#I've been watching the entire Saw saga lately

[junjunjunko]

I just need Eden to know that if she ever needs the blood of a virgin to do a ritual or something me and my 3,705 liters are available and very willing.

I mean, you said you were willing, anon.

[utilitycaster]

Regarding Editing and Innovating in the space, 2 people who get a Fraction of the credit they deserve are Ivan Van Norman & Marisha Ray. I mean, they created and developed one of the original mixed media cinematic interactive actual plays, Sagas of Sundry: Dread, and then Sagas of Sundry: Madness, and Marisha (later hiring Ivan as well) has continued that trajectory in some of the more intriguingly edited mixed format Actual plays at CR, like Call of Cthulhu, Undeadwood, and others, and being Instrumental in the developments at CR. Like, when you do watch the interviews you get a sense of just how Much of CR's current content designs, ttrpg intentions, and series are marisha's brainchilds, and it sucks that she doesnt get the credit others involved in similar projects, and even those projects, do.

This is a great point. I've mentioned this before w/r/t the fandom - Marisha, perhaps more than anyone, gets reduced even by many fans to "she's pretty and her characters are like what if a girlboss were a girlfailure" and her creative direction goes unheralded. It feels like this has gotten worse in recent years; I was baffled at how many people seemingly resented Calamity or Candela for taking up space they felt should go only to the main campaign when those were not only showcases for Marisha as a performer but also clearly something in which she had a strong hand in designing. Whenever people whine about there only being two main campaign episodes in a month because of Candela Obscura, I do think "You realize this was probably Marisha's call?"

I was focused in my response much more on Daggerheart, and so on the game design side (quick side note - reviews of A Familiar Problem, which Marisha worked on, were pretty positive; I wonder if something's happened in the past 2 years since that's when I've really felt this Damn Critical Role energy among actual play journalists), but I had been thinking about Sagas of Sundry and Undeadwood! I think I mentioned Sagas of Sundry in one of my posts about how Kollok isn't, in my mind, impressive. I loved Dread but never finished Madness before Alpha folded, but actually I was imagining something like Madness - fully on a set, people walking around like it's a play - for Kollok! When I saw everyone at a table with that rotating rock I was like "is this...it?" And, you know, Sagas: Madness wasn't entirely for me, but you can't fault the innovation. Similarly, when I think about the (baffling) criticism from one of the prominent actual play journalists I've had in mind while writing this, that Candela Obscura the show did not fully teach people Candela Obscura the game, I think about how Ivan Van Norman did straight up teach Savage Worlds during Undeadwood. Whenever people gush over the shadow puppets in Burrow's End I think it's deserved, but when they claim it's utterly new? Nah. Call of Cthulhu: Shadow of the Crystal Palace did it first. And Marisha had a guiding hand in the creative direction of all of these.

I think this is sort of elaboration on one of my points in my original post: I think a lot of the journalists are really out of their depth. I don't remember seeing their names when I first started watching CR in 2018, or when I got deeper into the fandom in 2019. My first actual play was TAZ, which I binged in late 2017. I really think a lot of the journalists flat-out don't know Sagas of Sundry or Undeadwood because they didn't show up until after Alpha folded. I've mentioned this elsewhere but so much of the claims of novelty and innovation are completely incorrect and not even terribly obscure. Look, I've seen/listened to most or all of 9 actual plays (this is counting D20 and CR each as one single unit, by the way - I've seen all but scattered one-offs from either), and seen or heard an episode or two of many more. I think that simply by doing that? I know more than a lot of these journalists.

Again: Worlds Beyond Number? The innovation is with the Witch class and the Wizard of the Citadel subclasses, and the allowance of extremely long downtime, but: longform podcast actual play with sound design? RQG did it starting in 2015. Griffin McElroy and Emily Axford have been composing their own music since 2017 or 2018 for their respective shows, both of which are also longform podcast actual plays. Again, Brennan pretty explicitly said "I don't think D20 is new, nor longform" in a quote and the article that quotes him argues that Fantasy High is new and longform...and that article also talks about how before D20 most AP video was livestreamed before talking about how boundary-breaking D20 was for having a livestreamed second season (you know, the thing that they just called old hat a paragraph earlier) that quickly pivoted to remote (even though remote livestreaming was actually quite common in smaller productions well before the pandemic, since you don't need anything but laptop cameras to produce it). I don't even keep up with much in the really indie AP scene, but those people I know who do are even less impressed by the state of Actual Play journalism than I, because D20 executes a lot of things extremely well, has a very talented roster of performers, and a budget most productions cannot hope to match, but a good deal of what it's credited for inventing (and which, again, it never claims to have invented. I want to be clear that the journalists decided to be like this for no clear reason) already existed. And, by placing this heavy emphasis on production, they are automatically making it hard for indie productions to impress them. For all they claim to be going after the 700 lb gorilla, they are simply cozying up to the 600 lb gorilla. It's real "um, why don't you try this little indie game called Pathfinder" hours.

I am fairly sure a lot of the people in prominent journalistic positions in the actual play sphere today came in only after the collapse of Geek and Sundry, is my point, and so I think they literally do not realize how much the medium owes to, for example, Marisha Ray and Ivan Van Norman, because they weren't watching in 2016 nor even skipping through the G&S archives, as I did as a new CR fan. I think they're absolutely out of their depth, and most of them don't even realize it.

[subliminalbo]

Fleur-de-lis #1: An Orientation

Samara smiled as she studied the crowd gathering on the veranda. There wasn't another supermodel in sight. She had told her guests that it was a housewarming party, but Samara had a lot of homes in a lot of cities. What was so special about this one? The last few years had been fraught with personal drama: the press hounding her for details about her private marriage, the birth of her daughter three months before the Confidential Fashion Show, the unbelievable grind to get her body into shape in time for the event, and her highly publicized divorce that followed shortly after. Modeling had once been a kind of escape into a fantasy world where she was its goddess, but these days even her career was a stressful mess of one-sided feuds and questions about her looming retirement.

That's why Samara needed tonight. She'd only invited a handful of guests. Personal friends outside of the industry. It turned out that there wasn’t a lot of them. Most of her non-modeling friends had been her husband’s, and after wrapping up that saga, Samara had sworn off baseball people entirely.

She floated in and out of conversation with her guests until she spotted a woman standing at the railing, overlooking the Los Angeles skyline.

“Excuse me,” Samara approached her. “Are you with somebody?” She didn't mean to sound rude, but she had been strict about the guestlist and she hadn't expected to find strangers at her own party, on her own property.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” The woman asked, her eyes trained on the lights dotting the landscape. “I've always loved this skyline. Pardon me,” she turned her attention to Samara and extended a hand. “Elena Maxwell.”

Samara reluctantly took the woman’s hand, her head cocked slightly to the side. “I don’t mean to be rude, but do I know you?”

“Perhaps,” Elena replied. “I used to model, actually.”

“I’m sorry,” Samara slowly shook her head. I’ve never heard of you.”

Elena returned a bitter smile and said, “I’m on the business side now. I’m a friend of Cat’s.”

Samara frowned. Though she was friendly with the other Confidential models, Catlin Caldwell was an exception. Cat was the type of woman who only saw colleagues as competition. Samara Alves was a challenge to be conquered, not a friend. For sixteen years Samara had been the proud face of Confidential; the perfect model and spokeswoman. At the height of her popularity, she’d made the late-night talk show rounds, hosted Confidential grand openings across America, even made an appearance at the Super Bowl XLVI pregame show while being featured in that year’s most watched ad. Now as Samara approached the heart of her thirties, she’d stepped back from the spotlight to mentor the younger Confidential models—not because she was expected to, but because it was what was right for the company. It was a level of generosity that Cat could never comprehend.

“I didn't invite Cat,” Samara coldly whispered.

“Oh, I know,” Elena replied. She had a breezy way of speaking, as if every syllable was time wasted when they could be doing business. Samara noted an affectation in her voice, the ghost of an accent long dropped from years of vocal coaching. She sounded like a golden age Hollywood actress. For some reason it intimidated Samara.

“Actually, I invited myself,” Elena continued. “My people have been trying to reach you for months and we haven't heard a word from your agent, so I just had to see you personally. I'm the CEO of Fleur-de-lis lingerie, and I think you'd be a great fit for our growing roster of models.”

“Excuse me?” Not only had this woman invited herself, but now she was talking business, trying to pull Samara away from the company that she was so loyal to. These were the kind of shifty deals that made her want to escape the fashion world.

“It’s no secret that Confidential has begun phasing out their more experienced models. Confidential is the largest lingerie brand in America thanks in no small part to your contribution for the better part of twenty years. It’s simple, Samara: I know value when I see it. At Fleur-de-lis, you’ll headline every major line. We’re only lingerie right now, but we’re launching a sportswear brand next summer and casual wear is just around the corner.”

Samara’s head was spinning. “Stop,” she said. “I'm sorry, but you're intruding. I need you to leave.”

“Of course, of course,” Elena smiled, placing a cold hand on Samara's shoulder. “I understand that your loyalty goes deeper than any amount of money or publicity I could offer you. I guess I just had to see if you were as beautiful in person as you are in all those commercials.”

Samara was finished with this conversation. She spun around, signaling for her bodyguard to escort Elena out.

The large man was on Elena in a second. “Okay then,” she said, holding her hands up in surrender as his giant fist gripped her arm. Elena was calm as she walked with the man toward the exit, digging into her purse to retrieve a pair of sunglasses. She pressed her free hand to her ear and whispered, “Alright, bring the lights.”

A canned “Roger that” echoed in Elena’s earpiece.

The sudden sound of helicopter blades cut through the quiet night sky, silencing the voices of the party as it approached the hillside mansion.

“What is this?!” Samara shouted before the veranda was flooded in a bright, piercing glow from the helicopter's spotlight.

Samara knew instantly that there was something wrong when she looked up into the light. A warm, tingling wave washed over her. Her body was numb, and her mind soon followed. I need to look away, Samara thought. Everyone needs to look away. She tried to communicate this to her guests, but her mouth didn’t budge as she stood vacantly among the transfixed crowd.

Elena smiled as the bodyguard's grasp loosened, his arm falling harmlessly away as she jerked free.

Samara's world narrowed. She lost focus on everything around her. The light, that was all that mattered now. She could hear someone approaching, but she couldn't turn her head to see. There was a small part of her, whatever part that was left fighting, that hoped someone had arrived to save her. And then she heard that strange affection in her ear. Elena’s words echoed in her mind as if they were her own thoughts. Surrender to the light. Surrender, sleep, and fade away.

And she did. Elena took Samara's hand, and as she led the mesmerized model from her home, a half dozen of Elena's men slipped in behind to handle the remaining guests. By the time they awoke in the comfort of their own beds, they would have no memory of the night's bizarre turn of events.

As reality returned to Samara, the world faded in around her like an old television set booting up. Though she should have been alarmed to wake up in a stranger’s bed with no memory of how she’d gotten there, she felt comfortable. She had questions, but her mind wasn’t there yet. Her eyes were too heavy to keep open, in fact, Samara felt too weak to do anything at all but lay there and breathe that sweet smell in the air and listen to that soft music. Music? Yes, there was some kind of music playing, but if there were any words she couldn’t say.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” a familiar voice asked. Samara wasn't alone. Someone else was curled up next to her. She mustered the strength to force her eyes open and she was greeted by the sight of her colleague, Cat Caldwell, her naked body pressed against hers. It was enough of a shock to jolt Samara from her hazy daydream.

“Cat! What's going on?” Samara demanded as she shot up. The blanket slid down her body and she realized that she'd been stripped down to a pair of lingerie. “I wasn't wearing this earlier.” she breathed.=

“No, you weren’t,” Cat replied, her hand running over Samara's tight stomach.

Samara took a deep breath, inhaling a thick concentration of the odd fragrance that only made her dizzier. “We have to get out of here, Cat.”

“What’s the rush?” Cat giggled. “It's so sexy, isn't it?” she said, her fingertips tracing the lace of the brazier. Her hand traveled to the edge of the bra and slipping underneath. Cat moaned hungrily as she groped Samara’s breast.

“Stop,” Samara protested. “I feel so weird…”

“She does that to you,” Cat replied coolly, moving closer in, placing soft kisses on Samara's neck. “Everything about this room is designed to make you feel that way. The smell, the noise, the ambiance. But it will feel so good when you surrender to it all.”

“Get off of me!” This time Samara managed enough strength to shove Cat away. She shot up from the bed and for the first time saw the room clearly. It wasn't a bedroom at all, but something more like an interrogation room disguised as a bedroom. To the side of the bed was a nightstand where two candles burned, polluting the air with their invasive aromas. While the fumes disoriented Samara, the music playing from a speaker overhead disarmed her. The walls were solid, gray brick. A giant mirror on the wall opposite the bed reflected Samara’s and Cat's images back at them. She could feel Elena’s eyes watching her on the other side.

“Welcome to your orientation, Sammy.” Cat said unfazed. She scooted back in, holding her hand on Samara's chin, drawing her focus into the mirror. Samara looked deep into her own fading eyes. “Don't you see? We're halfway there. I know you're thinking. ‘That woman can't be me.’ But you know deep down that's all you ever were. Empty, obedient.” Cat's hand floated down Samara’s body, sliding under the elastic of her panties. “Every fashion show, every promotional tour, every empty answer to an interviewer’s question…it’s all been in service. So what difference does it make who you serve?”

“No…” Samara moaned as Cat’s fingers found her sensitive clit.

“I felt that resistance too,” Cat continued. “Those fleeting thoughts that you have the strength to fight it. I admit I didn't want this at first either. But I feel so much better now. There’s no point fighting it, Sammy. We already have you.”

Samara sunk into the plush headboard. There was nothing she could do now. That mindless woman staring back at her wasn't some illusion. It was her reality. And it was a reality that she found herself wanting. She released a satisfied moan as her hand gripped Cat’s wrist, her fingers still buried deep in her pussy. It wasn’t a gesture meant to force Cat to stop, but one urging her to keep going.

“I can’t fight it,” Samara whispered, her eyes closing shut.

“That’s right,” Cat nodded. “You can only accept it.”

“I can only accept it.”

“You can only obey.”

“I can only obey.”

On the other side of the mirror, Elena Maxwell smiled, pleased with the work of her young thrall. “That's good, Cat,” she spoke into the microphone, a slight rattle in her voice. Watching Samra had worked her up. “Finish up with her and meet me in my office,” she said. “No need to get dressed.”

[fancoloredglasses]

Ten's Saga (The things people do for family)

[All images are owned by DC Comics and Warner Bros Discovery. I hope I’m too small-fry to sue...]

There are a number of examples of bad relationships (lord knows I've been in a few) First, there the "rebound" in which you latch on to the next person who sparks your interest while still pining for the one you lost. Then there's the relationship that's based entirely on physical attraction despite the fact you likely have nothing in common.

But what happens when the person you're attracted to happens to be your enemy? That's what happens to Terry McGinnis. If you would like to watch the episodes, they're available on Max or behind your favorite paywall.

(All videos courtesy of The Night Beyond)

We open in Gotham Harbor where a quiet sailing trip is interrupted.

The “appointment” in question? A date with Dana, that he was late for…again. They have a fight and Terry, in a fit of frustration, says they should break up.

…ouch.

With that, Terry storms out of the club, where he encounters a girl who saw the whole thing through the window.

The girl (Melanie Walker) has a bit in common with Terry, as her family moves around a lot (often not staying in the same place for more than a couple of weeks), which doesn’t leave a lot of time for a social life…much like Terry’s “after school job” doesn’t leave him much time either.

Melanie has learned to live for the moment…

…as Terry quickly learns! The two make a date for midnight the following night (hope it’s not a school night!), meeting outside the club (Melanie doesn’t want Terry picking her up. So either she’s homeless or ashamed of her family)

Later, Terry returns to the Batcave complaining about how his life with Batman ruined his relationship with Dana.

Then Bruce explains about the Royal Flush Gang as it pertains to the series. I’ll now explain the various versions of the Gang in the DC Multiverse. Their membership is wide and varied, but they boil down to variations of three versions…

The first is a large gang (52 in number) broken into four squads of goons (one for each suit) with a "King" as each suit's leader (who is one of the actual gang members)

The second is a loose affiliation of crooks who band together under a card motif. The Joker has been known to lead the Gang either behind the scenes or right out front, but not always.

The third (the one we’re dealing with here) is a family of thieves, with the King being the head of the family. In this and the previous version, Ace is the most powerful (in this case, Ace is a very powerful android)

Let’s go to the gang, where we find out why King has brought the Gang to Gotham (HINT: it has to do with Batman)

Revenge! Of course, it’s the wrong Batman. King starts planning their next caper.

Oh, that’s gonna throw a wrench in Terry’s love life!

That night, the Royal Flush Gang’s target is a museum.

Ten just wants to get this job over with so she can meet Batman Terry.

So Terry and Melanie are both late for their date.

After delivering the guard at the ER, Terry rushes to their rendezvous, but Melanie is nowhere to be seen. Dejected, he starts to walk home. However…

The lovebirds enjoy a nice evening together. However…

It was too good to last, I guess. Terry makes a date for the next evening.

I REALLY hope it’s not a school night!

Back at the Batcave, Bruce is researching the Royal Flush Gang’s next job, while Terry wants a night off. The pair argue (again!)

Meanwhile, in the Gang’s hotel room, King (sorry, none of the other gang members have their names revealed) is laying into Melanie about her focus, which she throws back at him due to his obsession over Batman.

King gives Melanie an ultimatum, which to his surprise she takes and walks out. Queen stops her and asks why, so Melanie tells her about Terry.

Somehow (appealing to her greed), Queen talks Melanie into staying. And so…

Terry knows something’s wrong, so he uses a deus ex Batshit device to hack a GCPD public terminal and trace Melanie’s call, then Batman pays a visit.

Then the Royal Flush Gang return after a successful heist, and Jack realizes their hotel suite has been broken into. The Gang searches the suite…

…and are taken down one by one, leaving only King and Ten. King takes things outside and we have a good ol’ fashioned dogfight until Batman gets the upper hand. Ten rushes in to help, but a shot from a cop destroys her hover-card and she plummets!

Fortunately, Batman doesn’t let a broken heart get in the way of saving her.

All that’s left is the aftermath.

That should have been the end. However, the writers didn’t want to let that romantic thread dangle, so Melanie and her family made a second appearance. If you would like to watch, your favorite paywall can accommodate you.

We open on a high-stakes card game.

Later, Terry wanders home to find everyone’s out (hope it’s not a school night, since that would mean Matt’s out too)…

…though it isn’t empty.

Melanie just needs a place to lie low until night, since the cops, the crooks, and Batman are looking for her. The pair argue until Melanie explains her actions.

Melanie explains the money was ransom; the Jokerz have her family. It’s a lot for Terry to process

…and that certainly doesn’t make it any easier!

Then the family returns and Melanie makes herself scarce. Terry calls Bruce and makes up some bullshit story about studying with Dana, then…

oops!

Meanwhile at the Derby…

Ten strikes again! This time, she makes off with the pot.

In the Batmobile, Batman explains to Bruce why he went rogue.

Using the tracer, Batman tracks down Ten. However…

Well, he did promise Ten he wouldn’t read it.

And that’s the end of Ten, but not the last we’d see of Melanie.

…as she found an honest job away from her family’s influence.

Good for you, Melanie!

[grizouille]

Rediscovering One Piece : a review 🧐

So, lately I've been wandering on Netflix. I watched the last season of LUPIN, and the last chapter of Disenchanted. Which were both bittersweet endings by the way.

And of course I couldn't escape the live action of One Piece. I might have watched like 5 episodes of the anime in my entire life and honestly I don't have the courage to read one manga of this saga. But from what I saw, I enjoyed the story. The drawings are nice and the characters are moving.

When I noticed the series, of course, I watched it. And it was wicked! The cast is so resembling, the stories are moving and the characters are funny and endearing. If you know me by now, I'm an easy lover. (concerning series, games and movies, of course)

Hence, I have to make a top three of my favorite characters:

My n°1 is Sanji. Of course I fell for his charms, and his kindness. I already liked the anime character. But Taz Skylar made a good job with him, and he made me fall for his interpretation too.

My n°2 is Zoro. Badass and a good heart. What else can I ask for? Besides,Mackenyu is very good.

And surprisingly enough my n°3 is Buggy. I hate clowns but he reconciled me with them. I liked his twisted mind. He's funny, yet violent. But honestly, Jeff Ward is so handsome he could make me like everything. And I have a thing for morally grey characters and psychopaths... (once again, not in real life, just in fiction xD)

Here it is. Have a nice Sunday.

[apathetically-hopeful]

8/30/24 Miss you... don't care.

Hey look! It's me again. My first real entry in over a year (there's several drafts), but here I am really committing on this one. So naturally y'all know I'm sitting here bawling my eyes out and clinging to some detestable form of toxic hope. I don't know how artsy I'm gonna get here. I love my writing so much... I've been re-reading it a lot lately. It's one of the few things I've stop being ashamed to be proud of. However, today I don't know if I can manage the haunting metaphors and romantic detachment.

Although, the fact that I'm already starting this in such shambles makes me think that some big things are going to come of it. The last saga of entries probably won't hold a candle to what the current shape of my life is. I'm trying so hard to even organize myself to get these few sentences down that I've been at this for about 45 minutes to this very sentence. So much so that I've continuously forgotten to light the cigarette that has been hanging on the corner of my lip this entire time. It's now suitable to be fed to the elderly because the filter is basically mush.... well you know what, cigarette? Me too.

Anyway, if you've made it this far; past whatever unhinged preamble that was... I applaud you. My writing is always driven by emotion, but usually I have some grasp on what emotion is guiding the keystrokes. This time I have absolutely no idea what I'm being inspired; or coerced, by. Because I'm not inspired at all; in fact, I'm terrified. I feel like I've become some half-sentient amalgamation of rage, fear, sorrow and regret. I've never felt so much at once that feeling anything in and of itself became impossible. My emotions have agitated my wounds so much that I've lost sensation.

I think I broke someone again... I didn't mean to. This girl came into my life and I pushed for a relationship when she was trying to heal from her own damages. For me the delusion of self improvement had so firmly taken root that I thought I could withstand it. I believed I could save her; guide her down the path I'd been walking that had set me free. Maybe she wasn't ready to be saved... maybe I wasn't a savior. But... my god, something about her; the beauty I saw in her. I went all in trying to get her to see it for herself. There's no tragedy quite like watching an angel suffocate beneath the feathers the world so cruelly ripped from them; before they ever got a chance to fly.

Somewhere along the way I realized the illusion. I was no more use to her than I was to myself on my darkest days. The disappointment I began to feel when I realized I was losing a war I never knew I joined... it began to turn into resentment. The end was coming long before either of us were ever willing to acknowledge it. But we tried to persist. We tried to push it off; told ourselves "love conquers all". Instead we only conquered each other... at first it almost seemed poetic in a 'doomed lovers' sort of way. But before long it was something terrifying, spiteful and paralyzing.

We fell into this terrible rhythm of believing we were damaging each other so much that we had to table our personal growth to try to pick up the pieces for one another. The irony, of course, was that the complete opposite course of action might have saved us. I've been so angry this whole time, accused her of ruining me. And in turn that caused me to ruin her and push her away. But the truth is... I should have been better. I should have paid more attention. And if the reality was that we couldn't find a way to continue our individual paths while being together... then we had no business trying to dress it up any prettier than that.

I know we loved each other. There is no mistaking it. It was something special, something rare. We needed to nurture that small miracle we found in one another, but we got so scared waiting for the other shoe to drop; we ignored the housefire around us. There we were; two people who don't get miracles... who handle every good thing in life like a live bomb; just to realize later we were defusing the sparks we lit inside one another.

If you read this... I'm sorry. It's not your fault. I love you. You didn't ruin me, sweetheart... I ruined myself when I convinced myself I had to tear pieces of myself away to put you back together... instead of staying whole... and using my strength to continue to lift you up. I miss you so much... but please, don't let that stop you from learning to fly. Because your wings will heal, and someday I hope to see you gliding up there... even if it means I have to admire it from the ground.

Love always,

Trevor

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

"Quick look Side eye Head tilt As you go by Miss you Don't care

Touchdown Midnight Pull back 'til I get it right I miss you Don't care"

[sillyteecup]

Sunflower

Scott McCall x black!reader

Warnings:

Mentions of death

Death

Literally one mention of sex

And my bad writing. Enjoy❤

Sunflower

Sunflower

My Eyes

Want you more than a melody

Let me inside

Wish I could get to know you

Scott's breakup with Allison had been tough and he had no plans to move on anytime soon. He found himself intrigued with the new dark chestnut skinned girl with the rich afro tied up into two huge puffs with sunflowers in them. She wore a short sleeved, lemon and white stripped button up shirt with a lemon rouched tank, long paperbag jeans with yellow sunflowers on the left pantleg, silver framed reading glasses and lemon and white custom Nikes. Scott approached her and sat across from her with the intention of being friends with her. For a second he watched in adoration as she smiled at the whatever she had just written before clearing his throat to catch her attention.

Sunflowers

Sometimes

Keep it sweet in your memory

I was just tongue tied

She looked up him, her eyes questioned Scott and he knew what they wanted to know. He would've answered much quicker if he didn't get lost in the hazel orbs that gazed at him at that moment. "Uhh..." she said snapping him out of his thoughts. "Oh uhm my name is Scott. McCall, captain of the lacrosse team," he mumbled. "Okay. Can I help you Scott McCall, captain of the lacrosse team?" she asked with an inquisitive eyebrow raised. "Uhm I noticed that I haven't seen you before and a friend of mine told me that you're new, so uhm you-uh wanna be uhm friends?" Scott mentally facepalmed himself for stumbling over his words so hard. 'Nice going McCall, she probably thinks you're a dork now,' he chastised himself. She giggled softly and Scott swore he had never heard anything as beautiful in his life. "Name's Y/N. Sure. We can be friends." He let out a sigh of relief and chuckled before diving into conversation with her.

And I dont wanna make you feel bad

But I've been trying hard not to talk to you

My sunflower (sunflower)

He introduced her to his pa-friends and they loved her instantly. Well Stiles was a little wary at first but he grew to like her too. She and Scott had a lot in common and became really close, hell she was giving Stiles a run for his money in the best friend department. Her favourite thing in the world was sunflowers. His favourite thing in the world was her. Scott always saw her as soft and fragile and he found himself falling for her, so he kept her away from all the supernatural drama by not telling her at all. He felt bad for keeping such a huge secret from her but he also felt better because he was protecting her. Little did he know that he wasn't the only one keeping secrets.

I couldn't want you anymore

Kiss in the kitchen like its a dance floor

I couldn't want you anymore tonight (tonight, tonight)

It was the night when the music teacher was killed. Scott ran to look for Lydia and told you to stay behind but her stubborn ass wasn't having it. He was fighting Jennifer Blake when Y/N ran into the room. "Y/N get out!" he yelled through a mouth full of canines. "Scott," she gasped. Everything after that was a blurr. Jennifer had thrown Scott into a table and stalked towards Y/N like she was some kind of prey. Scott tried with all his strength to get up but he was just too weak. He kept yelling for Jennifer not to hurt Y/N to no avail. Imagine his suprise when Y/N began to move at inhuman speed as she fought Jennifer. She fought long and hard but in the end she fell to her knees with a knife in her abdomen. Scott ran to her through his weak state. Everything around him shut down, all he could do was focus on her heartbeat as it slowed. He pleaded for her to stay with him as he held her. "I love you Y/N. Please. Don't," he sobbed. "Relax Scott I'm not dying," she groaned as she pulled the knife out. Everyone around them watched in awe as the wound underneath the grey t-shirt healed. They started flooding her with question after question, but not Scott. He just had one question. "What are you?" "I could ask you the same thing," she chuckled. "I'm a werewolf. What about you?" he asked. "Werewolf," she said as she flashed her eyes golden. "I love you too," she whispered as she pulled him into a passionate kiss.

Wondering headshake

Tired eyes are the death of me

Mouth full of toothpaste

Before I got to know you

It wasn't long before they actually got together. Nothing much had changed though, other than the kissing and sex. And as much as she was a great fighter, she was still his little sunflower. She stuck with him through everything. She was there when he became a True alpha, she was there when he, Stiles and Allison had to get rid of their darkness, she was there when Stiles was possessed and she was there, in his room, holding him as he cried in her arms hours after Allison died in his. Y/N didn't cry that night. She just wasn't the type to. Intead she was unusually quiet. "I should give you some space," she said as she got up to leave. "No. Stay. Please," he whispered.

I've got your face

Hung up high in the gallery

Out of this shade (sunflower, sunflower)

There was one instant where Y/N was jealous. Kira. Scott was jusy far too friendly with her and it made Y/N feel insecure. Maybe he liked Kira more than her. She came up with several reasons why: her hair, her skin, her body, her face. Kira was just better than her and it tore her apart. She wasn't mean to Kira about it though. How could anyone be? She's a whole ray of sunshine. Another reason for Scott to like her more. She started cancelling dates and plans because of it. She never cried about it though. She never told Scott she had anxiety because she didn't wanna seem like she was burdening or anything. At some point she stopped answering his calls and texts, and avoiding him all together. Not because she didn't love him anymore. But because she was afraid he didn't love her anymore. Oh how wrong she was. One afternoon as she was getting into her car, she felt someone gently grab her wrist and turn her around. "Y/N talk to me. You haven't been responding to my texts or calls. Are you okay? Have I done something wrong? If I have, how do I fix it?" he rambled. "You...I...I dont know," she whispered. "I'm sorry," he said, tears welling up in his eyes. "No! Its not your fault. I just got a little insecure," she reassured him. "Of Kira," she added quietly. He didn't say anything for 5 seconds before pulling her into a soft, loving kiss. "I love you." And he did. Hell so did she. She loved him more than sunflowers.

Your flowers just died

Plant new seeds in the mellody

Let me inside

I wanna get to know you

I don't wanna make you feel bad but I've been trying hard not to act a fool

My sunflower (sunflower, sunflower)

Y/N had only ever cried once in her life since she turned 5. "Scott! Scott no! NO! Mason who did this!" she screamed as she ran towards the stairs. She had an entire emotional breakdown at the sight of the lifeless corpse of the love of her life as Melissa tried her best to revive him. She would've helped if she had the strength but she didn't. Just the thought of living without Scott shattered her. Mason tried to comfort her but it was just all too much for her. The emotion was far too overwhelming and had come down on her harder than a tsunami on a single sunflower.

I couldn't want you anymore

Kiss in the kitchen like its a dancefloor

I couldn't want you more tonight (tonight, tonight)

I couldn't want you anymore

Kids in the kitchen, listen to dancehall

I couldn't want you anymore tonight

As if the heavens had heard her cries, Scott roared. His alpha eyes went back to brown immediately when he caught the sight of Y/N crying in Mason's arms. "Y/N," he said as he reached out to touch her. "I'm not ready to lose you," she said softly. He wiped her tears and kissed her forehead. She cleaned his wounds and stayed with him until they healed. She was a little bitter towards the rest of the pack except for Mason, Lydia and Kira because they didnt abandon him. The latter were victims of circumstance. Stiles and Liam on the other hand, she couldn't stand them. She never spoke to them until the end of the Theo Raeken/Lu Bête saga. And even then, it wasn't like she was extra friendly. She spoke to them because she had to. Scott wasn't mad at them though, he was okay as long as his sunflower was okay.

Sunflower

My eyes

Want you more than a melody

Let me inside

Wish I could get to know you

The rest of senior year came and went with thw Ghost rider saga. She was actually pretty glad to have Stiles back. Then came college. Y/N was supposed to leave for New York when strange animal occurrences got in the way. "How the hell is any of this more important than my college education?" she groaned as Scott, Malia and Lydia tried to talk her out of leaving. "It could mean that everyone's in danger," Lydia sighed. "Liam and his friends can handle it. Babe you're supposed to be headed for UC Davis. Malia, France! Lydia, MIT awaits you and I gotta go to Julliard," she yelled. "Come on. Please, its just a week," Scott said as his hands made their way to her waist. "Fine." A week turned a gruesome month, battling with something that uses your fears against you called the Anuk-ite. A week turned into a gruesome month of war with Tamora Monroe and her merry band of "hunters", aided by Gerard Argent. A whole month of death. But just like every battle they fought, they emerged victorious. She had just kissed Scott to help heal his eyes when she collapsed to her knees. Blood began pouring from her mouth as Scott rushed to her side. He began searching for the wound like a madman, hoping he could heal it. "Scott, baby. Its okay," she whispered. "No, no no," he mumbled after finding the bullet wound in her side. She had been shot with yellow wolfsbane and it was too late. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" he asked barely over a whisper. "We were too busy fighting to keep everyone else safe," she said with a proud smile. He cradled her body and sobbed. "Hey. You know sunflowers die right?" she chuckled softly. That's when Scott realized something. She was wearing the exact same outfit she wore when they met. Only this time her hair was tied into one ponytail. The sunflowers were replaced with sunflower clips. "I love you. I always have and I-I always will," she whispered feeling herself getting weaker. "I love you too. More than anything in the world," Scott sobbed. "Promise me you'll go on and be happy. Get married, have kids or not. Just be happy," she said with a smile. Everyone else was a crying mess. He listened as her heartbeat got slower and more silent. Her last petal fell and she went limp in Scott's arms. He begged her to come back between chokef cries, but deep down he knew that she was gone. For good.

Sunflower just died

Keep it sweet in your memory

I'm still tongue-tied

Sunflower, sunflower

Sunflower, sunflower

Sunflower, sunflower

"And that was Sunflower vol.6 by Harry Styles from his latest album Fine Line. Great song, makes me wanna grab my girlfriend and dance," the radio presenter said. Scott turned the radio in Argent's car down as they got closer to the pack. The song started playing after he told Alec his and his pack's story and he couldn't help but let his mind wander. He knew how much Y/N would've adored the song if she were still alive. Two years without her and he still felt like a part of him was missing, but he didn't let it stop him from fighting the war. Her last wish was for him to be happy and he couldn't help but think about how the end of the war would not only make him the happiest man alive. But it would also make her smile proudly at him from her sunflower garden in heaven. That would send him over the moon. God, how he missed her. They pulled over in the parking lot where the pack agreed to meet up, and Scott couldn't help but smile at his pack. They supported him through thick and thin and stuck together because they knew how you got when they didn't. "What are you thinking about?" Alec asked. "How the death of a sunflower can come with the growth of an entire garden," Scott replied as he made his way to the pack with a proud grin.