#Definitely a wip
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messrmagpie Ā· 2 years ago
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wip update!!! Iā€™ve added in the base colours and the next step is details n outlines and all that stuff yeno (gunna be hell, but worth it :,))
the wolfstar gif is coming along swimmingly (hopefully)
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blank-bread Ā· 10 months ago
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I am a dog with phantom teeth.Ā 
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惻惻惻惻惻惻ā˜…ćƒ»ćƒ»ćƒ»ćƒ»ā˜… 惻惻惻惻惻惻ā˜…ćƒ»ćƒ»ćƒ»ćƒ»ā˜… 惻惻惻惻惻惻
I bare my teeth and my mouth foams without anything to stop it.Ā 
It drips onto the ground like acid and sprouts teeth thatā€™ll be bleached of my sin for wanting anything more.Ā Where
Idolizing a life where I'm safe and warm,
Image of a blanket and shiny coat
I lunge to bite and my victim only finds
Incisors made of rot and
Impression of pressure.
I let my tail go.
惻惻惻惻惻惻ā˜…ćƒ»ćƒ»ćƒ»ćƒ»ā˜… 惻惻惻惻惻惻ā˜…ćƒ»ćƒ»ćƒ»ćƒ»ā˜… 惻惻惻惻惻惻
a/n: I forgot to say but I'm getting my images from Pinterest I'll edit and source them rq. Yeah that's Cujo. Again tips and comments are appreciated.
Picture Source: Cujo (1983)
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barblaz-arts Ā· 7 months ago
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Picked out my favorite looks from my sketches and now they're going on a date
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runraerun Ā· 15 days ago
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Steddie Amnesia Ficlet
-> part two
cw: lots of head trauma/brain injury/recovery stuff.
Steve wakes up in the hospital with someone snoring loudly on his leg, mouth open, drool getting soaked up into the scratchy hospital blanket over him.
Steve just stares.
Itļæ½ļæ½sā€¦ Freddie? No, thatā€™s not right... Eddie! Eddie ā€˜the freakā€™ Munson, known delinquent and drug dealerā€¦ resting his head on Steveā€™s lap.
What the hellā€¦?
Steve reaches up with a wobbly, IV-ridden hand to clumsily pat along his head, but instead of meeting messy hair, he meets a thick wad of bandages. He flinches when he hits an especially tender spot.
Itā€™s not much but itā€™s enough to wake Eddie Munson up with a jolt, and a random jumble of words that sounded something like, ā€œthe dice have spoken!ā€, but Steve canā€™t be sure. Not with the sharp ringing still going off inside his skull.
ā€œSteve? Steve! Oh thank fuck, Jesus H. Christ, you scared the ever loving shit out of me.ā€ Eddie stood and grabbed at one of Steveā€™s shoulders, shaking him enough to elicit another wince.
ā€œOh, damn, sorry. Iā€™m like a fucking bull in a china shop here, man. Thereā€™s way too much expensive, breakable shit here. Iā€™m not used to it. I accidentally ripped your IV out the other day... Fuck. The nurses hate my guts.ā€ Eddie chuckles, eyes wide and solely on Steve, talking like they were old friends or something.
But that canā€™t be right. Steve doesnā€™t remember saying more than two words to Eddie Munson during the entire time he knew he even existed, and even then it was just to discuss weed prices.
ā€œFor real though, talk to me Harrington, how you feelinā€™, hm? Loopy? Gonna yak again? Apparently they got you on the good stuff,ā€ Eddie flicks a liquid filled bag hanging above Steve and shakes his head, ā€œbut they keep cutting you back. Dicks.ā€
Steveā€™s eyes try and follow Eddieā€™s erratic movements but his eyes ache the more he moves them. He blinks against the harsh fluorescents and tries to open his mouth. And thank God, Eddie Munson seems to take this as a sign and shut up.
ā€œWhat happened?ā€ Steve finally croaks.
One of Eddieā€™s brows jumps. ā€œYou donā€™t remember?ā€
Steve gives his head a small shake. Did Eddie hit him with his car or something? Is that why heā€™s sleeping at his bedside and talking to him like theyā€™re buddies?
ā€œYou fell, Stevie.ā€ Eddie makes a whistling noise and mimicks something falling with his hands, then makes a crashing sound when his hand lands on Steveā€™s bandaged head. ā€œLike a coconut out of a tree. Landed right on that big olā€™ melon of yours. There was blood everywhere. It scared the shit out of me and the kids. Especially when you wouldnā€™t wake up.ā€
Steveā€™s throat feels like sandpaper, but he manages to swallow, his throat clicking as he did, and gets out, ā€œThe kids?ā€
Eddie seems to notice, even before Steve can ask, and reaches for a water bottle with a straw already in it, and half chewed. Eddieā€™s own, no doubt. Against his better judgment, Steve accepts it when Eddie offers it to him. He was just so goddamn thirsty.
ā€œDonā€™t worry, theyā€™re all fine. They were just shaken up. Iā€™ll radio the little gremlins and give ā€˜em the good news in a sec.ā€ Eddieā€™s smile falters a little, seeming lost for words. Like he wants to say something, but canā€™t quite get it out.
Steve finishes swallowing his few, meager gulps of water before he asks, ā€œWhat is it?ā€
ā€œDonā€™t freak outā€”ā€œ Eddie begins.
And, okay, thatā€™s exactly the thing you tell someone before they freak the fuck out. Steveā€™s stomach is subject to a growing, sluggish panic. ā€œWhat? Dude, tell meā€”ā€œ
ā€œItā€™s your hair.ā€ Eddie seems genuinely pained at having to deliver this crushing of a blow to Steve ā€˜The Hairā€™ Harrington.
Steve can hear the beeping from the monitors heā€™s hooked up to begin to pick up speed as his heart begins racing. ā€œMy hair?ā€
ā€œItā€™s okay! Itā€™s okay, itā€™ll grow back! They just had to take a little bit off where the stitches went, you can hardest notice itā€”well, thatā€™s a fucking lie, you could spot that landing strip from spaceā€”but I think if you part it to the other side it wonā€™t look soā€¦ yā€™know.ā€
ā€œNo, dude, I donā€™t know.ā€ Steve says, eyes wide, brows pinched.
ā€œLike a drunk toddler took a pair of rusty kitchen shears to your mop.ā€ Eddie says, huffing out a nervous sort of laugh.
Steve groans, half due to the bastardization thatā€™s happened to his favorite feature, and half due to the migraine thatā€™s looming on his horizon.
ā€œYouā€™re still pretty, Stevie, donā€™t worry.ā€ Eddie grins, eyebrows raised, like heā€™s trying to be cute or something.
That weirdest part is, itā€™s kind of working.
Steve must have hit his head really, really hard.
The doctors eventually come in and perform all sorts of tests, and he tries his best to comply with them and jump through whatever hoops they make him jump through. He just wants to get the hell out of this hospital bed.
Unfortunately for him, Steve hadnā€™t exactly aced any of the tests.
In fact, he had failed most of them pretty fucking dismally. He couldnā€™t remember the date, who the president was, where he lived, couldnā€™t say the alphabet backwardsā€¦ although, who the fuck can do that? He stands by that failing grade.
A couple of CAT scans later and itā€™s clear that Steveā€™s brain got smacked around a little more than they had originally thought.
Among a pile of other stuff, the thing that sticks out the most to Steve is his diagnosis of something called short term amnesia. They explain it like the past 2 to 3 years has just been wiped from his brain. The last clear thing he really remembers is getting the shit beat out of him by Billy, and then it all sort of gets jumbled. Fragmented. The doctors explain that this is pretty typical for head trauma patients.
Heā€™s a head trauma patient, now.
Itā€™s normal for memories of trauma to link, creating spiderwebs throughout your brain.
Which, thatā€™s great. So when he gets beat up again, thereā€™s always a chance his brain will try and erase his easy, happy years and revert back to a trauma default. Really helpful brain, thank you.
And the thing that sucks the most is that his years after the Billy beat down sound pretty great. Traumatizing, sure, but great. Once the Upside Down shit was locked up, with every scary nightmare fuel monster inside of it, life in Hawkins didnā€™t sound all that terrible.
He lived with Robin, whoā€™s his best friend, (his ā€˜platonic soulmateā€™ even, as she explains it), heā€™s working a retail job, (also with Robin), and coaches the high school basketball team during the evenings. Heā€™d even been talking with Hopper about joining the force.
Well, he was. Now heā€™s more or less useless, working full time at re-learning his life, along with a couple of fine motor skills that got glitchy after the fall.
And then thereā€™s Eddie.
Eddie, whoā€™s apparently also his best friend, only their soulmate link isnā€™t platonic at all.
The strange and weirdly exciting reality was that Steve Harrington had woken up from his 3-day medically induced coma with not only a full fledged relationship, but a boyfriend.
Itā€™s a lot to digest, and part of him still doesnā€™t even know how to process it, but hearing the stories being told around him, seeing how Eddie is practically living in his and Robinā€™s two-bedroom apartment, and justā€¦ the way Eddie looks at him?
Itā€™s with loveā€”Steve can see it. Feel it. Eddieā€™s practically vibrating with it.
Whatā€™s even crazier is that when Steve looks at Eddie, he feels the exact same way.
Itā€™s like looking at the stars. Steveā€™s heart skips a beat when those dark eyes of hit him, and Steve wants nothing more than to make Eddie smileā€”no, better than that, to make him laugh, just so he can watch Eddieā€™s adamā€™s apple bob up and down and hear that manic, unhinged cackle. Itā€™s downright delightful. Steve loves being in relationships like this, where itā€™s all consuming.
Steve may not have the memories of falling in love with Eddie, but he has all the feelings.
No one talks about it with Steve, of course. Maybe they think itā€™s going to be too heavy for him to process that heā€™s into dudes now, but Steve isnā€™t a big dumb baby. Sure, heā€™s got a pretty severe brain injury, and yeah, alright, it takes him a minute to remember peopleā€™s names sometimes, and he has a harder time controlling his emotions, but he isnā€™t a complete invalid. Only a little bit of one. Heā€™s working on it, dammit.
And Eddie is so painfully, frustratingly patient with him. He never pushes. Heā€™s clearly letting Steve retrieve his memories before he makes a move, because despite his whole outward appearance, Eddie Munson is a goddamn gentleman. He never so much as reaches for Steveā€™s hands, but Steve can tell by the way their pinkies graze when they watch movies late at night that he wants to.
Steve can tell by the way Eddie teases him, the way heā€™s there with him through his recovery, that he doesnā€™t ever make Steve feel stupid when he asks the same questions over and over again, when he cries at the drop of a hat or when he gets sort of confused about the lay out of his apartmentā€”he doesnā€™t care about that of that.
Because heā€™s in love with Steve. Itā€™s so painfully romantic, it brings a painful lump to Steveā€™s throat every time he thinks too much about it.
The two of them are driving to one of Steveā€™s therapy sessions, Eddie in the driver's seat, Steve in the passengers, listening to a low racket of some kind of heavy metal music. Eddie always keeps the volume low now, for Steve.
Heā€™s just been so intensely good about everything that Steve needs to try and do something good for Eddie in return. He needs Eddie to know that thereā€™s a light at the end of this tunnel that theyā€™re both currently lost in.
ā€œIā€™m sorry about this, yā€™know.ā€ Steve says when they finally pull up the building that has ā€˜Brain Injury Recover Centerā€™ written on the front. So all the boys and girls with scrambled eggs for brains know where to converge.
ā€œDonā€™t worry about it, man. I work the evening shifts, remember? My days are free.ā€ Eddie explains, and Steve wonders if heā€™s had to be told this bit of information a couple of times now. Sometimes it takes a few times before something sticks to his brain now. His short term memory is still majorly flighty. But no, Steve remembers that Eddie bartends at a local bowling alley most evenings. Heā€™s gone a few times. Not to bowl, of courseā€”too much hand eye coordination involvedā€”but just to hang out with Eddie. Heā€™s pretty decent at Ms. Pac-Man though.
Steve shakes his head. He knows his mind must have wandered because thereā€™s been a lull where no oneā€™s spoken. Eddie never seems to care about that though. ā€œI donā€™t mean about the drive. I was talking aboutā€¦ yā€™know.ā€
ā€œWhaā€™dyā€™mean?ā€ Eddie mumbles as he backs into his parking space, hand on the back of Steveā€™s headrest.
Steve sighs and decides to just come out and say it: ā€œI mean having your boyfriend forget everything about you and your relationship. I justā€¦ that must be really tough.ā€
Everything in Eddie Munson comes to a jarring halt, hand frozen over where heā€™s turned to ignition off.
Itā€™s sort of unnervingā€”Eddie is always moving, fidgeting. Damn near bouncing off the walls. But now itā€™s like someone hit the poor guy with a freeze ray gun.
Steve chuckles softly as he reaches out and touches Eddieā€™s arm, giving him a playful jostle, to loosen him up a little, ā€œitā€™s okay, Eddie. I know. You donā€™t have to keep going easy on me. Iā€™m gay! Or, bi-sexual. Whatever.ā€ Steve shrugs, ā€œsee? Not falling apart. I can handle being in love with another dude. You donā€™t need to keep babying me.ā€
The side of Eddieā€™s mouth twitches into a downturned smile that he seems to be trying to hide.
ā€œI know, I know. Not just any dude.ā€ Steve rolls his eyes, a smile still firmly on his face. He takes Eddieā€™s hand from the steering wheel, and Eddie seems to watch it go in a detached sort of awe. Steve wonders if Eddieā€™s proud of him for being so cool with it all. ā€œIn love with you.ā€
ā€œSteve, I donā€™t thinkā€”
ā€œWait, just let me finish.ā€ Steve asks, and Eddie blinks and works on closing his mouth. Knows itā€™s important to let Steve get his thoughts out quickly, lest they be lost to the giant black hole inside of his beat-up brain now. ā€œI know that I donā€™t remember any of the important stuff with us. Our first date, or our first kiss or, yā€™know, any of our other first firsts. So maybe it feels like youā€™re cheating on the old Steve with me? Butā€¦ Eddie, I know itā€™s crazy but even though my brain forgot all of the specifics; my heart didnā€™t. I look at you, and itā€™s all there. Iā€™m still so into you, dude. I can feel it, even though I donā€™t remember how I got here. Iā€™m in lā€”ā€œ
ā€œSteve! Stevestevesteve wait, holy shitā€”!ā€ Eddieā€™s eyes snap up from his intense stare at the place where their hands are linked. ā€œSteveā€”ā€
ā€œYeah?ā€ Steve prompts when Eddie doesnā€™t seem to be able to find the words. He runs his thumb gently over Eddieā€™s knuckles. It feels so nice to finally be able to hold his hand again. They fit together so well, and Steve wonders briefly if itā€™s some kind of muscle memory.
Eddie opens his mouth a few more times before he remembers how to make the words come out.
ā€œSteve. Buddy. Weā€™reā€¦ weā€™re not dating.ā€
Steveā€™s face falls, and he can feel a lump form in his throat, but he keeps a firm hold of Eddieā€™s warm hand in his own. ā€œYeah, I know, I know. We havenā€™t had any time to be a couple. And itā€™s probably been torture for you, man. Youā€™re so busy taking care of me and making sure I donā€™t freak out over everything that youā€™ve clearly been neglecting your own hierarchy of needs.ā€
Eddie raises a brow.
Steve chuckles, ā€œShut up. Itā€™s a therapy term.ā€
Eddie laughs in his throat. ā€œSteve, you gotta slow down and listen to me.ā€
He turns his shoulders so that heā€™s fully facing Steve while he reaches his free hand over and tugs at one of his earlobes. ā€œGot your hearing ears on?ā€
Steve rolls his eyes, but he nods just the same.
ā€œWeā€¦ we werenā€™t dating before your accident,ā€ Eddie speaks slowly, his voice warm, gentle. ā€œHell, I didnā€™t even know you were, yā€™know, into dudes like that. Much less me.ā€
Something throbs dully behind Steveā€™s eyes. Itā€™s the start of a migraineļæ½ļæ½the one that makes it hard to process much of anything. Steve squints, trying to make sense of what Eddieā€™s saying. ā€œā€¦youā€™re not my boyfriend?ā€
Eddie shakes his head very, very slowly. ā€œNo.ā€
Steve snatches his hand back like heā€™s only just now noticed how burning hot Eddieā€™s hand is.
He settles back in his seat, staring out the front window. The sounds from the outside world are muffled, and everything feels far away and sort ofā€¦ Made up. Just like everything heā€™d imagined was going on between him and Eddie. Not real.
He feels painfully detached from reality. Unmoored. Maybe this was the disassociation thing the doctor mentioned might happenā€¦
ā€œAre you sure?ā€ Steve asks, risking another glance over to Eddie, who hasnā€™t taken his eyes off him for a second.
ā€œPretty fuckinā€™ sure.ā€ Eddie snorts.
ā€œOh, God. This isā€¦ Iā€™mā€”sorry. Iā€™m so stupid. Fuck, I gottaā€”ā€œ Steve suddenly attacks the door handle with a clumsy fury that has his hand fumbling with the handle for way too long. Fucking busted up, bruised as fuck fucking brain-!
ā€œSteve, itā€™s okay, dude,ā€ Eddie says from behind Steve, but thatā€™s easy for him to say; he didnā€™t just humiliate himself in front of his not-boyfriend, definitely-crush, possibly ex-friendā€”ā€œSteve, wait!ā€
Steve flees the van on unsteady feet, not daring to look back.
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dpurut Ā· 5 months ago
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primum non nocere
art ig- @acepostale
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hotcinnamonsunset Ā· 13 days ago
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proof that you CAN use math in every day lifešŸ˜ŒāœŒšŸ¼
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bryverros Ā· 7 months ago
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asami and her girlfriend from fortnite or whatever
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turtleblogatlast Ā· 4 months ago
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Big olā€™ eyes
(Wip of a comic Iā€™m working on - wanted to draw the babies with big eyes again haha)
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pompadourrguy Ā· 22 days ago
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D16 WIP
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Being a new TF fan and discovering you love to draw machines and their bodies is such a good feeling
I can't stop drawing and studying them!
Also thanks @th3e-m4ng0 for posting a tutorial on how to separate and break down their designs to make sketching easier. It's really helping a lot, make sure to check out his blog!
edit: finished
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obsessedwithstarwars Ā· 1 year ago
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Bruce: How was your class trip Damian?
Damian: It was quiet and productive Father.
Bruce: Iā€™m glad to hear it. What was your favorite part?
Damian: I learned how to escape an Iron Maiden.
Bruce: ā€¦
Damian: ā€¦
Bruce: Explain please.
Damian: A boy Drakeā€™s age taught me how to escape an Iron Maiden.
Bruce: How did he have that knowledge?
Damian: He claims his family has a dungeon full of medieval torture devices. I believe he may require further investigation.
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itsdefinitely Ā· 7 months ago
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(they're kind of old by now, but here's 1 and 2)
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ruporas Ā· 11 months ago
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i made a digital vw zine, there's a bunch of stuff on here that hasn't been shared elsewhere! if you're looking for a barrage of vw being really clingy and all, look no further :]
LINK
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pjs-everyday Ā· 5 months ago
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lol working on some bnha requests in my inbox šŸ˜š pinky teaching the boys how to dance šŸ©·āœØ
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normal-about-the-dca Ā· 1 month ago
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They look like they're having an allergic reaction....
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dvrtrblhr Ā· 2 months ago
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some people, both old and new (mostly new).
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hedwig221b Ā· 2 months ago
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snippet sunday monday
tagged by wonderful @endwersed! thank you so much! this is a kinda long(ish) snippet from my @hotgirlstiles wip but I'm feeling generous
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The alpha shook his head viciously as if shaking the order off. ā€œGo fuck yourself, Hale! I swear Iā€™ll kill you one day. You think youā€™re invincible, butā€”ā€ he stumbled over his words, his eyes narrowed.
Derek, of course, sensed Stilesā€™ presence. He glanced at the omega who walked up quietly to the railing and pushed one of his hands around Derekā€™s elbow. His impenetrable gaze was focused on the alpha on the first floor.
In the low pink and purple lights, he didnā€™t look real. His white clothes changed color along with the lights, and all of his little trinkets only accentuated his preciousness. Nothing gleamed as hard as his eyes, though.
ā€œGo,ā€ said Stiles in a quiet voice.
The alpha looked at him for a moment, then roared, swerved around, and ran on all fours across the bar until he crashed through the exit.
Stiles lifted his chin. He gave the people staring at him a brief glance and turned to Derek.
ā€œIā€™m kinda hungry,ā€ he said and smiled.
If they werenā€™t in the club in the middle of the busy city, Derek wouldā€™ve run out like that alpha just did. He wouldā€™ve headed straight for the forest and found the best game there was: juicy, young, and soft. He wouldā€™ve torn its throat with his teeth and dropped the prey at his omegaā€™s feet. He wouldā€™ve cut the meat in tiny pieces with his claws and fed the bloody bits right into Stilesā€™ open mouth.
Derek swallowed.
ā€œLetā€™s see what they have,ā€ he rasped.
He took the suddenly obedient omega by the hand and sat him down on the sofa right next to himself. When Derek took the menu, Stiles waved it off.
ā€œOrder for me, alpha.ā€ He swung one of his knees over Derekā€™s thigh and dangled his foot. ā€œCora, youā€™re scaring people. Come here, please, I need to know all the family drama.ā€
Scoffing, Cora left the railing and walked back to the sofa.
ā€œSo, hereā€™s the thingā€¦ā€ she started.
Derek could hardly concentrate on anything beyond Stilesā€™ body that settled so nicely against him and the omegaā€™s leg swung over his thigh. When the food arrived ā€” steak and fries, because Derek needed to feed Stiles something bloody ā€” the wolf took it apart and fed his omega slowly and carefully.
While Cora waved her fork around between the telling of the complicated tale, Stiles didnā€™t lift a finger. He must have sensed something from Derek, something primal and scorching that needed attention and wouldnā€™t agree to a compromise.
Interestingly, Stiles seemed to find just as much pleasure in the wolfā€™s actions. Ā 
Derek didnā€™t forget how he complained about the alphas choosing the food for him, yet, this time he asked Derek to do exactly that. It nearly drove him feral as he realized that Stiles trusted him with the choice. He knew that the wolf would feed him well.
Whether it was a conscious decision or a play of instincts, they fit together. Two puzzle pieces locked and stuck so hard that one could not take them apart without completely destroying both.
Read full version here
[divider link]
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