#actually the dollar symbol is just an s but someone told me it was the other way around but yk just pretend it’s a question mark

[kuijoon]

2025 is year of the snake

[teenwolffan-with-nolife]

The Witch and The Wolf Pt.49

Word Count: 2, 932

Characters: Derek Hale (brief), Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Lydia Martin, Kira Yukimura, Malia Tate, Araya, OC Characters, Kate Argent (mentioned), Reader

Pairings: Eventual Derek Hale x Witch!Reader

Warnings: angst, TW: slight mentions of losing weight, small fluff, cliffhanger

A/N: --- 

Masterlist    Series Masterlist

You walked into the loft once again, throwing all your things onto the couch, before grabbing your first-aid kit and heading to the bathroom. After spending the last few days staking out yet another Calavera hideout in the states, it was clear to you that Derek wasn’t at any of them. You only had a few more Calavera bases left to check out to find Derek. 

You poured rubbing alcohol over your wound, while you dug your nails into your palm before letting out a soft exhale. It had been almost one month since Derek went missing.

You hadn't seen Scott or Stiles, or any member of the pack within the last month, not wanting to worry them. You could do this on your own. They would end up figuring it out sooner or later. You told Sheriff Stilinski, who put out an APB on Derek to try and help find him.

You bit your lip gently, trying to hold in your inner feelings and emotions. It was no surprise that you were a wreck since Derek went missing, and you were gonna do everything you could to find him.

---

“No means no, Stiles,” you grabbed your duffel bag, loading it up once again.

“We’re trying to help you-” he started.

“I don’t need help, Stiles. All I need is for you to leave me the hell alone,” you sounded rude than you meant to come off, but you didn't care enough. You were exhausted.

Derek had been gone for two months now, and you've been doing everything you can to try and find him.

“Just, stop, (Y/N)! Stop denying our help! You need us!” he yelled.

“Stiles, I swear to god, you are the most annoying person I know. Is it that hard for you to comprehend what I mean when I say I don't need you?!” you yelled at him, taking him by surprise.

“I’m trying to help you. Do you really think none of us realize how much you've changed?” Stiles’ voice softened as you leaned on the table.

“Stiles…”

“We know for a fact that you’re not getting any sleep. You’re so tired, you look sick, like y-you’re dying. You’re not… when was the last time you ate something, (Y/N)? When was the last time you took care of yourself? Had something in your body that wasn't coffee? I am begging you, as a friend, as one of your closest friends, let us help you and please, take care of yourself,” you could feel your tears welling up in your eyes before you wiped them away.

“I need to find him, I-I…” 

“I know, you love him. But you can't do that if you’re dead.”

You let out a shaky exhale before rubbing your face, nodding softly.

“What do you want to do?” you asked softly.

“Just take us with you. We have a break in three days. You finished checking all the Calavera hideouts and places in America, so we need to go to Mexico,” he asked.

You nodded softly. He wrapped his arms around you for a moment, while you shut your eyes tightly, taking deep breaths.

“Thank you, Stiles,” you whispered.

He gave you a small smile, before leaving the loft.

---

“Oh, this is by far one of the worst ideas you’ve ever had, Stiles,” you walked alongside him, as the two of you made your way to the closed door, with guards standing in front of them.

“It’s not that bad,” he replied.

“I agree with (Y/N). It’s dumb and we’re going to die,” Lydia said.

“Well, I’d like to save all ‘death talk’ to all banshee predictions,” Stiles replied.

“I still can't believe I let you guys come with me,” you muttered, before standing in front of the guards.

They scanned the three of you before blocking the doors.

“Estamos aquí para la fiesta?” you asked. (We’re here for the party)

The guards shook their heads once more, remaining silent.

Stiles held up a car, with a skull symbol on it. They both nodded their heads, moving aside to let the three of you in.

---

After entering, the three of you stuck together. You noticed Severo pulling out a walkie-talkie, most likely alerting Araya of your presence.

You took a deep step, walking forward into the crowd of dancing teens, before making your way to the bar. One step closer to finding Derek.

You felt a pair of hands on your shoulders as you clenched your jaw.

“How about a drink, (Y/N)?” you heard Severo’s voice as you let out a small breath.

“Consider it a thank you gift for dumping me in the woods instead of killing me,” the bartender put a shot of vodka in front of you.

“I didn't come here to drink. Now, where’s Araya?” you took out a bullet from your purse, with the Calavera logo on it, before dropping it into the shot cup.

“Come with me,” you three followed him to a back room, sitting down on a table, a few seconds before Araya entered.

“(Y/N), it’s good to see you again,” Araya walked in front of the three of you.

“We want Derek back,” you said.

You put 50 thousand dollars onto the table, stacking them up.

“For Derek,” you crossed your arms, sitting back in the chair.

“It wasn’t smart for you three to come alone,” Araya smirked.

“Wait a minute,” Stiles interrupted.

“Who said we came alone?” 

---

“I don’t think you’re aware of the poor timing! You’re familiar with the dark moon, aren't you, (Y/N)?” she walked around you three slowly, keeping you uncomfortable and on edge.

“The part of the lunar phase where the moon is least visible on the sky,” you answered.

“But do you know what it means?” she asked.

“Some people say it's a time of reflection, or grief,” Lydia replied.

“Grief and loss, Mija. I wonder why, after suffering so much pain and loss, why do you risk it again for someone like Derek Hale?” she asked.

“Maybe we’re done with losing,” you rested your head on your hand, leaning your elbow on the armrest.

You heard Severo’s walkie-talkie going off, saying all the exits and entrances were clear, except for one.

“North? Are you clear?” Severo asked again.

“(Y/N), you guys can take 10 off the table,” Stiles pulled 10,000 off the table, before crossing his arms.

“I’m not playing games, Araya. Give him to us, now,” you could see Stiles staring at you uncomfortably, while your eyes glew purple.

“You can’t do anything to hurt us, Mija. I believe you’re familiar with a special herb, Hawthorn,” you dug your nails into your palm, feeling a sharp pain in your arm.

You saw a needle sticking out of it, while you quickly pulled it out.

“What the hell was that?!” you yelled.

She aimed a gun at your leg, before shooting while you yelled out.

“(Y/N)!” Lydia yelled.

“Run! Both of you!” you fell to the ground, trying to push yourself up as you whimpered softly.

---

You slammed your fist against the door, yelling out in anger.

You could feel the rest of the pack giving you a look of concern, while you sat on the floor, with a ripped part of your shirt tied against your leg. You refused to let anyone heal you.

“Maybe we should…” Stiles started.

“Shut up, Stiles,” you spat.

“I was just trying to…” he started.

“Patentibus,” your eyes glew purple as you punched the door as hard as you could, only hurting yourself as it remained shut.

“As soon as we get out of here, you guys are going straight back to Beacon Hills,” you said.

“We’re not leaving you-”

“You kinda don’t have a choice,” you turned to face them.

“We should make a run for it,” Malia suggested.

“Well, we can’t leave Lydia,” Stiles said.

“Yeah, we can. We can leave (Y/N) too,” you looked slightly offended, raising an eyebrow.

“If you were still a coyote, is that what you’d do?” Kira asked her.

“(Y/N)'s injured. So yes, I would leave her. Lydia's probably gone by now too,” Malia replied.

Yeah, I can see the resemblance to Peter now

You heard the door open, as Severo pointed a gun at you.

“Come with us. You and the alpha,” he said, grabbing your arm before pulling you up harshly.

Scott obeyed, while he followed you out.

---

The restraints pulled at your wrists while you sat on the chair, your back to Scott’s.

“What are they gonna do to us?” Scott asked you.

“I don’t know yet. Just give me a minute to figure out how to get out of this,” you sighed, leaning your head back slightly.

“Can’t you use your magic?” Scott whispered.

“Don’t you think I already thought of that?”

“Well… can't you?” 

“No, Scott, I can't. The bullet she shot at me was covered with Hawthorn ash, not enough to kill me but definitely enough to the point I can’t use magic. Can’t you use your alpha powers?” you asked.

“These handcuffs are metal,” he replied.

“This isn't how I like to be tied up,” you muttered softly.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you heard the door open, while Araya’s men pooled into the room, while Severo had his hand on Kira’s arm.

Lydia was bought in, sitting at the chair next to you and Scott.

“What the hell are you doing, Araya?” you raised your voice, in panic as you frowned.

“Just a small test, Mija. We’re asking you a few questions. You answer you’re safe, you don't, you get electrocuted,” she shrugged.

“I thought I could put it past you to hurt children, clearly not!” you yelled.

“Turn the dial up to one, Kira,” Araya turned to her.

“W-What? No,” Kira panicked, taking a step back before Severo held her hand against the dial.

“If you don’t, then we’ll electrocute Lydia,” Severo spat.

You knew Lydia wouldn't recover as fast as you and Scott.

“Don’t hurt Lydia,” you shook your head, looking at Kira.

Tears welled up in her eyes before she looked at Scott.

“I-It’s okay. Just do us,” Scott nodded his head softly.

You felt the electric current coursing through your skin as you clenched your teeth together, trying to save Araya from the satisfaction of hurting you. You could hear Scott yelling out in pain.

This was gonna be fun.

---

“Tell me! Who actually has Derek?! Who has a reason?! A vendetta against the Hales?!” Araya yelled.

“We don’t know!” you yelled out.

“You haven't figured it out yet! Who! Think, (Y/N), Scott! You know!” she yelled.

“Tres,” Kira turned up the dial, while you yelled out, feeling your sight go dizzy.

“Who turned?! A shapeshifter! Someone who could have turned without you knowing! By a scratch! Not a bite!” she yelled.

She put her hand on the dial, about to raise it again as you shut your eyes tightly.

The only people who were scratched were you and Kate. Jackson was a werewolf now, he didn't matter. 

You let out a small gasp of realization. But it couldn't be Kate. She was dead, and had been for a while. Unless she healed.

She was scratched, (Y/N)

“Who is it?!” she yelled, turning the dial all the way up.

“Kate!” you yelled out, before you fell unconscious, leaning against Scott.

“(Y/N)!” 

---

“Oh my god,” Scott helped you up, as you groaned, opening your eyes.

“Holy crap. A-Are you okay?” you asked him.

“I’m fine, I’m basically healed. You?” he asked.

“I feel like shit. But it doesn't matter, we know who has Derek now,” you limped, while Scott has his arm on your shoulder, walking out with you.

“She’s just letting us go?” you asked skeptically.

“Yes, I am,” she walked to the two of you. 

“I sent four men to where Kate was rumored to be. None of them returned,” Araya explained.

“I have to… what’s your game? First, you torture us for some she-wolf, and then for Kate Argent. Now you’re just letting us go. Why?” you asked.

“Peter is the only one who knows who and where La Loba is, Mija. I want Kate dead as much as you do, and I knew you wouldn't believe me,” she explained.

You scoffed slightly, before grunting.

“I have a guide who will lead you and your friends to the place where Kate is,” Araya said.

The two of you walked away from her, heading to Stiles and the rest of the pack.

“Oh, look, we have matching scars,” you smirked slightly.

“Not funny,” Scott scoffed, hiding his smile.

Stiles wrapped his arms around you two.

“Did you wish you came alone now?” Stiles teased.

“Shut up, Stilinski,” you rolled your eyes.

“I see being tortured put you in a better mood,” Stiles said.

“Let’s just get Derek, okay?” 

“Do you even know what you're gonna say to him?” Scott asked.

“What do you mean?” you frowned.

“Your big ‘I love you and I can’t breathe without you’ confession,” Stiles asked.

“I’ll punch you in the throat, right now,” you started.

“He’s joking. We’re closer to finding Derek and that's what matters,” your smile faded slightly, while worry took its place.

Kate was alive, and she had Derek. What was she doing to him?

You heard a motorcycle engine rev, before seeing a woman in leather taking off her helmet. Your jaw dropped in amazement, recognizing her.

“Nice to see you again, Braeden,” you said, walking over to her.

“(Y/N), you’re riding with me. We’re going to La Iglesia,” after the first time Araya captured you, Derek, and Peter, you were sure to always keep in touch with Braeden, keeping her especially close the past two months.

“Did you also know that Kate had Derek? And where they were?” she threw you a helmet as you walked to her.

“I got a job from Araya yesterday to take you. If I knew anything I would've told you,” she replied.

You nodded your head, getting on her motorcycle.

“Let’s go then.”

---

“Look at the sun, we don't have time for this,” Braeden pointed out.

Stiles’ jeep had decided to break down in the desert, on your way to La Iglesia. The sun was going down, and it was never safe to be out in the desert at night. 

You paced around slightly, becoming more and more worried as you bit your nails.

“What are we supposed to do?” Scott asked.

“M-Maybe we should just split up,” you said.

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked.

“Me and Braeden can go to La Iglesia and get Derek. The rest of you can stay here and try to fix the jeep,” you said.

“Are you crazy? No,” Stiles shook his head.

“Stiles, we are way too close t-to just give up,” you hadn't noticed your eyes water slightly.

“We’re not giving up,” Scott agreed.

“(Y/N), you’ve basically been suicidal these past few months! W-What if Kate does something to you? What if you don't come back?” Stiles’ voice lowered slightly.

“We’ll be fine, Stiles. I’m not stopping now,” you shook your head.

“Look, how about me, (Y/N), and Braeden go? Stiles, just stay here and fix the jeep, okay?” Scott said.

After a moment of argument between Stiles and Scott, then Scott and Kira, the three of you made your way to Braeden’s motorcycle.

“This is probably going to be one of the most uncomfortable rides of your life. Ready?” she asked.

The two of you nodded your head, holding onto each other.

---

After entering the church, you held a flashlight in your hands, trying to look around carefully as you made your step further in. You stayed alert, on the lookout for Kate or anyone else that would be there.

You felt a weird sense rush over you, as you frowned slightly.

“What is it?” Braeden asked.

“I don’t know. I-I… It feels like Derek, but it's not,” you said.

You heard footsteps behind you three, as you tensed.

“Run.” 

You ran farther down into the church, following Braeden and Scott while you heard something growl behind you.

Braeden pushed you and Scott behind her, holding her shotgun as she fired at the creature. You could hear it growling, only getting madder.

“Ruina,” your eyes flashed purple, as the walls around you three collapsed onto the floor, blocking you off from the creature.

You turned around, seeing some sort of crypt with a logo on it.

“The Nagual jaguar god. I think we found Derek,” Braeden looked up at you.

You let out a shaky breath, before running your fingers through your hair. Tears began forming in your eyes as you placed your hand onto the crypt. You felt dead, scared of what you would see, whether or not Derek was there, whether or not he was okay.

“Intermissum,” you pushed on the crypt, while it broke open.

“Oh my god,” your eyes widened.

“That's not Derek,” Scott frowned.

“N-No… that's him,” you were in shock still, seeing Derek’s unconscious form laying inside. 

Except he was 15 again.

“Derek?” you called out his name, getting no response.

You pulled him out of the crypt, while you and Braeden kept him standing up. His feet dragged in the ground, while you continued to look at him, shocked.

“He’s 15,” you said to Scott.

“What? How?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you shook your head.

“But I have a feeling we’ll be seeing Kate Argent again sooner than we want to.”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #344

“my whole existence is flawed”

Have you ever thought about becoming a crime scene investigator? No. Do you think you could win on Jeopardy? Not at all. What do you normally call your mother? (mommy, mom, mother, mum, etc.) Usually "Mom" or "Ma," sometimes "Mama." Does your significant other complain about the way you dress? I'm single, but I would never tolerate an s/o who complained about/told me how to dress. Like bye, fuck you. Have you ever been in an abusive relationship? Are you right now? No, thankfully. What would you do if a stranger smacked your ass and whistled? They're getting fucking punched. In the face. Do you know anyone who has died from cancer? Multiple people. Ever have to call the cops on someone? Not me personally, but my sister did while I was in the car with her due to a clearly drunk as fuck driver. Are you comfortable enough around your friends to change in front of them? Hell no, I avoid changing even in front of my mother. Have you ever dated someone in secret? Dated, no. But Joel and I were a secret. What’s something you really want right now, be honest? What I really want right now is a job. What are you listening to right now? A slowed-down with reverb version of "Closer" by In This Moment. It's p hot. Do you still have your tonsils? Yes. What confuses you most? Why terrible things can happen to the most undeserving of people. Have you ever been called a bad influence? Yes. Not like she was a good one whatsoever. What's the weirdest compliment you've ever received? I don't know, really. Have you ever thought you could 'save' someone? No. It's funny, apparently Jason thought I could "save" him, and would'ja look at that, he scarred me for life. Do you prefer weed or cigs? I've never smoked either, but at least weed has benefits, so. What do your parents say about smoking? Well, my dad smokes like a chimney, but he does tell my sisters and me to absolutely never start it. Mom is very firm about us not smoking. She'd probably be heartbroken if any of us started. Do like kissing with tongue or without? I mean, that depends on the mood as well as how serious we are. What show is hilarious to you? That '70s Show absolutely cracks me up. Who last made you upset? My Dad and stepmom, ranting about how the Covid vaccine is being forced on us and is dangerous. I'm very much for it and am getting it myself soon, so I was just like... shut the fuck up. I just kept my lips zipped, but by god did I want to say something. Does he/she usually upset you? I sometimes regret having my stepmom on Facebook because of her shitty political views, but she in general doesn't upset me. I love her, really. Dad doesn't upset me, really. What would your parents do if you got a tattoo? They don't care, especially knowing how much I love them. What is your favorite musical? None. Do you have any interest in visiting Japan? Yeah, though I don't think it's something I'd go out of my way to do. If I had the opportunity though, I'd surely go. I would love to take photos there, and it's this odd desire of mine to visit Aokigahara Forest and just walk along the "safe" paths and just... feel it. I don't want to find any bodies because I think that would shatter me, I just want to allow myself to like, drown in empathy for all those that left their lives in those trees. I feel like I'd cry a LOT, because I'd prefer to do it alone and just talk to whoever may be able to hear from wherever they are now, and just let them know they're not forgotten or abandoned and that they were never alone. This is honestly getting me really emotional so I'm moving onto the next question. But in summary, I feel like it could honestly be a life-changing experience. What is your favorite Japanese name? I like A LOT of Japanese names I've heard, but they're all evading me now. Do you ever listen to Jpop? No. Who do you go to for advice? Mom or Sara. Have you ever ran a cash register? Yeah, when I worked at the dollar store. Have you ever worked as a server? No. Did you collect Bratz dolls when you were younger? I didn't collect them, no, but I shared a few with my sister. Do you think your mom is attractive? I think my mom's beautiful. Her smile especially puts gold to shame. She actually kinda broke down the other day because she thought she was ugly, and it just broke my damn heart. Do you like the feeling in your stomach on a big drop on a roller coaster? I've never been on a roller coaster and don't plan to try one, but I reeeaaally don't like that feeling in any situation. What is your most severe allergy? Pollen. How and when were you baptized, if applicable? I was baptized as a baby the traditional Catholic way. Would you rather paint or carve a pumpkin? I think carving is more fun. Have you ever walked through a haunted house? One that was part of a Halloween attraction, yeah. What computer game did you used to play all the time? I played lots as a kid, but my favorite had to be I Spy: Spooky Mansion. My lil sis and I were obsessed. How do you feel about Motorhead? I don't love them, but I do enjoy some of their songs. I never thought Lemmy was that great of a vocalist, but I respect him as an artist and hope he rests in peace. What’s the weirdest way you’ve ever pulled a muscle? *shrugs* What’s your favorite symbol? (i.e. the pentagram, the cross, etc.) If we're talking only real-world symbols and not ones that only exist in fantasy media, I actually think the Satanic (no, not inverted) cross is a cool design. It has nothing to do with my stance on Satanism, I just think it's an appealing look. What methods are most effective for you when you’re trying to relax? If I REALLY need relaxation, just leave me alone and let my put on earplugs and just like, disappear from the real world for a bit. Would you rather date your opposite, your ‘twin’, or someone in between? Someone in-between, I think. More similar to me though would be preferred versus someone that's my opposite. How many videos do you have favorited on your YouTube account? I think I'm actually at the max? I think they just get replaced with newer ones by now. Do you know anyone who has carpal tunnel syndrome? Me, actually. My older sister does, too, and actually had surgery for it. Which do you prefer: M&M’s, Skittles, or Reese’s Pieces? Reese's Pieces, but I love all three. If you could be the sidekick of a superhero which superhero would you pick? If I was Spiderman's sidekick, could I throw webs and zing around like a monkey too? ;_; I think being Batman's sidekick would be pretty cool too, seeing as to my knowledge he's more about stealth, which would be fun to go along with. Do you think that you could ever win a food eating contest? No fucking way. They gross me the hell out. What is your favorite thing about the country you live in? How much freedom we have here. Although, it can definitely be abused, and some people do abuse it... Have you ever snuck somebody into your house? No. Have you ever snuck into somebody else’s house? No. Honestly, have you ever thrown garbage out of the window of a car? No, and you fucking repulse me if you do. It is not that challenging to hold onto your shit until you get out of the car and find a trashcan. Honestly, have you ever stuck gum under a table or desk? No, that shit is disgusting. Just get your lazy ass up and spit it out. Which would you find more menacing: dinosaurs or dragons? Well, considering dragons can, you know, breathe fire... Can you name three different kinds of dinosaurs? Spinosaurus, allosaurus, stegosaurus. What’s the name of the last person you kissed? Sara. Is your heart broken at the moment? Nah. Who’s the last guy you argued with? I don't know. I avoid arguing with guys to the absolute best of my ability because I'm terrified of making them mad. What about the last girl? My mom. Would you marry the last person you kissed? Not at this current time, but later down the road of us both building ourselves up, I possibly would. Who’s the last person that asked you out? Girt. Out of all of your exes, who treated you the best? Sara. Who is the person you have hurt the most? My damn self. Who is the person that has hurt you the most? Jason. Do you hate the person you fell hardest for? It feels like it sometimes, but when it really comes down to it, no, I don't. Who was the last baby you held? My niece Emerson. Who’s the last guy to give you roses? Tyler. Did your parents do drugs when they were younger? My dad did quite a lot before us kids were born, apparently. I can guess pretty damn easily that Mom made him cut that shit out before having my sisters and me. Mom, to my knowledge, has never tried anything at all. Do you still talk to the person you lost your virginity to? No. Did you cry at your high school graduation? I remember I teared up slightly. What was the last non-papery substance you drew on? I have no idea. Do you ever name objects? (i.e. mp3 players, guitars, cars, etc.) No. What do you beat yourself up about the most? I'm 25 fucking years old and have never had a stable job or just felt "adult" in general. Which has hurt you more: friendship break-ups or bf/gf break-ups? The breakup with Jason, who was my boyfriend, so. What’s the most terrifying thing you’ve ever done? Gone to a mental hospital. The first time was so, so scary. What’s the highest fever you’ve ever had? I don't know. Have you ever been to the ER? Many times. Have you ever been mistreated by a cop? No. Have you ever experimented with any sort of witchcraft? No. Which animals are you afraid of? Some bugs and spiders, and whale sharks are a phobia of mine. I also find giant squid to be terrifying, but also very intriguing. Oh yeah, then there's my extreme aversion to maggots and similar larvae. Did you pray to God when you were a child? Usually. Mom raised us to, but some nights I slacked with it and just wanted to sleep. What is your favorite flavor of frosting? Maaan, don't make me choose. What color is your skin naturally? Very pale. Do you own a pocketknife, or any other kind of multi-tool? No. What was the last thing you took a video of? I have no idea. I have no recordings on my phone, so. Have you ever been somewhere where you didn’t fluently speak the local language? No. Have you ever had famous neighbors? No. Do you have any medication that you keep with you at all times? Yeah, one of my anxiety meds. What are some things a house would need to have for you to purchase it? Besides the very obvious, mine has to have a dishwasher. I. HATE. Washing dishes by hand. Do you own a pet spider? No, but I DESPERATELY want some tarantulas. :( I've tried convincing her, but Mom's very adamant about the fact I will NOT own one so long as I live with her. I also love jumping spiders and attempted to convince her about one of those versus a tarantula, but still, answer's a firm no, haha. Do you call your animals “baby names”? Well duh. Have you ever been stood up? No. Do you own a fishtank? No. Do you like the song “Barbie Girl”? God no. I'll sing it jokingly, though, because y'know, childhood and all. Do you own a feather boa? No. We did at one point, though. A hot pink one. Are you allergic to peanuts? No. Do you wear ribbons in your hair? No, my hair's too short for that. I never did, though. Do you use cheat codes on video games? I generally only use codes that you can actually earn in the game for like, new outfits or weapons in subsequent playthroughs. I won't use the kinds of codes that make you invulnerable and stuff, but rather just fun little cosmetics and such. Have you ever gone mudding on a fourwheeler? Ugh, no. I don't like getting dirty, so that is NOT my kind of fun. What is your favorite flavor Jolly Rancher? Watermelon. Have you ever played Dance Dance Revolution? Of course! We had the dance mat as kids and loved to play the games. What is the last thing you dropped? I don't really remember. Have you ever done the “Cupid Shuffle?” Yeah, at school dances and such. Do you know how to do the Soulja Boy dance? Haha omg, I did as a kid. My friend, sister, and I all learned it. How long has it been since you’ve eaten a Reese’s? My mom actually got me a Reese's egg for Easter, so not long ago at all.

[darklingichor]

Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell

Buckle in kids, this one has my analytical muscles flexing!

I always said that I absorbed some of this epic through osmosis. GWTW is my mom's favorite book and one of her favorite movies. I remember wandering in and out of the living room at least once a year while she watched it. I would listen with half an ear as I played in the other room. A movie so long as to have an intermission just couldn't keep my attention as a kid. Of course I knew the story, just like I knew the story of a lot of fairy tales that I'd never actually had read to me. I didn't actually sit down and watch the movie in it's entirety until I was in my 20's. I liked it. It was well made, the acting was great and the story for all it's wince worthy moments and the surface polishing of such an ugly period in american history, was compelling.

I've never been able to get through the actual book. The reasons are going to sound a little silly. When I was younger, I thought : Why read it? I know the story. Tara is a plantation pre civil war, Scarlett lives at Tara, she's spoiled, she marries out of spite, gets widowed, Atlanta burns, she and her family become poor after the war, "As God is my witness, I shall never be hungry again" she works hard, almost loses Tara, she marries for money, saves Tara, works hard, is widowed again, marries again, rocky relationship, a child passes, "Frankly my dear, I don't give damn", end credits. In between she pines over a guy she can't have, and manages to be all around an unpleasant person in general. Done and done.  I was probably too young to read it then anyway.

When I got older and realized that a book could be complex with horrible things in it. I thought I should read it. But, every copy of the book I seemed to find had tiny tiny print and no paragraph breaks (the later being a a typical writing characteristic in the past). Even with my glasses I have a hard time reading a book in that format. I skip lines, reread lines, I always end up,with a,pounding headache. No matter how good the story it's hard to get into when you can't physically read it. I had the same problem with Little Women. I eventually got through it but it was difficult.

Well, now there's audible. For once, I didn't have a book I was chomping at the bit to listen to and I thought: Why not? I listened to other books I couldn't get into for whatever reason. So, one credit and 48 hours (spread out over the last three weeks) later. I made it through.

Let me say, this novel is rich in language, as in it is well written and has much to analyze. But every time the n-word was said I flinched. Every time a black person was infatlized, or threatened, I felt angry, I was pissed off by the caricatures and happy slave narritive. Everything I have read about the author points to her evolving her views on black people after her novel, which is good. However, it doesn't make the characterization of black people any easier to read. There are racist things in the book, writing about a bunch of well to do people in the antebellum south, I'm not sure how an author could avoid it without Clorox-ing history, which honestly, she did enough of with her mythical view of the way enslaved people were treated and felt. It was a narrative I often heard in school, in the PNW, in the 90's.

The story went that depending on where someone fit into the hierarchy of slaves, some were well treated and loved. Because of this, when emancipation came, some slaves were afraid to be, or didn't want to be free. This of course served the purpose of making an awful period in US history seem softer than it was. "Sure it was bad, but it wasn't that bad."

As I studied more, this viewpoint was replaced with a "Nope, this was just bad, as in monumentally criminally bad."

I think Mitchell, when she wrote the book, thought she was being accurate, but considering she learned her history from veterens of The Confederacy, it is not surprising that she was wrong.

Because of the one dimensional way that black people were written, it's hard for me to really dig into the symbolism of their characters. I'm only marganially good at this, as you will soon see.

I will say this: I liked the book for many of the same reasons my mom gave me for loving it. For it's descriptions and it's style, for it's symbolism. I like it for it's depiction of a culture in flux, of the impact of war for those on the home front, of the all too human condition that one never sees one's self as the bad guy. I do not like it for the characters. Rhett is an asshole, Ashley has a lot in common with a wet towel, only less interesting. Melanie is okay but can at times, give one a toothache. Scarlett is a brat. The glorifying of a time when people owned other people is disturbing, full stop.

It was those parts that made me profoundly uncomfortable and I had to remind myself over and over that this was a novel about civil war Georgia and the rich people that inhabited it before, during, and directly after. This was how those people would think, talk and behave. It was wrong then, it's wrong now.

Now, I'm going to look at the symbolism in this book because I found it facinating.

Gone with the wind is far more complex than I thought when I was a kid or after I watched the movie. The collective consciousness holds Rhett Butler and Scarlett O'Hara's romance to be the heart of the story... But it's not. Scarlett herself is the heart of the story. Honestly, Rhett driffs in and out when Scarlett needs either a dose of levity, a hard dose of truth, or a leg up on a hard fight. He doesn't rescue her, he helps her get the tools, and shows her the path to rescue herself.

Scarlett is an odd character. She has so many good points and bad points that she is nearly neutral. She's self-centered, but will fiercely care for and look after those she considers family, or as she calls them "my own". She will, on the surface ( for as the book says, it was all surface with her) resent every step taken, dollar spent, or moment given but she will keep doing it. She's opportunistic and ruthless with it, but she doesn't do it for the hell of it, she does it when backed into a corner. She's inpatient with her children, but her actions show that she loves them. She wants to do right by the social customs she was raised with and that the South cling to even after the war, but she's far too practical to pay them any more than lip service unless they fit her purposes.

Katie Scarlett O'Hara *is* rural Georgia. The colors that are always used to describe the land and Tara are red, green, black and white. In Scarlett we have described, red lips, green eyes ("without a hint of hazel"), white skin and black hair. She often wears these colors as well. Scarlett grows and changes along with Georgia and in fact, the reader is treated to the change of Georgia in a way that makes it more important than the changes of the characters. There are long stretches of discription of Georgia, especially Clayton County where Tara is. Long passages of the feelings of Georgia's people, before, during and after the war. Scarlett's life story from age 16 to age 28 are placed in between, and I have to think that the composition of the book was deliberate (I've never read any literary analysis GWTW, this is just me rambling). 

Scarlett is told by her father, early in the book, that an Irishman's land is like his mother. Gerald O'Hara, an Irish immigrant, goes on to tell her that this kinship to the land is the same for anyone with a drop of Irish blood. In Scarlett, this goes further, for not only is the land her mother, she is,truly it's daughter.

Since she only swims in the shallow depths of her mind, she is unaware of her deeper waters. She does have them, she just pays no attention to what lives there. Weirdly, what lives there is what truly moves her. Early in the book the reader is told that although she didn't know it, she loved Tara, she was at peace there.

Nature is neutral,nature doesn't care about wars, politics or customs. At her core Scarlett doesn't care about these things either. Throughout the book the reader is told, that Scarlett doesn't care about anything that didn't directly affect her. This is true, and she is called out  fairly often by other characters for being self-centered. However, her selfishness has a different feel than say, Bella Swan, Veruca Salt, or various other literary brats.

Scarlett feels less like one only,out to further her own interests and more like one who is trying to maintain her niche in her environment. For a living thing to thrive, their environment must support them. When an environment changes, the living thing either adapts or dies. Scarlett adapted.

Unable to convince Ashley Wilkes to break his engagement to Melanie Hamilton, being more obvious about her feelings for him than she thought, facing shame and questions to her reputation that would devastate her social standing and also possibly damage her family, she took swift action. She married Charles Hamilton, Melanie's brother. Why? It would shut up those who thought her in love with Ashley, thus saving her reputation. Plus, she figured it would hurt those she saw,as a threat to her. Like a river wearing a path around a tree, she avoided the obstical and continued on.

So if Scarlett is Georgia what about our other big characters?

Rhett is change, and time, like Scarlett he's nearly morally neutral.

Ashley is the past, he's the southern gentleman that the culture out grew.

Melanie a sheltering force. She reads as sweet and proper, but is always supporting Scarlett, even when her choices do not line up with the social system.

So, let's look at each of these characters in relation to our green-eyed force of nature.

I’m going to start with Ashley. Scarlett is fixated on him from the beginning. One can make many arguments as to why. He’s the only man not falling all over himself to get her attention, he very much represents the white knight to her, having “fallen in love” with him when he rode up to Tara after being away from Twelve Oaks, the reason as old as time, because she can’t have him, and her father says he’s not a good match for her. All of these are true, but to look at it from the symbolism angle:

Scarlett is Georgia,. The land and the plantation culture, she’s comfortable in her world at the start of the book. She doesn’t care at all about the war. It’s something that’s happening around her, something she is dreadfully bored by. Ashley represents that comfort, being with him means keeping things the same, staying the girl who only has to worry herself with parties, and being a plantation wife. Life would be slow and easy.

Time goes on, when everything goes wrong and Tara falls into poverty, Scarlett adapts. This girl who only a few years before married a man to save face, had never expected to work, now has to bust her tail trying to keep everyone fed. She wants Ashley, still, because she desperately wants to go back to that past, to where things were simple, to where hunger was not an issue.

The problem is that, Scarlett views Ashley through a haze of sentimentality, and Ashley is, himself, the embodiment of rose tinted nostalgia. He is not like Scarlett, longing for that time, but functioning in reality. He cannot exist outside of it; he’s not wishing for a time when all he had to do was talk books and philosophy with Melanie, he is of that time and he can do nothing when its gone.

Ashley Wilkes is an embroidered cloth of the antebellum south. He's the neat picture that faces outward, the pleasent part that the one weilding the needle wanted people to see. What is hidden is the web of threads criss-crossing each other, the nests of string, the knots and the things those messy parts tell of. The pricked fingers, the broken threads, the bent needles, stitches that were undone, tangles. The work and the pain that went into making that pretty picture look effortless. In short, he's what Scarlett and others at the start of the book thought of their culture and society. The work of the slaves was just simply there, what mattered was the result. Scarlett, like the society at large, had to let that go, face what it was. Not a shining example to return to, but an impractical relic of the past.

Rhett on the other hand sort of drifts in and out of the awareness of the main characters, He is always sort of there. He sees the writing on the wall, knows that many of the social conventions are on their way out and nudges Scarlett in the direction she wants to go in anyway.

After Charles dies, and Scarlett is in mourning, tradition dictating that she wear black, Rhett buys her a green hat and tells her he will take it away if she has it dyed.

When Tara is about to be lost, and Rhett refuses to give her money, Scarlett, without shame and with ruthless practicality, steals and marries her sister Suellen's suitor.

Why? Because she knew that Suellen would not have used any of the money she might have come into to save Tara.

Scarlett then takes over her new husband's business. She has a talent for it, and does well. Rhett encourages this unconventional behavior by lending her money to buy a sawmill which she runs.

This loan is interesting because it has a condition. He loans her the money as long as it isn't used to help Ashley.

This could be seen as an opportunity that would only really work if not given over to the conventions of the past. This plays out some what when it turns out that Ashley really sucks at doing... Well anything useful, really.

When Rhett and Scarlett eventually marry, he is proud to have a smart wife.

Rhett, as change, sees that Scarlett can and should break free from the social expectations that hem her in, when she does, she tends to do well. They are prosperous. What gets her in trouble is her constent looking back, pineing for Ashley, for the past that never was what it seemed, and the lost future that never would have been what she thought. Case in point, Scarlett and Rhett have Bonnie, who Rhett adores, Scarlett seems contented in her marriage. Then what happens? Ashley tells Scarlett that he is jealous of Rhett. And Scarlett promptly demands that she and Rhett sleep in separate rooms.

Later, we continue to go all soap opera when Scarlett and Ashley share an embrace and Ashley's sister, India, spreads a rumour of an affair. Melanie kicks her out of her house, but Rhett has heard. Enticements of the past impeding the progress to the future.

Rhett is near his breaking point with Scarlett and her focus on Ashley. He forces himself on her. Change trying to force itself on the culture through a vile and violent act. That is not a way to move forward, however.

Scarlett becomes pregnant, argues with a fed up Rhett, and falls down the stairs, losing the baby. Scarlett doesn't want anything to do with Rhett after this happens, understandably.  A lot of change made in violence is resented and rejected. This leaves Rhett at a loss.

When Bonnie dies (it could be argued that she represents a new south, one that is not held back by convention, but is ultimately killed by the strong hold that those conventions had on the culture) Rhett is broken. And just when Scarlett is willing to embrace change, Rhett decides to leave, to find his own version of south that Ashley had been clinging to. This could be interpreted a couple of different ways. It could be seen as, that change  is brought about by time and acceptence, and that the lack of the latter means that the former will not be effective and pass you by. Or, and this is the interpretation that I prefer, the fact that time, in regards to culture, repeats. Every generation has experienced this. You spend your youth laughing at the way things were done “back in the day” maybe even proclaiming that when you’re older, you won’t talk about “Kids these days…” but then one day you find that everything that was familiar to you has become outdated and you don’t understand, and therefore don’t like what is happening now and you find yourself wishing for the time when you were so sure and you understood everything. Ashley represents a past after a major upheavel, Rhett, is simply the march of time that every now and again will turn around and walk backwards to see where he’s been. Now, one could argue that Rhett is going to end up like Ashley, afterall, he’s looking for his past again. But I feel that Rhett is retreating into the past because of the trauma he experience in losing Bonnie and giving up on Scarlett. It’s a respite, rather than a permanate state of mind, like it is with Ashley. Ashley’s mind was always in the more idealized place, no matter the circumstsnce. It was the war that rattled his viewpoint of the world. Rhett is grounded in reality, he just wants to go home. Ashley is a rerun of an old tv show, Rhett is a nostaligia inspired reboot.

And Melanie. Ahh, Melly, silk wrapped iron, she is.

If this book has one "good guy" it's Melanie. If Ashley is pulling Scarlett (Georgia) back and Rhett is marching her forward, Melanie is a sheltering force, and  Scarlett's counter point. Melanie has a streanth of her own and it is a perfect compainon to Scarlett's straightforward determination. While listening to this book, the phrase "speak softly and carry a big stick" kept coming to mind when it came to Melly. There are times that a soft spoken assurance, a politely worded insistence can be more powerful than anything else and Melanie shows that. The two prop each other up. When Scarlett kills the Yankee that invaded Tara, she helped bury the body. When Scarlett is demanding and short-tempered in regards to work being done around Tara during the lean times, Melly backs her up, but sweetens the tone. It takes a quiet fortitude to keep the peace in a way that still allows for getting things done and  Melanie enables Scarlett to do just that. She knows the ins and outs of society rules and can weave her way through them with more ease than Scarlett. As such, she recognizes when Scarlett has to bend or break those rules to ensure the family's survival and knows just the right way to phrase it to give her sister in law enough wiggle room to keep her on society's good graces.

She Dances with Rhett for the cause even while in mourning? Melly insists she's doing it out of memory of Charlie. She does more than sit and home and be a widow? Melly points out that Scarlett is young and should be allowed some leeway.

Ashley's sister spreads a roumor about Scarlett and Ashley while the former is married to Rhett? Melly banishes her from the house.

When Melanie dies, Scarlett realizes how much she has meant to her and I would argue that it is her sisterhood and partnership with Melanie that is central to the story, rather than Scarlett's relationship with Rhett.

Each of these main characters are either rejected or leave just as Scarlett's deeper motives and thoughts float to the surface where she pays attention to them.

Melly dies when Scarlett is finally ready to stand on her own, because the social rules are being phased out, she doesn't need Melanie's gentle protection any more. With the phasing out of those rules, Ashley  is outdated and unappealing and finally, Rhett and time move on, now that they have had their effect. And what is left standing is a changed Scarlett O'Hara in a changed world.

[archieimagines]

Tied Up | Doctor Strange One Shot

requested by: anon warnings: violence, swearing, some description of injuries but nothing major this is a soulmate!au with the whole colour shebang thing. monochrome vision to colour after meeting your soulmate kinda shit. enjoy <3

You threw up your hands, creating a barrier between yourself and the crumbling structure of what used to be a clocktower. The force of the falling rubble made you grit your teeth, but wasn’t anything too uncomfortable for you to handle. With a defiant shove, you pushed the barrier upward, following behind before flying to the man behind it all. He, like all things, was in shades of white and black. His costume was pretty plain, compared to some of the ‘interesting’ designs you’d come across. Not like you could talk, your suit was made of a bullet, fire and weather proof polymer, with a cape to aid in aerodynamics. Your best friend by day and tech/super hero stylist by night had designed it and may have illegally stolen the material from her lab at Stark Industries. Your mask covered the majority of your face, only your mouth was exposed. 

You had specified to her that the costume be black and white, as she (unlike you) had found her soulmate. Jenny was absolutely delightful and now the two of them could see the full range of colours that filled the lives of those lucky enough to find their other half. Meaning they were what stood between your costume looking ridiculous or badass. 

“You’ll never defeat the likes of CORRUPTION CLAW!” He declared from his perch on the nearby building, his nefarious tech surrounding him, most of it actually stolen from the man of Iron, but you couldn’t tell Corruption Claw that. “There’s no point in trying to stop me, I’ve already won!” He cackled.

With a roll of your eyes, you sent a strong blast of energy towards him. He ducked to safety, but his tech was obliterated to the point that it was laughable. 

You landed on the platform, lifting the man by his costume’s collar like a sack of potatoes, he tried to fight back, going as far as to spit in your face. You remained unfazed, while your best friend was screaming profanities at Corruption Claw down the comm line. Most of their words being about how the spitting was highly unhygienic. He tilted his head back, to do it again. But you slammed your forehead into his face, his nose making a satisfying crunch before he started wailing.

“AH FUCKING HELL! I think you broke my nose!”

“I’m sure the medical staff at the prison you’ll be sent to will be able to sort that out for you.” You reply, starting to drag him of the platform to deliver him to the proper authorities. But his sudden laughter that reminded you of the creepy children in every horror movie made you freeze. “What?”

“You didn’t think I had a contingency plan did you?”

“Wha—” But his contingency rammed it’s into your chest, sending you flying through the air. The head of the missile pushing you further and further away from Corruption Claw. Who by now was most likely making a dastardly escape. After the initial shock of being hit by a literal missile wore off, you composed yourself and attempted to change it’s direction. Using all your strength, the missile started to get higher into the atmosphere. But what you didn’t take into consideration was the possibility that it had a countdown to detonation.

The force of the detonation and shrapnel that speared itself into your body sent you hurling from the sky unconscious. Your body spun as it hurled towards the ground, but as your imminent impact with the ground raced towards your body, you regained just enough control to direct yourself through the roof of some manor and through the first two floors before stopping at what was most likely the ground floor. You were aware of the crater that your impact had made on the flooring, in the future you would cringe when thinking how much it would cost to fix it. 

Groaning, you managed to pull yourself up, but couldn’t manage to fly out of there. Your mask had been partially wrecked in the explosion, half of it now only remained, deciding that it was of no use now you pulled it off your face. Your ribcage felt as if someone had tried to use it as a xylophone. So you had to settle for uneasy staggering with a large side of pained grunts. You had managed to move about a foot away from your crater before you heard flaps from the upper levels. In your dazed confusion, it hadn’t occurred to you that someone might be home. You weren’t quite sure how you were going to explain to the owner why they now had a multi level skylight and designer superhero shaped hole in their floor. But then the realisation that it might have been Corruption Claw hit you and you spun around, mustering the most heroic face you could.

Only to be met with a floating cape. Confusion took hold of you once more, your defensive stance slackening in awe of the cape. You couldn’t explain it, but it seemed almost sentient. You tilted your head to the side, the collar of the cape copied the action simultaneously. It was incredibly unprofessional but you couldn’t help but giggle at it. Rather than seeing it as a threat it sort of reminded you of a puppy. You extended your arm to touch the fabric, but before your gloved fingers could make contact, you were thrown into the wall by a grey glow. And then a strangely clothed man, who was now cloaked by the sentient accessory floats down. Strange glowing symbols surrounded him, his stance was on the offensive, ready to attack her. He was rather attractive if she had to admit it to herself, she quite liked his goatee, but in that moment her attention wasn’t exactly focused on his facial grooming.

“Who are you and what business do you have here?” He demanded to know, his tone unflinchingly threatening. You raised an eyebrow, not that impressed with his whole aesthetic he had going on.

“Okay, Mr Glowy Lights. I just got thrown out of the sky by a literal missile so I’m not really interested in your whole thing you got going.” He too didn’t look impressed by your response, the symbols intensifying, his hands began twirling, the symbols beginning to morph with the movement of his hands. Groaning out of annoyance you prepared to fight back, not able to keep a pained gasp quiet in front of the wizard man guy. 

Then suddenly he was on top of you, the pair of you cursed at the sudden collision. It was then that you realised your movement was restricted by some unknown force. It had you in a deadlock against the owner of the manor, uncomfortably close you would specify. As you tried to break free you noticed that the man’s cloak was what had them wrapped together, but from the look on his face, he hadn’t planned on it to do this. It was almost funny, and you couldn’t help but have a ghost of a smile on your face.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, just that you don’t have control of your accessories…”

“The Cloak of Levitation is not an accessory.”

“Sure, buddy. If you know so much about it, why don’t you make it unwrap us?” His silence not only proved your statement, but was oh, so satisfying. The frown on the stranger’s face was almost adorably grumpy. 

“I knew it! Okay, why don’t you try to move your arm so I can—” You began to advise, but were interrupted by his forehead smacking into your own rather harshly. Swearing loudly, you couldn’t help but close your eyes due to the sudden pain. But were taken off guard by the guy’s strangled gasp. Opening them slightly, your own gasp escaped your lips.

There were so many, more than you thought was possible. You had always been told by your parents that colours had an almost infinite amount, but you had always thought they had just sat it to make you more determined to find your soulmate…The wizard. Looking up into his eyes, they were beautiful, you didn’t know what the colour was called, but it was possibly your favourite. His hair was dark, with the sides partially greying. You quickly studied all his features, wanting to know everything about him as an unbridled joy filled your being.

“Who are you?” You asked after realising you still didn’t know his name.

“Doctor Strange.”

“Your really going to give me your alter ego?”

“No—I’m—My last name is Strange and I’m a doctor.”

“Okay…” You chuckled, he too chuckled, it was something you would make sure to hear every day from that moment. You then realised that the cape hadn’t been holding you together anymore, but he and you hadn’t noticed while being lost in each other’s presence. “Looks like your ‘Cloak of Levitation’ is a really good wingman.”

“Why did you use air quotes?”

“Hmm?”

“You used air quotes when calling it the Cloak of Levitation.”

“Seems like a weird name for a cape. It looks more like a Bob to me.”

“You did not just name the Cloak of Levitation Bob!” You shrugged your shoulders, his face was twisted in a look of annoyance in bewilderment. Taking a step back, the world suddenly went sideways and the burrito you’d had for breakfast started to head back up your oesophagus. Before you hit the ground, his arms caught you, leaving you in a pose that felt like it was straight out of a 90’s rom-com. “I think you might have a concussion. I don’t think you should leave just yet.”

“Are you trying to keep me here, Doctor?” You flirted and batted your eyes at your soulmate, still quietly marvelling at all the colours that you now got to experience thanks to him.

“Stephen. And... partially. I still have to honour the Hippocratic oath, it’s just a coincidence that you happen to be my soulmate.” He explained nonchalantly yet had a smirk growing on his face. Your face gradually came closer to his, your eyes almost exclusively focused on his lips. Just as they were about to connect a familiar voice caused you and Stephen to part.

“Um, hello? Are you there? You’ve been radio silent for a while. And if your suit is ruined in any way I’M GOING TO REACH DOWN THE COMM AND CHOKE YOU OUT BECAUSE THAT MATERIAL IS WORTH ABOUT A ZILLION DOLLARS AND I DID NOT COMMIT A FELONY FOR YOU TO GET IT BLOWN UP!” You almost pulled the comm out of your ear, they were so loud at the other end. Their threat sent a chill up your spine, as you knew they would follow through if the suit had been ruined. But thankfully, the shrapnel, explosion and falling through two levels of flooring had only lead to some slight tearing.

“Uh, yeah I’m fine by the way and so’s the suit.”

“I SWEAR I’M GONNA MURDE—Cool, why the silence then?” You couldn’t help but glance at Stephan after the question, he smiled at you but he looked painfully awkward. Had probably overheard the entire thing. 

“Let’s just say I got a little tied up.” You replied, eyes connecting with Stephen’s, and couldn’t help but smile. You couldn’t wait to get to know more about him. And by the look on his face, he wanted the same thing too.

written by: el

[scottymcgeesterwrites]

Revolutions Today Need More Bite

I told myself I wouldn’t talk about this anymore, but it’s more imperative now than ever. A long time ago, in high school, I was upset at the world because I believed we needed to revolt more. Alas, the early ‘00′s were a different time, so my dreams never came to fruition. I played hooky one day and had an epiphany. That’s how all epiphanies happen - when you break from the routine and do something different. I thought about many things, and I could meander and make this post way longer than it needs to be, but one of the things that ended up being one of my core beliefs is that we are long overdue for a revolution. I was frustrated throughout my adolescence because I knew we had to do something. I grew up paying attention to my family and family friends talking over the dinner table about how horrible everything was going with the Iraq War, and how all these people in power did all these horrible things and got away with it. My first attempt at starting a revolution was with a Facebook group called “Freedom is Not Free”, implying that we thought we were free when we really weren’t. I’ll never forget one of the first comments someone posted. They said, “Do you really think you can change the world with a Facebook group?” I then tried creating a group called “Diversity Alliance”. My first two members were this girl and her friend. Her friend created the forum website (Forums, if you are too young to remember, were like Discord servers but as a website. Think of them that way) and you had to enter a password to get in. My idea was to create a network across the globe and divide it into different “departments”. Department of Social Justice. Department of Knowledge. Department of Unsolved Mysteries (one of my personal favorites - anything from recording UFO sightings to trying to hunt down missing people). Etc., etc. We would house free information and create a network of help across the globe. Of course, that never took off. The two girls had some drama they needed to sort out and next thing I knew, they became disinterested and stopped talking to each other, and to me, for the rest of their lives. I didn’t give up just yet. Before I entered college, I actively sought people on the list of my graduating class. I looked them up through social media and judged if they were candidates for my “Diversity Alliance.” I messaged them through Facebook before we even had orientation day, and laid out my plans as if I were interviewing them for a job. A lot did reply back, and it seemed like I was going somewhere. That didn’t take off either. What happened? College happened. What else do you think? People said, “Yeah! Of course!” and never responded again or dropped out of the school. People were too busy figuring out what they wanted to do with their lives, what they HAD to do in order to survive. I wanted to run away. I had plans to quit after sophomore year and start a revolution. But I too had my own issues to deal with. I thought that maybe trying to get people together wouldn’t work. Everyone was “too busy”. Instead, I turned to the “lone wolf” route. I created a persona named “Rapscallion” and printed out fliers with controversial messages about politicians and the world and established social structures in the bathrooms and wherever else I could without being seen. There’s a darker side to this story. I fell into a period of intense anger. Sometimes I just wanted to crush something with my bare hands. I hated them all - Bush, Clinton, Cheney, Dr. Oz, Dr. Phil. Nobody would listen to my messages. Nobody cared about the warning signs. I calmed down. I instead took a more passive role. I blended in with the crowd, made friends, and joined the party scene. Meanwhile, I gave people a nudge here and there in the right direction, slipped a few mysterious dollar bills to someone in need, bought a stranger a free meal. I once phished a rapist’s Facebook and warned all the girls he was messaging of his intention. That sort of thing. And then I let it go. I got a job. Sat a desk. Wrote on my free time. Developed another dream, an artistic one this time, that evolved into Space Hotel and Galactic Punch Bowl. And then Trump happened. And I thought to myself, “This is it. This was what I had always wanted us to prepare for, but we all slept at the wheel.” I don’t need to go into detail on what’s going on out there. You’ve all seen the news. And what can you do about it? The old man in me grumbles at social media - because it destroyed the concept of a revolution. Nowadays, a "revolution" is a Twitter battle online, which is more of a silly slap-fight than anything. A “revolution” is a hashtag that you put on your car window,  or a post that you like, share, or reblog, and then call it a day. A “revolution” is tossing a dollar to a GoFundMe.  Social media has neutered us and stopped us from storming the capitol or city hall. The last really headline-worthy “revolution” was OccupyWallStreet, which was a monumental failure in my view because it was driven by social media. They had this idea of not having a leader or even a shared goal, which really isn't a spark for a revolution. You have to have faces, you have to have your own set of rules and a Constitution, and you either have to fucking commit or stay at home and jerk off to porn on tumblr or your Twitter feed. OccupyWallStreet was all bark and no bite, just a bunch of loud noises. Nobody threw anything, nobody stormed any buildings, nobody bombed anything. Full of sound and fury. Signifying nothing. It’s funny how that person said, “Do you really think you can start a revolution with a Facebook group?”, because as the new millennium unfolded that was exactly how everyone thought they could change the world. I tried to jump on a new technology and apply revolution to it,  but revolution is an ancient ritual that absolutely needs physical action. We can all share and like the video. We can all say what we want to say and what we hope will happen. The real work lies in actually doing something about it. The Raid Area 51 meme was a symbol of our deepest desires for a real revolution. We all want to really storm Congress and the Senate. But we’re too afraid. So we shifted that dream to joking about raiding Area 51. It was still the government, so the target of our revolution was the same, but we knew it would be too ridiculous to really happen, so we reveled in the fantasy. Now’s not the time for any more fantasies.

[winchester90210]

The BH 90210 Rewrite. - Ch. 1: Baby’s First Pilot

What’s a rewrite? A rewrite is taking the show already written and inserting your new character/s and their storylines into it. It takes already known and loved (or hated) characters and gives you a chance to see how they react in situations they never would have faced otherwise. But in this case, I’m going further than the episodes that are there and adding my own, both to make the story flow more cohesively and because I enjoy writing it!

Chapter Summary: West Bev gains a new student, the Walshes gain a new friend.

Pairing: No one…yet.

Chapter Warnings: A few swear words, other than that nothing!

Word Count: roughly 1,500

Disclaimer: my work is not to be reposted in anyway without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging Is fine!)

Song: None this chapter! if there is, I’ll put it here with a link to the audio from youtube. If it goes with a specific part of the chapter, I’ll put a symbol to let you know when. 

A/N: Tags are under the cut! This is just a little intro chapter, once we move on from the reader’s pilot we’ll delve into the series starting with The Green Room! (1×02)

November 9th, 1990

“And if you go down to the Guidance Office, Brenda Walsh will be there to give you a tour.”

“Right. Okay. And the Guidance Office is…” You trail off, cocking your eyebrow at the principal.

“Down the hall, take the first left. It should be the first door on your right,” he continues, “Welcome to West Beverly High, Ms. Y/L/N.” You give him a smile and make your way down to the office. Down. Left. Right. Got it. As you walked down the hall you could swear every person looked straight from an issue of Vogue. Opening the door with a squeak, you see a girl with long, dark, brown hair and meticulously styled bangs. Hopefully, not everyone would look this perfect. Right? You became painfully aware of your own appearance, quickly messing with your hair and straightening your clothes. You spent an hour and a half getting ready this morning, and that’s after you picked your outfit. To say you were nervous about looking good enough was an understatement.

“Hey! You must be Y/N,” she smiles, standing from her chair.

“And you’re Brenda?”

“Yeah, that’s me. I’m here to show you around. The classes, the offices, the cutest guys,” Brenda began, a smirk on her face, “We can walk through your schedule first though. Later I’ll show you to the quad, that’s where me and my friends usually hang out.” You nod, a nervous glint in your eye. Brenda seems to pick up on the way you’re chewing your lip and fidgeting with your hands and adds “They’re totally cool, don’t worry. My brother Brandon can be incredibly annoying but other than that they’re great.”

“Oh, you have a brother? Older, younger?” You ask, following her as she starts to make her way through the halls to your classes. She introduces each room as she goes. You stay slightly behind her, being careful not to bump into anyone as you weave through. You could feel the intensity as soon as you stepped into the school, like you could make one false move and end up committing social suicide before you even got started. You saw the thousand dollar jackets, the shoes, the dresses, the way everyone carried themselves. It was like a false sense of arrogance, the good in them screaming, wanting to get out, rid themselves of the materialistic trap they found themselves in. Or maybe that was just you. You caught their stares, the way they eyed you up and down. They seemed to pick up on the fact you were new very quickly. How? Was it your hair? Your clothes? You’re dragged out of your thoughts from Brenda’s response.

“Twins, actually…although he likes to act like he’s my older brother,” She says. “Do you have any siblings?”

“Um, I have an older brother, Eric.” You pause before saying, “He’s more of a…free spirit.” You make small talk with Brenda until you reach your first period, learning little things about each other as you go. You tell her you’re from Wisconsin, you learn she moved down from Minnesota not too long ago. You feel the tension in your body go away the more you talk with her. It comes back though, geared into full swing as soon as you walk into class. Your hands are shaky, balancing yourself onto the wood desk and setting your backpack next to you. Sitting down, you gaze at the room. It’s covered in maps and pictures of places in Europe you couldn’t identify. The bell rings and students file into the room. Thankfully, it’s a smaller class for 11th grade World History. Here goes nothing.

The teacher gives a small lecture and hands out worksheets, a true or false quiz on the Spanish Empire. While you’re zoned into the quiz, two boys behind you murmur.

“Hey. Bran. Do you recognize that girl?” A boy, his head adorned with blond curls whispers, gesturing to you with a head nod. However, you don’t notice, too preoccupied with finishing and passing your first quiz at your new school.

The other boy shakes his head, “No, ‘she new?”

“She must be, I’m pretty sure I would remember her.”

“Yeah, no kidding…” They both pause, looking to you for a moment. Brandon continues his thought with a whisper, “Dibs.”

“Dude, come on!” Steve’s voice rang out in a whine, startling you. What was his problem?

“Steve Sanders.” She scolds. “Do we have to have this talk again?” You follow the teacher’s gaze behind you, and sparkling blue eyes meet yours, paired with coiffed dirty blond hair, and a denim outfit. He gives you a smile and you flash him your own, all while Steve tries to fend off the teacher.

“No, ma'am. I’ll be quiet, ma'am. Sorry. It won’t happen again… ma'am.” Brandon looks at you, both of you holding back rounds of giggles at Steve’s flustered retort.

“Don’t let it happen again.”

The rest of the class is peaceful, all of you silently doing your work. And while peaceful, there’s still a mischievous air in the room, you and Brandon catching glances at each other while you think the other person isn’t looking. You finish up your sheet and turn it in at the front of the room. Your shoes squeak a little too loudly, attracting a few stares as you walk back to your desk to pack up your things. You cringe at the sound but try to brush it off. The bell finally rings, but when you go to walk out you’re stopped in your tracks.

“Hey, gorgeous.” Well, that’s a way to talk to someone you’ve never met, I guess. You eye him up suspiciously. “I’m Sanders,” he takes an unneeded dramatic pause, “Steve Sanders.” You watch his friend from earlier roll his eyes and chuckle at his friend’s cocky introduction. You want to laugh too. Are you supposed to laugh? Is this Steve guy kidding? Cause he had to be. But what if he wasn’t? What if this is just him? Compose yourself, Y/N! Deep breath. In. Out.

You take a breath and speak, “So I’ve heard.”

“Yeah? You’ve heard about me?” His smirk is dripping with arrogance as he talks, leaning into you.

“Yeah like, literally just now…when the teacher totally grilled you?” You let out a laugh that time, holy shit. This guy was serious.

“Hey! She didn’t grill me, okay? She was just trying to act like she was in charge. It’s her job.” You study his face as he defends himself. Huh. He would be cute if he wasn’t being such a jackass, you think.

You sigh, “Look, I have a class to go to, and someone’s waiting for me. Sorry, Steve.” Apologizing, you slip past him and into the hallway.

“Good effort out there, Steve-o,” Brandon laughs, giving Steve a pat on the back and grabbing his bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Oh, there you are!” Brenda calls out, grabbing Brandon on the arm and pulling him outside of the class. “The girl I’m showing around is going to work on the West Beverly Blaze next period. Can you go with her? Kelly needs me, so I can’t. Wardrobe malfunction. It’s a total disaster.” Pleading eyes are shot Brandon’s way.

He hesitates for a moment but says “Yeah, alright…bring me to her and I can get her there.” His sister’s face immediately lights up, a grin on her face.

“Yes! Thank you! I owe you!” And with that, she’s dragging him over to you while you look over your schedule. “Y/N! This is Brandon, I told you about him earlier,” she starts. And then you lock eyes with him for the second time that morning and it’s as if time stops. Your stomach churns, feeling the butterflies wreaking havoc, fluttering around. And something about the way he shifts on his feet, messes with his hands, and has a goofy smile on his face tells you he’s just as uneasy as you are. Hopefully a good kind of uneasy. “Brandon? Y/N? Hello??” She had never seen her brother like this. He had always been a natural with girls. Cool and confident. But right now he was flustered, giddy even. He wasn’t sure why he was acting like this either. Maybe it was the anxiety of a new school, he thought. He just felt so…awkward.

“Oh, sorry, uh…nice to meet you, Brandon,” you smile and hold out your hand for him to shake.

“Nice to meet you too, Y/N.” Shaking your hand, he continues “Brenda wants to me to show you to the journalism room.” Before you get to respond, Brenda is already darting off without a word. You cock your head at the sight of Brenda bolting down the halls while Brandon just shakes his head and laughs.

“So, shall we?”

tag list: @be-patient-be-good @fangirl-imagines

[yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy]

Magic and Miracles and BEYOND Chapter 4

Ok, so for those who don’t know I face cast Miracle Laurie as Hazel Stevens, Titus Drautos’ love interest (*cough* love of his life *cough*) and in the upper right hand corner is my face cast for Ada, @the-immortal-marshal ‘s OC, she gave me Ada’s particulars forever ago so now I’ve just finally face cast her. And we have TADA I finally found a face I liked for Charlotte Stevens. Hazel’s sister who is of African American and Chinese decent. And I am OBSESSED with Empresses in the Palace which is a six episode long mini series that USED to be on Netflix, you can find it on Amazon Prime video now. And there is a lot of symbolism from that show that I’ve taken and run wild with because in this fic Gilgamesh (who I have taken so many liberties with) is a Chinese drug lord who thinks of himself as an Emperor and calls Charlotte his Empress. And Cor is obsessed with taking him down (like he is in the canon-verse). 

Ok so you can read it here -> AO3 or below. Tumblr, be cool, keep it under a cut. 

Magic and Miracles and BEYOND

Chapter 4

“Ok, I stand corrected, this is my favorite house.” Selena announced as she came into the mansion in California wine country that was styled in a blend of Italianate, Spanish and Mediterranean. With it’s overall warm tones and clay tile roof. She fell head over heels in love with it.

“Knew it would be,” Ravus beamed.

“I want our house to be exactly like this.” Selena urged Ravus who chuckled.

“Yeah, I figured as much.” Ravus nodded in agreement, having figured that the moment they hit the road.

“Yeah, you can keep the house on the coast Luna, I love that location but I love and adore this house and the vineyards are just...spectacular. It’s so beautiful I think I’m gonna cry.” Selena teased herself as her eyes actually started to water which only got Ravus to pull her into his embrace and kiss the crown of her head.  

“Well Ravus did buy you that place up the coast so you’re only a stroll down the beach away.” Luna teased her.

“Yeah,” Selena sighed wistfully before she gave Ravus a quick peck on the lips before she had him really show her around.

“Holy shit!” Selena exclaimed when she saw the wine cellar.

“Yeah, this wine cellar alone is worth as much as the actual house I think.” Ravus speculated.

“It’s all dry isn’t it?” Selena asked in disappointment.

“Actually, no,” Ravus began as he hunted through the cellar. “Yes! This Darling, is ice wine. And it is exceptionally sweet.” Ravus said as he handed her a little mini bottle.

“Should we chill this first?” Selena asked as she looked it over.

“Yes, yes we should.” Ravus nodded as he used a special wine bottle carrier box to put in a half dozen bottles in, going through the rows picking out different ones before filling the box full and putting it down before getting another before he turned the corner and it was like it kept expanding, Ravus going through the bottles like anyone would go through a library to look at books.

“Does it ever end? I could get lost in here.” Selena teased as Ravus grinned but kept his eyes moving through all the labels.

“You could.” Ravus answered but only half teasing himself before his phone went off.

“Yeah?” Ravus answered.

“Where are you?” Luna asked.

“In the wine cellar?” Ravus answered.

“Where at in the wine cellar?” Luna asked.

“I’m at the Rieslings, just about to head into the Moscatos. I already handed Darling some ice wines.” Ravus answered.

“Ooh, could you get me my favorite please?” Luna requested.

“Sure, what does Jock Strap want?” Ravus asked.

“Oh he’s found the bar, he’s good.” Luna snorted a laugh.

“Well then get me my favorite.” Ravus insisted.

“Already gotten.” Luna reassured him.

“Thanks, when you guys figure out what to get for dinner call me back.” Ravus urged his sister.

“Yup.” Luna nodded.  

“That’s really kind of sad that the house is so big, you have to call each other on your phones to talk to each other.” Selena teased as she leaned up against a brick wall and gave him a giddy smile.

“Oh trust me, once we start our family, you’ll be happy it’s as big as it is, in fact I think you’ll love it down here because it’ll be the one part of the house where the kids won’t be allowed to play and you’ll have some nice ‘quiet mommy time’.” Ravus gently teased her with a look that had Selena wishing she could speed up time just to get to that and she just couldn’t help but pull him away from the wines to pull him flush with her to kiss him deeply.

“Can’t wait.” Selena purred when they broke for air and Ravus put the box down but only to allow him to pin her to the brick wall behind her before he picked her up so that her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he slipped her panties to the side since she was wearing a sundress as he unzipped his shorts and quickly entered her and moaned with her.

“I can, it’ll be worth the wait. I promise.” Ravus beamed at her.

“Aww,” Selena fawned.

Meanwhile Hazel and Titus were about to get ready to go to the store when Hazel checked her phone for the time before the screen went haywire for a moment as Titus’ phone did the same before both her phone and Titus’ phone turned themselves off and wouldn’t turn back on and Hazel inhaled sharply as her eyes went wide with terror because she knew what was going to happen next.

“Titus, you either need to get to the car right now or you need to get into my bathroom and don’t come out unless I come in and get you.” Hazel immediately ordered and Titus blinked in surprise when he saw how terrified she suddenly looked.

“What are you talking about?” Titus asked.

“No time to explain, here.” Hazel decided for him before she seemed to pull a gun out from under her breakfast bar and put it into his hand and shoved him into the bathroom.

“Sit right here, don’t move, don’t make a sound and shoot anyone but me who tries to come in.” Hazel ordered, keeping her voice whisper quiet but the hiss to her voice put him on edge before Hazel quickly locked the bathroom and quickly ran to her door and pulled out another hand gun and watched through the keyhole as Charlotte and two body guards came walking purposefully down the hallway, each body guard taking up an end to the hall to leave Charlotte to approach Hazel’s door alone before she knocked her special knock.

“Please tell me you’ve come to say goodbye.” Hazel told her sister in Mandarin when she opened the door for her sister, her gun visible at her side as Charlotte came strutting into Hazel’s apartment as Hazel shut the door behind her as she warily watched her sister.

“I came with a warning.” Charlotte began and Hazel’s stomach dropped. “You should go out to dinner tonight.” Charlotte suggested.

“Where and with who?” Hazel’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“It doesn’t matter where but I think you’ll know with who.” Charlotte grinned as she laid a manila envelope on the counter.

“What part of ‘I never want to be involved’ is hard to understand?” Hazel bit out.

“It’s Heaven’s wish, either serve the warning or you can try to Witchhazel.” Charlotte returned coolly and Hazel’s jaw clenched. “Your choice.” Charlotte shrugged before she stood in front of Hazel with a challenging smirk before hugging her sister before Hazel begrudgingly returned it.

“Why can’t you both go back to Hong Kong? At least you’d be safer there.” Hazel asked as she hugged her sister tighter, always feeling like she was seeing her sister for the last time when her sister came to her like this.

“Soon.” Charlotte answered and Hazel knew that was the closest to a straight answer she could ever get from Charlotte.

“Ok.” Hazel whispered.

“Now tell Titus hi for me and to keep his nose out of our business.” Charlotte offered in English as she let go of her sister and left, snapping her fingers once she was in the hallway before both henchmen were back at her side as she left the building as Hazel blew out a shaky breath as her cheeks burned as she put the gun back into it’s hiding spot and went over to the manila envelope and opened it to find a tiny flash drive and found 50 thousand dollars with it. Hazel just huffed and shook her head. She took the money out and when she did, she found ‘Warhorn Lion’ written on a piece of yellow paper that almost looked and felt like tissue paper but was in fact a recreation of the paper used by Chinese Emperors to write edicts and orders on- on the inside of the envelope in Mandarin calligraphy and Hazel just closed her eyes and fought not to cry.  

“Shit.” Hazel hissed as she got gloves on and took it out and folded it carefully, damning her hands for shaking. At least it wasn’t Titus’ name. She put the paper and the flash drive into a new envelope and into her purse before she put the money into her lock box and once she was done she took her gloves off and threw them away before she knocked on the door to the bathroom off her bedroom where she had put Titus.

“It’s safe now Baby.” Hazel called out softly as she unlocked the door and opened it to find Titus still sitting in the same spot she left him in.

“What the fuck is going on?” Titus demanded as he stood up and stared at her incredulously.

“If I answered that, I’d have to kill you myself.” Hazel answered defeated-ly as she took her gun back to put it away.

“What kind of convoluted clandestine bullshit is that?!” Titus spat angrily as he followed her and took note of where it had come from in the first place, having sat right there before and not having the smallest clue it had been there the whole time.

“The kind of convoluted clandestine bullshit that will get you killed, moreover it’s the kind of convoluted clandestine bullshit that puts car bombs under cars and straps C4 to someone’s chest and tells them to walk into hospitals and schools with the power to bring anyone to their knees before it lops off their heads, that kind. The kind that already knows your name, where you work, your routines, the truck you drive and where you are at all times. The kind that’s kept a tail on me since I went to college, the kind that has already buried the last nosy boyfriend. So do yourself a favor if you want to live and let it go and never, ever breathe a word of this ever again. This is your one warning. The next time you bring this up, that sniper on that roof right over there will shoot you and I’ll have to change the carpet again because blood doesn’t come out from white carpet well.” Hazel snarled as she pointed her finger into his chest, the tip digging into his flesh hard every time she said the word ‘you’ as tears flowed freely from her eyes as her expression was a pleading one as Titus just stared in shock at her as he finally really sensed what kind of predicament and danger she must be in and all he wanted to do was make her feel safe again, he didn’t care if he had to set the world on fire to do it either. He knew Hazel was smart, brilliant even and as badass as the day was long but if his Hazel was this scared, she would only have every justification to be so.

“Ok.” Titus answered softly as finally nodded as he brought her in and hugged her tight and kissed the crown of her head.

“Obviously you don’t have a choice in this. If this is the way it has to be then it’s the way it has to be.” Titus offered as Hazel just broke down crying and bawled into his chest and when she was done, she pulled herself back together and kissed him so deeply it started their own familiar chain of events and once satisfied, they left and went about their day, Titus doing his best to act like nothing was wrong and that nothing had happened out of the usual.

“Hey you wanna meet up with Cor and Ada for dinner?” Hazel asked innocently as they were putting their groceries away.

“Yeah sure.” Titus nodded and texted Cor.

“Where to?” Titus asked Hazel.

“I don’t care, whatever they want is fine.” Hazel waived off. “Actually I could go for some rice noodles though, maybe Chinese? Japanese? Vietnamese? Thai? Something like that.” Hazel waived off.  

“The Mandarin?” Titus suggested, knowing that was her favorite Chinese restaurant, it was a bit upscale but very authentic and the whole menu was in Mandarin and English and he loved the way Hazel could order for them in nothing but Mandarin and get things that weren’t even on the menu.

“Perfect.” Hazel beamed and once at the restaurant, Cor was exceptionally happy and even giddy because he had gotten a break in the Gilgamesh case that day and Hazel was grateful that she wasn’t sitting right next to him but feared for Ada, knowing that Ada was in grave danger but was powerless to say anything to her directly. Hazel excused herself from the table and took her server aside as she went to the bathroom and gave her a hundred dollar bill if she put the envelope into Cor’s bill. Hazel having taken the envelope out with a tissue and put it into a folded napkin to hand to the server who thought it was some kind of practical joke before the owner, who had been watching over them, took the envelope and looked inside before their eyes went wide for a moment and made a quick phone call before they nodded and got a red envelope and wrote something out with a calligraphy pen and comped not just Cor and Ada’s meal but Titus and Hazel’s too.

“Mr. Leonis, could you please come with me?” The owner asked Cor as he came and pointed to the bill as if the card had gotten declined.

“Oh, that shouldn’t of...” Cor said as he got up and got his wallet out as he followed the owner to the cash register.

“Oh no, your card wasn’t declined, no your meal was taken care of already but I didn’t want to disturb your party by handing you this.” The owner said as he handed Leonis a red cash envelope typically given to newly weds at their wedding.

“What does this say?” Cor asked as he pointed to the writing on the envelope.

“It says ‘compliments of Emperor Gilgamesh’.” The owner answered.

“Fuck.” Cor breathed. “Is he here? Like right now?” Cor asked the owner.

“Of course not. Even if he was, you could not do anything Marshal.” The owner pointed out with a smug grin.

“I could have you arrested for aiding and abetting.” Cor threatened.

“Perhaps you should look at the flash drive first before you make any foolish threats.” The owner suggested sagely as Cor narrowed his eyes and got the flash drive and put it into his phone before picture after picture of Ada and Ada and himself came up on the screen before a new message came into his phone with a picture of himself, Ada and Titus in the cross-hairs from a scope while they were still there at the restaurant and Cor looked up and searched the room, trying to find the threats and the vantage points these pictures were taken from.

“It really would be quite rude to answer generosity with disrespect. Perhaps you should go home now.” The owner suggested. “And please do not think that my restaurant is unique in that his Majesty has reign here. There is no where any of you could ever go that he would not come for you.” The owner warned. “And if I may let you in on a secret. His Majesty is being lenient with you and has written your name in black. This is your warning that you have come too close. If you come any closer, he will write your name in white. White is the color of death in our culture. And it will be as if he would have written your death warrant.” The owner added and Cor gulped.

“Understood.” Cor nodded before he went back to the table and tried to casually get them all out of there as the owner came and thanked them for coming and invited them back as he handed Hazel a to go container of her favorite dumplings- raw so she could steam them herself when she got home and once back in Titus’ truck Hazel found a thick black card with what Gilgamesh liked to referred to her as written in gold ink along with a quick message of thanks.

“What does that say?” Titus asked as he noticed it.

“It says ‘thank you’ and my name.” Hazel answered honestly.

“I’ve never gotten a thank you for getting takeout from here.” Titus frowned.

“Well you’re not on first name basis and friends with the family.” Hazel tried to reason with a lop sided grin as Titus nodded in understanding.

“So that’s why our meal was free?” Titus asked.

“Yup.” Hazel nodded.

“So...I’m thinking we should take up a new hobby together.” Titus began.

“Which is?” Hazel asked curiously.

“Shooting. I’m already into hunting, I need to be a better shooter though.” Titus realized as he squeezed her hand a little tighter and gave her a gentle yet reassuring look and watched as Hazel’s grin grew into a full blown smile.

“That would be...amazing.” Hazel praised as she squeezed his hand back tightly and just fell in love with him a little more. Because usually right about now any guy would be running for the hills but instead, Titus was making plans to stay and try to help her.

“Wanna stay at my house tonight?” Titus asked.

“Hell yeah.” Hazel nodded as Titus then turned to head to his house since Hazel already had enough of her things to stay there for a few months straight already.

Once back at his house, Titus put her dumplings in the fridge before he turned to face her, wanting to tell her a thousand different things all at once as he had thought about her predicament all day.

“So, if I wanted my house as secure and defend-able as possible, how would I go about that?” Titus asked her before she grabbed the shopping list pad off of his fridge and a pen and handed them to him.

“Take notes.” Hazel grinned as Titus returned her grin and took them before Hazel began to go through the whole house and tell him exactly how to accomplish that and insisted that she pay for it all because it would be getting quite costly but it was investment in Titus’ well being and would help her sleep easier at night.

[dmitrilyalikov]

Why do America’s generations keep getting dumber?

America is the global symbol of individual liberty and opportunity. Defined by capitalism and democracy, the very concepts that have made the U.S. the hallmark in innovative thinking and societal development. With arguably the best ‘system’ in the world able to work at great scale, American renegades have been the frontrunners in many aspects of society many countries wish they could compete with. Walt Disney, Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, Mark Zuckerberg, all American icons for creative thinking and execution. Creative, intelligent men that any company would love to have on their team if they could convince them to come. They’ve accomplished things that some would believe to be impossible, and not only that, they all dropped out of college. The education system failed them. 

The current American educational system was first introduced in the 1910′s during the industrial era to create a scaled up version of a youth knowledge assembly line. Children are crammed into large classrooms and are taught general knowledge to enter the next level of education. The strict regimen of be quiet, listen, and regurgitate what you have heard onto a standardized exam to get a letter grade has been used for over a century. This practice is nowhere near teaching a child to think and solve problems. Tests do not work. They do not represent any more than words on a paper. Example, the Chinese Box Experiment. In short, a Chinese professor inserts a test of different Mandarin characters that a robot on the other side of the door must answer. The robot identified every character correctly and returned the paper. The Professor says “Wow, this pupil understands Mandarin very well!”. She is unaware the answers came from a machine programmed by humans. The robot does not actually understand what is going on, it is simply responding with what it’s been told to do. Understanding is using memory to create predictions. However, this is exactly how school teaches children in America. They program children to respond to an input with a correct output, and those that compute such information correctly, are deemed the brightest. If we are programming children to act as robots, robots will win every time, bar none. The only way to fundamentally beat a robot is to be more human. Humans have creativity, emotional intelligence, morals, historical and societal awareness. Schools are essentially building kids like robots in an assembly line. They are writing code in our brains on how to think, act, and behave in many situations. The smartest natural child can be nurtured in such an environment to become average. 

The most beautiful aspect of a child is its sense of curiosity and creativity. Left to its own, many will fantasize about spaceships and rockets and trains. They will dance on couches, spill their parent’s coffee on the rug, They ask naive questions about complex issues. I was lucky enough as a child as my father would make me understand how any toy or tool worked when I used it. I was made to inquire about the world around me. How does a car engine work? What could make it better? Why do planes not fall from the sky? I was then sent to day school and would be told to shut up and listen to the teacher, because he is smarter than you. What does it mean to be smart then? To know more information and algorithms downloaded into the hippocampus? Memory is not intelligence. Intelligence and consciousness are manifested in the neocortex. The part of the brain that operates high level thought. Children in American society are suppressed and told to remember things to graduate. After a certain point of indoctrinated thinking, children lose their sense of curiosity and are more focused on execution then the process of learning and solving the problem itself. The most commonly asked question in American schools is “Will this be on the test next week?”.

So how can we make this better? This epidemic starts on the very system of education itself. The end goal of school is to obtain a degree, a rough representation of what college taught you, or maybe you were just wily enough to cheat (which is highly incentivized in the ends justify the means environment.). School’s are not obligated to innovate. Colleges are businesses. They force 18 year old children to take on 200 thousand dollar debt decisions. They don't need all that money. The books that cost hundreds of dollars for students, cost 6$ to make. NO INDUSTRY IN THE WORLD HAS A MONOPOLY THAT BOASTS SUCH GREAT PROFIT MARGINS. Colleges have young generations on a string with the rhetoric that a degree is worth such money. Millions of kids cry joyfully over getting into a school, just to give them money that is taken from loans to enslave them once they get out with a degree. College is enslavement. It is a monopolistic business. It is a shame to see such an important factor to human development being exploited for profit. They pay zero taxes on the profits they make. They teach general knowledge in a lecture style. Is that worth it? Why do kids want this? Why do parents make them do this? Because they did it when they were kids? We are in a new age. 

Fast forward over a century later, the digital age. Children have smartphones, smartphones with all the information they need. Why sit in a room listening to someone lecture when you can just look something up? Children are put in classrooms that are part of a school, that are part of a district, that is part of a school board. These scaled up versions of education pump out millions of children with a broad range of general knowledge, or at least that is the intent. Now most of these kids go to college, work a 9-5 job, and start a family and the cycle goes on with their children. That is not fulfillment, that is not happiness for most. The average school tuition has increased by more than 200% while the average salary of college graduates has plateaued since the start of mass schooling. We live in an era of economies of “unscale”. With artificial intelligence and cloud computing, vertically integrated corporations with huge factories and inventory cannot compete with lean, agile startups that rent cloud storage on Amazon Web Services, outsource manufacturing to Chinese factories, and utilize open source Machine Learning algorithms instead of spending great capital to build it all individually. This gives power to creative, niche startups that can effectively run a business from their basement. Think back to the 1990′s. The internet had just gone mainstream, thousands of employees quit their jobs to create internet companies during the Dot-Com Boom before it crashed. They would plan their IPO before even incorporating, this new technology was a home run in their eyes. How does this relate to education? The rapid evolution of technology can be attributed to new platforms. Telecommunications created a global platform for information to be spread from Boston to Australia in an instant, the internet has revolutionized virtually every industry. My generation is growing up in the advent of the AI and cloud computing platform. Essentially, the innovation of big tech platforms should equate to radically different education. However, because school systems have no incentive to change and make less profit, they are still preparing kids for an industrial era to be interchangeable pieces working for large corporations rather than agile startups and small to medium companies. 

Artificial Intelligence will radically change education. Harvard, Stanford, and a few other large brand schools have noticed this trend and created online courses already that use machine learning engines to tailor a course to a students understanding. AI can use big data to understand how a pupil learns, what he/she is struggling in, and create a report on their level of thought that is a perfect representation on what they can do, rather than a vague degree. Many companies such as Microsoft and Google are receptive to this and an increasing number of developers enter the software field with no degrees. Because there is no system that could exemplify a student’s intelligence in the past, an expensive degree was the next best thing and college became a booming business but quite an enslaving process for the children utilizing it. AI can guide a student while virtual classrooms and teachers can connect to children across the globe for real organic conversation. Now, the physical classroom is very important for social development and should still be used to an extent. Perhaps we Americans should look towards Finland, the country with the best ranked educational system in the world. Their primary and secondary schools are incredibly different. School days are 3 hours long, there is no homework, and there are no private schools. The philosophy is that kids should be emancipated from the institutions and be left to be kids and develop intuitiveness organically through real world social experiences. There are no private schools so that rich families send their kids to public schools and those parents make sure the school is up to par with what they can afford.This forces schools nationwide to keep a standard that is universal, much unlike the U.S. with many inner city public schools without internet while capitalistic private and public district schools spend money on football field renovations. 

To create a more productive generation of students, we must “unscale” education, remove private schools, reduce length of school hours, ban or at least regulate student loan firms, set a price ceiling on all college tuitions and utilize the platform of Artificial Intelligence to create a market of one for all students starting from Kindergarten to beyond college. Hiring more teachers and building would effectively make the problem worse. Teachers can be the greatest minds on the planet, but under such a restrictive there is little hope to save a whole generation. Khan Academy has implemented an unscaled online system, leading the way for more personalized education programs. There is little chance this can happen unless this is derived from the Federal Government, which is famously bureaucratic and slow to act especially with education. Changes are needed. This will make children more excited to learn, ask questions and solve the great global issues that are long overdue to be solved. Kids will strengthen critical thinking skills and experience freedom of thought that will create a wave of further technological development and accelerate American education to new heights. 

[fantasticworldoffanfics]

PETER/STILES

                                            ——— (part 3) ——–

Fandom: TeenWolf

Even longer list of fanfics :)….

top favourites, more top favourites, part 1, part 2

The Devil You Know

Author: Triangulum

Summary: Hell is busy and Peter is understaffed. There are too many evil people being sent down below and there are only so many demons Peter has to torture them with. He needs to reorganize. They don't utilize group torture nearly as much as they should. Stiles probably has some ideas on that.OrPeter is King of Hell, Stiles is his second in command, and Talia summons them for a favor.

Can I Keep Him?

Author: Therapeutic_Steter

Summary: Let's try... Red Panda stiles? looove red panda stiles!

I’m Not Your Nephew

Author: Therapeutic_Steter

Summary: "Derek! Guess what!" "What, Stiles?" "I can call, you nephew now!!" "What. The hell. Are you talking about." "Didn't you listen? Peter and I are together!" 

Words Upon Skin

Author: Therapeutic_Steter

Summary: Soulmate words were treasured. People spent their whole lives waiting for their treasured phrase, that magic moment.Stiles had spent his whole life plagued by his words. He wondered just what he could do, to disappoint his soulmate so completely in their first meeting. He had approximately ninety nine self-confidence issues and they were all because of those damned words, printed in elegant script across his heart.‘Words cannot describe how pathetic you look.’

Let Me Hold You, Forever

Author: lavenderlotion

Summary: It was too much. To loud and too quiet and too, too much. He had to get out, to get away and just be somewhere different. He couldn’t - he couldn’t keep watching her like that, watching her lay there as she did.He needed a break.And he found it, with Peter Hale. Peter who was scarred skin and blank eyes. Peter who he sat with for hours a day, reading and ranting and just being with. Peter, who over four years he fell in love with.

A Spoonful Of Sugar

Author: Twisted_Mind

Summary: He blames Lydia. He would never have even considered this if she hadn't mentioned it like it was legit. But short of falling down the rabbit hole of student debt, he doesn't have a whole lot of options. So, whatever, he can try the sugar baby thing. No one has to know.Of course Peter has to go and ruin everything.

Across Your Skin, My Love

Author: lavenderlotion

Summary: Stiles knew he had a soulmate - had gotten his mark when he was fourteen like everyone else. He just - he just didn’t think he would meet the man for years to come. he knew the statics, knew that most people didn’t meet their bonded until their early-mid twenties.So he was really not been expecting to his name on the arm of his hot new English teacher.He had to admit it turned out pretty amazing, though.

Don’t Come For His Family

Author: lavenderlotion

Summary: In the three years Stiles had been with Peter, the man had only talked about his family a handful of times - and as far as Stiles knew had never once spoken to them. So he wasn’t exactly excited to see the mans family, even though that’s exactly what they were about to do.It does not go to plan.

You Wouldn’t Believe Me

Author: gryvon

Summary: The Hales are famous. Their emissary is infamous.

Wrong Number

Author: SushiOwl

Summary: "What do you and your coven desire from the dark?" Sometimes he liked be cheesy. Humans were into it, otherwise they wouldn't put it in their insipid (but wildly entertaining) TV shows.The witch boy finally set down his reading material. Peter had thought it was a book, but it was actually a plastic folder with photocopies of pages from a book. Peter would have to decided if he was insulted later."No coven, just me," the witch said, closing his folder. There was a Batman symbol on the front, so Peter was certainly insulted.He was not about to put on such a show for one human either. He let his mist drop and gave the boy an unimpressed expression that included a lifted brow and lips tilted down at the corners. "Alright then, just you. What deal are you looking for?""Will you take my virginity for bragging rights?"

Boy Who Cried Wolf

Author: ladypigswagon

Summary: Peter is hungry. It’s a raw ache, the kind that drives Peter to hunt almost desperately. His paws pound against the earth, kicking up black dirt and fallen leaves as he runs. It’s early afternoon, sunlight streaming through the gaps in the canopy, dappling the ground. Peter can hear a herd of deer a few miles west, but deer are tricky. There are too many variables, too many antlers and hooves. He could probably pick off a few with a pack.

The Fourth Prince Of The First Realm

Author: RebaK1tten

Summary: “My god, Peter, only you!” Derek whispers. “You didn’t rescue just any old fairie, you rescued their Queen!”“Am I supposed to apologize? I didn’t ask for credentials before I helped her, you know,” he hisses back. “See, this is what happens when you do something nice, it just bites you on the ass.”** Peter rescues the fairie queen and as a reward, he's told he'll marry her son. It's not an option.

The Snake And The Otter

Author: Therapeutic_Steter

Summary: When Stiles was born, a black snake appeared into his crib on the first full moon and never left.Claudia, whose soulmate animal was a lion, hadn't even flinched, smiling and cooing at the little snake in welcome. It flicked its tongue at her, beady eyes sparking blue, and let Claudia gently stroke it's head. John, whose soulmate animal was a bear, just shook his head, wondering at what kinds of trouble his son and his soulmate would get in to.

If I Were ‘A Were’

Author: syriala

Summary: Stiles knew that he wasn’t the most subtle person to ever grace this earth. But compared to the Hale’s he was a fucking ninja. He couldn’t believe that no one had figured out yet that they were actually werewolves. Real, actual, honest to god werewolves.That no one knew about.Stiles really started to question this town’s intelligence.But Stiles was determined to find out how many dog/wolf related puns he could make before someone caught on to the fact that he actually knew.

I’ll Watch Anything As Long It Is With You

Author: Sage_Speight_Trickster_In_Training

Summary: Ever since Stiles was a kid and first hear his parent's story about how they met with their soulmark he couldn't wait until his showed up. He would always marvel how some day he would look down and see the first words his soulmate would say to him. His best friend Scott got his words when he was eight and ever since those words showed up he would carry at least four pens with him everywhere he went, waiting for the moment when someone asked him to borrow one. The prettiest girls is school, Lydia, got hers when she turned ten and Stiles felt his first heartbreak when they weren't his words. That was also the year his mother got sick and the words on his father's lower left knee , written in his mother´s hand writing, began to fade. Stiles knew that when soulmates faded that that meant their soulmate was dead. That same year he went with his father when he went to a tattoo parlor to get his mother's first words tattooed onto him so they would stop fading.

Naked Terror

Author: Bunnywest

Summary: Peter's only here to inspect the fire extinguisher. The last thing he expects is for a naked man to come charging at him, swinging a baseball bat and screaming.

Kiss Me Once, Shame On Me

Author: yesterday

Summary: “I don’t care about tradition, you try and get me to kiss you under the mistletoe and I will punch you,” Stiles said.“Where is your holiday spirit, Stiles? This is for charity; it said so outside.” Peter was smirking. He was right. Stiles set the sandwich board out there himself this morning— “For every smooch under the mistletoe, one dollar will be donated to Beacon Hills Children’s Hospital!” 

Forget everything Stiles ever said about Christmas cheer. He officially hated the holidays.

The (Sometimes) Happy Holidays Series

Author: Potrix

Part 1: (Not So) Silent Night

Summary: “Santa Claus, 42, looking for a sweet angel, 18+, with big or small Christmas ornaments for not so silent nights together. Tree stand available and ready. No Santa hat, no action.”Several people swivel around to glare at Stiles, but, really, he can’t be held responsible for this. Sure, a waiting room isn’t the best place to suddenly burst out laughing, but it’s totally the fault of whoever laid out the latest issue of Bella Diva. It’s not like Stiles normally makes a habit of buying and reading women’s magazines.Apart from the occasional Cosmo. The quizzes are always hilarious.

Part 2: (Annoyingly) Happy Valentine’s Day

Summary: “Welcome to the Beacon Blossom!” the saleswoman behind the counter chirps happily, and Peter watches, a little dazed, as the blinking plastic hearts attached to her headband bounce back and forth. “What can I do for you on this fine day?”Peter deposits the bouquet of red roses on the counter, and nearly drops his wallet when the woman coos—actually coos—and says, nodding her head, “A classic. Your wife will absolutely love them, I guarantee it.” She swipes Peter’s card when he hands it to her, then points it at a basket stuffed full with some of the most garishly pink teddy bears Peter’s ever had the misfortune of seeing. “Now, since today’s a special day, if you buy a bouquet and one of our Sweetheart Bears, the cheaper item is 50% off.”It takes some effort, but Peter manages to bite back his initial, sarcastic retort about the bear clashing with his furniture. Or anything else not absolutely, horrifyingly hideous, for that matter. “Just the roses, please.”

The Holly Bears A Berry Red As Any Blood

Author:  ladypigswagon

Summary: Stiles swears as the car hits another pothole dead on and he goes flying out of his seat, hardly restrained by the seat belt, smacking his head on the roof.“Language,” John says mildly, turning the page of his newspaper. Stiles grumbles, rubbing the back of his head. He can feel a lump developing.“Every year,” Stiles says, “every goddamn year, the Hales send their craziest driver to pick us up. Every year we hit every pothole and every year I get a lump on my head. In the same place! How this hasn’t damaged me permanently I don’t know?!”

Winding Roads To Flowering Fields Series

Author: Tahlruil

Part 1: Deserving Him

Summary: Scott couldn't even seem to live comfortably in his world of black and white absolutes. He could understand why the Lahey boy had broken with Derek, he supposed - his nephew was never meant to be an Alpha, and that had always been painfully obvious. What Peter didn't understand was why he'd then put himself deliberately in Scott's pack. He didn't understand why anyone would align themselves with someone so pathetic when it came to leading others. He didn't understand why new betas, humans and other supernaturals alike flocked to him, an Alpha who had no true understanding of what it meant to be pack. Peter didn't understand why Stiles - beautiful, intelligent, deadly Stiles - chose to call Scott his Alpha.'Peter has been watching Stiles for quite some time now, and he has trouble understanding why Stiles chooses to align himself with Scott. The McCall Alpha doesn't even seem to notice that his best friend is still reeling from his encounter with the Nogitsune... or that Peter is the one trying to soothe that hurt.Stiles, Peter is sure, deserves better.

Part 2: Not An Idiot

Summary: Maybe in some places an idiot could get elected Sheriff - not in a town like Beacon Hills. Dumb deputies (or just very unlucky ones) tended to die before they got the chance to try to move up the ranks. So John Stilinski isn't an idiot even if he (on occasion) chooses not to see the whole picture. Stiles is getting better and he's grateful - he just wishes that maybe it was someone else getting his kid get there.Even though it's not the smartest move, he calls a friend about it.He's not an idiot, okay, he's not. He just... needs a little help, and who better to help with a werewolf problem than an Argent?

Part 3: Ground Me

Summary: "...this is not 'guard duty', you idiot. This is pack - the way pack is supposed to be." Stiles probably should have been freaked out or maybe turned on by the way Peter pressed his nose to the crook of Stiles' neck and breathed in deep. He definitely should have felt one of those things when Peter dragged his cheek upward and then skimmed it over Stiles' jaw. He didn't though, not with what he knew about werewolves; all he felt when his wolf scented him was a sense of comfort, belonging and home. "And you don't take 'nights off' when it comes to being pack."

Part 4: Coming Home Is Something Strange

Summary: Two weeks into living under John's roof, Chris realized that all four of them were settling into a routine that was decidedly, disturbingly, domestic. He and Peter banded together in the fight to keep the Stilinskis healthy, and half the time they seemed to end up doing the grocery shopping together. So long as they only talked about things like how many apples they should get and if they needed to pick up some detergent, things between them were just fine.They'd only tried to discuss the deeper things once. It had ended in a bloody nose for Chris and a knife laced with wolfsbane sticking out of Peter's thigh. Neither Stilinski male had been happy about it. Their reactions forced Chris and Peter into another unspoken truce, and that was... okay. Maybe they didn't need to hash out everything between them. Things had been a fucking mess between their families for centuries; their best bet seemed to be to let sleeping dogs lie.

Part 5: A Surprising Visit

Summary: "No! It's not... it's nothing like that. Hi Stiles. I'm sorry for just, you know. Showing up like this? But I thought that if I called or texted you might not. Uhm. Open the door. I still should have texted. I'm sorry. It's just that you mentioned watching Mulan and I really love that movie. And we've all been being really bad friends except maybe you and I weren't friends? Because with everything that happened I feel like I never got to know you, not really. And then I guess I got caught up in trying to get to know Scott. Have I mentioned I'm sorry?""Couple times," Stiles said, blinking a few times as he tried to process what was going on. "So you came over to hang out?""You sound surprised," Kira said quietly. She looked kind of sad, which he didn't completely get but whatever. "Which means I'm a terrible friend. But!" Kira reached into her bag and pulled out a DVD - it was Mulan, and Stiles felt something warm and sort of gooey unfurl in his chest. He already had a copy, but that she had brought one meant that she really had come to watch it. She had come just to hang out with him without pack business forcing her to, and that was pretty awesome. "I'm going to try and change that."

Part 6: When I Have A Pack, Things Will Change

Summary: "Well it is a grocery store, Scott," he said without looking up from the package of steak in his hand. John had been having a difficult time at work with all those pesky disappearances and Peter thought the man deserved a treat. He had to weigh that against the knowledge that Stiles would be upset, however, which had him debating if he shouldn't grab the 'extra lean' cut instead of going with the regular kind of lean. "Even us deviously evil masterminds must eat and the takeout in this town is deplorable."Peter heard a subsonic growl leave McCall's throat and let himself smirk with satisfaction. Frustrating the so-called Alpha was different than pissing him off, surely...

A Match Made In Hell Series

Author: JPA

Part 1: Marked

Summary: Stiles is eleven when he gets the courage to look into the mirror and see what his soulmate mark reads.

Part 2: I Wish

Summary: Peter had been born without a soulmark.

Part 3: Revelations

Summary: “Ah, Stiles,” Peter says, eyes gleaming. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

Rant-A-Thon

Author: Ragga

Summary: So Stiles may be having a bad day. Or a week. Or a semester. But he knows he just needs to blow off some steam and then he will be better than ever. And accosting a random guy and blurting out his entire life story? That sounds like the perfect idea!And as it turned out, it was. OR Stiles rants a lot and then Peter feeds him. And soulmates.

Merry Christmas, Dude!

Author: lostwithoutmyanchor (mysourwolf)

Summary: The beat was pressing down on Stiles in a pleasant way, pushing out some of the worry and tension. It was the last week before finals and Stiles just couldn’t take it anymore. He’d been studying non-stop for three weeks and had felt like his head would explode. Even the promise of going home to spend Christmas with his family was barely holding him up. Also with it being his last year of college and completely packed, he hadn’t had time to get laid at all. Which was totally unacceptable. OR, the one where Stiles has mind-blowing sex with a hot stranger.

Cookies & Mates

Author: withinmelove

Summary: Stiles doesn't expect to enjoy pretending to be Peter's mate. Surprises are in store for him.

Shifter Criminal Investigative Service Series

Author: Heather_Night

Part 1: Vanilla

Summary: Cutie startled violently, crying out, and Peter’s wolf demanded he take care of the creature.The vanilla scent meant being in close proximity wasn’t a hardship so Peter lifted the lightly squirming body into his arms and shushed him.Thank the moon neither his nephew nor niece could see him now as he was pretty certain this qualified as cuddling.Peter did not cuddle. Ever.

Part 2: En Garde

Summary: Usually it was the third date when things went to hell for Stiles. Maybe he tried too hard or maybe he just wasn’t that likeable but usually after meeting up one-on-one for the third time the person he was interested in either gave him the ‘let’s be friends’ speech or they lost his number.This time felt different but Stiles tried to tamp down on his soaring hopes. Peter was an off-the-scales out-of-his-league level of hot, and he was also smart, accomplished and older. What did he see in a spaz like Stiles?

Part 3: Transformation

Summary: Now was not the time to lose his focus as the Shifter Criminal Investigative Service was in the midst of a big investigation regarding a new series of seemingly connected homicides. Unfortunately his wolf, and his human side for that matter, wanted to see Stiles and make sure the younger man was okay.

Part 4: Unfettered

Summary: “It’s what? You obviously don’t want me in Beacon Hills. Is it that you think your dad will disapprove of me because of our age difference, your alpha will disapprove of me because I’m not good enough, you don’t want to be seen with a werewolf or what exactly is the issue here?” Peter’s tone was as bland as the expression on his face. The more upset Peter became, the more dispassionate he appeared.Not good. It was time for damage control. Check that; it was time for the truth. Stiles gathered his courage. “I don’t want you to see me the way everyone in Beacon Hills does. There, are you happy?”

Black Fire

Author: Green

Summary: Deaton is all about the balance of the universe, about order. Stiles's new magic - gifted to him from the Nogitsune - is the complete opposite of that. Deaton calls Stiles's magic "dark" and seeks to imprison him in Eichen where he's no threat to the balance. Peter and Stiles go on the run - but they can't run forever.

When The Going Gets Tough, The Tough Escalate The Problem

Author: Julibean19

Summary: “I didn’t tell you because I knew what you were going to say,” Stiles hedges, shrugging his shoulders.“And what am I going to say?” John challenges, raising his eyebrows.“That he’s too old for me and you hate him.”Peter pushes the screen door open with one hand, the other balancing a perfectly browned quiche. He’s dressed in a dark blue cashmere sweater and grey slacks. To Stiles, he looks like a dream. To his father, he’s sure to look like his worst nightmare.“He’s too old for you and I hate him,” John says immediately.

Ink And Unanswered Questions

Author: Callidostreet

Summary: Talia was always covered in marks from her soulmate: reminders to feed the dog, interesting words-of-the-day, random stick doodles. They didn't meet face-to-face until middle school, but they'd known each other inside out long before then. When Peter is old enough to understand what the word 'soulmates' entails, he can't wait until he finds his."Are you there?" Is the first thing Peter writes on his body, his excitement is practically tangible.He won't get a reply for another 10 years.

See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil (Doesn't Mean There Is No Evil)

Author: syriala

Summary: Stiles knew that something was wrong. He had a very perceptive eye for evil and things that were going wrong and something in his life was going very wrong. But when neither Scott nor Derek believed him it was up to Peter to keep Stiles safe.

Could Frame Thy Mortal

Author: orphan_account

Summary: "It’s normal. Spending every waking second watching Hale is normal. In many ways, Hale is his whole universe: tracking his movements, waiting for what he does next, wondering what he’s thinking. The only outside stimulation he gets otherwise is the shower visits, and even then it’s only when Chris is the one taking him that he gets any engagement. Stiles knows Hale like he knows the water pipe. The sixty two bars that line the side of their cage. Like the minute of cold water that hits Stiles’ skin before the heat finally comes in the shower block. "Held in an Argent facility, never knowing who he can trust, Stiles pays for his survival with the only currency he has.

more fics: part 4

[itfandomsecretsanta]

Richie Tozier's Mistletoe Fiasco (Hanzier)

for @finnsjack

from @stnbrough (pastelstanuris)

The snow fell gently in front of Richie’s eyes as he skidded through the snow, clutching something in his hand and trying his best to see through the icy haze. Typical to him, rather than wearing clothes that would suit the weather, the lack of a scarf, coat and hat made his teeth chatter and left his face flushed. A warm orange glow in the distance caused a more satisfying heat to flow through his body in anticipation of seeing who was behind the door of the house his eyes were locked on.

Pure snow was tarnished by Richie’s clumsy steps, and the crunch of his boots in the white blanket was a symbol of the perfect winter.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

The item was clenched harder in his fist as the door swung open, leaving Richie faced with a warm smile and a welcoming aura.

“Hey, Richie.”

“Hi, Mike.” Richie croaked, having to clear his throat at least ten times to spit out only two words.

“You coming in, or are you just gonna stand there?” He chuckled. He stepped aside and waited for Richie to tap the snow off of his boots and walk into the Hanlon household.

Richie walked cautiously through the hallway, eyes darting around nervously. “Are your mom and dad home?”

“Is this the setup for a joke?”

“No! I just. I wanted to-” He was uncharacteristically at a loss for words, which left Mike confused.  “This was supposed to be smooth.”

He frowned at Richie’s nervous nature. “What was?”

Without thinking, he thrust the item in front of Mike’s face, holding it there for a few seconds. Once he realised it was in the wrong position, he lifted it up so it was above their heads.

It happened fast, so Mike didn’t get the chance to see it. But when he did - oh.

Mistletoe.  

Although he hadn’t gained a reaction yet, Richie was slipping back into his usual persona. “You gonna leave me hanging?” He winked.

Mike’s lips moved wordlessly for a second. “I…”

The mistletoe was crumbling in Richie’s hand.

“Should we go watch a movie?” Mike blurted out.

The mistletoe had now been dropped to the floor.

“Sure.”

As Mike smiled nervously and made his way to the living room, Richie made sure to crush the plant under his boot as he followed.

♡

“It’s because you freaked him out, genius. Who wants a plant thrust in their face for no reason, a kissing plant, when you think you’re just friends?”

The losers, aside from Beverly and Mike (they were going on their weekly trip to the bakery to pick up some cupcakes) were at the quarry, bikes at their feet.

“That was the whole point! For him to realise we’re not just friends!” Richie protested, kicking the dirt and causing dust to swirl around the immediate environment.

Stan and Eddie flinched at the oncoming filth, but still managed to provide an answer. “Maybe you should get him a present rather than shoving foliage in his face?” Stan suggested. Ben, Eddie and Bill nodded vigorously.

He sighed. “Fine. I’ll do some extra chores this week.”

“Guh-G-Good luck.”

♡

Sure, Richie had the money after two weeks of saving, but now he actually had to buy Mike something. Something that was sincere enough to make him fall in love with him, but not expensive enough that he had to sell his kidneys.

Wonderful.

♡

Stan

“Stanley, Stan. What’s a good Christmas present? You’d know.”

“I literally wouldn’t.”

A pause.

A sigh.

“I’m Jewish.”

♡

Bill

“Well, I’ve nuh-huh-ever bought a present for s-someone I liked before-” Richie rolled his eyes when he saw his gaze drift over to Stan frowning at some tinsel in the corner, “-but e-e-everyone likes my druh-awings? You might h-have a hidden talent.”

“Hey, y’know, if you’re looking for something you could give Stan-”

“I’m n-not taking that Menorah sweater f-f-from you.”

“Fuck.”

♡

Eddie

“Well he doesn’t have a well-stocked medicine cabinet, I’ve checked. Cold medicine never hurt anyone.”

“Thanks for the fucking useless advice, Eds.”

“Beep fucking beep, Rich.”

♡

Beverly

As Beverly walked into Richie’s bedroom, she scoffed at the scene.

He was contorted into an awkward position, a bow nestled in his messy hair, attempting to fit into a box.

“Richie, you can’t be the present.”

A muffled scream came from her friend.

“Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do?!”

Beverly sighed and walked slowly over to Richie, pulling the bow from his hair (prompting an “ow!”), and saying “I don’t know, maybe talk to him, like a human being?”

He was currently the epitome of grumpiness and frustration. “Sure, I can do that,” he responded sarcastically, “just let me turn into Stan, and be an actual functioning person. Wait, fuck that, now isn’t the time to compliment him.”

Beverly snorted and pushed him to the ground from his crouching position. “Not everyone is like you, Rich. Mike doesn’t want grand gestures or expensive presents, he wants honesty. Look, the guys told me about the whole present thing, and they’re useless, so don’t listen to them. It’s about what Mike wants, not what they think he wants.”

While rubbing his ass after it landed so abruptly on the ground, he nodded absentmindedly. “Sure.” He still had one very romantic option left.

“You’re not even listening to me, are you?”

“Yes, Bev, your hair looks very nice. I gotta go.”

“Richie!-”

♡

Ben

“I could write him a poem?”

“Haystack, you’re my saviour. Be sure not to make it too good though, okay? And this is about Mike. Mike. Not Beverly.”

“I think I know the difference between the two, Richie.”

“You keep telling yourself that, loverboy.”

♡

The presents were all scattered across Richie’s bedroom floor. None of them were right.

First of all, the painting was terrible. He hadn’t been in an art class for years, he could barely draw stick figures. Still, he knew Mike’s favourite flowers were daffodils, so he tried to go all Van Gogh and draw some in a vase. They looked more like deformed creatures from outer space.

Stan was no help, so that meant he was one present down.

He couldn’t actually believe he’d listened to Eddie - he’d bought a huge bottle of cough syrup, and wrapped it with gold ribbon. Mike never got sick, what was he thinking?

Ben’s present was nice, sure, but it was clearly his handwriting, and it was clearly about the wrong gender, and the wrong person entirely.

It was December 23rd, and he’d arranged for he and Mike to exchange gifts on Christmas Eve. With the stress of present-buying, he hadn’t actually been able to hang out with him in a while. Richie was either busy mowing someone’s lawn, or Mike had chores at the farm.

It was cheesy, but he missed him so much his heart ached. He missed Mike’s soft laugh when he managed to spit out a decent joke, and the way their hands brushed against each other when Mike walked him to his door, the blinding grin that always replaced a goodbye which left Richie weak in the knees.

If he could bottle those thoughts, that would be the perfect present.

♡

December 24th

There was no mistletoe in his hand this time as he approached the house. That was half because he had an armful of clumsily wrapped presents, and half because he was expecting the outcome to be negative.

Mike still managed to take his breath away when he opened the door, despite him seeing his face almost every day.

“Presents!” Richie yelled. Maybe if he was loud enough, Mike wouldn’t realise what an idiot he was being.

“Presents,” Mike repeated with an amused smile.

“Do you wanna go first?” Richie asked. If Mike only bought him, like, a cactus or something, maybe he’d feel better about his gifts.

Mike handed over the small parcel without hesitation. The box was purple (his favourite colour), and the item was nestled in pink tissue paper.

It was a mixtape.

RICHIE was written in block letters with a sharpie.

“It’s not much, but I know how much, you love your music, and I’ve listened to a few of your records before, so-” Mike was the one babbling now.

“No, it’s perfect.” He whispered. He could feel his throat getting tight and tears forming in his eyes. “I feel so bad.”

Richie probably shouldn’t have been focusing on this in particular, but Mike’s Christmas sweater was the perfect shade of blue. Blue always looked the best on him. He was moving towards him, getting so close their hands were touching. Only Richie’s armful of presents were stopping them from going any further. “Why?”

Seeing that they were close to the couch, Richie sprang back from the warmth of Mike’s presence and dumped his gifts on there before slumping into the cushions defeatedly.

“You can open them if you want,” he mumbled. “But they’re awful. I got you cough medicine, a painting that looks like a five year old did it, and a poem. I gave Ben like ten dollars to write it, and he mentioned red hair! Red hair! I tried to make myself the present but Bev said that was stupid, and, and-” Mike didn’t interrupt, just sat in the armchair across from him and listened.

Richie shifted awkwardly and tried to clear his head.

“When I was wrapping the stupid presents - nearly maimed myself with scissors, by the way - I realised none of them were good enough. And I thought that was just because I don’t know you well enough, or I needed to spend more money. But Bev was right, you don’t want presents, you just want honesty. So.” He breathed out slowly. “I have the most embarrassingly huge crush on you. One time I actually gave Bill twenty dollars to stay at home when we were supposed to go to the movies together so I could be alone with you. Every time someone asks you out I feel ill. I asked Stan, Bill, Ben and Eddie to give me ideas for presents so I didn’t disappoint you. And you just made me a mix tape and I cried. Shit.”

Mike was quiet for a while. “I have another present for you, actually.”

Oh. So he was just going to ignore it, like last time. “Sure,” Richie sniffed. “Hit me with it.”

It was another box, but blue this time.

As he opened it with shaky hands, he saw that nestled inside it was-

Mistletoe.

Mike took it out of the box and held it over their heads.

Richie couldn’t breathe. Surely this wasn’t happening. He couldn’t bring himself to move.

“You gonna leave me hanging?” Mike grinned.

As the snowflakes drifted to the ground for the 5th time that week in Derry, Richie Tozier wrapped his arms around Mike Hanlon’s neck and kissed him like his life depended on it. As the taller boy’s hands settled on his waist, the mistletoe was left to fall to the ground.

Maybe someone else could find some use for it - but they didn’t need excuses to kiss anymore.

[astridthevalkyrie]

A Game of Pretend (Revised)

Modern AU. Hiccup and Astrid are having a normal conversation on the phone, or so Astrid thinks. Oneshot.  

Revised version, with thanks to @athingofvikings’s contributing.

The cliffhanger is finally resolved! 

There wasn't any blood on his face, but Hiccup still felt his vision go blurry. His fingers were touching the sticky hot liquid on his stomach, trying to staunch the flow. With a painful grunt, he slipped away from the wall that had been holding him up, and he fell to the dirty ground; his injured arm took the bulk of the impact and he cried out despite himself, a few tears splashing the ground without his permission.

He laid there for a moment, and them realized that his phone was still in his back pocket.  It took nearly every bit of effort he had, but he managed to twist his phone out from his pocket, managing to keep his screams down to agonized grunts.

The screen was cracked, and he managed to wryly comment, “Here goes nothing...” and hit the power button.

Emergency Call hovered in front of him as the screen lit up.

The ambulance wouldn't get here on time. There was no point. This was it.

He wasn't going to bother calling them. Hiccup shakily unlocked the phone, and hit the shortcut labeled with Astrid’s name and a phone icon.  

After three terrifying rings, his wife picked up the phone.

"Hello? Hiccup?"

"Hey, Ast," he grit out, not making a single agonized sound, no matter how much he wanted to cry out in pain, "what's up?"

Her voice sounded relieved over the phone. "Everything's fine at the office. How did it go? No injuries or anything?"

Hiccup laughed - it would come out as cocky to her, ironic to him. "Of course not. You know me - careful is my middle name."

"I thought it was horrendous."

They both laughed - Hiccup rested his head against the wall with his blood on it, hanging on to her voice. He was going to die. He was going to die right here.

“Your day doing all right?” he asked.  “I went for a walk after the meeting to try out the new prosthetic.”

“How did it go?”

“All right,” he managed, glancing at the broken stump of shattered fiberglass and bent metal attached to his leg.  “How about you?”

“Well, I finished up work early, and...”

He kept the conversation going, wanting to hear her cheerful voice. He didn't want to let go of her, but if he was going to, he didn't want to hear her cry. It might make the pain even worse. It was selfish, but he needed this.

His breath started coming out short, so he let Astrid do most of the talking, which he had no problem with anyway. She told him about her day, and Hiccup felt his eyelids trying to close, but he kept them open for as long as he could, until it seemed unbearable and there were tears flowing down his cheeks.

"Astrid," he whispered, interrupting what she was saying, "I love you."

Her laugh was the last thing he heard as the phone slipped from his hand and he slumped over.

"I love you too, babe. I had a surprise to tell you at home, but since you're getting all emotional on me right now, I'll just tell you. I, uh, well, you know the pregnancy tests I bought yesterday? Hiccup - they came out positive! ...Hello? Are you speechless, I bet Fishlegs ten that you would be. Come on, babe, say something. Hello? Hiccup? Hiccup, we're having a kid! Hiccup?"

Astrid dove through the hospital doors almost before they managed to open in front of her and ran, her phone still held to her ear.  "I'm here!  Where do I go!?"

"Follow the red line on the floor to the ER, Mrs. Haddock," the calm voice of the EMT said, and then there was a moment's hesitation.  "And I'm sorry, but I have to ask... since the muggers took his wallet, do you know if he's an organ donor?"

Astrid felt her whole body chill at that question and the implication behind it. Was she too late…?  Taking a deep breath, she nodded, and then realized that the EMT couldn't see the motion.  "He is.  Said that it was important... but that he never expected...  Oh god!"  She choked, hearing Hiccup's sarcastic comment in her memories.  It's like insurance, right?  You do it just in case, not because it's actually going to happen...

She found the red line and started to run down the hallway at top speed, her stomach churning from something aside from the morning sickness.  Curse the hospital’s inadequate parking; she'd had to find a spot on the other side of the hospital from the emergency room... a spot not far from where her OG-BYN's office was, actually.  Now she had to run like she’d never run before.

"Ma'am, it's fine!  We just had to know.  Just in case."

She didn't have the breath to reply; she was running flat out down the hallway, darting around other patients and doctors like they were opponents on the sports field.  At least one orderly or nurse yelled at her to stop running, but she ignored them.

The red line of paint on the worn linoleum of the floor and the phone at her ear were the entirety of her existence.   

"How is he?" she gasped out, still clutching the phone to her ear like a lifeline.  An hour ago, she'd been ready to share the news with Hiccup that he was going to be a father.

Now... she might be a widow before the nice dinner that she'd left half-assembled on the kitchen counter.  The front door to their home was hanging open from her hurry to get here.  

"We've got him stable, but he's lost a lot of blood from the stab wounds, and there's internal bleeding from the beating he took.  We've got three IVs giving him whole blood, plus saline.  We're going to get him into the operating room as soon as the surgeon is ready to deal with the gut wou--shit!  Stop that bleeder!"

A flurry of alarms came over the phone as Astrid rounded a corner at speed, nearly crashing into some old grandfather using a walker followed by his IV stand.  "Paul!?  EMT Emerson!?  What's happening?"

The EMT didn't answer, but the talk she was hearing over the phone--Hiccup's phone, which she had still not hung up on since this nightmare had begun forty minutes ago, and she was going to kick his ass for not calling the ambulance as soon as the muggers had left him in that alley--terrified her.  Not their tone, but the content hidden among the professional jargon.  She understood quite well what a 'crashing BP' meant, or 'internal hemorrhaging.'

The red line terminated in front of a pair of battered swing doors, above which there was a sign reading EMERGENCY ROOM.

She burst through the doors just as the phone delivered a shrill alarm to her ear, and the call for a crash cart.  

Fishlegs sat next to Astrid as the machines beeped around them.

Three hours of surgery.  Sixteen pints of blood.  A nicked artery in the intestines that had torn open as soon as they'd started raising his blood pressure.  And six stab wounds to the abdomen for the blood to leak out of, plus broken bones, cracked ribs, badly bruised kidneys and liver, a perforated intestine, and purpling bruises on his skin whose imprints made clear impressions of boot heels and fists.

If they hadn't had him in the ER right at that moment when the artery had burst, he would have died.  As it was, the surgeon had told them that it had been touch and go at several points as they’d sutured his arteries shut and had to remove part of his liver.

All over forty dollars and a worn leather wallet and irrational hate over someone who ‘walked funny’.  

They'd already caught the three skinheads who had decided that beating up on a guy with a prosthetic leg would be a fun way to pass a little time.  The one with the knife--still wet with traces of Hiccup's blood caught in the crevasses--had been charged with attempted murder, and his buddies, who had held Hiccup up to be stabbed, were being charged with aiding and abetting.  They hadn’t gone far; just around the corner to a nearby bar where they’d bought some beers and snacks with Hiccup’s credit card.

They were protesting that they were innocent, but that was a little hard to get away with when one of them had been caught with Hiccup's wallet, doing gross things with Hiccup's pictures of Astrid, and another's boots made perfect matches for the bruises.  

The fascist symbols on the boot heels that matched the one on the bruise above Hiccup's kidneys were rather a giveaway...

Fishlegs took a deep sigh.  Stoick would see to it that the two-legged animals that had nearly killed his son would be prosecuted.  Meanwhile, Astrid was finally asleep in the chair next to him.  

Now... they just had to wait for Hiccup to wake up.  

And hope that nothing else would go wrong.

Meanwhile, she had a death grip on his half-broken phone, which she'd reclaimed from the EMTs during the surgery.

He reached over to take it from her and put it to charge with hers, but her eyes snapped open as soon as he touched it. An instant later, she managed to pull the punch to his gut so that it only hurt, rather than knocking the wind from him.  

Staggering back, he wheezed, "You weren't asleep."

"I tried, but I can't.  Not with these... things beeping."

Fishlegs held his hand to his aching gut and nodded.  "Okay."

The nurse came in as the two of them were looking at each other.  Ignoring them, she added something to Hiccup's IV.

"What's that?" Astrid asked anxiously, like she had for every addition to the IV bag in the last six hours.

"Antibiotic for the gastrointestinal perforation--we want to prevent peritonitis from developing," she said professionally.

"And that means?" Astrid asked desperately.  

The nurse gave a professionally even smile.  "Due to the injuries to the intestines, the bacteria inside could leak out into the abdominal cavity and cause infections," she said.  "So we're giving him a standard post-op prophylactic antibiotic."

Despite himself, Fishlegs asked, "What about the chance of resistant bacterial infection?"

The nurse gave him a momentary irritated look, as Astrid asked, "What's that?"

Sighing and shooting Fishlegs another dirty look, she said, "Some bacteria have evolved resistance to the standard antibiotics."  She nodded to indicate Hiccup.  "If he does come down with such an infection, we'll use the second-line antibiotics."  She reached out to Astrid.  "Your husband will be fine."

Astrid nodded and then turned green.  Staggering over to the room's wastebasket, she managed to get her face over it before she vomited into it.  

"Ma'am...  are you alright?" the nurse asked, sounding somewhat concerned.

Fishlegs winced, and stepped over to help Astrid, even if that was limited to handing her a bottle of water and holding her hair up out of the way.  Even as he did so, it felt wrong for him to be doing so, like he was usurping his friend's place at his wife's side.  

Astrid retched again, and gasped out, "I'm pregnant."

"Oh.  And..." the nurse glanced at Hiccup.  "He's the father?"  There was a pause.  "Does he know?"

Astrid gave a half-retch, half-sob.  "I told him... just as he was passing out from blood loss."

The nurse considered that and said, "I'll be right back."

She left, and Fishlegs helped Astrid, whose legs were shaking, back into the chair, and twisted open the bottle of water for her.  

In the background, the machines continued to beep.  

Hiccup was alive... stable... and not waking up anytime soon.  The damage was just too severe, and his body was focusing on healing itself.  If he woke up now, he’d be in agony.

Despite himself, Fishlegs took out his own phone and did a search.

He shouldn't have... because Astrid heard his little hissing gasp, and snatched the phone from his hands without so much as a question.

He grimaced, and a few moments later, she found what he'd searched for.  

"One in twenty-five patients gets infected in the hospital!?"  She looked up at Fishlegs, her expression one of despair.  "Please, please, tell me that he'll be okay."

"He'll be okay," Fishlegs said with as much confidence as he could muster... and resisting the urge to tell her about MRSA, which was his biggest worry.  

He looked at the unconscious body on the bed.  Hiccup's prosthesis was busted, kicked to pieces by the brutes who had attacked him, and his friend looked so small and broken, his body pierced by tubes and kept alive with machines.  

The doctors had told them that if he made it through the night, he'd likely survive.

It was two in the morning.

And Fishlegs wanted to see his friend learn that he'd be a father.  

Hang in there, Hiccup.  Just keep living.  Please.  

Snotlout’s face was red by the time he reached the room Hiccup was in. He saw Astrid, looking ill and leaning against the wall, and Fishlegs, rocking back and forth on a chair with his eyes closed.

And then he saw his cousin, looking in the worst condition Snotlout had ever seen him in, with bruises and cuts and surrounded by machines.

Astrid saw him first, and she opened her mouth, but no words came out. He walked over to her and hugged her tightly. Her eyes were red and bloodshot.

“You’re going to be an uncle,” she whispered in his ear.

Snotlout’s eyes widened and he pulled back, looking her in the eyes, and she nodded with her eyes looking at the floor. “You’re actually…”

“Hiccup p-passed out either before or as I was telling him.”

“Holy shit,” Snotlout whispered, sitting down with his head in his hands. Fishlegs clapped a hand on his shoulder.

His cousin couldn’t have just called a damn ambulance instead of his wife. He had to go ahead and be romantic instead. What about romanticizing life? Astrid hadn’t been the one in danger.

But really, what else could Snotlout expect?

He settled in on one of the uncomfortable chairs and held Astrid’s hand as she stared dully at the monitors.  Once, he would have done anything to be holding her like this.  

Now, he wanted to yell and scream at that younger version of himself with a shout of “Are you happy now!?”

Because he wasn’t.  

Beep... beep... beep... beep...

Snotlout hadn’t been in a hospital for anything worse than a broken arm from a bad moment on the field since his and Hiccup’s grandfather had died when they were young.  

And his memories kept reminding him of that moment of supreme loss when old Hamish had breathed his last and the beeps... stopped.  

He glanced over at Fishlegs, who had gotten here first; the big man looked worn out and tired, and said quietly, “‘Legs, head down to the cafeteria and get something to eat.  I’ll stay with ‘em.”  

Fishlegs looked like he was going to protest for a moment, and then nodded.  As he went to the door, Snotlout cocked his head towards Astrid. “And get something for her, too.”

Another nod, and his friend left to get food.

It wouldn’t help Hiccup any for his wife to starve herself... and she was eating for two.  

The nurse came by on her floor check, and he introduced himself as a part of the family.  He wanted to take her aside and ask, honestly, how bad it was... but there was no way that he was going to leave Astrid alone, or ask that in front of her.  

So he watched as the woman in the blue scrubs did inscrutable things to the various machines, bags and tubes--what she was checking for, Snotlout had no idea--and then left.

He handled the nurse the next few times she came to check on Hiccup. Fishlegs just wasn’t handling it, and he didn’t want Astrid to be lingering on every word the woman said, she was already sick to her stomach.

Then he would sit back and try to calm himself down. It was going to be a long night, and Snotlout didn’t know if Hiccup was going to make it.

Astrid watched as the technician unhooked Hiccup from the dialysis machine; his color was much better than it had been before the treatment.  The kick to Hiccup’s back had injured his kidneys, and to let them heal and keep Hiccup from poisoning himself, they hooked her unconscious husband up to the machine for a few hours each day.  

They were also uncertain about nerve damage to his spine from the same kicks, and his primary doctor had advised her that, despite the liver and kidney damage, it was best to keep him sedated while he healed.  He would be in so much pain when he woke--and it was when, not if, she assured herself--that they were trying to spare him that.

And she just had to hope that they knew what they were doing.  She’d been educating herself on what all of the various indicators meant... and the answers weren’t good.  

He’d lost so much blood--twice what his actual body would normally hold--that he’d be vulnerable to infection while his immune system built back up his antibodies, a thought that terrified her when she’d learned that knife wounds to the intestines were highly likely to become infected.

His ‘intact’ leg was broken in two places and they had needed to use metal pins to put the bones back together, and the skinheads had nearly torn his arm from the socket when they’d been holding him for their knife-carrying friend.  Those would take months to heal, and would require physical therapy.

They were cautiously optimistic that he wouldn’t need a kidney transplant and that the injured organ would heal... but the catheter tube that came out from under the sheet was filled with red, a sight that made her heart jump and her throat swell shut with fear every time she saw it.  

Her phone rang, and her heart sank when she saw the number.

Taking a deep breath, she answered it.  “Yes?”

“Hello, Mrs. Haddock.  This is Alvin, with the insurance company?  We spoke yesterday about your husband’s treatment.”

“I remember.  What about it?”  

“Your case is currently under review, but I’m afraid to inform you that due to the circumstances of your husband’s emergency, we are denying your application for the changed plan to apply to his current treatment, as it counts as a preexisting condition.”  He didn’t sound afraid.  He sounded as if he was enjoying what he was saying.  

Her heart sank.  They couldn’t afford his treatment without that change to the insurance plan.  The deductible was just too much, and Hiccup’s leg was only covered due to his work.

“Please, please, please, reconsider--” she started to say, only for him to cut her off.  “Ma’am, you’ll have to apply for an exemption and a review of your case.  Good day.”  

He hung up.

Astrid looked around the room, at the multiple complicated, expensive machines keeping Hiccup alive...

And hunched her legs up into her chest and cried.  And then had to run for the wastebasket again, as the granola bar and orange that Snotlout had gotten her to eat suddenly turned sour in her stomach.  

“Hey, listen, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Ruffnut murmured, taking a glance back at the boys, who were talking in hushed whispers among themselves. Astrid’s eyes were closed, her face was flushed, and she was letting out labored breaths.

“It’s not okay.” Astrid bit her lip. “No one is sure if he’s gonna wake up or not. And even if he does, he’ll be in so much pain, so much-”

Ruff wrapped an arm around her, rubbing her shoulders. “He’s going to live. That’s gotta count for something.”

“Of course it does, but Ruff, how, in what universe, are we going to be able to pay for all of this?” Astrid put a hand over her mouth and released a sob.

Ruffnut and her brother had been about to board a flight when they were given the news. Fishlegs had texted them both multiple times, and, when they were about halfway there, added that Astrid was pregnant. Tuff had broken a lot of speed limits, and no one stopped him, especially not Ruff. That had been a few days ago.

Now, she held up her crying friend, hugging her and rubbing her back. “Listen, we’re all going to help you. We’re your backbone, Astrid, we have been since high school.” Astrid didn’t appear to hear her. Instead, she gasped, “Something’s wrong.”

“Astrid? Astrid!? What is it!?”

Astrid didn’t answer; her face was contorting with pain; she gave a heaving gasp and grasped her stomach like she was having period cramps dialed up to maximum and the knob broken off.  Her legs buckled and, most terrifyingly of all, a cry of sobbing pain pain escaped her.

Ruffnut swore as Astrid swayed and started to topple, her eyes rolling back into her head before they closed completely.  

“Help!” Ruffnut called as Astrid passed out into her arms.  

Snotlout swore and hit the button to call the nursing station, moving so fast and fluidly that Ruffnut would later realize that he’d been waiting to hit the alarm for hours.  Tuffnut helped her lower Astrid to the floor, both of them grunting with the effort as the other woman tried to unconsciously curl into a ball.  Fishlegs grabbed a pillow and stuck it under her head, and a moment later, the door swung open to reveal the duty nurse.

“What happened?”

Fishlegs said something technical that Ruffnut didn’t understand--it sounded like Sin-cop?--and then Ruffnut noticed that Astrid’s jeans were damp with blood.  

She shrieked and tried to tell the nurse, but couldn’t get the words out, instead just pointing frantically.  

The nurse understood, though; within a minute, there was a gurney coming in through the door and Astrid was loaded onto it by a pair of orderlies, who rushed her out of the door.  The nurse wasn’t looking too hopeful, though.

Ruffnut left with them, trying to understand, while Snotlout and Fishlegs stayed behind.  

But part of her understood what had happened all too well, and she was in denial.

An hour later, Astrid’s gynecologist confirmed it, although he used kind, technical terms, like “spontaneous miscarriage”...

Astrid had lost the baby.

Ruffnut didn’t cry often. But tears sprung to her eyes at this news. Hiccup probably hadn’t even heard enough to know Astrid was pregnant, and now he would have to get the news of the baby and the miscarriage all at once.

Ruff sat down, buried her face in her hands, and wondered why it had all gone so wrong so quickly for the Haddock family.

Tuffnut stood by, feeling useless, as Stoick hugged his sobbing daughter-in-law, heedless of the hospital gown she was wearing, crying that she was going to lose him and had already lost the baby.  The big man had flown in a few hours ago, and was throwing his weight around.  He’d arranged to get both Hiccup and Astrid into a private room, and his lawyer, Gobber, was making sure that the skinheads wouldn’t get off with a slap on the wrist.  Gobber had left a little while ago, an ugly and oddly satisfied chuckle in his voice as he’d considered a way to make those three bastards’ lives hell.  

Tuffnut wished him the best of luck.  Apparently, due to some stupid law on the books around here, it was possible that they might even manage to get the three of them charged with murdering Astrid’s baby.  

Meanwhile, Stoick was assuring Astrid that he’d cover the costs.  Hiccup wouldn’t like that--he made a big deal about not needing his dad for anything--but, as far as Tuffnut was concerned, Hiccup had given up his right to protest over how they paid for his hospital bills when he’d wasted over ten minutes of time when he could have called the ambulance to make a dramatic romantic call instead, between the time he’d talked to her and the time she’d found where he was and sent the ambulance.  

As it was, thank god that he had installed that tracking software on his and Astrid’s phones after they both kept forgetting and misplacing them.  Otherwise, the ambulance would never have found him in time.

He shivered at the thought.

Ruffnut came in, carrying the duffel filled with Astrid’s clothes that she’d gotten from their house.  Thankfully, they hadn’t gotten robbed when Astrid had left in a hurry, but Stormfly had gotten out again, and Fishlegs and Snotlout had spent an hour using the tracking collar to retrieve the cat from the neighborhood’s park two days ago.  Toothless, at least, had stayed.

Tuff cocked his head.  There was something... off about the sound that the machine was making.  How long it had been going on, he didn’t know; the nurse had last checked maybe fifteen minutes earlier.  He listened carefully.  It was very subtle, but he was sure that it was there.

He was about to get to his feet and call attention to it when Hiccup stirred.

He was alive.

That was surprising for some reason, but he couldn’t remember why...

Blinking, he moaned, and a hospital room swam into blurry view.

His dad was looking down at him with concern.

He moaned.  “What happened?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” his dad asked him.

Hiccup tried to shake his head to clear it, and an alarm went off, making him blink.  Bit by bit, his body was reporting in, and the news was pain.  Lots of it, in many different flavors.  Itchy-burning feeling from his back, a dull ache by his groin, a sharp stabbing pain by his leg, a pulling-tight sensation by his gut, a hot-burning feeling from his shoulder, a cramping sense of hollowness from his stomach...

He wanted to go back to sleep, but he didn’t see Astrid around...

Astrid.  

Right.

“I was talkin’ with Ast... but I don’t remember ‘bout what...” he slurred.

There was a rustling of fabric nearby, and a flurry of voices that sounded like Ruffnut and his wife...

Wait, wasn’t Ruffnut heading off somewhere?  For a something...?  What was she doing here?

They were talking hurriedly, and he strained and managed to turn his head in that direction.  

There was one of those privacy curtains there, with a blushing Fishlegs standing in front of it.  

Huh?  

Stoick leaned in.  “Do you remember what happened to you?”

“Yeah... I went for a walk to try out the new prosthetic...”

He squinted, trying to catch sight of Astrid.  A moment later, the curtain pulled aside and Astrid stepped forward.  

Hiccup drank in the sight of her.  She was wearing a light blouse, which was half-tucked into her third favorite pair of jeans, like she had dressed in a hurry...

And looked like she had barely slept in days.

“Ast...?”

She fell forward and hugged him, kissing him in a flurry all over, gasping out ‘Oh god,’ and ‘thank you’ over and over.  

Despite the pain, he awkwardly hugged her with the arm that hurt less, and a vague memory bubbled up.  “You said that you had a surprise for... me...?”

He caught but didn’t understand the significant looks being shared all around him, and then Astrid seemed to decide something and said, “It’s nothing important.”  She poked him in the nose a little bit hard.  “And that’s for doing something stupid like calling me and pretending that everything was alright instead of calling an ambulance!”

Hiccup made a brief sound of pain, even as he knew what was coming next.  

She kissed him solidly on the lips, and then broke apart.  “And that’s... for everything else.”

“I’m sorry...” he said, remembering that moment of decision.  

“I know,” she said, and then looked up.  “Snotlout, could you get him something to eat if the nurse says that it’s okay?”

Hiccup’s stomach rumbled.  “God, I could eat a horse.”

“Given that you haven’t eaten anything in almost a week, yeah,” Astrid said wryly.  

He got a good look at her eyes; she’d clearly been crying.  

“How bad was it...?” he asked weakly.

She hesitated, and said, “Really bad.  Don’t you ever do that to me again, Hiccup Haddock!”

“Promise.  I won’t.”

“Good.  Rest.  We’ll get you out of here as soon as we can.”

“Okay.”  He closed his eyes and fell back asleep.  

Epilogue: Sixteen months later

Looking at Astrid curiously, her daughter wrapped her hand around the offered finger.

Astrid closed her eyes for a second, and then held her daughter tighter, kissing the top of her head.

They were in the hospital again. She hated the place--she wanted out, but unfortunately, they’d be there for a few more days for her to recover. Astrid wanted to scream at the nurses that she’d recover much faster at home, at least mentally. But she kept her mouth shut, just relieved that her baby girl had been born, healthy and in great condition.

Astrid looked at her husband, who was watching them, with a kind of quiet admiration in his eyes. He didn’t look relaxed, per se, but he wasn’t tense either. He too, must have just been relieved.

She had never told him about the first pregnancy.

She had pleaded for anyone who knew not to tell him. There was no point, no point at all in telling him something so painful, and then waiting for the inevitable self-blame. Hiccup was horribly noble, and she just wasn’t ready to talk about her unborn child as though it was anyone’s fault. It was a child, a baby, and it had passed away before knowing life.

So Astrid pretended like the baby had never existed. She pretended like one of the happiest moments in her life, when she had seen the positive results on the pregnancy test, had never happened. And she pretended like all the pain she had been in when she lost the baby was just something out of a story. Hiccup was left in the dark, and she preferred to keep it that way.

Her baby, her pain, her secret.

Hiccup looked at his wife and daughter as the newborn got her second-ever meal and smiled.  The scars from his assault still twinged occasionally, and he got reminded of ‘the time you were a stupid selfish romantic idiot’ on a regular basis from everybody.  He’d never live it down, but that was okay.  He, at least, was going to live.

Unlike their first child, who everybody pretended never existed around him, and he pretended that he didn’t know, as if he had never found out from the court documents.  He’d caused Astrid enough pain; he wasn’t going to force her to relive those horrible moments.  It was the least he could do, after how he had pretended that all was well when it had begun.

So Astrid acted as though it never happened, and he acted as though he knew nothing of it.

It was their little game. A game of pretend.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Homeward Bound (4/?)

Summary: After Miles and Sawyer follow Claire when she wanders off after her father in the dead of night, Claire and Aaron are safely returned to the beach and head towards the freighter and freedom from the island.

But as Claire learns a few years later, the island has a way of bringing people back…

A fix-it that diverges from canon at S4Ep10 “Something Nice Back Home”, in which Claire becomes one of the Oceanic Six and gets to raise Aaron herself, away from the island.

Rated: T

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [AO3 Link]

Part Four: The Business of Living

The compensation settlement from Oceanic Airlines is huge. Claire doesn’t think that she’s ever been able to comprehend so much money. She knows that Hurley is a millionaire lottery winner of course, but that didn’t count because it didn’t really affect her, and it wasn’t like money had any real use or value on the island anyway. Perhaps if more of them had been rescued it would have been smaller, but as there are only five of them to share in this pot, it’s almost ludicrous. For a long time, all she can do is stare at the slip of paper that shows how much money has been transferred into her account. Sun has bought a controlling share in her father’s company with hers. Hurley has been giving most of his away to various charities, still convinced that his lottery win is somehow cursed.

It’s Hurley who helps her out in the end. Once the settlement had come in, he was the first person that she had called. Of all of their fellow survivors, he’s the only one who’s experienced this kind of sudden windfall before, going from a dead-end job in fast food to having more money than they know what to do with overnight.

“Hi Claire, it’s good to hear from you. Isn’t it like, the middle of the night in Australia?”

Claire laughs. “It’s six am tomorrow morning. I was up anyway with Aaron.”

“How’s he doing, adjusting to life outside the world of Crazy Island?”

“Really well, actually.” Perhaps the fact that Aaron spent his first couple of months seemingly in constant mortal peril has made him more relaxed now that he isn’t in peril all the time. As she said to Kate back in the New Otherton - she’s adopted Sawyer’s nickname for it, it seemed to fit - Aaron can sleep through anything. For these past few months whilst she’s been living with her mother, Carole has marvelled at just how quiet Aaron is and how well he sleeps. She’s completely besotted with her grandson, and considering the fact that she didn’t even know her daughter was pregnant until she’s already had the baby, Claire’s almost worshipfully grateful for her help. She thinks that there is something in that old saying, it takes a village. Back on the island, there had always been people around to help her with Aaron whenever she was worrying about him, about herself, about her ability to be a mother. She’d always had Sun and Rose and Kate, and any of the other survivors. To them, Aaron was a symbol of hope and new life in a place where there had been so much death and despair, and they were always happy to help. Now, the village is gone, she’s left it behind, and she only has her mother and her aunt. They’re happy to help too, but the fact remains that there are only the three of them.

But she has Hurley too, always on the other end of the phone and always happy to hear from her and hear how Aaron’s doing. Despite him being on completely the other side of the world, he’s probably the one whom she’s still closest to. Sun is closer geographically, but she has her own problems to deal with, and outside of the island, she and Claire inhabit very different worlds.

“My settlement payment came through last week,” Claire begins, but of course Hurley knows that because his own payment came through at the same time.

“Sweet. What are you going to use the money for?”

“I don’t know, that’s the problem.” Claire sighs. “That’s why I called you. Because, well, you’ve been through this before.”

“Yeah, the usual rags to riches story. That didn’t really turn out so well for me the first time. But I get your point.” He pauses. “If you don’t mind being in completely different time zones then I can give you my financial advisor’s number. He’s always handled most of the complicated investment stuff for me, and he can probably help you out and make sure that you can put something away for Aaron’s college fund, or whatever you might need it for in however many years’ time.”

“That would be great, thank you.” The knowledge that she can cast of the responsibility for this huge sum of money onto someone else is a great weight off her mind.

“The only other thing I would say would be to invest in property. Buy a house. Buy your mom a house. That was the first thing that everyone said to me when I won the lottery. Actually the first thing that I bought was Mr Cluck’s. Do you want to buy the Fish ‘n’ Fry where you used to work?”

Claire wrinkles her nose. “Not particularly. But a house sounds like a good idea.”

Hurley gives her the financial advisor’s number and email, and Claire feels slightly more at ease about what she’s going to do with the money, and they keep talking until Claire’s mum comes downstairs and begins making breakfast. There’s still a long way to go, but at least she’s got some kind of direction now. She’s so used to taking every day as it comes and making no long-term plans, even before the island, that it feels strange to be thinking about the far future. It makes it real; she’s really here and she’s really off the island.

Later that day, she starts looking at houses.

X

The settlement is enough that Claire can live pretty comfortably without having to work for a while, especially now that Hurley’s financial advisor has helped her with some lucrative investments, so she takes advantage of that, staying home with Aaron whilst he’s growing. She thinks about setting up a little side business, getting back to the things that she used to love before the island. Having Aaron and having to deal with all the dangers that were constantly befalling them had dampened her enthusiasm, slightly, but now she’s back home with all her astrology books, she remembers her first conversation with Kate, offering to make her chart. Art has always been something she’s been interested in, and something that, even if she does say so herself, she’s pretty good at. She was a tattoo artist for a while, after all, even if at that point in her life she couldn’t stick at anything for more than a few months, so young and angry at the world, desperate to find her place in it.

She’s still not entirely sure of her place in it, but she knows that her role for the moment is being Aaron’s mother, and she’s satisfied with that. Beautifully illustrated, customised astrology charts can wait for a while.

The house they live in is not palatial by any standard, just an ordinary place a few streets away from her mother and around the corner from the park where she walks with Aaron every day. She’s become so used to carrying him all the time that it felt strange to put him in a pushchair, so for now she wears him in a sling similar to the one Charlie made for her on the island. He’s getting a bit heavy now though, and since he’s started to crawl, there’s no stopping him. He shuffles about on his hands and knees at mach three, and Claire laughs as she runs around after him. Sometimes she forgets the lies that they’ve told everyone, and themselves, and she’ll mention something about Charlie to her mum, who just gives a sad smile. Carole knows that there’s something more at work, that what they told the press is in no way the full truth, if it is even the truth at all, but she doesn’t question it, she never probes further. She knows that whatever happened, it was a traumatic time, and she knows that a small part of her daughter was lost to that island forever, and will never come back. But they’re happy, all of them, and the deep sadness that Claire feels when she thinks about those they’ve lost is tempered with the happiness she feels when she looks at Aaron and her mother, alive and well and here with her.

Her new life hits its first snag when Aaron is eight months old, and there’s a knock at the door.

Thomas is standing there.

Claire’s first instinct is to slam the door in his face. She rests her forehead against the cool wood as he knocks again.

“Claire? Claire, please, I just want to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” she snaps through the door.

“Please, Claire, I want to see my son.”

That incenses her, and she wrenches the door open.

“No. You don’t get to see him. You gave up that right when you walked out of his life before he was even born. What, did you get some kind of epiphany when you thought I was dead, or is your sudden paternal urge more to do with the fact I now have a few hundred thousand dollars in my bank account and I can support your precious art, the art that, a year ago, was more important to you than your unborn child was?”

Thomas at least has enough courtesy to look sheepish. She had wondered how long it would take him to come sniffing around, looking for handouts on the pretext of wanting to be a family again. He had been the one to persuade her to keep Aaron, wanting them to be a family, and then he had thrown it all back in her face when he got cold feet. Now that she and Aaron are a family, he wants back in. Now that Claire’s gone through all the difficult parts without him. She shakes her head.

“Get out. Charlie showed more concern for me and Aaron than you ever did, and he only knew me for a month before I gave birth. You can’t just pick and choose parenthood to suit you, Thomas. And you definitely can’t pick and choose it to suit your bank balance.”

His expression hardens, and for a while, Claire wonders if he’ll fight her for parental rights. If that’s what he wants, then bring it on. She’s not letting him back into her life or Aaron’s, and she’ll fight tooth and nail every step of the way. She knows she has support. She has her mum and Aunt Lindsay, both of whom have made their opinions of Thomas and his behaviour very clear. She has Hurley and Sun who can throw so many lawyers at the situation that he’ll be tied up in legal arguments for the rest of his life. If he’s really interested in Aaron, if he really wants to be a father and doesn’t just want to sponge off her, then he can go through all the due process and prove it, but right now, Claire is not giving an inch. If there was one thing that the island taught her, it’s that fear is a powerful weapon when put to good use. She’s never going to not be scared, but if she can channel that fear into something productive, if she can channel it into anger and indignation, then she can use it, and if Thomas thinks that he’s going to deal with the same soft and lovable pushover that she had been before, then he’s got another think coming. The island has changed her, irrevocably so, exposing the inner steel that had always been hidden before.

Eventually though, Thomas gives up without further fight, and Claire closes the door, wondering if she will see him again. She goes back to Aaron in his soft playpen in the living room and watches him playing, his chortling giggles soon lightening her mood and lifting her spirits. Charlie was the only father figure he’s ever known, and he was an infinitely better one than Thomas. One day, she’ll tell him all about his father, but that’s a day so far off in the future that she can safely forget about it.

It’s only a few weeks later that Claire gets the call from Sun, inviting her to come and meet Ji Yeon.

“I’m inviting everyone,” she says, and Claire knows that Kate is the exception because she’s not allowed to leave the country whilst her case is still ongoing. Her trial is still postponed indefinitely but at least she was remanded on bail. “But don’t feel that you have to come. I know that you have your hands full with Aaron.”

She really wants to see everyone again, but she doesn’t want to take Aaron on an international flight. He doesn’t have a passport yet for starters, and at the same time, Claire isn’t all that enamoured by the prospect of an international flight herself. As soon as she got back to Sydney after the press conference, she had vowed never to get on another plane for as long as she lived.

Then she thinks about fear, and using it, and owning it. In addition to the monetary settlement, Oceanic also gave them free passes for the airline, and she might as well use them. Her mum is happy to take care of Aaron for a couple of days. She knows that taking this flight means something to Claire. It’s important to her to get back on a plane and take a step into the unknown, to prove to herself that her experiences thus far have not inhibited her. And she’ll get to see the others again.

In the end, it’s only her and Hurley who arrive; Jack is back practising at the hospital again and could not take the time off. They meet in the airport in Seoul and Hurley envelopes her in a bear hug that she didn’t even know she needed. She managed to get through the flight unscathed, but now she’s shaking with a delayed reaction. They check into the same hotel and order ice cream sundaes from room service just because they can, and they catch up on everything that’s happened since they last met. They speak on the phone regularly, just to check that they’re ok, but that’s different to seeing each other in person. Claire shows him photos of Aaron; she can’t stop taking pictures of him, probably because she didn’t get any when he was first born and she’s making up for lost time.

Lost time. Such a strange way of looking at things. The three months they spent on the island are lost to them now, never to be regained but still indelibly printed on their minds. They’re both thinking it, but neither of them say it, and the subject is changed.

The visit to Jin’s grave is sombre, and the happiness that Claire feels at seeing Hurley and Sun again and meeting Ji Yeon for the first time is mellowed somewhat. But Ji Yeon is a beautiful child, and Claire finds herself in the strange position of giving Sun parenting advice. It’s an odd feeling, imparting all this wisdom that she herself only learned by trial and error, and a part of her wonders if she sounds confident or if she sounds like a fraud, but Sun nonetheless takes everything on board. Motherhood isn’t something that she ever thought that she would be any good at, but now it’s one of the things that defines her. In all the furore after the Oceanic Six came home, the press made so much of her imperiled pregnancy and her having Aaron on the island, it was as if she had been reduced to her motherhood and nothing more. She’s quite glad that things have calmed down now and she can try to get back to a normal life.

As wonderful as it has been to see old friends again, Claire doesn’t realise just how much tension she’s been holding in herself throughout her trip to South Korea until she’s back in Sydney, and her mother and Aaron are waiting for her in the arrivals hall.

[foreverwhelmed]

My Brother’s Guide to DC Superheroes

He made this as my Hanukkah present and I thought it was too funny not to share :)

A superhero guide from someone who is not at all qualified to make a superhero guide. Here goes nothing!

Superman:

Superman is easily the most overpowered hero in the D.C. universe. He can fly, has laser vision, x-ray vision, super strength, super speed, and probably a lot more. Sporting a blood red cape (Edna Mode would not approve), a suit with giant letter “S” on the front (which totally doesn’t stand for Superman), and red underwear fashionably worn outside his pants (has nobody from earth instructed him on how to correctly wear underwear?), Superman is a very well-dressed hero. His secret identity is a journalist named Clark Kent, who would look exactly like Superman, had it not been for his combing back his curly q and wearing glasses, which make the two personas completely indistinguishable. Superman’s only weakness is a fictional element, which he should really be able to avoid quite easily given his other powers. Although Superman may seem indestructible, he has one key weakness (other than Kryptonite), the sun. The sun is the source of all Superman’s powers, so in order to defeat him, all one must do is destroy the sun. What could go wrong? P.S. Side note, see this website here:

https://what-if.xkcd.com/49/

for what could, and could not go wrong.

Batman:

One of the most famous heroes in D.C. history, Batman is a very successful superhero despite not having any actual powers. However, what he lacks in superpowers, he makes up for in his multi-billion dollar net worth. Similarly to Superman, Batman also wears a cape (tsk tsk tsk), a suit with a bat on the front, a mask, and underwear worn outside his pants (Because if there’s one thing that makes people think, ‘Wow. That guy deserves my respect and admiration,’ it’s wearing underwear outside your pants). Along with the suit, Batman also carries around his handy dandy utility belt. This belt carries everything a hero would possibly ever need, including smoke, gas, and stun pellets, a tranquilizer gun, batarangs (not a typo, this is how they are actually spelled), various types of grenades, tracers, a rebreather (similar to an oxygen tank), glue globules, and much MUCH more (how heavy is this thing? How can he even walk, let alone fight crime with this thing on?). Although Batman’s weaknesses are not clearly stated (a.k.a. I didn’t feel like looking them up), he is just a regular human being, meaning that he is vulnerable to bullets, falling vending machines, flaming cacti, the word “Martha,” and much MUCH more. Batman’s alter-ego is super rich guy Bruce Wayne, a billionaire philanthropist. Overall, Batman is definitely one of the coolest in comic book history.

Cyborg:

Cyborg is a part-human part-robot superhero. Victor Stone was a popular high school football player with a promising future, until he died (but since we obviously both know how, I’ll spare you the details). Luckily, his father resurrected him and replaced many of his limbs with robotic parts (*COUGH* Darth Vader *COUGH*). Armed with a jetpack, arm cannon, and an upbeat catchphrase, Cyborg is a formidable crime fighting robot-person hybrid. Since we both clearly know everything there is to know about Cyborg, I will leave this section off right here, as to not restate what you know...I mean what we both already know.

Green Lantern:

Hal Jordan is a guy with willpower, and he’s in a space police thing and has a ring that can make stuff…I’m gonna be honest, I know basically nothing about Green Lantern, so I’m just gonna move on.

Wonder Woman:

Wonder Woman is a crime fighting Amazonian warrior. Sculpted from clay by Queen Hippolyta (hey wasn’t that the Amazonian from Theseus?) and given life and superhuman abilities by Aphrodite and other Greek gods (isn’t Wikipedia great?), Wonder Woman is a demigod with a list of powers rivaling that of Superman. She has super speed, strength, reflexes, intelligence, longevity, and much more, to compliment her hand-to-hand combat skills. But she has more than just her superhuman abilities. She also has an invisible jet, a lasso that makes people tell the truth, a sword and shield, and wrist deflector shield things (to use the technical term), and probably some more bizzare things I’ve never heard of. Sporting red white and blue colors on her super suit, Wonder Woman’s color scheme seems oddly American for a character based on the Amazons from Greek mythology (another illusion shattered). Wonder Woman’s alter ego is Diana Prince, who probably has a job and/or does some cool stuff. Her weaknesses include...wait a second, does she actually have any weaknesses? At least Superman has kryptonite. Oh my god, she might be more overpowered than Superman! Anyway, with her countless abilities, powers, and skills, Wonder Woman is among the most powerful superheroes in the D.C. universe.

Aquaman:

Aquaman is one of the most...interesting superheroes on this guide. With countless jokes being told at his expense, Aquaman is considered by man to be the viola section of the Justice League. His powers are pretty typical, such as his super strength and super speed, but what stands out is his ability to talk to and control aquatic creatures (you thought Squirrel Girl was scary, just wait until you face Great White Shark Man or Electric Eel Person). In addition to his powers, Aquaman has his trusty pitchfork, which he probably uses for something magicy or sea related. Aquaman’s super suit has a very...interesting color scheme, with a combination of an orange-yellow shirt and green pants that any elementary school art teacher would tell you clash with each other (that is when he chooses to wear a shirt at all). Aquaman’s real name is Arthur Curry, and as King of Atlantis, you might think he has better things to do than fight crime on the surface, but who knows? Maybe Atlantis is run by the citizens, or maybe the King is just a figurehead, and the lionfish and octopi have been ruling this entire time! Anyway, between the pitchfork, mind control, and countless jokes, Aquaman is a very unique superhero.

The Flash:

Bartholomew  “Barry” Allen, a.k.a. The Flash, may or not be the fastest superhero in the entire superhero universe. Although his list of superpowers is not as long as Superman or Wonder Woman’s The Flash is not to be underestimated. The Flash’s most famous superpower is his notorious super speed, which allows him to get anywhere in a Flash (get it?). In addition, he has super agility and stamina, has a healing factor, and is really smart. Using his speed as his main tool for fighting crime, Bartholomew doesn’t really use any weapons or equipment, other than his suit which prevent him from dying when he goes for a run (at least it’s not a cape). This suit is bright red with a yellow lightning symbol on the center picturing a Flash of lightning (get it?). When he isn’t fighting crime, Barty probably spends his time doing super smart sciency things. Of all the heroes on this guide, The Flash is the only one who has had a Netflix original series created about him. With his intelligence, suit, easiness to make puns about, and super speed rivaled by only Superman and Dash from The Incredibles, Bartho is a pretty cool hero.

Robin:

Note: Due to the high number of Robins in the D.C. universe, I will be referring to the hands down best incarnation of Robin ever created, Richard Grayson from the 1966 live action Batman TV series. With that out of the way, let’s begin. Robin, the Boy Wonder, is probably the most well known sidekick in superhero history. Similarly to Batman, he lacks any superpowers. However, what Robin lacks in powers he makes up for in his extraordinary skills, such as acrobatics, hand-to-hand combat, escapology, investigation, and of course, driving (that’s true! Check this website here to see for yourself. Or don’t. Either way. I don’t really care.) 

http://dc.wikia.com/wiki/Richard_Grayson_(Batman_1966_TV_Series)

In addition, Robin also has his own utility belt, equipped with whatever is convenient to the plot. Robin’s suit consists of a red shirt, yellow cape (why a superhero who can’t fly wears a cape is beyond me), and green underwear worn outside his pants (*sigh*). In addition, he wears a black mask to conceal his identity, similarly to the Incredibles (but worse, obviously). Robin’s legal guardian is famous rich guy Bruce Wayne, a.k.a. Batman (*Gasp*)! Although powerless, Robin is a formidable foe, and a trustworthy sidekick. “Holy knit-one purl-two Batman!” (A real quote from the TV show)

[thesevillereport]

You Need to Start Investing NOW! Pt II

In part one of this blog we touched why you should start investing, how investing allows you to participate in the success of companies you're familiar with, and the beauty of owning a business without running a business. In part two we touch on why some people have avoided investing in the stock market. We tackle these issues head on including the risk of losing money. To be an investor, and a good investor - which I'm sure you're capable of - you need to have all the information, the good and the bad..

So many people go their entire lives not investing because they believe the stock market is a scam, which is the mindset of someone who just doesn't understand how it works, and to be honest with you, that is by design. Yes, it's by design that you weren't taught about how the stock market actually functions, but that's another topic for another day, for now let's address the stock market is a scam issue.

The Stock Market is a Scam.

This mindset plagues a lot of people, According to Statista only 55% of American adults are investing, and of those people that are not investing, some have been told that the stock market is rigged or it's a scam.

One part of that last sentence is absolutely correct, the stock market is rigged. It's rigged for investors with patience to win in the end. It's rigged to take the money of anyone buying without an understanding of what they're buying and why they're buying it. It's rigged to leave anyone who believes they will get in, get out, and get rich quickly with nothing. I cannot deny it, it's definitely rigged. But I will argue against the stock market being a scam where only the rich guys win.

In part one I mentioned McDonalds and Johnson & Johnson, are those companies scams? Nike (NKE), Clorox (CLX), General Mills (GIS) the cereal manufacturer, Campbell the soup company (CPB), Dick's Sporting Goods (DKS), Target (TGT), Walmart (WMT), United Airlines (UAL), JetBlue (JBLU), Delta (DAL), Facebook (FB), Google (GOOGL), Netflix (NFLX), Apple (AAPL), Microsoft (MSFT), Amazon (AMZN), these are all publicly traded companies. To say the stock market is a scam is to say the products of the stock market, the companies I've just mentioned are a scam, and you're smart enough to know they are not. You wouldn't buy scammy shoes to put on your feet, or shop at a scammy store, or fly a scammy airline would you? If your answer is no, then you agree with me that Nike,Target, and JetBlue aren't running scams.

But from speaking to new investors about why they didn't invest earlier we usually hear the same story. A friend, cousin, uncle, or parent got a stock tip, bought in - without doing any other research - the stock price went down, and they lost their money, but the person that gave them the tip made out very well from the investment. This story is centuries old, and the last time I heard it, won't be the last time I hear it. It's unfortunate that it happens, but remember what I stated earlier, the market is rigged to take the money of anyone buying without an understanding of what they're buying and why they're buying it. A stock tip does not qualify as understanding what you're buying and why you're buying it.

Something else we've gathered from speaking to people that have had bad experiences in the market, their market outcomes had a lot to do with their mindset around money.

We've listened to people who were used to paying top dollar for everything. Getting the most expensive watch, car, wardrobe, house, meal, drink, et cetera, because they could.

That mindset is counterintuitive in investing.

Investors don't make money when they purchase shares of a company for $15 billion if the company is only worth $10 billion. Investors make money when they find a company worth $15 billion, but the market is selling the company for $10 billion. That $5 billion difference between the price the market is currently selling the investment for and what an investor believes the investment is worth is where the money is made.

For an investor to have success investing they have to be bargain hunters. Whether they decide to invest in value companies or high growth companies, they have to search for the bargain in order to make money. The same thing goes for real estate, buying a house for top dollar is an unwise move for a real estate investor. Buying high for the sake of buying high doesn't work in investing.

I hope this does a little bit to clear up the stock market is a scam notion. How can it be a scam when some of the largest companies in the world are a part of it? If an investor is constantly losing money and seeing more loses than gains over a long period of time, it's not because the stock market is a scam, it's because they aren't investing correctly, and are overpaying for their investments.

The Fear of Losing

Another reason many people avoid the markets is because they're scared of losing money. I was up front with you on the markets being rigged, and I'll be up front with you here, if you invest, there will be a time when you will lose money. There is no way to sugarcoat that.

The greatest investors in the world, the billionaire money managers that are featured on CNBC and Fox Business have all lost money investing at some point, and these are the worlds best and brightest investing minds. Losses happen, and this is why it is important when investing to think long term.

On the bright side, every dollar lost is a lesson learned in investing. It's a lesson on what to look out for on the next investment.

If we buy McDonalds at a value price with plans to hold it long term, we increase our chances of making a very good return on our money and decrease our chances of losing money.

McDonald's may have a rough quarter or a rough year, but it will likely be here long after you and I are gone, and it will likely be worth more money ten years from now than it is today.

There is Nothing to Fear but Fear Itself

Today investing is easier than it's ever been. More importantly it's easier to start small than it's ever been. I started investing when I had to call a broker, listen to that broker chuckle at the few dollars I had to buy the few shares of stock I wanted, and then pay that broker's commission for taking my order.

It's so much easier today. First, everything is online, and setting up a trading account is as easy as filling out a job application. You can log in to your trading account, deposit money, withdraw money, buy stocks and sell stocks without speaking to anyone at all.

Also trading apps like Robinhood and WeBull initiated the zero-commission trading phenomenon, which eventually caught fire and forced larger investment houses to adopt a zero-commission fee structure. Now investing is easy and almost free, in addition some sites even allow investors to buy fractional shares. Now investors don't have to buy a full share of stock outright, they can buy a fraction of a share, and still enjoy in the success of that company to the degree of the ownership stake they have.

Why Stocks (and ETFs Sometimes)?

There are enough people yelling at you in those four minute YouTube commercials about the best, easiest, quickest way to get rich, I want to avoid that crowd, but still explain to you why The Seville Report is focused on stocks/equity.

First and foremost stocks are incredibly easy to buy and sell. Open an app, enter the stock symbol, enter the number of shares I want, hit the buy button and I'm done. If I need to know the value of my investment I can easily find it. When I'm ready to sell the stock it's just as easy; open the app, enter the symbol, the amount of shares I want to sell, hit the sell button and I'm done. I just can't beat the simplicity of conducting a stock transaction compared to other investments.

Also stocks provide the ability to gain exposure to a multitude of markets. For example a stock in a Real Estate Investment Trust (REIT) can provide exposure to the real estate markets. A REIT that pays a monthly dividend can give me the sense of collecting rent, without having to secure a mortgage, locate a property, and qualify tenants.

If I foresee something great happening that will positively impact a specific industry, I can buy an ETF and gain exposure to that industry. An ETF like the SPDR S&P 500 Trust ETF (SPY) tracks the S&P500, and this one investment instrument provides investors exposure to the best companies in the United States.

Also, I find the process of researching publicly traded companies easier than researching most other types of investments. I also enjoy that as long as I have an internet connection I can research a company from anywhere, and there's the euphoric feeling I get when I find an undervalued gem. Life is hard, so I try take the easy way when I can, and stock investing is just easy to me.

Invest Now!

No matter what you decide to invest in, it doesn't matter to me, I just want you to invest. We can all use a money multiplier, something that grows the money we have, while we're trying to make more money, and there is no easier way to do that than by investing.

A case for investing in stocks is that investing in stocks gives you the opportunity to own a business without the huge cash outlay needed to start a business. Also, owning stocks allows you to participate in the success of companies you know and whose products you use.

Remember the stock market is not a scam. Real companies are traded every day in the stock market, companies that you know. Don't fear losing money, because you will eventually take a loss if you're investing, that's in stocks as well as real estate, losses are a part of the territory. But when all is said and done the wins should more than outweigh the losses.

Don't let the process overwhelm you, opening an investment account is like filling out a job application or opening a bank account. Once your account is established you're ready to start funding your account and investing.

If you weren't investing or never thought about investing, I hope that you are seriously considering it after reading this. If you're ever in need of investment ideas, we publish our investment newsletter quarterly, and it can be purchased here. In our newsletter we discuss undervalued opportunities in the market. Good luck, and may your next investment be your best investment.

[womenandfilm5]

The Hitch-Hiker is an American mystery film directed by Ida Lupino and released in 1953. The film follows the story of two fishermen whom were taking a road trip down to San Felipe, Mexico for a fishing trip. On their way down, they happened to pick up a man on the side of the road whom happened to be the infamous ‘hitch-hiker’. Lupino then takes us on a thrilling adventure full of suspense as we watch these two men fight for their lives through obedience and wit as they travel throughout Mexico. Despite a phenomenal film, Lupino faced a few difficulties when directing it. Firstly, the budget of the film was only around $100,000-200,000, which was practically nothing when comparing to the average budget of a million dollars for films during that era. However, this did not stop her as she used the car as her primary location for the film and took advantage of lighting to help convey the tones and moods throughout the film. As well as lighting, Lupino used shadows to illustrate motifs of claustrophobia, panic, anxiety, and suspense to truly capture the essence of a dramatic mystery film. . This brings up the next point of themes found within The Hitch-Hiker. One theme that is very prominent and can be seen throughout the film is power. The audience sees the battle between dominance through the hitch-hiker, Emmet Meyers, and submission through the two fishermen, Gilbert and Collins. Emmet Meyers is classified as a serial killer within the film. According to the Diagnostic & Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM), a serial killer is mainly someone diagnosed with anti-social personality disorder with traits of psychopathy. This relates to Meyer’s classification as he talks about his upbringing to Gilbert. He states, “You always had it good, so you’re soft. Well, not me. Nobody ever gave me anything. So I don’t owe nobody. My folks were duff. When I was born, they took one look at this…puss of mine and told me to get lost. I didn’t need ‘em. I didn’t need any of em. I got what I wanted my own way.” This explains why he is so cold and phlegmatic as he grew up with a rough childhood. It would be safe to assume that his whole life he felt as if it were him battling the world, resulting in him wanting to cause suffering to other people as a form of revenge. This relates to the theme of power. However, as Collins mentions, “without the gun, you’re nothing”, illustrating that Meyers is, still in fact, insecure with himself and feels the need to hide behind a gun to feel powerful and gain control over others. Continuing with the theme of power, Collins and Gilbert are powerless, or at least choose to be in order to save each other. Watching the film, I wondered why they could not just take Meyers on as it would be two against one. Further into the film, I had realized it was due to loyalty to one another and that in itself held more power as they had more courage than Meyer’s did, despite him holding the weapon. . Despite The Hitch-Hiker’s major success, it was not all easy for Ida Lupino. Lupino used to be an actress for Warner Bros., yet left the company and became the only female director in Hollywood at the time. She had taken over as director for the film Not Wanted in 1949 after Elmer Clifton fell ill. This was her breakthrough into the film director world. Lupino become known for her bold and controversial statements through her films as she decided to tackle unspoken issues such as unwed motherhood and bigamy. Lupino said, “brutal repercussions of sexuality, independence, and dependence are what thirsts a great story.” Controversy did not shy away from The Hitch-Hiker either. As the film is considered to be one of the first female directed film noir, Lupino was already battling against The Hays Code. The Hays Code implemented a standard of censorship against films to protect the audience and viewers from obscene and vulgar material. In that era, criminal acts and violence were considered violations against the code. This led to an opposition by Geoffrey Sherlock as he expressed that Lupino was breaching the Production Code of screen depictions of notorious criminals. The Hitch-Hiker was a film based on the genuine killings of William Edward “Billy” Cook Jr., whom had actually given the rights of his story to Lupino herself. Regardless, she was not permitted to film his story. To work around this issue, Lupino had found a legal loophole that allowed her to film her movie. She had to create a fictitious story that seemed inspired by the Cook murders, hence most of the film filmed in the car, and shy away from murders and violence onscreen. Knowing this, however, I was surprised to see in the beginning postcard that it stated that the acts within the film were factual. . As I previously mentioned, Lupino attempted to use lighting and shadows to help her set the tone and mood for her environment. At the beginning of the film, the audience only sees the murderer through his shadow. It is interesting for Lupino to introduce Meyers through a shadow as it creates elusion and mystery. Even when Meyers’ figure comes into view, his face is hidden behind a shadow creating that same disturbing and elusive feeling. Lupino also uses music to create a sense of urgency such as the can shooting scene. Every time the camera panned towards Gilbert, the music grew louder, then became quieter when it panned away. After he successfully shoots the can out of Collins’ hand, the film cuts to a fast-paced car scene with quick music next. The jump from quick to quick does not allow the audience to feel a sense of relief from the previous events, as they are thrown into another chaotic moment. Additionally, I wanted to touch upon the mise en scène within the film. As it was previously stated, power is a very prominent theme in The Hitch-Hiker, and I believe Lupino reinforced that theme through wardrobe. Meyer’s was portrayed as the powerful figure in the film as he was the one holding the two men hostage, and Lupino symbolized this through his leather jacket. Leather usually represents power, as the Romans used to wear leather for protection as it was considered a strong material. Towards the end of the film, when justice was about to take place, Meyer switches clothes with Gilbert, giving him the leather jacket. I took it as foreshadowing of the exchange of power, and the arrest confirmed my theory. . Concluding my report, I want to admire Lupino for directing The Hitch-Hiker as it has become a trademark in women and film noir cinema. She broke the boundaries of film law, and created what she wanted to create. However, when looking into the history of film noir, I could not find any other films of the genre directed by women other than Lupino herself. This was a shame, as I am sure there were women directors eager to take the camera and create a film, yet we have nothing more. It reminds me of something someone said in class about how maybe there were films, but like Alice Guy Blaché, the world just does not know about it yet. Additionally, I felt the title of the film was perfect as it was literal and symbolic of the film. It was straight to the point of what the film was going to be about, yet also held some mystery. Hitch-hikers nowadays are considered suspicious, and that was what Meyer’s was. Contradictory to today, in the 50’s, hitch-hiking was considered normal and people were more friendly and willing to give a stranger a lift. It definitely shows how time has passed, and how more cautious we are now. I enjoyed the film and writing about it and Lupino, and hope to watch some more of her films in the future. -- AB