search for their new brother, when the fox’s dull and listless fur - nothing like the glossy orange of his own nor the gray of his mother’s - did little to hide the myriad of bite and claw marks littering his small body. 

Dogs hunted wild foxes, his sister reminded him.

From there on out, Jiang Cheng vowed not to let another dog near his adoptive brother - even after that coat grew shiny and black as the night night sky - even after Wei Ying earned two tails to Jiang Cheng’s one and he realized that having a brother also meant an ongoing competition he never agreed to participate in.

Perhaps it was because of this that Wei Ying - recently named Wuxian, trusted Jiang Cheng with his most precious secret.

“This is all I have left of her.” The twelve-year-old gently ran his fingers along the soft edges of the feather as they sat on the roof. In the dim light of the lanterns below, Jiang Cheng could just make out the soft brown spots that patterned the tip. He knew nothing about birds, but the shape of it looked important - nothing like the fluffy down feathers ducks liked to leave behind on the surface of Lotus Pier’s numerous lakes.

“It’s beautiful.” He said, then immediately wished he hadn’t. 

Wei Wuxian’s stupid lack of filter was rubbing off on him, just like mother said. His shixiong just turned to him with a wistful smile, though, apparently content enough to not take this prime opportunity to tease him for being soft.

“Thanks. She was… at least. I think.” He went quiet for a moment. Jiang Cheng sure as hell wasn’t going to try and fill the gap. He’d already embarrassed himself enough and this felt important. “It’s funny, sometimes I can’t remember what her face looked like, but every time I look into the sky my mind tells me all the ways a bird’s silhouette is different from hers.”

And what the hell was Jiang Cheng supposed to say to that? His own parents, though constantly arguing (or being yelled at and then not actually yelling back, but certainly not making things better), were still alive. He didn’t need to memorize their faces, or the shape of their words, or which tea they liked best in the morning. 

Thankfully, A-Jie came out to gently chide them for climbing and staying out so late. By the time she coaxed them down from the pavilion roof, both the feather and Wei Wuxian’s strange, contemplative mood had been hidden away.

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

Wen Ruohan leaves him alone for two weeks.

In theory, it’s great. Wei Wuxian has all the time in the world to clean his feathers, set about finding the perfect roost in the room, shit on anything that looks vaguely important (barring the man himself), peck at his fetter in an attempt to figure out how exactly it works. He hasn’t been alone long enough to be able to see if he can change forms or not, but he sets his mind to testing just about every other limit. 

Unfortunately, being ignored means that while there is an absence of violence, there is also an absence of anything even vaguely resembling help.

Bathroom breaks aren’t a problem - for the aforementioned reason. (In fact, if he can manage to shit on a person, Wen Ruohan often actually laughs. It makes it a little less satisfying, but often the victims are annoying enough in their own right to deserve it).

Food is also, technically, not a worry. It’s there...but Wen Ruohan made it very clear that in order to receive any, Wei Wuxian either has to attempt to make a mad dash to grab it directly from the man’s plate...or eat it from his hand. Like some kind of pet.

Wei Wuxian spent two months in the burial grounds eating rotting corpses and the occasional sickly rodent. He would literally rather starve than be docile to this man, and he’s got plenty of practice.

And then Xue Yang shows up, solving several of Wei Wuxian’s problems at once. 

For one, he’s a talkative asshole. So for the first time since he was captured in Lotus Pier, Wei Wuxian gets a fractured picture of how the Sunshot Campaign is actually affecting the Wens. For another, he’s an irreverent little shit - and for some reason, Wen Ruohan likes him. Wei Wuxian suspects that it’s probably because he’s also useful (though he legitimately throws up a little bit when the teen talks about Wei Wuxian’s demonic cultivation like he’s a fan or something).

The idiot makes an attempt to befriend - or at least talk at Wei Wuxian from where he’s perched on a wooden bust of Wen Chao (he’s made it his mission to make it as accurate as possible to the man’s last living days) and Wei Wuxian takes great pleasure in biting the hand Xue Yang stick too close to him. Wen Ruohan outright laughs at the exchange until the delinquent sulks out muttering an impressive list of curses. 

And Wei Wuxian thinks, ‘huh, I can work with that.’

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screaming, crying and rolling on the ground as i remember that the first thing teen lan wangji did, after finally getting the lotus pods that wei ying told him about, was to set them in front of his late mom’s cottage

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Shapeshifting!au p.1

p.2

People always spoke of a nightmare, when describing a fear of falling. 

The rushing air, the unbridled descent; the terror in their voices mounting at the thought of being pushed from a great height.

Wei Wuxian knew better, though.

It wasn’t the fall that broke you.

It was the landing.

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

Flying had always felt like second nature to Wei Ying. Even as he grew up in a land of lakes, piers and an endless stream of boats, with humidity so thick you could taste it. Even as memories of a time before he had to worry about his place in the world - his next meal, his contribution to the people looking after him - faded. 

In the sky, he was free.

In the sky, he did not have to be Wei Wuxian, First Disciple of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect. He did not have to think of whose son he was or was not, whose house he lived under and had to bring honor to, whose power his own did or did not outstrip. 

The Jiangs did not take to the sky, despite Madame Yu’s affinity for storms. Those with the innate ability were creatures of water, of earth. Wei Changze had been a servant, but he had been beloved for the way his fox form matched seamlessly with his Sect Leader’s - a metallic counterpart. (The assumption that Madame Yu would do the same was the first misstep of their doomed marriage, but few were brave or stupid enough to point this out.)

Cangse Sanren had only ever belonged to one place - and even that place, for all anyone knew, might as well have been in the sky.

But Wei Wuxian’s place was on the ground, beside his adoptive siblings. So though the sky called to him, he remained dutiful and shot longing glances to the wind only down the length of his bow and arrow. And if it caused him to win every archery competition made for young masters, then at least his pining brought pride to his sect.

“Ahahahahaa! Jiang Cheng, did you see the way his face scrunched up when his arrow split down the middle?” Wei Wuxian crowed, perhaps a little too loudly as they’d only just left the competition grounds to head for their tents. All around them, junior disciples jostled and chatted about their performance in the various challenges that day, drifting from group to group to talk with friends old and new alike. Beside him, however, the Jiang Sect Heir scowled.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” He scolded, trying in vain to wrestle his shoulders out from under Wei Wuxian’s extended arm. “Wen Chao was already pissed at you calling that stutterer the best archer of their sect. The last thing we need is for Wen-”

He stopped himself, but Wei Wuxian knew the rest of the sentence. The last thing they needed was for Wen Ruohan to carry a grudge against them.

“Ah, Cheng-Cheng! Don’t worry so much!” Wei Wuxian forced himself to say with a cheer he abruptly did not feel. “What’s some good squabbling and competition amongst youths? Besides, the five sects are all on equal footing anyway.”

Neither of them commented on the fact that their host had been sitting notably higher than the rest of the Sect Leaders he’d invited to come to show off the prowess of their growing generations.

The next day, Lan Xichen bested Wen Xu in the dueling competition for the senior disciples and Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but nudge Jiang Cheng with his elbow as they cheered for the victory along with the other onlookers. See? He said with his eyes when his shidi scowled at him. Wen Ruohan can’t murder us and the Lans just for beating his sons.

Up on the dais, Wen Rouhan smiled as he presented the award to Lan Xichen, but it didn't reach his eyes.

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

For several numbing moments, he remembers nothing. Not who he is - or where he is - certainly not how he got there. He is awake, and then not, and then awake again. There is a cage, of that he’s sure. The room he’s in might change, along with the voices around him, but the cage does not.

And then suddenly there is a cruel grin and bloodshot eyes staring down at him and he remembers everything all at once. 

It comes a second too late to be of any use - to warn him of the imminent danger. 

The man with the cruel grin takes advantage of his hesitation and soon his head is not the only thing filled with a blinding pain. Wei Wuxian struggles and squawks, but there is a fetter on his foot now and it drains him. 

Wen Ruohan does not bother sticking him back in the cage, he and Wei Wuxian both know there is nowhere for him to escape like this. It’s humiliating and Wei Wuxian has half a mind to fly up as high as he can and shit on the man’s head just on principle. This isn’t the first time he’s experienced restraining magic like this. But while he trusted Zidian to keep him safe - even as Madame Yu spat at him, there is no telling what kind of punishments or tortures a madman like Wen Ruohan might have imbued into the spiritual tool now clamped just above his talons.

He does manage to roost on a rafter about halfway down the enormous hall they’re in, though. Wen Ruohan just laughs, like he finds the fight and petulance funny - like Wei Wuxian is a particularly stubborn child.

“Go ahead and sulk, Little Bird.” He calls, turning his back on Wei Wuxian without any sort of fear. It’s an arrogance he unfortunately has the power to back up. Wei Wuxian busied himself with righting his feathers and occasionally pecking lightly at his new accessory just to show his displeasure while the Sect Leader got comfortable below. It’s either that or give in to the urge to shit on the man’s head and risk death or worse.

“Imagine my surprise, thinking that I had all the little birdies of the world under my thumb, and then one day you fell into my lap.” 

He’d fallen onto the head of a returning scout, actually. 

The man had missed Wei Wuxian’s attack by pure virtue of having to relieve himself, and therefore taking ten minutes too long to return to his post with his report. And Wei Wuxian had been so exhausted from having to physically fight off Wen Zhuili and literally playing everyone else to death that he’d essentially flopped out of the second story window - trusting his wings to catch before he hit the ground. With his shitty luck, he’d hit the scout instead, and then not been quick enough to avoid the swift kick and shirt being thrown over his head. He couldn’t decide if he was happy or frustrated that the man hadn’t just left him for dead.

“You made quite a mess for me, Little Bird.” 

Wen Ruohan’s voice had a bit of a melodic quality to it, but one that made all the hairs on the back of your neck - or feathers, in this case - stand on end. He dropped it in pitch, taking Wei Wuxian’s hopes and stomach with it. 

“One day, you’re going to show me how.”

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If you're still taking them, can I say that 'trapped in a bank during a robbery au' would be absolutely fantastic with sterek?

It’s just a regular Tuesday morning for Derek. He posts some letters, picks up a bolt for the bathroom door, and pops into the bank. He’s busy planning dinner in his head when there’s a loud pop, followed by several more, and three men in ski masks jump up onto the tables between the queue Derek’s in.

“Good morning everybody, this is a robbery! Now if nobody loses their head, nobody will lose their head. Simon says everybody lay down on the floor, right away, right away.”

Derek feels his mouth fall open in shock. People are shouting and starting to cry as they fall to their knees. A woman in front of him begins screaming, and the man in the mask that had been talking jogs over, “No, no, ma’am, try to stay calm, you’ll have a story to tell your friends at the end of this. People’ll invite you to dinner for weeks to hear about it.”

"Please—”

“Just get down on the floor, ma’am, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Despite the mild panic creeping up his spine, Derek snorts, and the guy hears it. 

Oh, fuck, he shouldn’t have done that. 

“Sir!” He moves to stand in front of Derek, claps a hand on his shoulder and Derek flinches. “Hey, number two, we got ourselves a standing volunteer!” Another man with a mask comes bounding, bounding, over, and half waves his machine gun in the first guy’s face. 

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh, he’s not impressed with our behaviour at all.”

Keep reading

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I love these!! Can you imagine, what we could have had, if these three were the central characters? Like what if, instead of following Scott around 24/7, each season of the show centered on a different character? So like, we get the kanima in season 2, but it’s not Scott’s struggle, it’s Jackson’s. Season 3a is about Derek struggling to build a pack worthy of his name and then keeping it together under the pressure of the alpha pack - to balance power, protection and responsibility. 3b isn’t just Stiles as a monster, but Stiles having to come to terms with the fact that maybe he’s never been batman, maybe he’s more fit to be an antihero who cannot see morality as black and white. Jackson who doesn’t move away after being saved. Derek who has a chance to change and keep his pack. Stiles who tires of backing Scott up when his ideals get ahead of his brain, who steps forward and refuses to play faithful robin. We could get more insight on Allison and Chris. We could actually see Peter develop from crazy alpha to slightly more controlled asshole uncle instead of just having it peppered in when Scott’s story found it useful. We could see the betas actually grow into themselves instead of being murdered after one feeble round of bite-driven character development. And the snark! Basically, just give me a teen wolf that remembers Scott isn’t the only teen wolf.

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Finally working further on this one... after months, ha.

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i like my women with curves. lots and lots of curves. in a sort of spiral shape maybe with ketchup. curly fries. i like curly fries.

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When Derek opened his eyes, it wasn’t to the view of his sparse Metropolis loft. Instead, what greeted him was the blurry forms of antique molding and fancy tiled ceilings – the kind he knew for a fact to be common in the Stilinski manor. That in itself wasn’t all that disconcerting. He was no stranger to spending an evening under its spacious roof. The implications of his current predicament didn’t really sink in until he sat up to find that A, he was not in Stiles’ bed; B, Stiles was not there with him either; and C, Melissa McCall was coming into the room with a large breakfast tray and an expression of tired relief on her face.

“Melissa, what am I -?”

Derek stopped for a moment, feeling the pull of bandages around his shoulder as he sat up. That was when his brain fully woke up and the memories of last night came flooding in. His expression darkened and he sat up.

“Where is he?”

Melissa’s face went from concern to exasperation and she firmly pushed him back against the headboard, placing the tray across his lap so as to prevent him from getting up.

“Unlike yours, my ward’s bandages are for more than just show, And so help me, Hale, if you wake him up to argue after I finally got him to leave you to go to sleep, I will find the largest hunk of aconite possible and chain you to it.”

The two stared for a moment until Derek finally caved under the judgment of what Stiles would have called Melissa’s “best Mom eyebrow.” He sank back into the bed and grudgingly took the fork Melissa handed him.

“I’ll tell you when he wakes up, until then eat up. Scott’s wrapping things up in the city, but he said he should be home by dinner, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll join us as well. You obviously have free reign as long as you don’t ruin the landscaping.”

Derek faked a pout at the reference to the one time he took off from the back yard and left a mini crater in the lawn. Nevertheless, he followed her instructions.

As the morning wore on, pieces of the day before slowly fell together in Derek’s memory and he became increasingly consternated with the fact that he was perfectly fine, and Stiles seemingly was not – because he had come to rescue Derek. The alien remembered getting knocked out on his way home from the office and then waking up to a groggy picture of Kate’s grinning face. She had him chained to a fence, the cuffs encrusted with aconite gems and the fence with a constant flow of electric current running through it to keep him from shifting or using his strength to break free. The rest of the evening blurred together into a mess of fading in and out of Kate’s rants, boasting and harassment.

And then Stiles showed up. Or rather, Batman did.

Derek hadn’t even thought about the fact that Kate had kidnapped civilian Derek Hale, not Superwolf, until Stiles had pointed it out to the deranged CEO keeping him captive. He hoped she’d been stupid enough to take him somewhere outside of Metropolis to make his own superhero absence less conspicuous, but he doubted he’d get that lucky. Honestly, Derek isn’t even sure he really remembers much more about how the whole thing ended than that there was definitely a fight, an explosion and a kiss. After that, it was just flashing lights, the inside of an ambulance and darkness.

The memories alone had Derek freaking out enough to almost run and start digging through police and hospital records. What if someone had noticed that he’d started to heal right away? Stiles was a good liar, but Batman wasn’t known for more than just a few snarky retorts and well-timed punches. And neither of those would do much good to hide a supernatural healing factor. Then he remembered with a sudden burst of clarity that Scott had been one of the EMTs to pick him up. Stiles must have radioed him to make sure that Nightwing was the closest available unit. He’d have to thank the man later (lying was not a thing Scott did often, secret identity notwithstanding).

But eventually Stiles woke up and curled up with him on the large, cushy couch no one would believe the billionaire of Gotham owned. They argued at first. It had been stupid of Derek to not fight back, it had been even stupider of Stiles to risk coming after him (they both agreed that Kate won the stupidity award for kidnapping him as a civilian in the first place). Eventually though, the battle of words turned into a battle of tongues and they probably would have gone even further had Stiles not remorsefully reminded him that sex was bad for human injuries and while alien pain drain was great, it didn’t actually help heal anything – nor did the body worshiping Derek gave him after that with his tongue, but Stiles refrained from pointing that out.

Things seemed pretty par for the course until dinner time – or rather, until Scott came rushing into the living room looking harried and immediately turned the TV on to the news.

Lazy cuddle time came to a fairly abrupt halt.

Scrawling across the bottom of Stiles’ 100 inch TV and shown in grainy, but fairly accurate cell-phone footage in the corner next to the news broadcaster’s head was the public death of Derek Hale’s life as a well-loved, but homely reporter.

The Dark Knight’s Damsel in Distress

Batman: Trading Bachelor for Bisexual?

Daily Planet, Half-News Reporting, Half-Hero Dating Pool

Derek Hale v. Paige Lane, Who has the Best Super-Boyfriend?

It went on for weeks.

Every time someone showed up at his door or the office or sent crazy story proposals (or death threats for “stealing their boyfriend”) he had to resist the urge to pop a claw and shred them right there. There was a reason he chose the profession of a reporter. He had a reason to be nosey about things in the city, to pop up wherever there was trouble, but no one really cared about who he was, what he was doing or if he wore a certain type of cologne that attracted superheroes. In the last three hours alone, he’d had to smack down three separate attempts to ask if the Daily Planet had a pheromone factory or if he’d divulge the identity of the man behind Batman’s mask.

Stiles, of course, was no help.

The first time Derek came over looking harried and carrying a trash bag of fan/hate mail, the billionaire had literally fallen on the floor because he was laughing so hard.

Derek made him sleep on the floor.

“Hey, you know I’m just laughing because I have to deal with this all the time, right?”

Stiles whispered later that night when Derek gave up on getting drunk and finally relented and let him back onto his own California king. The human nuzzled into his chest and Derek watched his head rise and fall slowly as he let out a forlorn sigh.

“Yeah. It just sucks. When I first came to the city, I was so scared that people would recognize me as Superwolf right away. But then they got all the facts about Cal El and no one cared about the beat reporter who shared desks with Paige Lane. Anytime my resemblance was brought up, it was like some kind of inside office joke. Now though…”

“People are looking at you again.” Stiles finished for him. “Really looking.

“I get it. I mean, it was like that a lot for me when I first came back from the Hunters. I’d been the poor orphan rich kid playing in his mansion for so long, and suddenly I’m back from a sabbatical ready to run my mother’s empire – oh and also there’s this really cool guy dressed in black, kicking ass? You don’t think people wanted to look into that?

“So Kate’s got you figured out. She’s a megalomaniac with nothing to do but waste her family’s money researching and trying to kill you. Most people don’t have that kind of time, dedication or resources. Besides, you’ve got Paige as a resource. She’s been doing fine right?”

Derek grumbled at that, sinking further into the bed and dragging Stiles with him.

“Sure, but Paige has nothing to hide. I can’t just tell people I’m not an alien and expect them to stop digging.”

“What?” Stiles poked him in the cheek with a mischievous grin. “You don’t fancy yourself as the “I am Superwolf” type of guy?”

“Shut up.”

He growled, and then pulled Stiles into a kiss before he could say anything else stupid.

wheres the fic where Clark Kent gets caught kissing Batman, and then gets hounded by the media every waking moment because “average civilian is dating Batman!!” and Clarks mourning the loss of his anonymity, meanwhile Bruce thinks its fucking hilarious, enjoy dealing w the press in both of your alter egos now, pretty boy, so Clark waits several months for the whole thing to die down before showing up as Superman to some party Bruce is attending and flying up to Bruce and going “paybacks a bitch” and just full on makes out with him in front of like a million reporters

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Chapters: 5/? Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV), Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale & Scott McCall Characters: Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Peter Hale, Vernon Boyd, Erica Reyes, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin Additional Tags: Dubious Consent, unhealthy relationship, Implied/Referenced Torture, Aftermath of Torture, Healing, pre-Sterek - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Manipulative Peter, Angst Summary:

The Sith cause more mayhem, leaving the Jedi to clean up the carnage in their wake.

CHAPTER 5 IS UP!!  (and it’s the last exposition chapter, I promise)

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Chapters: 4/? Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV), Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale & Scott McCall Characters: Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Peter Hale, Vernon Boyd, Erica Reyes, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin Additional Tags: Dubious Consent, unhealthy relationship, Implied/Referenced Torture, Aftermath of Torture, Healing, pre-Sterek - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Manipulative Peter, Angst

CHAPTER 4 IS UP!