#Allison angle

[whatisthe-name]

Sop

Uhhh ....have this drawing of malice alice/twisted Alice angel and Allison angle from an au I made 1-2 years ago. I'll....post the other designs later, I'm tired:(

(ignore the hands.)

[alexturner]

HOUSE, M.D. 5.07 | "The Itch"

[phynixdotcom]

I used AssetStudio to export models from Ink Machine & Dark Revival, then had to troubleshoot their textures into Blender. Couldn't find any armatures therein, but I did get this model comparison! Left is Dark Revival's, right is Ink Machine's.

[rosehathawhey]

THE YOUNG AND THE RESTLESS Season 51, Episode 91 | Aired February 13, 2024

[invinciblerodent]

Excuse me sir, that's my emotional support cringy self-insert OC??????? make room please she's on her way to kiss the wizard

(her guardian is Iona, and no, I'm not even embarrassed about any part of this, weirdly enough)

[transmutationisms]

genq what are the actual reasons that plagiarism is bad apart from profit and prestige?

so there are two main angles i usually think of here, which ultimately converge into some related issues in public discourse and knowledge production.

firstly, plagiarism should not just be understood as a violation one individual perpetuates against another; it has a larger role in processes of epistemological violence and suppression of certain people's arguments, ideas, and labour. consider the following three examples of plagiarism that is not at all counter to current structures of knowledge production, but rather undergirds them:

in colonial expeditions and encounters from roughly the 14th century onward, a repeated and common practice among european explorer-naturalists was to rely on indigenous people's knowledge of botany, geography, natural history, and so forth, but to then go on to publish this knowledge in their own native tongues (meaning most of the indigenous people they had learned from could not access, read, or respond to such publications), with little, vague, or no attribution to their correspondents, guides, hosts, &c. (many many examples; allison bigelow's 'mining language' discusses this in 16th and 17th century american mining, with a linguistic analysis foregrounded)

throughout the renaissance and early modern period, in contexts where european women were generally not welcome to seek university education, it was nonetheless common practice for men of science to rely on their wives, sisters, and other family members not just to keep house, but also to contribute to their scientific work as research assistants, translators, fund-raisers, &c. attribution practices varied but it is very commonly the case that when (if ever) historians revisit the biographies of famous men of science, they discover women around these men who were actively contributing to their intellectual work, to an extent previously unknown or downplayed (off the top of my head, marie-anne lavoisier; emma darwin; caroline herschel; rosalie lamarck; mileva marić-einstein...)

it is standard practice today for university professors to run labs where their research assistants are grad students and postdocs; to rely on grad students, undergrads, and postdocs to contribute to book projects and papers; and so forth. again, attribution varies, but generally speaking the credit for academic work goes to the faculty member at the head of the project, maybe with a few research assistants credited secondarily, and the rest of the lab / department / project uncredited or vaguely thanked in the acknowledgments.

in all of these cases, you can see how plagiarism is perpetuated by pre-existing inequities and structures of exploitation, and in turn helps perpetuate those structures by continuing to discursively erase the existence of people made socially marginal in the process of knowledge production. so, what's at stake here is more than just the specific individuals whose work has been presented as someone else's discovery (though of course this is unjust already!); it's also the structural factors that make academic and intellectual discourse an élite, exclusive activity that most people are barred from participating in. a critique of plagiarism therefore needs to move beyond the idea that a number of wronged individuals ought to be credited for their ideas (though again, they should be) and instead turn to the structures that create positions of epistemological authority under the aegis of capitalist entities: universities, legacy as well as new media outlets, and so forth. the issue here is the positions of prestige themselves, regardless of who holds them; they are, definitionally, not instruments of justice or open discourse.

secondly, there's the effect plagiarism has on public discourse and the dissemination of knowledge. this is an issue because plagiarism by definition obscures the circulation and origin of ideas, as well as a full understanding of the labour process that produces knowledge. you can see in the above examples how the attribution of other people's ideas as your own works to turn you into a mythologised sort of lone genius figure, whose role is now to spread your brilliance unidirectionally to the masses. as a result, the vast majority of people are now doubly shut out of any public discourse or debate, except as passive recipients of articles, posts, &c. you can't trace claims easily, you don't see the vast number of people who actually contribute to any given idea, and this all works to protect the class and professional interests of the select few who do manage to attain élite intellectual status, by reinforcing and widening the created gap between expert and layperson (a distinction that, again, tracks heavily along lines of race, gender, and so forth).

so you can see how these two issues really are part of one and the same structural problem, which is knowledge production as a tool of power, and one that both follows from and reinforces existing class hierarchies. in truth, knowledge is usually a collaborative affair (who among us has ever had a truly original idea...) and attributions should be a way of both acknowledging our debts to other people, and creating transparency in our efforts to stake claims and develop ideas. but, as long as there are benefits, both economic and social, to be gained from presenting yourself as an originator of knowledge, people will continue to be incentivised to do this. plagiarism is not an exception or an aberration; it's at best a very predictable outcome of the operating logics of this 'knowledge economy', and at worst—as in the examples above—a normal part of how expert knowledge is produced, and its value protected, in a system that is by design inequitable and exclusive.

[shieldofiron]

Derek was still getting used to the whole pack being around. Living together was important to establish themselves as a strong and independent pack but of course it would take some getting used to.

Well, actually… there was only one person he had trouble getting used to. He fell into an easy rhythm with all of them underfoot, even Allison.

But God.

“Oh, sorry,” Stiles would walk right into Derek’s chest in the morning, toothbrush dangling from his lips.

“Sorry!” He would say as he tiptoed into Derek’s study and borrowed/stole a pair of sissors that Derek never did get back.

“Sorry,” he said with a mouth full of food after interrupting Derek’s strategy with another (admittedly slightly better) idea.

And now he was blinking up at Derek with those big bambi eyes. A droplet of water slid down his long pale neck, and-

“Sorry. Waters on the fritz in the east wing. I think Scott, Allison and Kira are… ahem… using up the hot water,” Stiles’ heart skipped a beat and Derek forced his eyes back on Stiles’ face.

“What?” Derek barked.

“L-Laura said to use yours,” Stiles supplied quickly.

He was so… annoying. So hard to live with. Always… around. He was everywhere, dusting everything with his scent, trailing off at the end of his sentences and driving Derek up the wall. So human and annoyingly intelligent. So… pale and pink and flushed and wet.

Derek’s eyes slid down without permission and-

“What’s that?”

“Oh,” Stiles laughed, and the husky sound danced in the molecules between them. “Last Friday the 13th, Lydia and I got free bestie tattoos. They match.”

He angles his hip up, the little stars and swirls on his hip dancing against pale skin dusted with hair.

“Hers is on the back of her neck, but my dad would kill me if he saw so…”

There was that trailing off thing. Derek could only blink at Stiles, watching that pretty pink mouth for another word.

“Well… I better be hittin’ that old dusty trail,” Stiles hitched the towel low on his hips a little and Derek’s eyes ping ponged up and down his lithe body. “Thanks for the shower, partner.”

He patted Derek’s shoulder and headed off, presumably to his own room.

Derek spent a long time standing there in his room, his head filled with snatches of this and that and dark ink on pale skin.

Fuck. He would be really hard to live with now.

[sundrop-writes]

i’d love to see the preview of the stiles fic! please & thank u 🤍

I am so excited to post this fic later!!! for now - here is a preview <3

BRAINWASHED (preview) - Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader - NOW POSTED

everything's clean - except for my thoughts

Word Count: 900

A/N: The longer fic is about Stiles stealing a pair of the reader's panties and masturbating with them. Currently, I am running a poll where one of the options is a sequel to this fic where the reader 'punishes' Stiles for stealing her panties, so if you want to see more of this, go vote in that poll!!! Also, my requests for Teen Wolf are currently open, but please read my Rules before requesting.

Warnings: reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina, the reader is implied to be plus-sized, this is mostly just one-sided pining and fantasizing from Stiles's perspective (which is what the whole fic will be), mentions of Stiles fantasizing about having sex with the reader and giving her oral sex, Stiles has sexual fantasies about the reader and has a romantic crush on her, mentions of Stiles's romantic feeling distracting him from school work. I think that's it for this part of the fic?

...

Tonight, the two of you were studying for an upcoming English mid-term that would be worth a decent portion of your grade. 

Logically, Stiles should have locked himself in his room and forced himself to study, or he should have taken up Scott on his offer to study with him and Allison. But no, he just had to ask you for your ‘help’. And you pitied him and said yes, because he was doing poorly in the class. The only reason being because it was one of the classes that he shared with you, and he spent all of his damn time staring at you across the room during it. He had tried to tell himself that he really would study tonight, that he would really take advantage of your intelligence here and now to get his shit together in order to up his grade. 

But no - since the moment he had set foot in your bedroom that afternoon (and it was dark out now, well into the evening) - he hadn’t been able to focus on anything but you. 

Sure, sometimes that worked to his benefit. Hearing you recite Shakespeare, the words coming off your sweet lips - it did force him to focus on the material at hand for at least a short period of time. But it wasn’t like he was actually retaining any of it. He was just thinking about how gorgeous your voice sounded and how amazing you would be in an adaptation of Romeo and Juliet. One where he played Romeo, of course - and he would get to use someone else’s well-crafted words to romance you, finally getting to kiss you for the first time. 

Again - he was hopeless. 

Currently, he was laying diagonally on your bed, sitting among a mess of books - the english textbooks, the assigned novels, the published copies of the play, along with binders of your notes and other notebooks, stray papers - and he couldn’t pay attention to the notes he was supposed to be writing, not for a moment - not when you looked this stunningly beautiful while busy writing your own notes. 

With the soft lighting from your bedside lamp brushing across your skin, making that skin look even softer, you were a goddess-like vision sitting on the bed across from him. You were wearing the simple dress that you had worn to school earlier that day, your tights since shed off in the name of ‘comfort’ (and so that your cat wouldn’t rip holes in them while crawling across your lap, you had remarked to Stiles). When you had stood at your hamper and peeled them off your legs, Stiles had a hard time not letting the drool spill out across his chin. 

Your thighs were gorgeous. Thick, wide, spread out like a buffet for his eyes to feast on every single time you sat down. From his angle, laying down the way he was, he was up close and personal with the dimpling cellulite and stretchmarks you had there. The hem of your dress had ridden up when you had adjusted your position to get comfortable, and he felt absolutely spoiled by how much more of your thighs were revealed. 

A few times throughout the evening, he had to physically clench his fingers to remind himself not to reach out and touch. How many times had he imagined what those thighs would look like bouncing and jiggling while you rode his cock? How many times had he imagined those thighs clamped around his head while he licked your pussy? (Far too many for his own sanity.) 

Not to mention the concentration spread across your face - the way you would nibble your own lip when thinking, the way your brows furrowed slightly in thought. Everything about you - from the bra strap sticking out of the neckline of your dress to the chipped edge of your nail polish where you had chewed on it - was a fucking vision. And Stiles couldn’t take his eyes off you, no matter how hard he tried. 

It was a wonder that you didn’t notice Stiles staring at you - not as often as he did it. 

Stiles felt strangely caught when you put down your pen and looked up from your notebook, then - and he scrambled to grab his own pencil and start writing something, to look busy. But of course, he just looked like more of an idiot when the eraser began scraping across the page in nonsense patterns. 

“Stiles,” You scolded him with a sigh, a way he was used to hearing his name come off your lips. “Have you gotten anything done? I told you to copy down at least half my notes-” 

Of course. You pegged his blank page as simple laziness, rather than his brain slowly melting out through his ears due to his inability to think about anything but you (especially when he was in the same room as you). At least he hadn’t been caught staring at you in that creepy way yet. 

You snatched up his notebook to check his work, and his heart dropped - if you looked too carefully, then he would be caught. In the back of that notebook, there were about three pages of his name and yours in hearts, and a few times he had practiced writing his signature as ‘Mr Stiles L/N’. (He was a feminist, and he liked the idea of starting a new tradition.) There was even a drawing he had made designing your theoretical wedding cake, including a topper where he was Superman and you were riding on his back while he was flying. 

“Y/N, uh-” 

He quickly snatched the notebook back, causing a glare from you while he sighed in defeat. 

“Fine.” He shrugged. “I didn’t get anything done. You caught me.” 

“Stiles!” You scolded him again, reaching out to gently smack his shoulder. “If you keep this shit up, you’re never gonna graduate!” 

Sadly, you were probably right.

[fivewantscoffee]

So, Five x Lila. I need to get this out of my system so I can maybe finally move on:

I don't like the ship.

I don't like the characters together. I find the pairing a baffling one, and I don't like what it does to the show (and characters) either.

First of all, that wasn't Lila. I don't know who it was, but it wasn't the woman we saw off at the end of S3, or even the one we started off S4 with.

It just wasn't her.

You can blame trauma, or six years of being on the move. That's going to change a person, for sure, but this wasn't about giving Lila any character development.

It was about giving Five a love interest.

Because that life? Yeah. I could see it for Five. I could see him deciding to settle down and take life slow, I could see him being sweet and domestic with a partner should he have one. After he's had some time to heal, now that he's finally free of the apocalypse, I could see that for Five.

But Lila? She was unhappy in her marriage, at least partly because the domestic, stay-at-home-mum life has proven to be something that doesn't fulfil her. She wants more out of life, which is why "bookclub" happened, which is why she ended up in the subway with Five in the first place.

And okay. For the sake of argument, let's go with this. Let's say Five x Lila happened so they could cope with their situation. It was survival, like Lila said. If we were going to have to endure this bad, messy plot point anyway, (which we didn't, we really, really didn't), it should at least have been treated with the seriousness it deserves.

Because, Five? The complete, callous lack of remorse on his part? What the fuck was that?

Even if you pick through the crumbs and try to make it make sense, this wasn't a romance. At best it was survival, and coping, and kind of a tragedy all at once. Five shouldn't be picking fights with Diego. He shouldn't be acting like a spurned twenty-something-year-old.

And yeah, characters can be flawed and in the wrong, but why like this? This didn't feel like Five to me. He is brusque and, when looked at it from a certain angle, I can see why some would call him selfish (which I don't necessarily agree with, but that's a different conversation), but under all his layers, he does love his family. To me, that's the core of his character and has been since S1. Everything he's done, he's done to ensure their survival, then when he agreed to give up in S3, he was content to simply die by their sides.

So, you're telling that this Five, the one we've known and followed for three seasons, had a fling with Lila and didn't even feel guilty or conflicted about it? You're telling me loved this woman, yet was willing to keep her from her family, her children?

"Five is selfish" "Five is tired" "Five is finally moving on"

No. Not like that. To me, the Five from previous seasons (S2 specifically, because that's where a lot of it goes wrong) is only "selfish" in that he wants his family to survive and is willing to go to any lengths to achieve that. He's not exactly compassionate about Allison and Viktor having to leave Ray and Sissy behind. And yeah, he leaves Diego in the asylum because he doesn't want him messing with the timeline.

Is he in the wrong for that? Answer this any way you want, but I don't think it matters to Five. Does he want his siblings to be happy? In my opinion, of course he does, but they're not going to be happy if they're dead.

That's not the same as what S4 does. Not by a long shot. Five cares deeply about those he loves, and granted, he is pretty bad at showing it, but he does care.

He nearly worked himself into the grave trying to solve the first two apocalypses, with little regard for his own well-being. When he realised a third apocalypse was happening, he didn't say fuck it and continue his Pennsylvania retirement road trip... he immediately dropped everything to try and fix it.

So how did we get to S4 Five, who got with his brother's wife, found a way home, didn't tell Lila, AND THEN, after he finally gave her the notebook and they went back, he acts like that?

Yeah, no. That's not my Five.

Also, five x lila happening isn't Five moving on. If anything, it's how he copes with the situation they're in. That's just his Delores 2.0.

Anyway, all of this is moot because the fact of the matter is, they chose to make this happen. Five and Lila getting stuck in the subway together for seven years didn't have to happen.

I don't know.

This used to be a show about family. It also used to be a show about the effects of child abuse on this group of siblings. This started to fall to the wayside after S1, but the family aspect of it still remained.

At its core, tua has always been about family, so what was the point of making S4 at all if this is what they were going to give us?

It's not just Five x Lila. They messed this up across the board, with how flippantly the absence of Sloane and Ray was treated, how shallow and surface-level all of the rest was. They gave us some crumbs with Klaus and Allison, but they couldn't even do that without retconning their entire relationship. That's not even mentioning the ending. The Hargreeves all sacrificing themselves in the end could have worked, but this was not the way to do it.

Anyway, this rant is over. S1 Five, you'll always be famous to me.

[pupsmailbox]

MOTH︰BUTTERFLY ID PACK

NAMES︰ acantha.　adela.　adley.　aetheria.　aiden.　ainsley.　alis.　allison.　amos.　angle.　ankova.　antler.　apollo.　apple.　arches.　arden.　argent.　ari.　aruna.　ashworth.　aspen.　asteria.　astralyn.　atlas.　barberry.　bay.　bee.　belina.　bellamy.　belle.　blair.　blake.　blossom.　bright.　brighton.　bryn.　butter.　butterfleigh.　butterfly.　cadi.　cai.　calesia.　cali.　canary.　carson.　cayana.　chai.　cherry.　chouko.　cinnabar.　cistus.　clancy.　clifden.　cloud.　clover.　cosmia.　crimson.　daisy.　dakota.　december.　dewick.　dorian.　dot.　dusk.　dust.　eclipse.　eilira.　eilliot.　ellison.　elnora.　emerald.　ermina.　ermine.　esmerelda.　esther.　evelyn.　evern.　falena.　fern.　finley.　fisher.　flora.　fly.　flynn.　forest.　fox.　foxglove.　galatea.　galium.　garnet.　ghost.　ginny.　greta.　grey.　haden.　haven.　hawk.　haworth.　hayden.　heath.　herald.　hesperia.　holli.　hollis.　isabella.　ismeria.　isola.　jael.　jayden.　jersey.　july.　june.　juniper.　juno.　kahli.　kai.　karran.　karson.　kentish.　kimko.　kit.　kori.　lace.　lackey.　langmaid.　lepida.　light.　luca.　lucy.　luna.　lunar.　malam.　maple.　march.　mariposa.　marlow.　marrow.　mars.　may.　micah.　mirza.　mocha.　molie.　monroe.　moth.　mothra.　mothy.　nettle.　november.　oak.　ocaria.　oleander.　opal.　palmyra.　paru.　parvaneh.　peach.　pearl.　pepper.　pine.　pinion.　plume.　poppy.　psyche.　quinn.　reed.　reid.　rekoa.　remi.　riband.　ricki.　robin.　rose.　rosy.　rowan.　ruby.　rufous.　sable.　saffron.　saga.　saige.　scarlet.　scotch.　sibylla.　silver.　skyler.　sula.　swift.　tara.　tate.　tatum.　tawny.　tera.　thora.　tiger.　una.　vanessa.　violet.　virginia.　weaver.　winter.　wren.　yara.　zephyr.　zephyra.　zion.　zoumi.

PRONOUNS︰ admir/admiral.　ant/antenna.　anten/antenna.　antler/antler.　apple/apple.　blood/blood.　blue/blue.　bu/butterfly.　bug/bug.　butter/butterfly.　carpet/carpet.　chalk/chalk.　cherry/cherrie.　chrysalis/chrysali.　clear/clearwing.　cloud/cloud.　cocoo/cocoon.　cocoon/cocoon.　dagger/dagger.　dark/dark.　dew/dew.　dot/dot.　dusk/dusk.　dust/dust.　erm/ermine.　eye/eye.　flame/flame.　flap/flap.　flow/flower.　flu/fluttflutter.　fluff/fluff.　fluff/luff.　flutter/flutter.　fly/fly.　forest/forest.　fri/fritillary.　frit/fritillery.　goat/goat.　gold/gold.　hair/hairstreak.　hawk/hawk.　hawk/hawkmoth.　heart/heart.　hide/hide.　hook/hook.　in/insect.　insect/insect.　lace/lace.　lamp/lamp.　leaf/leaf.　lepidoptera/lepidoptera.　light/light.　lu/luna.　luna/luna.　lunar/lunar.　maple/maple.　mo/monarch.　mo/moth.　mocha/mocha.　moon/moon.　mor/morpho.　moth/moth.　nec/nectar.　night/night.　night/night.　nocturnal/nocturnal.　noct/nocturnal.　oak/oak.　plume/plume.　reed/reed.　riph/ripheu.　rose/rose.　sallow/sallow.　shark/shark.　sil/silk.　silk/silk.　small/small.　snout/snout.　squeak/squeak.　squeak/squeaker.　stripe/stripe.　sul/sulphur.　swa/swallow.　swa/tail.　swall/swallowtail.　swift/swift.　tiny/tiny.　tuss/tussock.　wax/waxe.　wing/wing.　☁️ . ⭐️ . 🌕 . 💡 . 🦋 .

[the-sun-is-also-a-star]

positions marauders characters would play in exy

JAMES: I know he's canonically a chaser so i think he'd be a pretty good backliner. He certainly has the height and muscle mass for it. It's a less glorious potion than striker obviously but if a team has a good backline they're solid so I think it's fitting for him.

SIRIUS: I think sirius would be able to play both a backliner and striker position so ideally I think he's a dealer. Dealers start off the game and then they may work as either an additional striker or an additional backliner as needed during the game. Its an exhausting and riveting position and I think he'd thrive in it.

PETER: now Peter I think would be a great backliner because again, otherwise takes a lot of grunt work. His height is not too short so I think he'd be at not too bad of a disadvantage but I think he'd be a good backing to the team.

REMUS: people aren't going to like this but goalie. it's a position that doesn't require a vast amount of movement. his height would be a FANTASTIC advantage (sorry andrew you're a short king i love you please don't stab me) and i think it would just work really well for him. also yk how in ice hockey teams are VERY protective of their goalies??? I like the thought of that for him.

LILY: now this is a striker if i've ever seen one. I think she's quick and agile enough to manoeuvre away from whoever is marking her. She'd probably play with a light-weighted bat and I think she'd be DAMN good at it

MARLENE: my girl is a striker but in a VERY different way from lily. Her preferred method is brute force and she WILL tackle you to get the ball. she will punch you first if she feels like you're on her ass too much and there hasn't ben a single game that she hasn't got a yellow card.

MARY: now this is a tricky one but i see a lot of allison in mary so i'm gonna go with dealer for mary as well. she's adaptable and she plays according to what her team needs.

DORCAS: i'm going to go with dealer for her too i think she'd be really good at snap judgements and reading the situation as it needs to dealt with. she's a key player in deciding how a game goes and filling in the gaps as they need

PANDORA: now panda is a goalie too i think. mostly because she DEEPLY reminds me of renee but also i think she's too passive to be either striker or backliner so i think her most advantageous position would be goalie. She'd play first halves and would be GREAT at reading people to know where they wanna score from.

REGULUS: goalie. this saga was created bc this was the first connection i made. he's not suited for offensive or defensive positions on the court but he'd be FANTASTIC at blocking people out. his speed would make him an advantageous striker no doubt but i think it would ALSO benefit in him fucking with people psychologically. he would let people take a shot without moving before he's SPEEDING to block out what would have been a CLEAR shot to absolutely crumble the psychological strength of the strikers

BARTY: this is one insane backliner. he fouls left and right. he plays absolutely FILTHY but he's damn good. he will STAY on his marks ASS until they throw the first punch which was his plan all along. he's fast, he's strong and he's absolutely brutal

EVAN: striker. he's fast a whip and he's strong to boot. he trips people on his racket, he scores from the absolutely shittiest angles yet he still somehow manages to hold his own. he pushes as good as he gets from backliners too.

i'd like to thank @oddbrainedtboy for listening to my insane rant about this even though he has no interest in aftg whatsoever

[takaraphoenix]

This is my ask for the multi chapter Steter. Anything you want to share, I’m so curious about it now. 🥺🥺

THANKS SO MUCH FOR ASKING ^-^

Okay so, once again, this started out as a Mischief Monday and then I kinda went "mmmh no nope this is. the first chapter of something".

It's a soulmate AU because I love soulmate AUs and though I adore the True Mates angle for Teen Wolf, I really wanted a proper, full "everyone has a soulmate" AU with soulmarks.

The fic's title is Defying the Death Date and the soulmate AU I chose for it is that you bear your soulmate's birthday, if they are born before you then you are born with the date but if they are born after you then the date will appear on your body when they are born. And... as a counterpart to it, when your soulmate dies, their death date appears on your body.

Stiles learns that Peter is his soulmate when they kill the Alpha together.

And this was supposed to be a short oneshot about the angst of that. But then Derek decided to adopt Stiles and Stiles in return decided to adopt Derek in a burst of "in a soulmate universe, your family's soulmates would be your family and your soulmate's family would be your family and both these broken guys are gonna cling onto each other and then Stiles helps Derek grow the Hale Pack", so the Steter soulmate fic got a little hijacked by the need for platonic fluffy Sterek and then I figured "okay but that is kinda taking away from Steter... so what if, instead of using Lydia to resurrect, Peter would appear to STILES in visions and use the soulmate bond to bring himself back?" and yeah at that point I knew this wasn't gonna be a long oneshot either, this was turning multichapter...

Here, have an excerpt from chapter 1, the full chapter will be posted on December 21st:

The first time Stiles saw Peter Hale was in the hallway of a hospital and it was neither magical, nor amazing, but perhaps a little mind blowing. After all, Derek’s comatose uncle turned out to be the Alpha who bit Scott and he also turned out to not be as comatose as previously assumed.

Still, there were no… sparks, there was no recognition, no heart eyes or immediate swooning.

No, Stiles would only realize that Peter was his soulmate the third time they met.

(After a horrific second meeting on the lacrosse field that included the mauling of Lydia and the kidnapping of Stiles. Though a much tamer and less deadly kidnapping than Stiles would have anticipated, if one considered the dead nurse in Peter’s trunk or the state Lydia had been in when Stiles and Peter left the school grounds. He’d later wonder if that was the bond, subconsciously.)

The third time Stiles met Peter was at the burned out Hale House, after Peter tore Kate Argent’s throat out with his claws. There was still a sense of insanity in his red-burning eyes and Stiles found himself terrified and rooted to the spot, Jackson hot on his heels after Stiles had more or less forced the other jock into being his chauffeur to the crime scene.

All Stiles could see was the Alpha who had bitten Scott. The monster who had torn Lydia. The cold-blooded murderer who drove his nurse’s corpse around in the trunk of his car.

So Stiles threw the Molotov cocktail, to be ignited by an arrow from Allison. Setting Peter on fire (for the second time in the man’s life and good gods help him, Stiles felt his stomach twist at the reality of that). But it were Derek’s claws sinking into Peter’s throat that ended the man’s life.

The moment Derek tore them out, a searing pain shot through Stiles’ entire being and for a long, agonizing moment, he felt like he was on fire. His knees buckled from the overwhelming pain and he went down onto the ground, desperately grabbing his shirt to pull it up and see the spot where the pain seemed to originate from. His left hip. His eyes widened in true horror as he watched today’s date burn itself into his flesh in the same elegant cursive as the birth date on his right hip.

His soulmate had died. This very moment, his soulmate had died. The moment Derek ripped out his uncle’s throat, Stiles’ soulmate died. His eyes widened, terror and grief and confusion melting together into an awful emotion that seemed to drown him, because he could no longer breathe. He couldn’t breathe. He tried to but it was like his lungs had stopped working, because his soulmate was dead. His soulmate was dead and he had helped kill him.

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 17

PREVIOUS

1. You do not talk about the Speakeasy in the basement 2. You DO NOT TALK about the Speakeasy in the basement

Those are two of the three cardinal rules of Eden’s Twilight both as a VIP customer and as an employee. The rest are more suggestions or requests that are fairly malleable depending on the night and the patron.

Andrew himself had broken the latter half of ‘Don’t be a dick or try anything with your dick on the club premises’ multiple times with Roland and then he’d broken it even further and with more vigor with Neil.

Roland had tried to bill them for the furniture in the break room and Andrew had been more than happy to use some of the blackmail he’d been holding onto to make it go away despite Neil’s repeated attempts to try and pay for it. “It’s my fault Andrew, I asked you to lay me there.” And “Allison didn’t warn me that it could stain fabric, she said it transferred really easily onto skin.” Had been waved away as Roland was happy to have those particular bits of blackmail out of play.

That being said Roland had come in despite the clear ‘occupied’ signs on the door and interrupted some of Andrew’s finest work a few weeks ago (His from? Excellent. His pacing? Excellent. His angle? Excellent. The noises Neil had been making? Perfection.)

Roland still couldn’t look at Neil without his eyes wandering where they shouldn’t so Andrew had a guest pass for the speakeasy waiting for him at the bar to make up for that wandering eye.

Which meant that he could take FF down to the speakeasy tonight. He was sure that FF would pass muster and be able to come without a pass after the night, he was just the kind of guy that they liked to have down there.

It would all be so simple if it weren’t for the third cardinal rule of Eden’s Twilight.

3. Nicky Hemmick is not allowed to know about the Speakeasy.

When Nicky had worked at Eden’s he’d been popular but he’d also talked about all sorts of secrets. He spilled tea like Aaron had spilled drinks.

So the club had done what it had to do in order to protect the incredibly select and private feature of their club:

They lied about what was down there and then they committed to that lie.

So the day came and Nicky was looking at the door with a guard next to it, “Where does that go?” He asked.

“It’s an exclusive club for straight swingers to meet and swap.” The lie rolls off of Roland’s tongue like the truth.

Nicky made a disgusted face. “Straight people.” He said shaking his head and then Roland swiftly made some purchases to sell his lie and offered the guard Frank an additional $5 an hour if he was willing to change his uniform.

Nicky Hemmick has never gone near the door since then and it is considered a success for the record books by all of the staff and VIPs in the know.

Which is why Andrew had needed a plan to pry Nicky off of FF for the night.

Nicky and FF had spent the entire time at Sweeties elbowing one another and laughing (well Nicky laughed and FF tolerated all of Nicky’s jokes and implications stoically), Nicky had been sticking with FF like he was one of the various flecks of glitter that stuck to FF after the freshman had slept in Nicky’s bed.

Before he’d gotten FF dressed up Nicky had made a solemn oath, “You and me Smithy, we’ll dance the night away!” Nicky had exclaimed.

“I’m good thanks.” FF said, “You know what will happen if I dance.” He says and Nicky grimaces as if remembering something painful. He wonders if FF just isn’t a good dancer or if the consequences of someone bumping into him were as painful as they were when someone bumped into Andrew on the dance floor.

“Well, then you and me will just have to spend the entire night chatting in the booth Smithy!” Nicky had smiled as if he wasn’t fucking up Andrew’s plans to take FF down to the speakeasy where they could sit without the headache inducing music that Nicky, Aaron, and even Kevin (he claims Stockholm syndrome) claim to love.

So, Andrew had needed to find a way to get Nicky to a state where he would be compelled to dance and leave FF alone for the night.

There are exactly three sure-fire ways to get Nicky Hemmick to become a slave to the dance floor.

1. You have to play his favorite music and Andrew doesn’t know if there’s enough blackmail in the world to get Roland to force a DJ to play nothing but Nicki Minaj’s Super Bass, Gasoline by Daddy Yankee, or Usher’s DJ’s Got Us Fallin’ In Love (his three current obsessions) on a loop for the entire night. (Bust)

2. You are Erik Klose and you want to dance. This option was unlikely due to Erik currently (as far as Andrew knew) being in Germany. (Bust)

3. Nicky has taken some party drugs. (Feasible)

So, Andrew may have been the one that had reminded both his brother and Nicky about Cracker Dust on their way to the car. Neil shoots him a look he ignores because Andrew hasn’t really pushed or mentioned Cracker Dust in almost a year.

It was something that they had all gotten off of for various reasons the year prior.

Neil had never started, Andrew had his deal with Neil, Kevin wanted to cut back on the substances he was abusing and he was not going to be giving up alcohol anytime soon, Aaron had needed a squeaky clean image for the trial, and Nicky had given it up in solidarity.

Aaron had been bemoaning that he had forgotten to get any the last four times they had gone to Eden’s so, really, Andrew was just being a thoughtful brother when he’d reminded his cousin.

So when they park the Maserati and head into the club it is no shock that after the first round of drinks (Neil & FF both had bottled waters) Nicky whips out the sandwich baggy he had gotten from FF and hands Aaron his share.

In a turn of good luck a bass heavy remix of Flo Rida’s Club Can’t Handle Me started playing and the only thing Nicky did was squeal, kiss FF’s cheek, and drag Aaron out onto the dance floor.

And then there were three.

***

FF had NOT been able to figure out where the hell the bathrooms were.

It might be due to the fact that his stomach is trying to stage a revolt against him but he’s pretty sure he’s forgotten how to read English. There are no other languages around  for him to see if this illiteracy has spread to other languages.

He wonders it he brought out his katakana flashcards if the lines would blur or if his brain would be so filled with the unrelenting desire to go to the bathroom that his Professor would wonder how he ever got full marks on his midterm.

Maybe clubs didn’t have signs that pointed to the bathroom? Was he supposed to go up and ask that bartender that Andrew kept going to? Was it like a gas station where he had to ask for keys?

Oh god Captain Neil just asked him something.

When the hell did Nicky lea-

Oh Dj’s Got Us Falling In Love is playing. Nicky is definitely on the dance floor. FF has yet to escape Nicky grinding on him whenever this song happens to come on the radio he is sure that someone right now out on the dance floor is suffering the same fate that he has 3-4 times a week.

He wonders if Nicky will call Erik like he usually does when it comes on outside of the club.

At least it’s super hard to hear in this club if Nicky takes a seat next to him and starts gushing to Erik in German.

Oh god Captain Neil just asked him something and he just remembered that this would be the second time Captain Neil has asked him something.

If there was one weakness in FF’s foreign language arsenal it is that he has a hard time processing language when surrounded by loud sounds. If he knows what language they’re talking in he can sometimes get by on reading lips (does that count as another language? Probably not) but Captain Neil speaks like four languages fluently and his Spanish is getting better and better every-

Oh god Captain Neil and Andrew just asked him something and he still hasn’t answered the other two times.

“I can’t hear you!” He calls out and hopes they can at least understand HIM.

Andrew rolls his eyes and bumps Captain Neil’s shoulder with his own. He sees Andrew whisper something to Captain Neil before pointing somewhere in the distance.

OH

They had noticed his obvious plight and were going to show him to the bathroom!

That was nice.

Maybe Nicky had asked them before his songs came on.

Andrew and Captain Neil are out of the booth and Andrew juts his chin off in a certain direction. FF does NOT need to be told twice, he’s more than happy to follow Andrew to the bathroom like some pre-schooler following their mom. These are desperate times.

So Andrew and Captain Neil guide him across the dance floor and…sure enough Nicky is grinding on some other guy who looks like he’s in heaven and he thinks he can see Aaron’s pale arms flying uncoordinatedly all over the place somewhere in the middle distance.

FF finds himself with Captain Neil and Andrew in a hallway. There’s a guard in front of the door with a bizarre pineapple shirt (why are they all upside down?) on but FF hadn’t even dressed himself tonight so he really shouldn’t judge.

“Minyard, Josten, and one guest.” He can hear Andrew say now that they’re away from the loud thrum of the music.

How fancy is this bathroom?

The man looks at Andrew, Captain Neil, and then FF. There is a visible head-to-toe inspection when he hits FF and whatever the man sees must past muster.

“Acceptable. You know the rules.”

Rules?

Wash your hands?

Don’t piss on the floor?

Let staff know if the urinal is low on ice?

FF hoped the rules would be posted in easy to understand pictures because his ability to read the English language was still heavily hampered at the moment.

Why is the handle to the door an upside pineapple too? Did someone install it wrong? Also Eden’s does not give off a very tropical vibe so why would they pick that?

The door opens and-

Oh.

Those are stairs.

Oh.

Andrew’s taking him to the basement.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

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[hikasetas]

[image description: a redraw of the "his pronouns are they/them" meme, showing cameron and chase from house, m.d. cameron looks to her front angrily, holding an arm out in front of chase, who has a hand raised and mouth open to correct cameron. the drawing is tilted at an angle to the left. end i.d.]

allison cameron #1 transgender ally

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Trigger warning: period-typical homophobia and associated slurs

Part 1 | . . . | Part 37 | Part 38 | Part 39

Allison smiles at Eddie as they listen to Steve bicker with Dustin. Eddie glances at her, sees her smiling, and looks… disgusted. “God,” he says with a sneer, “you thought we were serious? That we’re some fags? You thought you could have your picture-perfect little dream life, didn’t you?”

Allison feels fear tingle down her spine. She gets off the counter and makes her way around the island, angling it between her and Eddie, letting her get close to the sliding doors that lead to the backyard.

Just then Steve comes back in, and Allison pleads with her eyes. “Steve? Bubba?”

“Sorry, Allison,” he says, though he doesn’t sound sorry. “You thought we’d accept you being a dyke?”

He and Eddie begin to laugh, and as tears prick at her eyelids, she feels behind herself for the door, throws it open, and steps outside.

Except she’s not outside. She can feel herself calming down slightly as she recognizes the hallway: it’s the one on the way to Cassidy’s room. “Cass?” She calls timidly, wiping her eyes. “Cassie?” She opens the oh-so-familiar door and freezes in the entryway. It’s not Cassidy’s room; it’s a room she’s never seen before. It looks like a meeting room. Her father is at one end of a long table, her mother just to his right. Steve’s to his left, with Eddie to his left, and Cassidy is on her mother’s right. The rest of the table is filled with friends and acquaintances from school, all staring at her, judging her.

She takes a step back. “Daddy?” She asks, like she’s five years old again.

Richard Harrington sighs. “Honestly, Allison, I thought we raised you better than this. Your mother and I didn’t raise you to throw your life away like a prostitute.”

“Dad, I love her,” she pleads.

Cassidy scoffs. “Do you? When you forgot my birthday? When you got me earrings for our anniversary? When you keep dragging your feet about everything?”

Allison gapes. “I- I didn’t- we celebrated later,” she tries weakly. “You said you loved the earrings. And I’m- I’m not trying to drag my feet-”

“Allison,” Cynthia Harrington says, spreading her hands. “We just want what’s best for you, darling. Come with us.”

The rest of the table starts murmuring, with us, come, come with us, and Allison’s heart kickstarts in her chest before she runs out of the room.

She ends up on a cursed-looking landscape, with dead earth and red sky, sticky vines and prehistoric-looking beasts.

She sees a clump of dead trees and sprints towards them, hiding in between them as best she can.

“Allison?” She hears, and her heart thumps in her chest, but how can she be sure?

“Alli? Baby?”

She turns around to see Cassidy trapped under a fallen tree, and she gasps. “How’d you get here?”

“Please,” Cassidy groans, tears tracing down her cheeks. “Please help me, baby, it’s on my ankle, I think it’s broken-”

“Cassie,” Alli sobs, falling to her knees next to her. “I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you.” She does her best to lift one end of the log off of Cassidy, enough so Cassidy can wiggle out. When she’s out, Allison drops the log and wraps Cassidy in a hug. “Baby,” she whispers. “Baby, I’m so scared.”

“I know you are, sweetheart,” Cassidy says, but it’s not Cassidy, and Allison steps back and looks up with a gasp.

“W-what- who- who are you?”

His face contorts into a sickly grin. “I have many names,” he says, raising his arms as if to embrace her again. She eyes him distrustfully. “None of them will make any difference to you, though, since you’ll be dead before you can use them.”

She pivots on her heel and runs, ignores everything she can that isn’t her feet pounding on the dead earth. She suddenly hears a bit of music, which is so unlike anything she’d experienced in this place that she instinctively turns to it. It sounds almost like Steve.

“Darling, you got to let me know,” the voice sings, “should I stay or should I go? If you say that you are mine, I’ll be here till the end of time. So you got to let me know, should I stay or should I go?” Then the voice starts speaking. “C’mon, Al,” it murmurs. “You gotta fight, please. I just got you back, c’mon, I can’t lose you again. Not this soon. I won’t let him have you, Al, but you’ve gotta fight too.”

He starts the next line, and she suddenly sees something like a portal in front of her. As she gets closer, she can see herself, floating off the ground, eyes rolled back in her head. Steve’s standing on the counter, trying to reach her ear to speak. “Bubba,” she murmurs, running as fast as she can. Something tells her to look behind her, but she knows it’ll cost her speed, so she doesn’t, just runs to the portal and jumps through, back into her body.

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[zero-in-kyoto]

[Dance to forget] Five x reader

tags/warnings: Slight alcohol mentions, season 3 spoilers, cringe, unfunny jokes, no beta we die like klaus, I was bored, no prominent romantic interactions so it can be taken platonic.

[Dance to forget]

The lights were bright and everyone was enjoying themselves at Sloane and Luther’s wedding. Drinking, dancing, conversing, however there was some underlying tension in the air. Throughout Viktor, Allison, and a stressed Five, who was drinking down beers like it was nothing. His tolerance must be high. You slid into the seat next to him and too drunk beer. It burned and you coughed it up. “How do people enjoy drinking this stuff?” You cough out, and Five starts patting you back to help. Yet he still seemed so deep it thought.

You poked him then knocked on his head like it was a door , and he recoiled as a response then turned to you with an unamused expression. “What’s going on upstairs? You’re thinking so hard, you’re sweating. Your mind must be in a track meet.” You question and joke with him. He drunk more of his beer before throwing the bottle in a corner, it shattering, and momentarily getting everyone’s attention. Everyone turned to look at you both, rather Five, for about 16 seconds before returning to what they were doing.

“There was no need to do something so melodramatic.” You subconsciously scolded him for doing that. “It’s not like it matters. Nothing we do matters anymore.” He muttered, and what he said made you double take. It was true, however it felt weird hearing him sound so crushed. Fair enough though, they’d saved the world several times and there wasn’t a lot to do this time around but just wait till the all withered away with the rest of the hotel. 

you chugged down a beer, and got another to chug down. Five stopped you from chugging down the second. “Slow down, alcohol poisoning would be a much more unpleasant death.” You retract the drink from the lips and unexpectedly grab his hand and take him to the floor to dance. You had drunk just enough to be tipsy. “What are you doing?” He growled out.

“We are.. going to dance to get you out your bad mood.”

“I don’t dance.”

“Me neither, but we are now.”

I grabbed his hands and placed them on my waist and I put mine on his shoulder. At this angle, I could truly appreciate how beautiful this wedding was set up. The lights and all the white combining together.

“Just try to mirror me, okay?” You mumble softly with a bit of hesitance on your ability to make it work, hardly even knowing to dance yourself.

You stepped back, and he stuttered a step forward. He looked down, and you giggled. “Don’t worry about it too much. You’ve got it. Just focus okay.” You said to him to soothe him.

He looked up at you and just seemed to zone out, all he could hear was the clicking on both of your shoes, and muffled out music as he was drowning it out. It surely was distracting him, so much so that he truly was not and it pained him to think about anything but dancing with you. However, things were on his mind, how could there not be? It’s not that he wanted his mind to work overtime, to prolong his work, but he just couldn’t help but to think that there was more that could have been done.

You smiled, and continued dancing, the light sparkled in your eyes. It was trippy to look at. In fact, it made you quite dizzy. You both stepped back, but this time you tripped really hard, but he managed to catch you.

“Careful, dumbass.”

“That was.. amazing.. thank you, shithead..” you mumble.

———————

goofy ahhh.. I wrote this at 12am and posted it after finishing it. Sorry it’s lowkey bad LMFAO. Love yaaa, hope to write some more for you guys soon, requests open!! Btw is there a specific way to do that? I’ve never written on here before this and I’m confused LOL.