#but yeah allison never interested me

[louferrignojrofficial]

i’m almost at the end of teen wolf season 4. and i think now i know more than ever…. i really could not care less about allison. i genuinely did not care about a single plot line of hers. meanwhile literally every other character i love. even her own mother was more interesting and she was barely there.

[thyfggfy]

Me after creating a mental list of my favourite characters from certain medias :.... I may have a type

Female characters that constantly have to prove themselves cuz no one believes in them and there is always someone who surpasses them get behind me.

[catoslvt]

Ben Hargreeves x Reader

I would've married you if you'd stuck around🐙

sorta s4 spoilers? but nobody takes the Marigold and lived their life.

plus I'm changing things because... yeah.

I walk into the birthday party for little Grace, who is one of Diego and Lila's children with her birthday present in my hand. It's just a silly child's keyboard because what the fuck do you get a six year old?

I make my way through the swarm of running and screaming children, the part of me that never grew up hurting because that's the childhood I always wished to have, yknow, running about, screaming my head off with all my friends but no, at the age of six I was learning how to disarm gunmen and learning how to control my powers.

God my life has gotten so much better without them.

Once I'm out the swarm of children, my eyes instantly fall on Sloane, Luther, and Ben, and I feel a slight shiver go down my spine at the sight of ben, I mean it's weird to think he has the face of the boy I used to love when we were like thirteen, but he's not the boy I love, I think anyway, I mean okay I sorta have feelings for this Ben, but I don't want him to think it's because he has the face of my old Ben, its confusing isn't it?

"y/n hi!" Sloane exclaims, waving me over with her hands, and I put on a wide smile as I make my way over to her, setting my present for Grace on the table beside her before she wraps me into a tight hug, which I return with an awkward laugh.

"I heard you're a firefighter now? that's sick." I say, turning to Luther with a smile and he just nods.

"we brought the Umbrella Academy, we're currently renovating it, I'd love for you to come stay some time." He tells me, and I widen my eyes, pretending to be interested as I make small 'oo' noises.

I hate when our family gather together, I mean Luther is married with a child, Diego is married with kids, I don't know what the fuck is going on with Allison, weve hardly spoken since we got to this time line and its not exactly that i dont want to talk to her, i just dont know what id say, Klaus doesn't need love, Five is technically married to a piece of plastic, Ben's just out of prison, Viktor has basically dated every girl in his town and I'm just.. there, I end up feeling extremely left out at the family gatherings when they start talking about issues with their kids or relationship problems because the only relationship problem was the fact Ben died on me.

"How was prison?" I ask ben, my eyes lighting up slightly as I turn to face him, all my attention now on him.

"I can't exactly say I enjoyed it." He tells me, raising a bottle of beer to his lips and taking a sip, and I just know his parole officer is gonna be pissed so I just let out a quiet laugh.

"So where are you staying then? I can't imagine your parole officer would let you live far." I then go onto ask, and he groans slightly, pointing at Luther and Sloane who are now talking to Diego.

"but I'm seriously debating robbing a bank just to get thrown back in." He then adds, looking around and I can't help but laugh a little louder.

"You're staying with them?" I scoff, turning to look at him with raised eyebrows.

"hardly by choice, I just needed a permanent address." He sighs, and I laugh again.

"Fresh out prison, and you're gonna be turned into a painter, electrician, plumber and babysitter. good luck." I tell him and he lets out a small chuckle before taking another drink from his beer.

"How have you been then?" Ben asks, and I shrug slightly.

"I mean, yeah, I've been.. living." I answer with a laugh, and he nods in agreement.

"Why don't we go get you a drink, we can sit at a table at the very back, and you can let it all out." He offers and I rapidly nod.

I sit at the table with Ben, taking a small sip from my beer before clearing my throat.

"I'm a child psychologist now." I tell him, and he nods slightly.

"I mean, it just felt right, yknow? I want to help kids so they don't end up with a childhood that we had. Well, I mean, without the powers, the robotic mom, the alien dad, you get what I mean." I tell him with a small wave of my hand, and he continues to nod, a small smile on his face.

"I get it." He tells me, and we both fall into a comfortable silence before he breaks it right as I take a mouthful of beer.

"don't you miss your powers?"

that question almost makes me spit my beer everywhere, my eyes widening as I stare at him.

"God, no, I don't miss them in this time line Nobody knows who I am, nobody takes a double take or gawks at me waiting to see my powers in use, I can be whatever I want to be in this timeline and I plan on using that to my hearts content." I tell him, and he just looks at me.

"You don't miss them? not even a little bit?" He asks, and I shake my head, which causes him to shrug slightly.

"I miss my powers, I feel.. ordinary without them." He tells me, and I furrow my eyebrows slightly.

"No offence, but I'm glad you don't have your powers. You died because of them in my original timeline, and it's good to see what my ben would've looked like grown up." I tell him, and he gives me a sad smile before we fall quiet yet again.

"and i think it's good to feel ordinary, I spent my whole childhood wanting to be normal to fit in, and now I do." I then add, and he scoffs.

"There's nothing ordinary about us y/n. Apart from the Umbrella Academy and the Sparrow Academy, nobody in the world has gone through even a fraction of what we have, and you've technically went through more than me because the Umbrellas ended the world in 2019, just to then go and do it again back in the 60s, to come back for it to end in 2019 again.." Ben says, and I just scoff, but I can't help but laugh and nod.

"and both times was technically Viktors fault." I argue, and we both smile before Five appears from under a slide somewhere and nods, a bottle of beer in his hand.

"it was Viktors fault both times. Actually, she's not making that up." He tells ben as he makes his way over to our table, dragging a chair along behind him, and ben just raised his eyebrows slightly, clearly pissed off our conversation had been distributed by Five, who still looks like a kid.

"Well, isn't this just a sad table of losers who feel out of place at their nieces birthday party with all the married couples and kids." Five says as he sits his beer down on our table with a large clink.

"I don't feel out of place, I could easily find someone I could marry and have kids with. you couldn't because you look like you're 18." I argue, and five leans back in his seat and crosses his arms slightly, mouthing ben so subtly so that ben can't see.

"Wait, y/n, did you ever even move on after your ben died?" My other Ben asks, and I look at him, my eyes wide as I try to muster an answer.

I try to muster up and answer, but none suitable come to my mind because the truth is I didn't even try to move on, I felt like there was no point, my whole childhood my heart was set on the fact that I'd be marrying Ben, I wanted to at the time despite how young we were and the fact we didn't fully understand the whole concept of marrige and he said he wanted to aswell. when he died I just blamed myself, I thought it was my fault he had died and I convinced myself everyone I love will die because of me, as a sort of reminder that my powers were a curse. obviously, that fact was proven false because my powers are gone. but even now, I'm still cautious to open myself back up to love, but when I'm with this ben, I feel myself slowly opening up again.

"I tried, but nobody stuck around." I lie, and Five shoots me a knowing glare, and Ben just nods, yet another comfortable silence falling over us as I take a large drink from my beer, staring down at my hands before Five starts a conversation with Ben and I can't help but sigh a sigh of relief.

somehow, Luther and Sloane have convinced me to come to theirs to stay the night.

"I think it'll have beneficial effects on releasing your childhood trauma y/n." Luther tells me as I sit in the back of his car, ben at the other side as sloane sits in the front and stares out the window.

"I'm the child psychologist Luther. You just stick to putting out fires." I state, crossing my arms slightly as I stare out the car window, watching the world go by the single frame of glass, trying to hide my smile as I hear Ben laugh at my comment.

"Do you ever sit and look at people and just laugh to yourself because you've saved their asses from the end of the world three times now?" I ask to Luther mainly due to the fact the Sparrow Academy have only had to save the world once, which ended up in all but two of them dying and he just shrugs as he continues to drive.

"Imagine how Viktor feels, knowing he almost killed them twice." Ben says, and that causes me to laugh, slapping a hand over my mouth as I try to stop it.

"That's nasty! the first time wasn't fully his fault. He just discovered his powers and didn't know how to stop them." I tell him, leaning over to gently slap his arm, but I'm still laughing.

"Plus, it's also semi Luther fault for locking him in this weird, safe thing." I add, and Luther groans, muttering something under his breath, leaving me to smile proudly.

"Let's just sit in silence till we get home." Luther suggests, and nobody says a single word to protest and I guess it would be sorta rude if I did seeing as I'm staying at his house tonight.

I sit in my old room, looking around at how empty it is because the Umbrella Academy doesn't exist in this timeline, meaning this room is just a room where I just so happened to share all of my good childhood memories, or atleast the handful I can call good.

"Why would you actually agree to come back here?" Ben asks with a laugh as he stands at the doorframe, staring down at me with questioning eyes.

"I think it's actually partly to do with what Luther said, I think it's good for myself to come see the place and realise that everything that happened back in my time line is just memories now, I dont know I guess I'm trying to give myself some closure." I answer with a shrug as ben walks further into the room, now sitting beside me on the bed.

"What were we like? in your timeline anyway?" ben asks, and I feel my heart stop for a second as I look at him for a brief moment.

"Really young but you -" I cut myself off. Is it wrong to address this ben as my Ben? because it is the same person, but it's not at the same time.

"we understood each other, he- *you* were one of the only people at the Umbrella Academy who showed me love despite our age. if we were doing paired work, we'd always be together, at meals we'd always pass notes, during training we always went easy on each other, during missions we always had a close eye on each other, we'd always spend time in my room. yeah, we were really young, but we still loved each other." I tell him, and he just looks at me, a sad smile on his face.

"we were convinced we were gonna get married, and in all honesty, I would've married you if you stuck around." I then add, looking away as I get an unbearable feeling of sadness.

"I would've married you if you came to the Sparrow Academy timeline earlier." Ben tells me, and I almost choke on my spit as I look at him, my eyes wide.

"What?" I ask, shaking my head slightly.

"I felt myself changing slightly the minute I looked at you when our academies met, but I was too.." He trails off trying to find the words.

"stuck up? full of yourself?" I begin listing and he rolls his eyes but he smiles slightly.

"Yeah, yeah, I was too stuck up to actually allow myself to change for you, and also, I was too scared because I know im nothing like your ben so I didn't want to cause a disappointment as though you lost him again." Ben admits, and I just stare at him.

"Ben, you are my ben." I state, my eyes not leaving his face, not even when his eyes light up slightly, not even when he turns to look at me.

"I didn't want to tell you in case you thought I'm just using you because of what happened with Umbrella Ben, but I promise you that is not the case. You are my ben." I then add, and I see his eyes softening as a small smile appears on the edge of his lips.

"so it's safe to say we like each other then?" He asks after a moment of us just staring at each other.

"I guess so." I jokingly groan, but I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him into a hug, just savouring the feeling of ben in my arms, my ben as one of his arms wrap around my waist, the other one coming up to reach into my hair, pressing the back of my head closer into him.

"I can't believe you went to prison, you asshole! I was gonna tell you I had feelings for you once we all settled into the new timeline, and then you went to prison."I scoff, and he pulls away from the embrace slightly and looks at me.

"You could've always written a letter or something." He tells me, a smirk playing on his lips.

"I would've been better using a carrier pigeon. No chance was I gonna have a prison pen pal." I scoff, rolling my eyes, but I did write, and then I wrote again, and again, and guess what? I wrote again.

"I did write to you, over and over again, I just never had the courage to send them, because imagine you got one of the letters, wrote back but it didn't send to me?" I ask, a shiver going down my spine at the thought of never knowing if he felt the same way.

"Well, I would've rewrote the same letter every day and sent it to you until you got it." Ben says, a slight hint of promise in his words, and with that, I press a kiss to his lips, and he instantly returns it, his hand on my waist tightening, gently pushing my head closer to his as he depends the kiss and we continue in our kissing embrace got a few moments, before we hear a:

"When I said coming here would help to release your childhood trauma, I didn't mean by doing.. this." Luther says, and I just pull away laughing.

[inkspiredwriting]

Hickey Havoc

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

The Hargreeves mansion was unusually quiet on this crisp morning. The siblings, each engrossed in their own activities, had gathered for breakfast in the large, sunlit kitchen. Luther was eating, Allison was flipping through her phone, Klaus was applying nail polish, Viktor was reading a newspaper, Ben was sipping coffee, and Diego was sharpening his knives.

Five strode into the kitchen, his usually impeccable suit slightly askew, and his collar turned up. He looked around suspiciously, as if expecting an ambush.

"Morning," he muttered, heading straight for the coffee pot.

Klaus, paused mid-brush stroke. "Morning, Five," he said, his tone overly innocent. "Have a good night?"

Five gave him a sidelong glance. "What’s it to you?"

"Oh, nothing," Klaus replied, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Just curious if you’ve… been anywhere interesting."

Diego, sensing something, glanced up. "Yeah, Five. You seem… different today."

"Different?" Five asked, trying to keep his tone nonchalant as he poured his coffee.

"Yeah," Diego said, his eyes narrowing. "Like maybe you’ve been… marked."

Five stiffened, almost spilling his coffee. "What are you talking about?"

Klaus leaned in closer, pointing at Five’s neck. "I think what Diego means is… did you get attacked by a vampire last night?"

Five’s hand shot up to his collar, trying to cover the hickey he’d been desperately trying to hide. "It’s nothing. Just… a bruise."

Luther raised an eyebrow, finally catching on. "A bruise? Looks more like someone’s been… having fun."

"Very funny," Five grumbled, but his cheeks tinged pink.

Allison, now fully interested, leaned over to get a better look. "Oh my God, is that really a hickey?"

Viktor, setting the newspaper down, tried to hide his grin. "Never thought I’d see the day."

Ben chuckled into his coffee. "Looks like Five’s been busy."

Before Five could come up with a retort, Y/n, Klaus's best friend, and now Five's girlfriend, walked into the kitchen, still half-asleep and wearing one of Five’s shirts. She yawned, stretching, and then froze as she realized the entire family was staring at her.

"What’s going on?" Y/n asked, looking around at the faces of Five’s siblings.

"Oh, nothing," Klaus said, with exaggerated casualness. "Just admiring Five’s new… accessory."

Y/n’s eyes widened as she realized they were talking about the hickey. "Oh no," she muttered, touching her neck where a similar mark was visible.

"Matching hickeys!" Diego exclaimed, laughing. "This is too good."

"And you," Allison said, pointing to Y/n. "You’re the culprit!"

Y/n turned a bright shade of red, tugging at the collar of Five’s shirt. "It’s… not what it looks like."

"Right," Luther said, smirking. "Because it doesn’t look like you and Five had a wild night or anything."

"Honestly," Ben said, laughing. "That's hilarious."

"There are no details," Five snapped, though he couldn’t hide his smile. "It’s none of your business."

"Oh, but it is," Klaus said, leaning back with a triumphant grin. "When you sneak around like that, it becomes very much our business."

"Sneak around?" Five asked, raising an eyebrow. "We weren’t sneaking around. We were—"

"Having a stormy night?" Viktor suggested, his eyes twinkling.

Y/n groaned, burying her face in her hands. "You guys are impossible."

After the morning’s teasing, Five and Y/n retreated to the living room to escape the relentless jokes from Five's siblings. They sat on the couch, trying to find some peace.

"I can’t believe they noticed," Y/n said, shaking her head. "How do they even notice stuff like that?"

"They’re nosy," Five replied, rubbing his temples. "And they love having something to tease me about."

"Well, it’s not like we were hiding anything," Y/n said, though she was blushing.

"I didn’t think they’d be this relentless," Five admitted. "But then again, they’re the Hargreeves."

Y/n laughed, leaning against him. "At least we gave them something to talk about."

"Yeah," Five said, wrapping an arm around her. "But maybe next time we should be a bit more careful."

"Or not," Y/n said, grinning up at him. "Let them have their fun."

Five sighed, but he couldn’t help but smile. "You’re right. It’s just a hickey. Not the end of the world."

Y/n kissed his cheek. "Exactly. And hey, at least now they know we’re together."

"True," Five said, chuckling. "Though I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing."

"Definitely a good thing," Y/n said, snuggling closer. "Let them tease. We know what we have."

That evening, the siblings gathered for dinner, still buzzing about the morning’s discovery. Five and Y/n walked in together, holding hands, and the teasing began anew.

"Look who decided to join us," Diego said, smirking. "The lovebirds."

"Did you have a nice nap?" Klaus asked, winking. "Or were you… otherwise occupied?"

"Guys," Five said, rolling his eyes. "Can we just eat dinner without any comments about our… activities?"

"No promises," Allison said, smiling. "But we’ll try."

"That’s all we ask," Y/n said, squeezing Five’s hand under the table.

As dinner progressed, the teasing subsided, but not without a few more jabs about their "secret" relationship. In the end, Five and Y/n laughed along with them, realizing that no matter how much they were teased, they wouldn’t trade this family—or each other—for anything.

[bamboozledbird]

𝕚𝕗 𝕚 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕚 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 // stiles stilinski imagine

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, Theo Raeken, Lydia Martin, Scott McCall Pairing(s): Stiles x fem!reader, Stiles x you (no use of y/n), Theo x fem!reader, Stiles x ofc Word Count: 7k (bbygurl got away from me oops) Tags: Hurt/a little, itty bit of comfort, angst is my lifeblood i fear, let's play a game of who can find all the noah kahan lyrics Warnings: Underage drinking/drug use (at least in america rip, they're all 19+), suggestive language, some light cheating, i think that's it?, sad girl summer :'(

Request: “You think I like being like this? Every time someone fucking touches you I want to rip their hands off!” for stiles please and thnk you!!!

Part II: after many requests, here’s the happy ending: part two A/N: i am well aware theo is way too nice, and me personally?? could never forgive him for hurting scott mccall, the light of my fucking life. but it's for the plot. the things we must do for the plot of it all. i might make a part two? but this was already long, and i liked the conclusion enough to stop. lemme know if that sounds interesting to y'all. ps: listen to strawberry wine and the view between villages for vibes.

That first night, you drove home—207 miles in less than 3 hours, sobbing the entire way. Didn’t matter that you were right in the middle of finals. Didn’t matter that you had Math 19 at 8:00 in the morning. Nothing mattered except for the ringing in your ears, the blistering echoes of, ‘I can’t do this anymore,’ over and over and over again until you stumbled into the house you grew up in—the house he practically grew up in. He was all over every room, all over your entire goddamn hometown, all over you, and you had this desperate, crawling urge to scrub your skin raw. Strip everything away with turpentine until the shadows of his hands and mouth were gone, until you couldn’t smell cedar and 15 years of summer nights and Sunday mornings. 

That night you cried so hard it scared your sister. She spent most of the night with her back slumped against your bedroom door, fingertips poking through the little crack underneath, just like she did the first night your parents brought you home. She had to know that you were breathing, had to make sure that your little chest was rising and falling in your sweet bassinet—if you were inhaling in-between your fractured sobs. You eventually cried yourself to sleep—like a baby, like a broken heart—and thrashed around sweat-damp sheets and dreams of him kissing someone else on his couch. 

Months later, you finally realize it’s a bit self-involved to think that the universe cares enough about your short, temporal existence to conspire against you…but it certainly feels like it when you tie it all together with red string. After Stiles stopped wanting you, everything just…decayed, rotted, died—so quickly, too quickly for you to bury any of the remains. You’re still grieving Allison, constantly, and currently failing at least half your classes, and, oh yeah, battling literal demons at least three times a week—but mostly, you’re just tired. You’re just so goddamn tired of it all.   

To put it plainly, you’re drowning. 

That must be why the neat lines of text in your Math 20 textbook are swirling into indecipherable whirlpools. It’s just so…frustrating. You get math. Math is your thing. Derivatives shouldn’t ever send you into a bout of angry tears—but you are, you’re angry. Angry at the numbers for blurring into something unrecognizable, angry at yourself for not recognizing them, for becoming a person you don’t know or like. Your lashes clump together, and few mascara-tinted tears drop onto the glossy pages. At least, the cloudy text isn’t a hallucination now. 

 “Are you okay?”

The library is quiet, so quiet that you should’ve heard him coming, but you jump at the sound of Theo’s voice. You don’t know him that well; Theo isn’t really the kind of guy you’d talk to, at least not before everything you knew slipped through your fingers. It’s not like you ever disliked him; it’s just…he’s always been everything you’re not—focused, organized, completely in control. He’s confident but not cocky, smart but not arrogant, ridiculously good-looking but just charismatic enough that you can’t really hate him for all the maiming and scheming he pulled last year. He’s been punished enough, you think, and sure—maybe a part of you feels that way simply because Stiles doesn’t.

You haven’t spoken to Theo much, not really. Scott does most of the talking when he shows up to the occasional pack meeting, and Lydia won’t let him within ten feet of you anyway. Frankly, you don’t realize that he knows your name until he says it. His voice is soft in a way that you know isn’t just because of library conduct. It’s his eyes, you think—they’re warm with a concern you aren’t sure what you’ve done to deserve.

You nod and then blink at the fuzzy pages of your math book, eyes almost vacant, “I just…I don't understand.”

Theo sits down next to you and leans forward, scanning the text briefly, “Which part?”

You flush, “...all of it.”

He doesn’t laugh or roll his eyes like you thought he might. Instead, he pulls his chair closer to yours and reaches for a pencil. “Most people will tell you that derivatives are the ‘instantaneous rates of change.’ That’s what the book says, and it’s kind of true, but you’re right—that doesn’t actually make any sense. Things can’t actually change in a single instant, right? Obviously, change happens between two instances, so what they actually mean is a derivative's the rate of instantaneous change measured as precisely as possible.” Theo’s voice is soft in your ear as he drags his finger across your textbook, connecting the vague definitions to numbers that actually compute through your teary haze.

You sit back and just watch for a minute, a little in awe, as he makes all the squiggles into numbers again—and you haven’t been found more than a few feet away from him ever since. You guess it’s because you’re hoping, against all odds, that he can do the same for your life. At least in some small way, maybe.

It’s definitely easier to show up to Lydia's party with his hand in yours. 

You’re all back in Beacon Hills for the summer, and it’s nice. It really is. During the school year, you’re spread all across the state for the most part—you, Theo, and Lydia at Stanford; Scott, Kira, and Malia at UC-Davis; Liam and Mason, the babies, about to start their senior year of high school (it makes you want to cry if you think about it too long); Derek in…wherever he ends up for a season (it was fun to visit while he was in New York, and you secretly hope he makes a return in the fall); and, of course, there’s Stiles. He’s all the way on the other side of the country for his Quantico internship, and you still can’t escape him. His hands are all over your scent, all over every important moment of your life since pre-school. Sometimes, you think that you’ll always be one breath away from choking on the memory of him. But it’s easier, you remind yourself; it’s easier to be a minute away from home with Theo standing next to you. 

The music is loud in Lydia’s front room, thumping through your chest and sharpening the anxiety crawling through your veins—gnawing at your corneas until a haze of vape and weed and flashing lights consume your vision: pink, blue, green, red, and then pink again.

Theo tightens his grip on your hand and gently pulls you into the kitchen. It’s still loud, but the air is clearer here, and the crowd is thin. There’s a couple you vaguely recognize from high school making out on the granite countertop, too enwrapped in each other’s tongues to notice the mixer-sticky surface, and a couple boys who were on the lacrosse team gather drinks for another round of beer pong behind them. 

“You’re psychic,” you hum, resting your chin against the little dip in Theo’s sternum so that you can grin up at him, “tell the truth.”

He laughs easily and wraps his arms around your waist. The solid weight releases some of the vague unease stubbornly clinging to your synapses. “I solemnly swear that my supernatural abilities end at claws and fangs. I just know you; that’s all.” 

You hum as he sways with you a little and shake your head, “It’s only been a few weeks. You’ve gotta have some help from the other side.”

Theo shrugs and lifts you onto the counter behind him—a non-sticky patch, thankfully—and brushes your hair out of your eyes, “Maybe I’ve been paying attention for a little longer than a few weeks.”

You tilt your head and purse your lips into a pout you hope is even half as cute as the wicked gleam in Theo’s eyes, “How long?”

He shrugs again and ducks down to murmur in your ear, “Maybe since the first grade.”

His breath is warm against your cheek, but you know that’s not the only reason your face feels hot. You push against his chest, pulling a little face, “Shut up.”

Theo laughs and grabs your wrists, kissing your knuckles, “I’m serious! You were so cute with your little pigtails and missing teeth.”

You whine a little, embarrassed as you are as pleased, and hide your face in his neck. It smells good, a little citrusy from his cologne and a little sweaty from the sheer amount of grinding bodies in the house—like a man, like he can and will take care of you. “Stop it. I hated those bangs.”

He pinches your sides a little, “And the way you’d always shoot your hand up first—with the right answer, of course—I was smitten.”

You pull away from his neck and arch your brow, “Was?”

“Am,” he concedes with a soft smile, cupping your cheek and thumbing along your lash line, “am completely smitten.” 

He dips in to kiss you, lips barely an eyelash-width away from yours, when a prim cough pulls him away from his spot in-between your legs. You peer around his shoulder and roll your eyes, albeit fondly, at the stern look on Lydia’s face. She’s always been protective of you, even more so after Allison and the whole Stiles debacle, but you’re a bit tired of the Theo Raeken witch hunt. 

You slip down from the counter and rock onto your tiptoes to kiss Theo’s cheek—mainly to see the pinch in Lydia’s perfectly tapered brows. “Can you put this in the coat room,” you hum against his skin, shrugging off your baggy leather jacket. He knows the real reason you’re sending him away—of course he does, sometimes it feels like he knows everything—but he goes with a smirk anyway because, despite Lydia and Stiles’s suspicions, he’s trying his absolute hardest to redeem himself. 

“You could be a little nicer, y’know,” you reach for a hard lemonade from the ice bucket dripping a puddle of water onto the tile floor. You uncap it on the lip of the massive island and fold your arms over your chest, “He’s been nothing but the perfect boyfriend so far.”

Lydia matches your stance, brows curving, “Boyfriend?”

Heat crawls up your neck to your ears. You haven’t actually discussed labels or exclusivity—you think it’s too early; don’t want to scare him off, but Lydia doesn’t need to know that. “Boyfriend.”

Her curls trickle over her shoulder like the strawberry wine in her cup as she tips her chin and purses her lips into a flat line, “Stiles is here.” 

You try not to react—aren’t entirely sure why you do—and hide your complicated frown behind a sip of lemonade. It’s extra bitter going down. “Okay?”

Lydia shifts her weight from one Jimmy Choo to the other and sighs heavily, “He’s not going to like it.”

A flare of irritation sparks in your gut that you chase with a tip of your bottle. “Okay?” you mutter, wiping the excess liquid away with the back of your hand. A smear of nude lipstick is left behind, and you feel the sudden need to leave some on Theo’s neck for everyone to see. 

“I’m just warning you; it’s going to be a whole thing,” Lydia waves her hand in the air as she takes a dainty sip from her cup. Her pink manicure shines under the lights, and you wonder briefly how she can make every color look good with her red hair.

You hum and lean forward, grin a little sloppy as you sidle up to her side, “That you’ll be on my side for. Obviously.”

Lydia watches you carefully, eyes heavy, and tucks some of the hair falling in your face behind your ear. “Obviously,” she takes your hand, squeezing it tightly, and you feel a little less giggly and a lot more tender. 

You let her pull you into the crowded front room for a dance. It’s a good song, you think. Happy, lots of bass to jump to, and you’re shiny-faced and giddy by the time it’s over. 

Meandering towards the back patio for some fresh air, you pull your tank top away from your torso, gauzy material sticky with sweat and someone’s body glitter. You aren’t entirely sure where Theo ended up, but you take it as a good sign that he’s mingling with your friends—which, bless his crooked little heart, is all he’s ever wanted. 

The night breeze is so nice against your clammy skin that you feel a little lightheaded. You collapse on a padded deckchair and kick your feet up onto a keg, empty, most likely, based on its current state of abandonment. After a moment of hazy tranquility, a red solo cup filled to the brim with an unknown, potent liquid blocks your view of the winking gold embellishments on your boots. 

“You look like you need a drink,” Scott smiles at you from his slight bend over your head.

You take the cup from Scott eagerly and down about half of it to soothe the rawness in your throat—asthma is a bitch in hotboxes, makes you almost consider asking Scott for the bite. “I need about ten,” you hum, licking the little dribble of cherry-something from the corner of your mouth. It’s too sweet, but the ice is easing the beginnings of a headache forming in your temples. 

Scott sits down next to you, and you grumble a little as he nudges your side with his elbow until he has enough room to stretch his legs out too. “You look happy,” he grins at you, eyes crinkly and sweet. “Been a minute since I’ve seen that.”

“I feel happy,” you lean against his side and rest your cup against your cheek. The condensation gathered on the plastic is a godsend against your flushed face. “For the first time in…way too long.”

“Good,” Scott's voice is sincere, in the most genuinely empathic way that only Scott McCall can be, and he gently nudges your foot with his, “I’ve been worried.” He pauses and looks down at the contents of his cup, watches the ice slowly melt into whatever he poured for taste alone—you don’t like the pensive squint in his eyes. “You know I want to trust Theo, right? I really want to believe that he’s changed.”

You sigh a little, but because he only ever wants the best for everyone and, well, because it’s Scott, you say, “But?”

He gives his hands a small frown and taps his finger against the side of his drink, “Not a but, exactly. I do think he’s different now.” The mostly goes unsaid, and you watch him closely, waiting for him to finish. “I just want you to be careful, that’s all. I don’t want you to…rush into anything after, well,” Scott scratches the back of his neck a little and winces, “you know.”

“After Stiles dumped me because, ‘he needed space,’ and then started dating someone new two weeks later,” you finish for him flatly. He hadn’t even been subtle about it. His new girl was all over his Insta within the month—and she’s still fucking stunning in his flannels weeks later. Your stomach turns, but you swallow another mouthful of your dri—rum and Cherry Coke, you finally place the flavor, smiling a little at the memory of getting tipsy on the same drink at Senior prom with Scott, Kira, and…Stiles. It’s a good memory, you decide. You won’t let him take it from you.

“Yeah.” Scott sighs into his drink and then takes a long chug, “I just don’t want to see you get hurt again, you know? None of us do.”

“I know,” you smile at him fondly and kiss his cheek, “and it’s very sweet, but I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.” 

Scott smiles, bright and puppy-like, and then his head cocks with his little sixth-sense tick—also puppy-like, you think with a smirk. Scott’s grin fades and he murmurs, “Three o’clock,” against the rim of his cup.

Your eyebrows furrow, “What?”

Scott laughs, but it’s strained, and then nods towards something across the pool, “To your right.”

You turn your head, expecting to see one of your friends doing something stupid, and freeze momentarily when you meet Stiles’s gaze. His eyes are a little unfocused, murky with whatever’s in his plastic cup, but they sharpen when he sees you. He backs down first, and you polish off your drink, craving the sweet burn in your throat. “I need another drink.”

“You need to talk to him,” Scott says, and he takes your empty cup away from you, like he’s worried you can magically refill it with the simple power of desire. “If you can’t do it for him, do it for me. His brooding is really getting out of control.”

You don’t bother bringing up that Stiles is the one who ended it or that he brought his new girlfriend home with him. “Maybe,” you shoot Scott a sly grin and try to snag his drink from his hands, but your clumsy fingers are no match for his werewolf reflexes, “I do love and cherish you very, very much.”

Scott laughs and ruffles your hair, approaching noogie territory. “Should’ve gone out with me.”

You can’t help but look for him through the fog rising above the heated pool. Stiles’s face is pale in the reflection of the lit water; the shadows ripple across his cheeks when he tugs his girlfriend into a sloppy kiss—Chelsea, you recall, proud that there’s only a little bitterness coating the thought. “Don’t I know it,” you finally say. It’s the churning reflection and the smell of chlorine, you reason; that’s why you feel a bit like throwing up your last couple drinks.

Scott frowns when you don’t swat at his side or make fun of him, like you’d usually do in the face of such ridiculous teasing, and follows your gaze. “But that was never going to happen, huh,” he says quietly. “Not with the…” he trails off, face scrunching as he searches for the right words, “throbbingly in love since birth thing.”

You laugh through the stabbing sensation in your chest. “Throbbingly?”

He waves his free hand as he takes another sip of his drink, “You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t think I do,” you say, a small smile twitching on your face as Scott spills most of his red drink onto his white t-shirt.

He sighs and pulls the soaked material away from his chest, head darting around as he looks for something to mop up the mess. “You guys were just like…always ahead of everybody from the beginning, you know? Brains, love, all of it. I swear you guys were actually born like 30 years old, or maybe it's some kind of reincarnation, soulmate thing—okay, it probably has more to do with the…” 

“Early on-set trauma?” you fill-in for him, sparing him the unpleasantness of bringing up dead mothers and mental illness.

Scott nods and licks his bottom lip before continuing, “I remember this kid had a huge crush on you, like way back in elementary school, and even at nine years old I knew he didn’t have a shot. It was just obvious, you know? It was always going to be the two of you. It was just always gonna end up that way.”

You almost laugh at the sight: Scott dabbing at his shirt with a pink beach towel and oh-so casually confirming that your worst fears aren’t only valid but in fact a reality. Maybe, you really can’t love someone else, not the way you loved him. Maybe, you’re just kidding yourself when you talk about it in the past-tense. Maybe, it really is just the two of you, even if it’s all in your head now. 

“I’m definitely not drunk enough for this,” you try to sound flippant, but your words are as shaky as the hand you're raking through your hair. It’s already a mess, but you can’t stop. Your hands need to do something. 

“Then you’re really not gonna like what’s coming next,” Scott says as he jerks his thumb towards something behind him.

You turn your head, and your eyes widen when you see Stiles trudging towards the two of you with his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets. The chair’s metal frame squeaks with Scott’s shifting weight. He clamors to his feet, mumbling something about cleaning his shirt, and you give him your most intimidating glower, “Scott, if you walk away from me right now, I swear to fuckin’ god, I’ll never—Hi.” Your tone is clipped, short and to the point, when Stiles stops in front of you.

“Hey,” Stiles’s voice is dull, void of emotion, and so is his face. He stares at you, and you wish you knew what was really flickering behind that burnt umber and citrine honey. There was a time when you would’ve known—when you always knew. It’s so strange, you think, so strange how quickly someone can become a stranger.

You clear your throat and tuck your legs underneath yourself, tugging on the hem of your short skirt to maintain some semblance of modesty. His eyes still dart to your upper thigh, lingering on the strip of skin that’s bared when you sit upright. It’s only for a split second—but it’s enough. He’s seen it before, after all. Felt it with his long fingers and open palms. Dragged his lips across it, and left wet, open-mouth kisses along every inch—but he still looks like he wants to sink his teeth into the supple flesh one last time. 

You swallow, hard, and stand, “So…how’ve you been?”

“Fine,” he replies flatly. “Obviously not as good as you.”

Your lips purse as your eyes narrow, “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“First Theo Raeken, now Scott McCall: True Alpha, God among werewolves, Messiah of Beacon Hills. I’m genuinely impressed—bottom of my heart, babe. I mean, s’quite the body count if we’re talkin’ claws and body hair alone,” he spits. Despite the slight slur in his words, his consonants are barbed and serrated at the edges. They prick your skin and sting long after he finishes, and you know they’re going to follow you all the way home.

“Don’t be a dick,” you snap, wrapping your arms tightly around your biceps. The chill isn’t so pleasant anymore.  

“What? I’m just giving you the props you’ve so clearly earned. You’ve got the magic touch.” Stiles cants his head in a way that distinctly reminds you of someone else—a monster who stole the face of the boy you loved a lifetime ago. “I’d ask how good the sex is, but I already know. It’s that thing you do with your tongue, right? When you’re givin’ head? That’s how you get ‘em, huh. Suckers—” his drink spills on his shoes when he lets out a sharp chortle, “suckers. Didn’t even mean to do that.” 

You stare at him, eyes burning, and try to determine exactly how drunk he is. “Stop it.” You do your best to look more annoyed than devastated—the last thing you need is to start crying like you still care. He can't win; you won’t let him, not like this. “Just stop. It’s pathetic—you’re pathetic.”

Something complicated rolls over his face, and Stiles clenches his fists, “Whatever. Guess it’ll be too late to say told’ya so when he rips your heart out and broils it—or whatever the fuck psychopaths do for fun these days.” 

Your face crumples a little—not because you think Theo would ever actually hurt you but because Stiles sounds so ambivalent about the possibility. Sometimes you hate him, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot—but you’ve never stopped caring, not once. You never stop worrying about if he’ll make it out alive, if he'll survive with all his breakable bones and fragile skin intact. You find yourself staring at the ceiling until the sun rises, dwelling on all the horrific, life-or-death situations he’ll end up in when he graduates from the Academy years from now. Stiles was your best friend years before he was your boyfriend. Did all that really not matter now? Just because of something as stupid as a breakup? It’s just so…high school. You really thought it’d been…more. 

Everything. You used to think it was everything.

“Stay the fuck away from me, Stiles,” you shove past him, stumbling a bit over your boots’ chunky heel and a little too much rum. 

He doesn’t follow you, and you should be glad. You should be happy that he isn’t there to witness the black smears under your eyes or the snot you’re trying to hide with a few discreet sniffles. You should be grateful that he doesn’t see Theo pull you into his side and take you home, grateful that he can’t ruin the soft kisses Theo rains down on the crown of your head and the way he doesn’t push to come inside after you say your parents are gone.

But you aren’t, and you hate yourself for it. 

You barely manage to wipe off what’s left of your makeup with a damp towel and throw on some clean clothes before you tumble into bed. You’re still sweaty, grimy with tears and a night of dancing, but the rum is hitting hard, and you just want to go to sleep and forget he ever existed.

You’re halfway between sleep and consciousness in the early hours of the morning when you hear a loud thud against your bedroom window. The thudding continues, and with a great sigh you slip out of your sheets, hissing when your bare feet land on the cold floor. You slowly shuffle towards the bay window, trying to forget it's where you had your first kiss, and kneel on the cushioned bench. You have to rub at your eyes a few times when you see Stiles trying to break into your house. You only unlock the latch after you convince yourself that you’re going to push him off of the roof into the rose bushes two stories below, and then, of course, you sit back on your heels so that he has room to crawl through the narrow opening. 

“When the fuck did you start locking your window?” Stiles stumbles into your room and catches himself against the floor with his palm, feet still dangling over the windowsill. You take great pleasure in shoving his legs off of the window seat and watching him fall face-first onto the carpeted rug. He grunts when he lands and rubs his jaw as he sits up, “Guess I deserved that.” 

His lips part when he gets a good look at you, backlit by the moon and all his worst mistakes. You’re in an old t-shirt from middle school, bleach stains all along the left shoulder, and a pair of baggy sweatpants with ratty holes around the hem from years of dragging against the ground. Your face is still tacky with tears, eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot, and Stiles is pretty sure he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life.

You shift uncomfortably, pull your knees to your chest, and shiver as the night air drifts through the open window, “Still drunk?” 

“Not so much,” he holds up a mostly steady hand.

“Still a fucking asshole?”

“Probably.” Stiles bites his lip and shrugs, “Definitely.”

You stare at him, sniffling quietly, hoping that he can’t hear how pathetic it sounds, “Stiles, what are you doing here?” 

He drums his fingers against his thighs and shrugs again. You want to smack him. And hold him. And maybe drink some more liver poison until the school year starts again. “Dunno, just started walkin’, n’ I ended up here.” Stiles closes his eyes, and his lashes are so strikingly dark against his pale skin. “I always end up here,” he whispers like a vow, like a prayer, like forever. 

You dig your toes into the bench and swallow a hiccup. “Don’t,” your protest is weak, and you blame it on your sore throat. “You can’t say shit like that. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” Stiles rubs a hand over his face. He’s in need of a shave, you notice, or…maybe not. You kind of like the stubble the more you get used to it—your tipsy, sleep-deprived mind stupidly wonders what it’d feel like between your thighs. Stiles sighs, returning your attention to far more unpleasant thoughts, “But I just want to.” He leans onto his palms and tips his head back between his shoulders, shaking his head at the ceiling. “I just wanna say it all, all the things I thought while you were gone. Knew I would the second I saw you.”

“You’re—” your tongue is thick as you struggle for words over the conflicting emotions wrangling each other in your throat, “you’re so fuckin’—you can’t just come here and act like—” You rub aggressively at your eyes and push yourself to your feet, “You need to go, Stiles. I want you to go.”

Stiles stands with you and cards his fingers through his hair. It’s long, curling around his ears, and you turn your gaze away from him, staring at the wall and digging your fingers into your forearms to stop yourself from reaching for him. “Can we just…talk?” he whispers, whether it’s for his sake or yours, you’re not entirely sure. He looks small, scared, but you can’t tell if he’s afraid for you or of you. “Just for a little bit. I need…I just need another minute. That’s all, and then I’ll go. Promise.”

I need. I need. I need. It’s always what he needs on his time. You cross the floor with wild eyes and snap, “What do you want to talk about? Huh? How you left me for someone else, or how I’m such a fucking whore for moving on?”

He grits his teeth and grabs your wrists, long fingers overlapping around the delicate bones when you try to yank away from his firm grip. “You think this is what I want?” He doesn’t yell. Somehow, that’s worse. “You think I like being like this? Every time someone fucking touches you I want to rip their hands off!”

You thrash in Stiles’s arms, and his pained expression is blurry through your wet glare, “You had me! I was yours! I was so fucking in love with you, and then you—you just ended it and moved on, like it was nothing.” Your chest heaves, a stark contrast to the gentle quiver in your bottom lip. Your voice drops to something almost inaudible; it's the only way you can get through this while you're crying, the only way you can force the words through your tender throat, “Like I was nothing.”

Your cries turn into sobs when Stiles pulls you into his arms, and they wrack through your entire body when he kisses your hair and whispers sweet nonsense in your ear. You struggle for a moment longer, and then there's nothing left. You've given him everything. You sag into him, legs sinking with your full weight until he wraps his arms around your waist and presses you tighter to his chest. “I got scared,” Stiles whispers against the crown of your head when your cries peter into hiccups, and your next whimper shudders through your shoulders. He rests his palms against the small of your back and inhales the sweet scent of your shampoo, ducking his head down to kiss your forehead, “You were so far away, and so, so perfect, and I missed you all the fucking time.”

Stiles pauses, but it’s not for you. It’s a stall; you can feel his knee bounce and his fingers twitch. You wait, face buried in his collarbone, too busy trying to breathe to even think about speaking. After a moment, could’ve been seconds, could’ve been hours, he squeezes you—almost until it hurts, and it feels like he’s terrified that you’re just another one of the shadows on your bedroom walls. “I couldn’t ask you to transfer from Stanford to some fuckin’ state school in Virginia, so I fucked everything up ‘cause I guess...at least then it was my choice—and I know that just makes it worse. I know that. Because that means I chose to ruin it, I decided to hurt you…and I’m so fucking sorry. Just so unbelievably, life-ruiningly sorry.”

And there it is. The apology you’ve been waiting for, dreaming of, fantasizing about in every shower, in every cafe line, in every early morning class—and it’s just so…hollow. It sits between the two of you, heavy and horridly inadequate. “You found someone else,” you whimper into his shoulder, clasping at his t-shirt and wetting the white collar with your tears and runny nose—and you wish, more than anything, that this could be enough. “How could you find someone else that quickly?”

Stiles freezes, stops rubbing your back and rocking you from side-to-side, and it’s just jarring enough to remind yourself how dangerous it is to be in his arms. You step back and wrap your arms around yourself instead, and Stiles watches you with something hopeless all over his face. “I was just trying to prove that I didn’t make the biggest fucking mistake of my life,” he says, but he says it to his shoes. You wonder who he’s hiding from: himself or you. “Didn’t work, obviously.”

You just stare at him, arms limp by your sides, and shake your head a little. “What are you doing here, Stiles?” your voice is clotted with mucus and defeat, and it breaks halfway through along with your knees. You lean against the wall and close your lids so that you don’t have to see his eyes: so vast, so deep, so damn pretty—you’re suffocating in them. “What do you want from me?”

He’s relentless. Stiles steps forward, and there’s nowhere for you to go. “I want you.” And that’s the thing, isn’t it? There’s the rub. It’s always hunger, no sating. No happy ending. 

“Nothing’s changed.” You tilt your head and wring your fingers in the hem of your t-shirt, tugging every so often, “I’m still going back to Stanford, and you’re still going back east in the fall.” UPenn. Criminology, obviously. You never got the chance to congratulate him. 

“I know,” he’s right in front of you now, waiting for you to push him away. You don’t.

The back of your head hits the wall as you tip your chin up to look at him, “And I have Theo, and you have…her.”

“I know,” he braces his hands next to the sides of your head, watching your lips move without any shame, breath hot against your skin. 

“Stiles…” you plead with him through your lashes, asking for mercy, on hands and knees begging him to turn around and leave.

“Tell me you don’t want me.” Stiles rests his forehead against yours, “Tell me it’s over, and there’s nothing I can do to fix this.” 

“You already know,” you close your eyes and shake your head, nose rubbing against his, “you know I’d be lying.”

“You love me.” It’s not a question. He knows. He’ll always know.

You shake your head again, and Stiles can taste the salt on your lips, “Doesn’t matter.”

“I love you,” Stiles whispers, carding his fingers through your hair.

“Too late,” your lips brush against his, feather-light, and catch on the chapped center of his mouth.

He kisses you, cups your jaw like you’re ineffably precious, and you feel like you can breathe for the first time in months. Stiles tilts his head a little, and his tongue is gentle in its prodding, almost sweet—but he grabs onto your hips like he wants to eat you alive. You just might let him, you think, when you feel his stubble scrape against your neck as he trails a balmy line of kisses towards your collarbone. 

You wind your fingers in his hair and tug to keep yourself on your feet. “We ca—ah,” he licks along your pulse, on purpose, and you shiver, “we can’t do this.”

Stiles hums against your cheek. “And yet, here I am, sliding my hands under your shirt, trying to cop a feel.” His fingers dip under your shirt. They’re cold on your bare stomach, and you flinch a little. Dizzyingly, you remember where you are, who you’re with, and who's going to text you in the morning to make sure you’re okay.

“We really can’t do this,” you whisper, slipping your hands from his hair to his arms. You pull them away gently and tip your head back from his persistent mouth, “I’m not going to hurt Theo the way you hurt me, and I’m not going to let you do this to someone else.”

“It’s not the same,” he says, gravelly and thick. He turns away from you, paces the length of your room a few times, and throws his hands around like he can change your mind if he gestures hard enough, “You know it’s not the same.” Stiles stops abruptly and shakes his head, seemingly at nothing—and then he’s back in front of you before you can catch your breath. He places his hands on your shoulders and then slides his palms to your biceps, just holding onto you. Not clutching, not squeezing, just a light touch that you can’t seem to break away from. 

“You’ve been my best friend for 15 years,” Stiles licks his bottom lip, and you watch him with wide eyes and a blitzing heart, “and I’ve loved you for well over half of ‘em—just plain wanted you even longer.” He slips his hand down your arm to your hand and tangles his fingers with yours, lifting them to rest over his skittering heartbeat, “You’re mine, and I’m yours. That’s how it is. That’s how it’s always been. That’s how it should be.”

You want to say it back, you do, but you just can’t. Not with all the unresolved details wriggling in your ear. “You brought her home, Stiles. You can’t just…just introduce her to your dad and cheat on her all in the same day.”

“Technically, cheat on and then dump,” he tries to smile, but it’s not convincing. Not with the guilt dimming his eyes.

“That’s not funny,” you snap, but the guilt is good. He wouldn’t be the man you know, the boy you grew up with, if he didn’t feel at least a little guilty about the whole thing.

“Dad’s out of town,” Stiles admits quietly, and for some reason, that means more to you than his apology, than his kisses, than his hand in yours. You didn’t realize how much the thought had been bothering you until now—destroying you one post at a time. “I only brought her because I knew you were going to be here with…him.” He shrugs a little, “Frankly, I think she knows. She aced behavioral science.”

You roll your eyes and huff, “You’re an asshole.”

“I know,” he concedes and kisses the back of your hand, continuing along the row of your knuckles, “but I’m in love with you, and it’s become abundantly clear that I always will be.”

Your bottom lip trembles with the desire to give in to what you want, but your hand twists away from him with what you know is right—even though it feels so horrendously wrong. “I can’t do this to him, Stiles. He’s been through so much, and he’s been so good to me, and he’s trying so hard to—”

“But you don’t love him!” Stiles hisses. It’s the loudest he’s been all night, but you don’t flinch from the volume. It’s the truth of it all, the vile honestly you can’t hide from that makes you recoil.

You look at the ceiling through your lashes, an old trick to fight the tears welling in your tear ducts. Some girl in middle school told you about it in the bathroom, and you try to remember her name and what cloying body spray she was spritzing instead of thinking about how easy it would be to let Stiles crawl into your bed and make you forget about everyone and everything that isn’t him. “I should,” you finally murmur throatily, biting on your lip, “maybe I could…someday.”

Stiles whips his head towards your face and takes a little stumbling step backwards, “You don’t believe that.” You’re sure that he wishes he sounded more confident, but he gives himself away with the hand rubbing the back of his neck, “Say you don’t believe that.”

“You need to go, Stiles.” You clutch at your arm with your other hand and step back towards your bed, further away from him and the wet film over his eyes. “I’m serious. I need you to leave.”

He opens his mouth and then scrubs his arm over his face, wiping away the incriminating wet gleam on his cheeks with the sleeve of his flannel. “Okay,” his throat bobs with the strength of his swallow, “yeah, okay.”

You wait until he reaches your bedroom door to crawl onto your bed. You curl in on yourself, like a child, ad press your face into your legs, your knees to your chest, your back against the headboard—but Stiles pauses before you can really fall apart.

Stiles rests his hand against the doorframe and chews on his cheek, on his words, on the thought of you, and then he says, “I’m still breaking up with her. You don’t…you don’t owe me anything—that’s fucking putting it lightly, I know—but I’m still breaking up with her.” He lifts a shoulder and smiles, a little sad but so true, “There’s no one else for me. There’s never going to be anyone else…just thought you should know.”

He’s gone by the time you look up from your kneecaps. Good. You were this close to giving in. This close to throwing yourself over the edge for someone who’s dropped once before, and you’re still cleaning up the mess he left behind. You should be proud of yourself, happy that you weren’t weak enough to say yes, yes, a million, billion, trillion times yes.

But you aren’t, and you hate yourself for it.

[joejhang]

my aftg hot takes

most of these are pretty lukewarm but i'm gonna get flamed for them anyway but whatever. spoilers ??? ahead ??? idk read at ur own risk

i don't think andreil ever say i love you to each other; i feel like the discourse about this is virtually endless ever since nora said it but honestly her explanation was so valid??? they're such a show not tell couple it just makes so much sense for them to show the "i love you" in their actions than ever saying the words out loud. esp bc neither of them have ever really heard those words and have them mean anything real or true or actually loving. personally i think their little percentages and the "i hate you"'s and kisses and keys mean more to them than an "i love you" ever could. i'm not a purist on this tho i do think i could visualise it happening maybe somewhere along the road i just think nora's explanation for this is very very in line with canon andreil.

i don't hate thea muldani; i've made a post abt this but basically my thoughts around her are literally just: she's a human being, and she's never gonna be perfect. i also find it very...interesting how the fandom likes to flame thea (an explicitly stated woman of colour) for being "problematic" and a "terrible person/character" when she doesn't act all that different from andrew, neil and kevin (white men) ??? idk it seems a little strange to me bc she seems pretty on par with them on whatever moral compass this batshit crazy fandom has decided to impose on these fictional and very much morally ambiguous characters. anyway go check out my post i go a lot deeper into thea's character and why she does a lot of things wrong but i don't rlly think she's deserving of the insane amounts of hate she gets in the fandom.

i don't think andreil ever get married; this MIGHT be me projecting bc the idea of marriage is just a very complicated and rough concept in my mind but also just i feel like there's something so beautiful about andreil never really putting a label on their relationship??? like they never define it by calling the other their "boyfriend" or "husband" they just are. they have nothing "concrete" binding them like a marriage certificate but they choose to stay with each other through everything. idk it's real to me but again i'm not a purist people can do whatever they want.

i've said it before but i'll keep saying it till enough people hear me: the aftg fandom mischaracterises literally the main fucking characters; i'm mostly talking about andrew and ESPECIALLY neil here bc neil is not a sweet, sunshiney, oblivious, blushy softboy and andrew is not a cold, unemotional, stoic, "conceal don't feel" stone. since i've already bitched on and on about neil's mischaracterisation let's just talk about andrew for a sec. i think andrew is actually a deeply emotional person and is fully aware of the feelings he experiences. does he vocalise or express them often? no but more often than not they show themselves anyway. him crashing out after neil was kidnapped, letting himself get walked like a dog by neil for three books straight, choking allison for slapping aaron, idk i could go on. but yeah you get it.

i don't actually think neil is that oblivious; before people come at me like "but nora said!" or whatever yeah, i know she said he's as dense as a brick when it comes to people flirting with him. considering how much of the ec the aftg fandom likes to disregard allow me to disregard this little bit of it, yeah? this isn't me tryna impose my own projections onto nora's characters, this is lit just me tryna explain how i understand neil josten (he's my bsf btw). he literally clocks his feelings for andrew in trk (after his deep convo™ with nicky) but he just files it away for later bc he doesn't consider attraction or romantic interest anything to be thinking about considering he's got the mafia and his serial killer dad on his tail. i also don't really blame him for not catching onto andrew's feelings earlier (tho doesn't he get pretty fucking close during that one convo they have in exites in trk???? someone correct me if i'm wrong but) bc dude andrew was out here sending fucking mixed ass signals like bro was saying "you are a pipe dream" and "i hate you" in the same fucking conversations like??? neil has always taken andrew at face value and he's not about to question him now. he's also never confused or uncertain about nicky or marissa and what their comments about him meant, he just genuinely does not gaf about them so he doesn't acknowledge them or pay them any attention in his narration. i truly truly think his dismissal of all the advances made upon him in aftg were borne out of indifference, not obliviousness.

have already said this in detail but i don't think andrew's actually a misogynist; the wording doesn't feel right. i'd probably describe andrew's distrust of women (esp. those in motherly/mother roles) as a similar ingrained wariness that neil has for older men. this is something borne out of trauma and shitty experiences that takes time and trust to unlearn. nora says a lot of things the fandom disregards and for me, this is one of those things i'm a little iffy about. misogyny actually isn't reflected in andrew's actions at all, i'd say. does he respect women? no. but he doesn't respect anyone unless they've actually earned it. and among the people he does respect and care for there are women (renee, bee). he doesn't treat women any differently and obv doesn't think they're any weaker than men are (considering renee wipes the floor w him their first sparring sesh). andrew's an equal opportunity hater and i don't think he actually has any sexist or even misogynistic tendencies. i think what is there is just a slightly biased worldview of disliking/mistrusting mother figures, given his bad experiences w tilda and cass (they've left him w more long-term emotional damage that's probably rlly difficult and complicated for him to work through esp considering cass did love??? him and he did want her enough to be willing to suffer dr*ke to be close to her; there's more to it but for the sake of word count i won't go into it) but honestly it doesn't actually show that much??? if people wanna say he hates women, sure, but for one, he doesn't hate a lot of things he's just very indifferent to them and two, he holds a pretty similar apathetic distaste for most people and things, so it's not like a very big distinction. i also think the whole "no girls" thing w aaron was very much a personal thing, and his mistrust of katelyn probably came from aaron's past (apparently negative) experiences w other girlfriends and friendships in general. and if i remember correctly the deal wasn't even "no girls" it was just "family only" which is why aaron didn't make friends w the rest of the foxes either. i digress but i don't think saying "andrew isn't a misogynist" is robbing him of any nuance as a character.

i like nicky and honestly feel similarly towards him as i do about thea; he isn't perfect and never will be and i think while the way he acts towards neil and others (see: matt, kevin) is pretty untoward and inappropriate, i also do see where he's coming from, esp after aaron's explanation of it. that it's a defence mechanism coming from someone who's experienced a lot of prejudice and harm because of his sexuality. obv i think everyone can agree his assault on neil was fucked up but i think nora was right in saying that nicky was high and drunk and not rlly in his right mind at the time, and he does apologise and i'm pretty sure she also said he and neil work it out privately anyway. he's a messy character and definitely not perfect queer rep but again, he's pretty realistic, and i think he's honestly a rlly well-written and complex character.

[assortedshrift]

Twst Otome Isekai AU

Reader used to love isekai but became sick of all the terrible ML’s and annoying FL’s. There is nothing worse than getting into a series with an immersive setting only for the author to waste it on terrible main characters.

Eventually you give up on the genre and focus on getting her business degree. A year after graduating things are actually pretty good, you survived the terrible job market and landed a pretty sweet gig with a decent paycheck. Now, on the anniversary of your decision to drop all light novels, manhwa, manga, etc… you decided to celebrate your good fortune with a treat from your favorite cafe. You'll never guess what happened while you were crossing the street…

So yeah, Truck-kun sends you to Twisted Wonderland, which happens to be the last isekai you read. Ugh.

Okay, so it wasn't the worst offender, there were plenty of trashier light novels out there. you were actually pretty invested in the story’s world. The MC Allison (Call me Allie!) is a down on her luck woman from the modern world who died from tripping into traffic, only to wake up in the world of Twisted Wonderland. Through her the audience meets the characters and learns about their lives. The overarching issue is the mysterious condition known as ‘Overblot’ that occurs when someone uses too much magic. Allie is taken in by the Royal Sowards Association (RSA), a multinational group dedicated to helping others. They discover that something about being from another world allows Allei to purify blot, and she saves the ML’s during their adventures.

You honestly liked the novel at first. The worldbuilding was captivating and the characters were interesting. Unfortunately as the story progressed the MC became increasingly disappointing. Allie is first presented as an average, innocent young lady who just wants to do good, but you can't think of her as anything other than a loser. It’s understandable how someone transported to a new world would start off with little agency, but despite many opportunities for character growth the MC only seems to get worse. 

Allie claims to have big dreams but never works towards them. She touts the value of being independent but stays reliant on handouts from the other characters. When faced with the suffering of others Allie cries about the unfairness of life then just… moves on. It was so frustrating for you to be shown glimpses of an interesting world while stuck with the viewpoint of such an agentless character. Considering all this, it would be an understatement to say that you were upset upon waking up in the headquarters of Night Raven Collaborative (NRC), a dark counterpart to RSA. 

If there were a need to describe NRC in one word, that word would be ‘petty’. Some time after RSA’s founding a group of villainous individuals realized that the united heroes were causing all their schemes to fail. The group reluctantly learned to work together which led to the founding of NRC, a secret society dedicated to the destruction of RSA. Now, millennia later, the heirs of these dark legacies are still trying to defeat RSA. 

But that's enough exposition, back to Reader.

You are quickly discovered by Dire Crowley, a dark fae who was tasked by the original founders to take care of the organization as a sort of regent in their absence. In the present day he is the public face of NRC’s leadership. He questions you using magic to determine who you are and why you're here.

Now, at this point it's been years since you last read Twisted Wonderland, and a lot has happened since then, so you have no idea what's going on. This is actually a good thing as your genuine confusion convinces Crowley you aren't some sort of infiltrator. He is quick to focus on the fact that you came from another world, and like Ambrose did with Allison, Crowley suspects that your trans-dimensional travels may have imbued you with special abilities. It's pretty lucky that the man got so caught up in fantasies of exploiting your potential power, because the more he spoke the more you realized exactly where you were. 

Yeah sure, as far as post death situations go it could probably be worse. But seriously? It couldn't have been a story that you actually finished? Isn't the protagonist supposed to be an expert in the fictional world? Well at least there are some secrets that you know about.

Thanks to some quick thinking, you manage to convince Crowley to give you custody of an estate that NRC owns but has mostly forgotten. It's obvious that he intends to keep you close for observation. But thanks to the novel you know that the head of NRC is a lazy penny-pincher who will take any chance to offload work onto others. From his perspective it must have seemed like a deal, you stay close while also taking responsibility for something he considers a waste of resources.

 The Ramshackle estate was originally a neutral ground for the founders to meet in. but once they built a more grandiose HQ the place was abandoned and left in disrepair. The only reason you thought of it was due to a couple chapters where junior members of the RSA  tried to investigate rumors of an evil organization, but had to stop and rescue Allie from the ghosts. There was a short interlude where the shadowy leads of the evil organization had a group call to complain about the heroes and mock them for going after such a useless place. 

Except the joke is on them because later Allie and the juniors return to discover a magic mirror that does… something. You had dropped the story before they revealed that part. The point is that there's something valuable in Ramshackle and it now belongs to you. Initially you intended to pawn the mirror and gtfo. Too bad grim had to go and ruin it. A talking monster who, as far as you remember, never appeared in the novel, but somehow managed to break into the building and worm his way into your heart.

Ugh, whatever. You can improvise.

[ghostieblr]

Secret Life of Stiles & Derek

IT IS FINALLY HERE! Inspired from this post of mine (of which i posted a sneak peak here)... now i bring to you, the FULL FIC ON A03.

Thank y'all for showing interest in it <3

Here is a little bit of sneak peak:

*

He settles beside Cora, stretches there so his legs open to create space for Stiles. Stiles, who doesn’t even glance at Scott calling his name, too busy in arranging the snacks, and then finding the remote. Derek waves it once, and Stiles beelines for it.

“I want it! I get to choose the film, ok Sourwolf, because I called this pack night!” As he says it, he’s moving forward, and it makes Derek’s heart soar that there’s no second thought before he plops himself down between the V of his legs. Derek hands over the remote.

And of course Stiles puts on Star Wars, Episode III.

“Why.”

“Inflection, Der, use them. They’re the souls—”

“—Souls of language. Yes, I know, Stiles. But I love to—”

“—love to fight against period, commas and question marks because I love to see you squirm.” Stiles recites perfectly, thanks to the number of times they’ve had this argument, and then corrects himself, “I mean, you love to see me squirm, you asshole!”

Somewhere distantly, he hears Scott mutter, “Yeah he is. Come here Stiles.”

Derek puts his free hand around Stiles’ waist and pulls him backwards into his chest, and Stiles lets him do it. He settles firmly in Derek’s lap, like this is the easiest thing to do. It makes Derek happy.

“Now shush, let me watch the credits in peace!”

Derek takes the remote and fast-forwards it.

“Nephew…”

“You’re an idiot,” Cora tacks on to their uncle's reprimand, and then, “Why do you never learn?”

Stiles simply takes the popcorn bowl from his hand and puts it in Cora’s hands. She swats away Boyd’s hands from taking any of it, and then sighs loudly as Derek and Stiles devolve into a wrestling, writhing mass of degenerates beside her.

Stiles emerges victorious and wins the remote, so Derek pulls him in by his hips and wraps his arms around his chest. Puts his head on Stiles’ right shoulder and groans when he rewinds the film back to the starting point.

“Idiot,” Cora mutters, and hands back the bowl of popcorn to Derek. He isn’t really sorry about it, though. And both Cora and Peter know it, so they send him knowing looks which he steadfastly ignores.

The movie begins again. Stiles cuddles closer to him, Derek’s hands on his chest, his hips. Enclosing him in. He turns his head, and their faces are so, so close. Their noses touch. Their eyes are cross-eyed they’re so infuriatingly, blessingly close. Stiles says, “Der.”

He pulls back and picks up a handful of the popcorn, more salty ones than tomato flavored ones — they’re more his favorite, not Stiles’ — from where he’d kept the bowl between him and Cora, and feeds Stiles one by one.

Once the handful of popcorn has been eaten, Stiles turns back, and Derek picks up his own handful. A couple minutes pass by, the world on the screen the only noise, but then Stiles turns around again. He doesn’t say anything, but Derek understands anyways and feeds Stiles. It makes him satisfied in a way he’s both thrilled and concerned about, which basically sums up his life. But in this moment he focuses on Stiles, and the intimacy of their trust, the way Stiles allows him to provide for him. The way Stiles trusts him with these small things, and when it matters, with the big things. Like Stiles’ life.

This time, a murmur kick starts between the betas. Mainly Isaac and Erica, who are trying to tamp down their curiosity but are unable to do so. Boyd isn’t into the gossip, but Derek sees him watching them a couple of times.

On the other hand, he can smell Scott silently fuming, and Allison’s gentle scraping along his scalp, his arms. Trying to control him. Anchoring him. Derek smirks, unable to help the way his chest expands with possessive pride.

“What’s up?” Stiles asks, without turning. His eyes are locked onto the screen.

“Nothing. Just the popcorn’s almost over.” It is. They’re down to two handfuls each.

Stiles pauses the film, never one to miss even a second of it, and scans the coffee table. It’s still full with food. He frowns. “Nobody is eating?”

Nobody is replying, either. Stiles stands up and hovers beside the table, looks at Derek helplessly. He’d brought everyone’s favorite and some extra — he’d planned this down to every last detail. Except, of course, realizing that they don’t know about his and Derek’s history, or their current friendship.

*

You can continue reading it here on AO3.

Tagging the people who wanted me to tag 'em once i posted this fic:

@demonicfaery @lovehahajk @emilyinhouston @jadezdominion @sterekloverforever @hogwarts-starship @deliahale @princecharmingwinks

[twdgkidsdeservebetter]

Everything Wrong With Umbrella Academy Season 4 (Characters)

The way it felt like someone who had never seen the show wrote this season????

The characters were AWFUL and were almost entirely new characters with all their previous character development forgotten.

Allison - Honestly, I don't like Allison (after watching THAT scene w Luther), so I really didn't care what happened with her this season. I think it does suck that she wasn't able to be happy with Ray, they were nice together. Also, no rumours? Her power was one of the most interesting out of the family.

Luther - People were commenting about how childish and positive he was being this season and how it was out of character from him being so serious. Honestly? I love silly Luther, he's such a breath of fresh air. I also like to believe that because Luther was assigned the leader of the family (being number 1 and all), he's able to enjoy himself without that pressure. Also, I also love to believe that Luther is using being positive and silly as a coping mechanism as to not be overwhelmed by the sadness of losing Sloane and also his current living situation. Giving him his gorilla body back was so unnecessary and makes no sense cause it wasn't the marigold that gave him the body.

Ben - He sucked. I hate that Sparrow Ben was the one that was dragged with them because it meant that we had to deal with him sulking and being angsty the whole time. Also, the character development we witnessed 1-2 just disappeared instantly cause of Sparrow Ben. Also, his friendship with Klaus was the best thing in the show and I hate that we never get to see that in season 3.

Klaus - I was actually so happy for him being sober, even if he wasn't living the best life because of his paranoia with death and germs. So it really sucked when that immediately went down the drain the second his body got the marigold.

Diego - He deserved better. Yeah, his constant complaining about his "belly" (which wasn't even that big of a difference??) and wanting to go back to his old super spy life did affect his and Lila's marriage, but when he realised that he immediately accepted that he was at fault and was willing to improve their marriage to make Lila happy.

Lila - I liked Lila before season 4. I don't know what they were thinking honestly by changing her entire character. Yes, she and Five were stuck for 7 years together, but seriously? That plot added NOTHING to the story because in the end, Lila chose Diego and then they all DIED like 10 minutes later!!

Viktor - Honestly? Viktor didn't really stand out this season for me. Sure, he got kidnapped by Ian Hawk. I thought the idea of him trying to remove the marigold from Ben was a really cool idea but then it just didn't happen. I thought his interactions with Reginald were decent, since it's interesting to see how this Reginald thinks about Viktor compared to the original timeline Reginald.

Five - It's honestly kind of impressive how the writers were able to make the best character in the show the worst character by the end of it. They completely changed his whole character. First, his personality is duller than a door nail. He's so emotionless and so boring. Where's the excessive facial expressions and movements? Second, changing his motivations. For the past 3 seasons we have watched him with one goal in his mind; "Save the world and his siblings". So why would Five ever possibly consider both giving that up for Lila of all people. Third, giving Five a love interest was so useless and lazy. Why would he choose a girl over his siblings? Especially one literally MARRIED to his BROTHER. Fourth, him being all pouty and jealous over Lila choosing Diego (her husband and father of her kids - no shit she was gonna pick him over Five, literally have no idea why Five even thought he had a chance) to the point where he plans to just ditch his family in the middle of a big fight. Five, him fighting Diego in the middle of said big fight. THEN, Five just gives up??? Yeah, that's probably all he could do but seriously, this is Five we're talking about, the guy who survived in 45 years in the apocalypse to try and get back to his family and save the world. Do you really believe that he would just give up?

BONUS:

Jennifer - They could introduce a new character/love interest for Ben but they didn't do the same for Five so they just gave him the only other woman who wasn't his sister???? LAZY. Also, the amount of plot holes with Jennifer's character makes me queasy.

[bazoonga-bazinga]

watching tua s4 knowing fully how its going to disappoint me rn and something that keeps bothering me is just how awful it is that they dont show what happens during the 6 year time skip.

like in season 2 we get to see an abridged version of how everyone got to where they are. this allowed for me as viewer to at least undertsand the reasoning behind the siblings' actions and conflicts. but in season 4 there is just none of that.

instead we only get to see the after of the timeskip. Whatever bits we do hear abt the time in between are extremly limited because they are things that are told to us from biased/flawed/one-sided perspectives. I as a viewer do not get a clear idea of why any of the 8 charcters of the main cast change the way they do becuase i am never shown how this change ocurred. its more i am told things and have to accept because of the 6 year gap.

lila and diego's strained marriage is actually i think the only they showed without telling to an extent. but it still would have also been nice to see thier struggles transitioning to suburbia and would also aid me to better understand why neither of them tried to find an adequate balance in the 6 years. also like why is diego working as a delivery driver? in my mind it makes more sense for him to be a mediocre private investgator or something like that? idk just some more context behind the tension and thier decsions (especially lila dear god dont even get me started) would have been wonderful

viktor's journey to Canada and his distancing from the others sounded interesting and i would have loved to see that on screen. he clearly is unable to form long lasting intamate relationships and showing his life in the time gap would have been a great way to show his journey of accepting the loss of sissy.

allison was definitely hit hard by the lack of explanation. i understand the scheduling issues with raymond's actor but it truly was a heavy blow to season 3 allison actions when they just said he left with no other explanation. most of her conflicts in season 3 were motivated by the loss of claire and raymond and you are telling me she just lost 50% of that a year afterwards? and like this doesnt get mentioned until episode 3??

i actually enjoyed klaus's shift to a risk averse person and it did make sense to me after losing his immortality to become more aware of not only his but his loved ones mortality. the biggest glaring issue is the one everyone has talked about: the lack of dave. i think if they had shown klaus trying to find info on dave and/or even visiting his grave in the timeskip it would been fine with me that he wouldn't mention dave that much. but the dog tags being on screen and him not saying anything is actually inasne??? also it sounds like there was definitely more to his sobriety than what they have told sad that we didnt get to see that storyline....

everyone has said thier piece on how luther just mentioning sloane and then no other explanation is actually awful. like a simple flashback fo luther searching and finding sloane living a different life would have been better than them giving us nothing💀

ben i actually have nothing to say...it would have been silly to see the crypto scam ig. also an explanation of why they even showed the other ben the post credit of the s3 finale i think is warranted. like even a mention of yeah there is probably another ben who belongs to this universe walking around would have been okay ig

five oh where to even begin.... first of all how tf does a person who isnt even in thier 20s even get a gig at the cia. i know they said some bullahit abt five being a part of a relative young group/recruit (cant remember the exact wording) but like a person who is younger than 19 getting a job at the cia is a bit much. also i actually refuse to belive that five wouldn't have figured out his boss was part of the keepers there is just no way. after the handler and reggie i refuse to belive that five would lose his suspicion towards authority figures. i think the only authority figure he has ever listened to was the founder version of himself and even that took time. like if you want me to believe that bs then show me how five turned his brain into mush in the 6 year time skip. either that or show how me his loneliness in those six year because from what i have right now five worked at the cia and that is it nothing else. like from what i have been told by the show nothing else happended to him besides working. which if thier implication is that he was only working and drifted apart from his siblings that message was not clear enough to me as viewer and would have been alot clearer if i was shown such as thing.

[considerablecolors]

⚠️ SPOILERS FOR S4 & DISCUSSION OF SA ⚠️

hey so umm THEY NEVER ADDRESSED ALLISON TRYING TO ASSAULT LUTHER IN S3 WHAT HAPPENED HELLO. I KEPT WAITING WITH BATED BREATH TO SEE HOW THEY COULD POSSIBLY ADDRESS THAT TOPIC WITHOUT FUMBLING IT AND THE ANSWER WAS JUST. TO NOT EVEN TRY. I GUESS.

"everyone in the family is mad at me because i changed the timeline" ok yeah sure but I CAN THINK OF ANOTHER REASON TO BE MAD

and before anyone says any shit this is 100% not an excuse to be racist and sexist or to hold allison to different standards than your favorite white male characters. part of what made that scene in season 3 so disturbing to me was the fact that the writers chose to have the only black woman main character in the show do that to a white man. she's one of two women in the core siblings cast at this point. she's also a character that initially, while prone to making mistakes and abusing her powers, always loved her family. in fact, her love for viktor and insistence on not giving up on him even when he was hurting the others was one of the main themes of the first season.

why did we have her do that of all people. why did we have anyone do that at all. it was completely unnecessary to do (and to SHOW ON SCREEN) but to have the gall to do... that... and then not even address it and have allison and luther act completely normally to each other...

ALSO UM. luther canonically not remembering his first time having sex because he was under influence, getting mind controlled by his sister to almost get sexually assaulted, and then becoming a stripper despite showing basically no interest in the actual aspects of it... girl am i going crazy or is this not a coincidence, in a competently handled show this could be an exploration of the way sa victims will end up sexualizing themselves but no. instead we get jokes about him wearing thongs 24/7 and A FLASHBACK TO HIM AND HIS SISTER THAT TRIED TO ASSAULT HIM DANCING TOGETHER LIKE THAT'S CUTE. HELLO. ARE YOU THERE LITTLE GIRL ON A BICYCLE IT'S ME I JUST WANNA TALK.

also here's the deal. luther is also not perfect at all. none of the siblings are, that's the point, but specifically, luther was incredibly shitty and abusive to viktor in season one. but the show took the time to properly address it, have characters act differently towards each other as a result, have luther explicitly apologize to who he hurt and show genuine remorse, and throughout the next three seasons they took time to have him make up for it.

allison didn't get that chance, and that leaves such a bad taste in my mouth, and not even in the context of the show itself as much as the real life implications. im white, so i can't really give much of a genuine perspective and may be looking into things too deeply, but... the fact that allison consistently tends to be one of the most villainized characters in the show and portrayed specifically as manipulative and abusive and selfish... as the only black woman in the show since season 1 (unless i am forgetting someone)... feels so so so gross. (also having ray leave her and her child offscreen like come the fuck on)

everyone is talking about the treatment of five's character lately (and RIGHTFULLY so, believe me), but... allison AND luther i am sorry i am so so sorry they did this to y'all omg

[augustvandyne]

Addie x reader !

Addie meets readers parents for the first time and it doesn’t go well, Addie comforts reader after

if you’re lactose intolerant i’m sorry

ice cream

“You don’t have to come in,” You bit your lip nervously as you look out the passenger side window.

“I came with you,” Addison places her hand on your knee. “I’m coming in. I wouldn’t rather be doing this with anyone else.”

“Okay,” You smile softly, leaning in for a short kiss.

“Come on,” Addison pinches your chin between her thumb and side of her pointer finger as you lean in for another kiss.

“Just one more,” You beg.

Addison chuckles with a shake of her head, but reluctantly leans in for another.

“Okay. Now I’m ready,” You swipe your thumb under her lip to remove the smeared lipstick. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Addison comes around the car to open your door, because that’s just the kind of person she is. It’s part of the reason you fell for her in the first place - how kind and thoughtful of a person she was.

She holds her hand out for you to take, and she helps pull you out of the car.

Wrapping your arm around her waist, you timidly walk towards the entrance to your childhood home. You were nervous because your parents never really excepted your orientation, nor would they be proud of the gaping age gap between you and Addison. But you didn’t care - not really, anyhow - about what they had to say as long as you were happy.

And Addison made you happy. More than.

You lift your fist to knock on the door, and hesitate for a moment before rapping your fist against the door.

You remove your hand from Addison’s waist as the door swings open.

“Y/n,” Your mom, Ellen, says. She can’t even hold eye contact with you.

You clear your throat, trying to stop a lump from forming. The last thing you needed was to meltdown in front of your parents.

“Come in, your father is sitting at the table,” She makes a face at Addison, and you let her walk in first. Your hand still in hers as your mother shuts the door behind you.

The food is on the table when you make it towards the dining room, along with your father.

“Hey dad,” You lean down to hug him, and his hand pats your back in a hello.

Your parents sit on one side of the table, while you and Addison sit on the other. Addison’s hand lands on your thigh when your leg starts bouncing nervously.

A soft smile takes over your lips in a silent thank you, and you place your non-dominant hand on top of hers.

“I’m Richard,” Your father nods, not looking Addison in the eye at all as he moves food around his plate.

“Are you here to eat, or what?” Your mom gives you a look and you sit uncomfortably in your seat.

“Yes,” You inhale sharply, you and Addison both plating up some food out of the pans placed on the table.

You take a bite of the potatoes, and fight the urge to moan aloud at the taste.

Your foot begins to shake under the table at the awkward silence. You draw your bottom lip between your teeth nervously.

“Are you going to introduce us to your.. friend?” Your dad spits out.

“This is Addison,” You don’t look up from your plate.

“And what does Allison do?” Your mother asks, purposefully saying Addison’s name incorrectly as she did in the past.

“I’m a fetal and neonatal surgeon at the same hospital as Y/n - Seattle Grace,” Addison speaks for herself. “That’s actually how we met.”

Your mother hums, obviously as uninterested as she could get.

“Yeah..” Your smile at her. “I’m interested in peds and fetal, as you know. And Addison is teaching me.”

“That’s right,” Addison smiles politely at both of your parents, patting her hand on yours.

All of the sudden, your father drops his silverware onto the plate, “I can’t do this. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I really tried, but.. I don’t accept this.”

“Dad—“ Your lips turn to a frown. “You haven’t even tried.”

“I have!”

“We’ve been here a few minutes,” The lump begins to form, faster and faster. “You’ve only met her once. You—“

“It’s okay,” Addison squeezes your thigh reassuringly, rubbing small circles on your inner thigh with her thumb. “They don’t have to like me.”

“No—“ You can’t hold the tears back. “Mom, please!”

“I’m sorry,” Your mom continues looking down. “He’s right. I think it’s best if Allison goes. You can stay, but she has to leave.”

You lean back in your chair, as if you were struck by lightning. Your chest felt heavy and you couldn’t breathe anymore. Your eyebrows furrow, and all your eyes hold is betrayal.

“How could you say something like that?” Tears silently fall down, your voice cracking.

Addison stays quiet, and you’re partly glad for that, because you didn’t need her making matters worse. But it also would’ve been nice if she tried standing up for you.

“We’ll be going,” Addison stands, putting her hand on your shoulder to snap you out of the betrayed trance you have set on your parents.

“Take a piece of pie,” Your father watches as you stand.

“Shove the pie up your—“

“Okay,” Addison shoves you towards the door. “Let’s go, darling. We don’t need to make this worse than it already is.”

“They— how—“

“I know,” Addison kisses your temple before turning towards your parents. “Thank you for having us. And it’s Addison. You have a wonderful daughter, and you shouldn’t throw that away because you can’t get over your beliefs.”

You smile sadly as your girlfriend tries to fight for you, even though it won’t work.

“Have a good night, now.”

You keep your head turned away from Addison because you don’t want her to see you so distraught. You’ve cried in front of her before, sure. But never quite in this capacity, or for this long of a period.

Addison starts the car, silently driving you towards your - the residents - shared house, you hope. All you want right now is to indulge in some ice cream, a movie, and to cry into your pillow.

You close your eyes, resting your head against the window.

“We’re here,” Addison says excitedly. Too excitedly for you to be at the house.

You open your eyes, and your lips come together in a small smile.

She knew.

She knew you were sad and that the only thing that helps you is ice cream.

“It’s a nice gesture,” You make no attempt to remove your seatbelt. “But I’m not exactly public ready. And I don’t even have any money.”

Addison chuckles at that.

“I’ll get you something. What do you want?” She begins to unbuckle her seatbelt.

“You don’t have to,” You shook your head, giving a fake smile. “I’m fine. Just take me home.”

“Look at me,” You could feel Addison’s gaze on your face, but you didn’t want to look at her, afraid you’d start crying again. She softly turns your head towards her. “I’m not taking you home.”

You lift your brow.

“You just had a terrible night,” Addison tilts her head, looking at you with nothing but love in her stare. “I’m getting you ice cream, maybe some food if you’re still hungry, and then we’re going to go back to my place. Where we will watch all your favorite movies and I will let you cry into my chest while I rub your back. So either tell me what you want, or I’ll order for you.”

“Order for me,” You lean into her touch.

“Okay,” Addison gives you a peck on the lips. “By the way, I’m not afraid of a little tears. I’m here for you through whatever.”

As the door shuts, you say to yourself, “I think I love you.”

She comes back with your favorite flavor, and you don’t even question how she knows that, because of course she knows, along with a burger for you and one for herself.

Addison spends the rest of the night cuddling you and rubbing your back, and she doesn’t even complain when you request to watch your favorite movie not once, not twice, but three times.

And Addison seemed to get through to your parents, because you wake up with messages from both your mother and your father.

[andreafmn]

I'm Not Afraid | Chapter 23

Word Count: 3.1K Warnings: depictions of violence, mentions of blood

Story Description: (Y/N) Argent arrived at Beacon Hills to put to rest her father’s sister, Kate Argent. For the first time, her family has decided to settle down and sustain a life in this interesting small town. After 17 years, (Y/N) has the opportunity to establish interpersonal relationships but will she be ready to face the complications that come with relating to her cousin’s, Allison, friends; especially, the infamous Derek Hale. She will face the adventure of being associated with the Derek and McCall pack, as well as being faced with the discovery of certain aspects of her life she never imagined.

A/N: i've been MIA for a while, but trying to get back into the flow of things 💖

<- Previous | Next ->

Morning had come all too quickly for (Y/N). Sleep clung onto her body, threatening to never let go—not that she wanted it to. She had been exhausted for days, and it had finally caught up to her. Her limbs felt heavy, and her body felt sore. All she wanted was to rest—preferably for days. But a stinging pain in her shoulder after a particular wrong move had her shooting up from the warmth of her bed. At that moment, she noticed the other figure.

Right beside her, Derek lay unmoving. His eyelids fluttered in his sleep, his breathing soft and even. (Y/N) thought she had dreamt of him coming over, but there he was.

She thought she’d feel anger having him that close. Yet, after everything they had gone through in the hours of the night, it seemed that feeling had dissipated. She was glad to see him there, alive. Even through it all, she was glad he was alive.

Still, it didn’t mean she had to allow him to sleep comfortably on her bed. “Derek,” she said as she shook his shoulder. “Wake up, Derek.”

The attempt seemed futile as all the man did was turn in his spot and groan, annoyed that his deep slumber was being disturbed. With an exasperated sigh, (Y/N) used her unwounded arms to punch his arm as she screamed his name. Derek startled awake, stumbling to the ground as he gained consciousness.

“Good morning,” (Y/N) smiled coyly. “Sleep well?”

“Uh, yeah, I did,” he said after clearing his throat, the morning raspiness clinging to his vocal cords. “I didn’t really mean to sleep over. You just fell asleep on me, and well…”

“It’s fine, Derek,” she sighed. “I understand that you were worried last night. Now, you can get the hell out and leave me be.”

“Don’t be like that, (Y/N).”

She was wrong. She wasn’t angry at unconscious Derek. But him being awake ignited the flame of her ire. “Like what exactly, Derek?” she spat. “Last I heard, you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“That’s…” he stopped as he tried to find the right words, scratching his neck in frustration. “That was out of context.”

“Out of context? You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she scoffed. “Please, Derek, enlighten me on what the context was for you to tell me that you couldn’t trust me because I could turn out just like Kate.”

Having the words spat back to him stung the man. He knew why he had to push her away. He knew he had to do everything in his power to keep her safe from that one thing—not that it helped her when it came to things out of his control. But he could protect her from this one thing. Just this one thing. “I just… I don’t think I could tell you without putting your life at risk,” he admitted. “The last thing I want is for something to happen to you because of me.”

“Something has already happened, Derek,” the girl exclaimed. “We all almost died. That’s something. What else has to happen for you to start telling the truth?”

“Funny that you talk about the truth when you didn’t even tell me you had a plan with Scott,” he bit back. “Regardless of what’s happened, you didn’t even trust me enough to tell me that.”

“You wanted to kill Jackson! That was the best solution you could come up with,” (Y/N) spat. “When Gerard threatened Scott, he knew he had to find a way to defeat him. And when I confronted him about what happened at the station, he asked for my help and not to tell you. Your mind was already made up about the Kanima, and we knew nothing would sway you.”

She was right. That much Derek knew.

He also knew he should have let things go, to focus on finding a way to win her back. It was all he wanted. But he had yet to learn not to destroy the things he yearned for. “So, you and Scott are a team now?” Derek scoffed. “You seem to keep changing bands when it suits you best.” 

“It’s not my fault you can’t stand not to be in control,” she seethed. “You told Scott you’d do things his way and went back on your word. Guess I should have seen that coming. If you could go back on what you told him, I shouldn’t have been surprised when you changed your mind about me, too.”

“What? Like you did in the beginning?” he retorted. “Why is it okay for you to keep secrets, but I can’t? Why are you allowed to change your mind a thousand times, but I can’t?”

“You know that’s not the same thing.” (Y/N) felt her blood bubble in her veins. Everything she had done, she had already given a reason for—the very reason he used to break her heart. Her life as she knew it had imploded, and she had put distance between them to protect them both from heartache. And she had never, ever used his fears against him. “You called me heartless. You compared me to a murderer. You told me you lied. How am I supposed to trust anything that comes out of your mouth?”

“If I could tell you, I would, (Y/N),” he said, his tone calming, trying to soothe her. “I just… I can’t. Not yet.”

“Then why are you even here? Why come see if I’m okay? Why spend the night in my bed? Why, Derek?” she cried. “I can’t do this. I can’t keep waiting for the moment you think I’m worthy of the truth.”

Derek couldn’t find the right words. Nothing that would come out of his mouth would be good enough to appease (Y/N)’s worries—nothing at that point had even come out right. He didn’t want to give her a half-truth, nor did he want to lie. All he knew was he couldn’t concern her with his worries because she would try to come up with a solution that would never be good enough—not to keep her safe.

“For years, I was terrified of making a connection with someone because I knew there would always come a day when I would lose it. And then I met you,” the girl sniffled, wiping away the stray tear that had fallen from her eye. “Now I know it’s not worth the trouble. People leave regardless of how much you l... care about them.”

“(Y/N)…”

“Just go, Derek,” she sighed, swallowing the fresh tears that threatened to fall. “If you’re not gonna tell me what I need to hear, just go.”

“I…”

Before he could say anything else, a knock echoed through the room. “Hey, (Y/N),” her father’s voice rang out. “There’s a Stiles waiting for you at the door. Says he’s got your bike.”

“I’ll be down in a sec,” she called out to Henry before turning back to Derek. “Go. We’re done here.”

“Are you serious?”

“Are you gonna tell me the truth?”

“You know I can’t right now.”

“Then, until you can, we’re done,” (Y/N) said as she reached for the door. “Bye, Derek. Thanks for stopping by.”

He didn’t have time to answer before the girl left her bedroom without sparing Derek another glance. Once she was far enough away, she clutched her chest and took in a much-needed steadying breath. She could feel her heart hammering against her—something that would not have gotten past the werewolf—and her mind clouded with conflicting thoughts.

There was a part of her that wanted to forgive Derek and forget everything he had said. It was the part driven by emotion, softening her resolve at just the mere sight of him. She wanted to run into his arms and stay there until someone physically pried her off him.

There were many things she wanted.

All she had to do was turn around.

But there was the part of her that knew better. It knew the words Derek had spoken could not be unsaid. Knew that her heart had been marked by those words and they would dampen her mind for the rest of her life. Derek hadn’t said he didn’t believe what he had muttered days before, only that his words were taken out of context. And whatever context that was, (Y/N) wasn’t sure she wanted to know anymore.

So, she continued on, Brody following behind. He whined with every step they took, occasionally looking back to her bedroom as though telling her to go back. He could sense there were things left unsaid and feelings left untapped. But he kept walking beside (Y/N), wondering why she didn’t turn around.

“Hey,” (Y/N) said as she met Stiles outside, thankful for the timely distraction. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’d like to say it doesn’t hurt, but I could barely sleep last night,” the boy chuckled. “For being an old guy dying with cancer, your grandfather really can pack a punch.”

“Well, it might not mean much, but I’m sorry that happened. This family has been working with a twisted version of a code.”

“It means a lot, (Y/N),” Stiles smiled. “And I can’t be too angry. You got the worse end of the deal.”

“Eh, could have been worse,” she shrugged. “It might take some time to heal, but at least Gerard is crawling away like the cockroach he is. I’d take a knife for that any day.” 

“So, you’re really okay, then?”

“I am, Stiles,” she smiled. “And thanks. For bringing back the bike and for saving our asses last night. Talk about impeccable timing.”

The boy’s face grew red at the compliment, and he scratched his neck in an effort to hide his bashfulness. “Oh, well, I, uh, didn’t really do anything,” he stammered before awkwardly laughing. “Other than dent the Jeep a bit. You guys were the ones that actually did all the heavy lifting.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Stiles. It’s because of you that thing didn’t get derailed,” (Y/N) assured. “You didn’t play into Gerard’s tactic, and you got Lydia to the warehouse just as we thought things would end differently. You’re the reason Jackson and maybe a lot of us are still alive. That’s not nothing. So, thank you, Stiles.”

“Nah, don’t mention it,” the boy chuckled, looking back to his car as his face grew redder by the second. He waved toward Scott, who returned a teasing smile and a wave to his friend. “But anyway, Scott drove your bike here. And now, we’re on our way to play some lacrosse. Don’t know if you heard, but I don’t only save lives. I save games, too.”

“I did hear,” she grinned. “If you keep going down this road, soon enough, you won’t need the bat anymore. Maybe we could even show you some real self-defense moves.”

“Would you?” Stiles asked excitedly. “Might come in handy in lacrosse, too.”

“Well, it’s a date, then. It’ll be fun to train with a beginner,” (Y/N) teased. “I know you won’t be able to stab me.”

“Oh, just you wait,” he laughed. “All I need is eighteen years of training, and I’ll be just as good as you.”

“Stick with lacrosse then,” she said. “I got stabbed last night, and you’re actually getting good at that.”

“We all know last night was a fluke,” the boy winked. “Between you and me, I think you’re the better hunter.”

Stiles left soon after, waving alongside Scott as they passed her on the street. He’d left with the promise of checking up on her and keeping her in the self-defense classes. She remained outside until the car disappeared. Partly to wave the boys goodbye but mostly to ensure that Derek was long gone.

She knew he wouldn’t be inside. At least, she liked to think he respected her enough to have left. He owed her that much.

Thankfully, her bedroom was empty when she reached it. She allowed herself to fall into bed, ignoring the lingering scent and warmth Derek had somehow left behind. Exhaustion clung to her body once more, dragging her into the endless void of sleep. It didn’t matter how hard she fought it, she succumbed to slumber and the inner workings of her mind.

But if she thought she was getting respite from her worldly troubles in her dreams, she’d be wrong.

(Y/N) tossed and turned with visions of all that could have gone wrong the night before. She saw Gerard’s plan working. Instead of his body rejecting the bite, his eyes glowed yellow, and claws came from his fingertips. The very claws that then slit Derek’s throat taking his alpha status and life. She saw the Kanima ripping through each and every one of her friends before finally slicing into her.

Once that scene was over and she turned to her side in bed, another one took its place. She saw Derek and Peter sinking their claws into Jackson as they’d had, only this time, the boy did not rise. Jackson fell to the ground in a puddle of his own blood, his body slowly returning to his human form while Lydia cried by his side.

Another turn and the image in her mind changed. And that one scared her the most. (Y/N) would not have been able to witness the rest of the night had the dream truly happened. In the last sequence, Allison had not gone for just an immobilizing hit. Blinded by rage and revenge, she had gone in for the kill. The girl felt the knife slide into her stomach, the burning pain spreading through her body as though it was happening. She felt the air leave her lungs as she choked while her mouth flooded with blood. She heard her father’s screams, joined by the wails of her friends. The image of the darkness behind her own cousin’s eyes became an infallible stain in her mind.

As she tried to take in a breath in the dream, she found herself startling awake. Her body was drenched in sweat, and her heart threatened to jump out of her chest. But she was alive.

An itching under the gauze of her wounds reminded her that the only mark that had been left on her from the night before had been two cuts and not her life. She ripped the blankets off her body, clawing at the medical tape and the pink-stained gauze, ready to face the wounds and cement her reality.

Yet, when she uncovered her skin, there was merely a healed line instead of the scabbed mess it should have been. If anyone looked at the wound, they would have thought it had been a scratch she’d gotten weeks before—nothing like having a blade plunged into her leg. And her shoulder was no different. The bloody mess it had been had become a thing of the past.

It didn’t make sense. Nothing did.

The scratches on her face from the Kanima had only begun to scar, and that had been done weeks before. But a wound that had occurred only hours before had seemingly healed overnight. It simply wasn’t possible.

That’s when Gerard’s words flashed in her mind, a particular name taking center stage.

(Y/N) wanted to wait before she confronted her parents with what her grandfather had said. Faced with imminent death, people tended to say anything to save themselves. Yet, she could feel the truth in his voice. He was smart; calculated. He had chosen what to say to her carefully. In a game of chess, he had sacrificed a rook in order to save the King—all to make sure the most valuable piece was left standing. It hadn’t helped him in the end, but he had been able to plant seeds of doubt in her mind.

When she’d awaken, the sun had just started to set, and she knew her parents had to be home. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t continue to push the inevitable conversation. Even if she knew it would destroy the very fabric of her family’s constitution, it was time for the truth to come to light.

The girl made her way quietly downstairs, listening to the sounds of her parents. She could hear the rustling of grocery bags and Brody’s excited barks as her parents walked in and out of the garage. They seemed fine, normal even. At least, that’s what others would have thought if they had seen them. But (Y/N) had heard their fights; she had witnessed their hatred. Everything needed to be put to rest. One way or another.

She made her way into the kitchen, smiling softly as her mother noticed her presence. “Oh, hey, honey,” the woman smiled. “We’re just about to get started with dinner. But if you’re hungry right now, you can go ahead and grab anything from the pantry.”

“I’m not really hungry,” she shrugged. “I was just…”

“What is it, munchkin?” her father was quick to fuss. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) said. “It’s something else.”

“Well, what is it, honey?”

(Y/N) stretched the collar of her shirt to reveal her wound—or the lack thereof. “My leg is the same,” the girl explained. “I was stabbed just hours ago, and it’s like nothing happened at all.”

“Honey…”

“I need to know the truth,” she interrupted. “Dad, I know there’s something you have been keeping from me—both of you. And I think it has something to do with this. And I know you both know what I am talking about.”   

“We don’t… what are you saying, honey?” her mother stammered. “You think we have anything to do with…?”

“Who’s Raina?”

The name stopped the pair in their tracks, their eyes growing wide in surprise. Her parents shared a look of concern, trying to hold a conversation with just their gaze. It was obvious they were trying to find a way to keep their lie alive, obvious they were not prepared to speak on the truth just yet.

“Where did you…?” her father muttered. “Where did you hear that name?”

“Gerard told me to ask you about it last night,” she answered. “He seemed to know exactly what would get you two talking. And from the looks of it, he was right. Who is Raina, dad?”

“Honey,” her mother tried to speak. “We…”

“No! I’m done with the lies!” the girl exclaimed. “I want to know what’s happening to me, and I wanna know who this Raina is, and what the hell does she have to do with you two.”

Next ->

My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts  or buy me a coffee to support me and my love of writingIf you’d like to be tagged in this or any other story: click hereMake sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

Tag List: @hellowinterlane​ @lokisgoddesofpower​  @mersuperwholocked-lowlife@malar-region@sunshine-flower@lilstanxd@sunsetcurvej @malar-region@heyitsaloy@blackbluerose666@bellabadacadabra@winter-soldier-101@zheezs14  @sunsetcurvej  @mushroomelephant  @she–walks–in–moonlight @Gracelynn318 @skyesthebomb@esposadomd@blueshoelaces@then-worship-at-my-altar@six-call@yuki254@honeylovemoon  @Beckiej0073-blog  @baebeepeach  @cecehensonn  @catgirlpwr@magimtz23@perle-noir@adaydreamaway08@hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel@thatgirljayy@sugasthreedollarkookie  @laylaskywalker  @fandomonetwo@fruitylilfuck@haroldpotterson  @gangstalicious06  @elijahssuit@ellabellabus07@scarletdfox@halleest@sunflowerleii@shara-ne@nngkay  @mar  @saltedcoffeescotch  @thecollectorofwords @gabi-princesada1d  @zealouscookierebeltrash@sleepilysworld@laylasbunbunny@treatiseofselena  @american-staness  @cevans-winchester@brittany-appleyard24@avada-kedavra-bitch-187@ivory-raptor@euphoria1992@mrknightsgirl  @hopexargent  @druigsluver29  @Fresita1218  @sunsetmaverick@rebelbagel@mrknightsgirl@missfunsize

@the-house-of-rose-and-ember@elizabeth916@heccatee@cerejinha@caosfanblr@heartfilia01@shadowwolfqueen-blog@jinxxangel13@arcaurix@cheshirecat484@alyeskathewave@yourfavelili @moonynaturesethetic @gh0stgurl @jjpogueprincess @xshortputax @divergentalwaysandforever-blog @Sobsasifsworld

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

I’ve been out of the loop for batim/batdr for so long how did it change the lore?

none of the ink creatures are sacrificed staff members forced into a fate worse than death anymore. they're just ink creatures in a parallel dimension that joey drew made bc he was feeling pissy

in addition, it's not the real henry in there. joey was mad at henry so he made a fake henry just to torture him over and over

then allison was his Friend and so he decided to add her to the torture labyrinth to make things easier on fake henry. didnt stop the torture labyrinth tho

then he made himself a daughter out of ink and he wasn't the big evil corporate boss at all he was the Awesome Dad who encourages audrey to use her imagination and hope and shit. entire second game just forgot that he was supposed to be the villain

also in a very fanservicey way, bendy now can turn into his cute lil demon form and be audrey's little brother

a lot of people like it but it really really felt like fanservice above story to me. mascot horror isn't always like, good horror, but the first bendy really WAS. it had a great aesthetic, great designs, and was really effective in the implications of being sacrificed to an "and i must scream" demonic existence by one man's pride and lack of care (ie: capitalism) and the second game was just like "actually joey drew was a good guy the whole time and the real bad guy is this Random Obviously Evil Employee over in the corner and audrey's fixing the torture labyrinth so there's a little less torture <3"

i did like the idea of color animation being an anti-bendy threat but they literally did fuckall with that, just had the new bad guy like... mention it?? and then do nothing with it.

i feel like part of it also might have been that "trying to outsmart the fandom" thing. a popular theory, at least in my circles, was that henry was a bendy creature– the sacrificed staff had to be "perfect" for the role (IE: the two alice angels) and the first bendy was made without souls and that's why it was fucked up, and then joey realized the perfect bendy was his creator so he yeeted henry in, and that's why we never see our own hands or reflection + respawn in ink + sammy lawrence tries to sacrifice us immediately. god how fucking cool would it have been to, like, hear henry over loudspeakers trying to help us, and then we walk into the room he's in and just see BENDY.

but yeah no bendy's just a cute lil guy in the corner who can sometimes hulk into the ink monster bc... that was a thing in fanfics? joey drew is a good guy and good dad and the real enemy is the exploited worker. FUCK the original game's really good horror and atmosphere amiright

anyway i get why people like it i guess but hhh it really doesn't land for me. honestly im just pretending the first game is the only canon it was way more interesting

[stardust4ari]

Birthday Party - Five and Claire Uncle-Niece

Five was already finishing his second beer by the time he got off Diego’s conversation, been drunk at a kids birthday party was obviously not the greatest idea but he needed that beer, these case was taking way too much time, once again he was under the control of a stubborn boss, completing missions and paperwork for a powerful organization that he had no right to meddle with, again the same routine, but finally with his family safe. Two kids ran nearby and for a second he lost his balance. A middle aged woman was following them nearby and apologized, Five didn’t took care of his apology, kids were laughing for god sake, THIS was why he saved the world, he smiled for himself, turned back and there she was

Claire was no longer the kid he met years ago, when Klaus introduced them instead of Allison (how he first though would happen), he wasn’t much of a fan of kids but something clicked when he met Claire, a kind of paternal instinct (or uncle instinct, idk)

The little girl was running around Klaus legs, ignoring the little introduction Klaus was reciting to their family, he had invited them all to Allison's house so they could met her, while Allison was out of course, but Viktor, Luther and Five were the only one interested and available, with Ben in jail and Diego working extra hours to provide for their now bigger family with Lila

“Hey, Claire bear” Claire stopped once she heard his uncles voice “Say hi, these are your uncles” Claire stops and stares in the curious way just a kid can do

An awkward silence that is interrupted by Viktors sigh

“Hi Claire, my name is Viktor” Starts Viktor seeing that neither Luther or Five were gonna take the initiative “Brought you something” Viktor takes the plastic bag he was carrying and shows her a set of tea cups. Claire smiles 

“Didn’t know we have to bring something” Nervously declared Luther, Five rolls his eyes

“She is a kid Luther, with toys is the only way she will interest in us” Five opened his suitcase, just to keep the routine, and showed the 18- inch American Girl doll he had bought, if Claire was smiling with the tea set, she was jumping around of happiness by the sight of her look alike doll

“Way to brag, Five” Viktor smiled in resignation as he watched Claire run to hug the doll

“Five?” Claire asked while hugging the doll 

“Yeah, that's my name”

Five still remember seeing her playing with her doll and the tea cups, still treating them as strangers but growing more of a family relationship between them, Five never missed her birthdays and expend as much time as possible he could with someone he might always have a distant relationship with

And now she is here, trying and failing to take a beer, Five sighed,  she was only 13, he approached her while she nervously eyed the beers

“No, Claire” Claire shivered while looking for whoever belonged the voice, she rolled her eyes when she noticed Five “You would think that with Klaus around, your idea of alcohol would also be negative”

“I knoow alcohol is bad, Uncle Five” now Five was the one rolling his eyes at her typical  pre-teen reaction “But, you’re drinking”

“Im older, just-just be a normal teenager and drink once you’re sixteen” Because of their new lives he couldn’t reveal to her his actual age, and had to stick with his 18 year old body, this was actually the first time she saw him drinking

Claire glanced at him once and just grabbed a Coca Cola, they stood there in silence for a while “Uncle Five” Five nodded, acknowledging her “Why are you wearing a suit?, i mean,  its a birthday not a funeral” He chuckled

“It just, feels more like me than ordinary clothes” Claire tried on thinking something smart to attack him again but was interrupted by his voice “Don’t try drinking again, Claire” 

She sighed “Though we were past that point of the conversation”

“Well, we’re not, you are way too young, what you were trying to do was immature and irresponsible, soon you will be a teenager and you will be exposed to this stuff, but please, think, okay? Think” He knew he was kind of a hypocrite by giving her this speech when he had gotten drunk with his 13 year old body, but it was Claire for god's sake, he would act as a saint around her if he knew that would make her take better decisions than his, she was still his little niece

“I can think, Uncle Klaus makes me learn stuff about alcoholism, you know?” Five stared at her the way you stare at a kid trying to apologize for crayon in the walls “It’s just, i don't know, curiosity” She took a sip of her Coca Cola “It was stupid”

“Everything you do at 13 is stupid, Claire, i know that better than anybody” He took a sip of his beer and his mind went back to his first apocalypse “Just… try to keep your curiosity in line, if not, it can kill you”

“God, you are dramatic, aren't you?” He smiled sincerely to that accusation 

“How did you spent the 100 dollars i gave you for your birthday?” “I hadn't spent it all yet, i bought more film for that camera you gave me last christmas” “Good”

 Claire smiled at him “Its good to see you” Five smiled back

straight from my ao3 account: stardust4ari

[thelunarbar]

I hate Kate with every fiber of my being 🤮

I’m sorry would firing off a weapon at random in the middle of the not being the police?

Turns out I don’t remember this real well so that’s interesting

I appreciate that Chris is at least semi sensible even if he is actively trying to kill Derek and Scott

The cgi or whatever on Derek’s not normal bullet wound is so bad 😂

Oh yeah grabbing her hand and defensively yelling no is so subtle

Ooh caught in a lie. Shoulda got their story straight before Allison woke up. Tsk tsk

Scott knows nothing. Typical.

“Studying with Allison” yeah right

Dylan O’Brien has pretty eyes

I wanna punch Jackson

Derek (literally dying) goes totally unnoticed in a highschool are there no teachers or curious students??? Are they all that self involved???

Also Derek (still literally dying) gets jump scared by the bell love it

How did stiles not see Derek at some point while he was in the hallway?

And then Derek collapses in the parking and still no one notices him

“A silver bullet?”

“No you idiot.” Even dying Derek is not putting with stiles shit

Derek (literally dying) (going to help Scott even tho he has absolutely no reason to) needs Scott’s help

Scott grudgingly agrees to help the dying man what a saint

And then promptly gets distracted by Allison shocker

Ik Scott is like what 15 here but c’mon man someone is literally dying and counting on you to save him and all you can think about is getting in Allison’s pants

Oh good more cringey make outs. These are supposed to be teenagers I do not want to watch them make out 🤮

Am I old? I feel like that makes me sound like an old lady but it’s true

I love that somehow while still in town it looks like they’re almost to Derek’s house which is deep in the woods? Yes yes that tracks

“In fact I think if I wanted to I could drag your little werewolf ass out into the middle of the road and leave you for dead.”

“Start the car or I’m gonna rip your throat out with my teeth.” Yes threatening the guy trying to keep you alive is great.

Fuck Scott. Honestly. They’re are more important things in life than getting your dick wet

Archery how quirky

Ik it’s like a family thing but still

Cock block chris love it

Ooh awkward family dinner with the gfs family always fun sucker

Why do parent in tv shows offer teenagers alcohol as like a test??? So dumb

“Hockey on grass is called field hockey.” 😂

Poor stiles and poor Derek

“He’s starting to smell.”

“Like what?”

“Like death!”

Yeah let Derek die bc you’d rather not leave your gf. Can we say hero 🙄

Fortunately the bullet he’s looking just happens to be in a special box bc ofc and I get for plot reasons but still

Derek never loses his drama even when dying

I’m with stiles on the whole cutting off Derek’s arm

Love that this whole thing literally couldn’t not matter less to Scott 🙄

I read a couple great fics abt stiles actually cutting off Derek’s arm bc Scott was late that I still think about to this day. I reread them quite a bit

I hate Kate so fucking much even tho he did actually take smth from her

Allison whipping out that condom is probably her best moment ngl 😂

“You faint at the sight of blood?”

“No but I might at the sight of chopped off arm!”

I am so with stiles on this whole cutting off body parts thing

Derek’s Batman voice is really funny to me.

I get why the first idea is to stick your fingers through the grate but I’m pretty sure those things pop out at least generally speaking

Love that stiles punched Derek in the face. Pretty sure he nearly does it again later on in the show

Where did Derek get the lighter? Did he just have that on him? Also so did not wanna watch him stick his finger in his wound gross

Ah teenage stupidity. Gotta hate it.

Ohhhh we finally met Peter! I don’t like him for obvious reasons but later on he’s so sassy and it’s hard not to like him

Knowing what the argents did makes me hate Kate even more and love that Chris broke free of that.

Ofc Scott would defend the argents 🙄 again teenage stupidity

Poor Derek he deserved better

How was there still a lil shard of glass from Kate’s broken window on the edge of the car door??? That seems unlikely

I appreciate that Chris at least had some standards even they still sucked.

Kate throwing the match into the fireplace was sooooooo foreshadowing at the truth to be learned down the road and I do like that