#christ argent

[andreafmn]

I'm Not Afraid | Chapter 22

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: falling back in love with this story 🤭 just need the same motivation for my Criminal Minds fic 🫣

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That was it.

That moment was either kill or be killed.

Realization dawned upon everyone at the same time, the air in the room shifting as everyone understood what needed to be done. Even the Kanima had his own rules to carry out. Whether they wanted to or not, they had to fight Jackson, and someone had to come out of it alive.

Isaac’s grip tightened around (Y/N) as the creature unhanded Allison, its sight set on the other Argent girl. Meanwhile, her father stood between her and the creature in a protective stance. Even without a loaded weapon, he would not let more harm come to his daughter.  It was clear Gerard had given Jackson a quiet command and he couldn’t ignore it.

But once free, Allison reared back and elbowed the Kanima in the face, breaking his gaze before he pushed her to the ground and out of the way. His eyes fell back on (Y/N), a murderous glint in his irises. He was tasked to kill the girl, and he wouldn’t stop until he completed his goal.

Suddenly, Stiles’ powder blue Jeep crashed through the wall, colliding straight with the Kanima. “Did I get him?” he asked, his eyes tightly shut.

His question was answered as Jackson jumped onto the car, scaring him and Lydia out of the vehicle. Stiles ran to Scott while Lydia faced the lizard version of her ex-boyfriend. As scared as she was, she knew what she had to do, obviously aware since before she came upon the creature. She dug into her pocket for a key, her head facing away from the Kanima, too afraid of his form to stare and bracing for his potential strike.

“Jackson,” she muttered as she showed him the key, stopping him dead in his tracks.

The creature’s eyes focused on the item. Suddenly, it was the most important thing on his mind. He no longer felt the uncontrollable need to kill; there was only him and his memories. It wasn’t the key, of course not, but what that little gold thing meant.

Right before everyone’s eyes, the scales started to disappear from Jackson’s body, revealing the boy under the murderous lizard. Lydia had always been the answer to their Kanima problem; they just didn’t know.

The boy stumbled back as his body continued to revert, and in the blink of an eye, Derek sprung from the ground toward him, and Peter appeared from his back, and they both dug their claws into Jackson’s stomach and back, respectively. They raised him off the ground, sinking deeper before setting him back down. Blood pooled in his mouth, and his stance faltered as weakness took over him.

Lydia was quick to help him stand, her teary eyes focused only on him. “Do you…,” he tried to speak. “Do you still…?”

“I do,” she whimpered as she nodded. “I do still love you.”

The redhead kept repeating the words as a mantra as Jackson closed his eyes and his body grew limp. They both fell to the ground as the weight took over the girl, but she never let him go. Instead, she cradled his body close to hers, whispering her goodbyes to the boy who had been her first love.

All their friends could do was stand and stare as they watched her lay him gently on the ground, witnessing the last traces of the Kanima disappear from Jackson’s face. They had gone so far and done so much, only for Derek to get what he wanted in the end.

But they were in Beacon Hills. There, sometimes, the dead didn’t stay dead for long.

As they worried about Gerard’s sudden disappearance and Lydia turned her back to Jackson, the sound of nails scraping the concrete echoed through the room. He raised from the ground and revealed the most unexpected of turns. The bite had taken, and Jackson had finally gotten what he wanted. He was finally a werewolf. And, most of all, he was alive.

“Don’t mean to break this beautiful moment here,” (Y/N) muttered. Lydia and Jackson had shared in an intimate embrace as they celebrated his reanimation and her confessions. “Still sort of bleeding out here.”

“Oh my god, (Y/N),” Allison said as realization dawned upon her. “I-I…”

“You can save your guilt for a later time,” the girl groaned. “Right now, I need to stop the bleeding.”

“Here, munchkin.” Henry ripped two strips from the bottom of his t-shirt, using them as a tourniquet for her leg and shoulder. “That should keep you stable until we get home and get you stitched up.”

“(Y/N), I’m…”

“It’s fine, Allison,” (Y/N) said through gritted teeth. “We can talk later. I just… I need to get out of here.”

“Take my car,” Chris interjected. “I’ll go back home with Allison.”

“Yeah,” she muttered, shame eating away at her mind. “I’ll see you later, I guess.”

(Y/N) started to limp away with the help of her father and Isaac, ignoring the burning gaze of Derek. She could tell he wanted to reach out, to be the one helping her to the van. But he had burned that bridge with a torch and gasoline. If he ever planned on rebuilding it, he’d have to do it from the ground up.

The girl groaned with every step she took, her limbs aching and pulsing. Isaac helped her into the SUV, clicking her seatbelt for her, careful to avoid her injuries. “I can go with you,” he whispered. “Meet you at the house?”

“You should stay with Derek for now,” she said. “My mom’s gonna probably be at the house and Erica and Boyd have to be there already. I’ll send them over as soon as I can—given they actually went there.”

“But…”

“I’ll be okay, Isaac,” she assured with a weak smile. “I’ll see you later today, okay?”

“She’s in good hands, kid,” Henry said as he sat on the driver’s side of the car. “We’ll let you know when you can sneak back into the house.” 

“You, uh, you know about that, sir?” 

“Not much happens in my house that I don’t know about,” he chuckled. “And I know Brody is not the one eating the food in my kitchen.” 

“Oh, uh, um...” 

“It’s okay, Isaac,” Henry smiled. “I don’t mind. There’s always space for anyone that needs it at my house. You can stay over any time—except when my wife is at home. She’s not as generous.” 

“Uh, thank you, sir,” Isaac mumbled. “I appreciate it.” 

“Guys, this is a beautiful moment,” (Y/N) interrupted, “but still bleeding here.”

“Right,” her father chuckled. “We’ll let you know when you can come over.” 

The car ride back home was quiet at first. Henry sped through the streets, rushing to get to his house and take care of his daughter. He knew her condition wasn’t worrisome, but it didn’t stop the concern that flooded his mind as (Y/N) grimaced and groaned from the pain. But he knew all she needed was a bit of conversation to distract her mind.

“So, you and Isaac seem close,” Henry teased. “Is he the boy that had you questioning our family’s beliefs?”

“What? No,” she quickly replied. “Isaac and I are just friends, dad.”

“Does he know that?”

“Dad…”

“I’m just saying, kid,” he chuckled. “He seems to really care about you.”

“And I care about him, but we’re just friends,” (Y/N) assured. “It didn’t really work out with the person I was talking about that day. He, uh, wasn’t who I thought he was.”

Henry turned to look at his daughter. She no longer was the little girl who could barely see above the dashboard when in the front seat, or the preteen who would live with headphones on her ears. (Y/N) was closer to adulthood than she was to her younger years, even if he couldn’t think of her as anything other than his baby girl. She was growing, and with that came many challenges they would have to face together.

“Is it Derek?” the man continued to inquire. “Gerard mentioned something about it tonight.”

(Y/N)’s gaze fell to her leg, fiddling with the soaked fabric. “Yeah,” she sighed defeatedly. “I mean, nothing really happened between us, but it still ended.”

“Derek Hale, huh? He’s been quite the character in our family’s story.”

“Yeah, sure know how to pick ‘em,” the girl chuckled awkwardly. “Didn’t even get to become a problem for the Argents. Over before we even began.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Henry asked. “You don’t have to, of course. But it can help you make sense of everything.”

“I don’t… he just said something that he can’t take back,” she shrugged, sinking into the seat. (Y/N) considered telling her father the entire story. From the dreams to the agreement she had made with Derek, she wanted him to know everything. But if he could keep his secrets, so could she. At least until they all erupted to the surface. “We just don’t work, I guess. No point in really delving into the whole thing.”

“Well, I’m here if you wanna talk about it, kid,” he said as he killed the car’s engine. “Let me help you out.”

Henry rounded the car and took his daughter in his arms, carrying her inside.

The house was quiet and dark, save for a light in the kitchen. There, Rebecca was serving a wine glass for herself. As (Y/N) came into view, the glass slipped from her hand and shattered on the ground, spilling liquid as red as the blood that stained her daughter’s skin.

“What happened?!” she exclaimed as she ran to her daughter. “I thought you were supposed to stay away from this.”

“She wasn’t gonna work with the hunters,” Henry said as he set (Y/N) on a stool by the kitchen island. “Doesn’t mean she wasn’t gonna help her friends.” 

“Did they do this to you, (Y/N)?” Rebecca worried. “Did those things hurt you?”

“No, mom,” (Y/N) scoffed. “This is the work of Allison. You know, your niece who was hellbent on getting the local pack to avenge her mother. Yeah, she did this.”

“No… Allison wouldn’t.”

 “She did,” Henry confirmed. “Gerard was real proud.”

“Come on, she’s family,” the woman continued to argue. “Allison wouldn’t do that to you.”

“We can stay here and argue about what happened to me,” (Y/N) sighed, “or you can help me with these wounds. Just stop. Please, mom.”

Rebecca hurried to the cupboard under the kitchen sink. She pulled out the first aid kit and quickly set to work on her daughter. First, she cut the leg of her pants, sliding it softly down her leg, careful not to disturb the wound. The girl’s thigh was covered in dried blood, fresh droplets still coming out of the cut. Thankfully, the knife hadn’t gone deep enough to nick any veins, but it had caused enough damage to drench her jeans and her skin with blood.

The woman cleaned the skin surrounding the wound, mindful of her daughter’s jerks and winces as she worked. Once the area was clear she glued the skin back together with a liquid bandage before doing the same with the girl’s shoulder. Finally, she covered both wounds with a waterproof bandage and gave her daughter two ibuprofen pills.

“Why don’t you head up to the shower and go to bed, honey?” Rebecca said as she put the items away. “We can all talk calmly tomorrow. It’s been a long night already.”

“Yeah, are you asking me or telling me?” 

“Okay, kid, let’s get you upstairs,” Henry said, stifling a laugh. “There’s gonna be a lot to unpack tomorrow.”

“Alright, I get the hint,” (Y/N) said as she got off the stool, careful to keep her weight mostly off her hurt leg. “Good night, guys.”

“Do you need any help?”

“I think I can manage.” She tested her steps, making sure she could at least make it to her room without help. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Alright,” Henry said before kissing the top of his daughter’s head. “Let me know if anything changes during the night, munchkin. I don’t care how late it is.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” (Y/N) limped toward the staircase, pressing her nails into her palms as pain shot up her leg and through her arm. She knew she should have asked for help, even if it was just to her room. But she had felt useless enough. “Night, guys.”

“Good night, honey,” her parents called out.

The girl mustered all the strength she could to make it all the way to her room. Part of her hoped Erica and Boyd had made it to her house. But as soon as her doorknob turned without any fight, she knew they were not there. All she could do was hope they at least were somewhere safe. Maybe they had gone through their plan of skipping town. Maybe.

Instead of two teen werewolves inside her room, she was met with an expectant Brody. In the blink of an eye, he had jumped off her bed and was by her side, whimpering as he noted the star of her body. He nudged her healthy leg softly, his eyes focused on hers.

“Hey, buddy,” she chuckled painfully. “I’m alright, boy. Just gotta get all this dirt off.”

Brody merely whined in response, clearly worried for his owner.

“I’m okay, bud,” (Y/N) smiled weakly. “We won tonight. Yeah. We won.”

She wasn’t sure if those last words had been to calm her dog or if she had to convince herself. They’d merely won a fight, but she could feel a war coming in. Something no one was ready for.

But she couldn’t worry about the future just yet. Not when the present was still so fresh.

After sending Brody to her bed, (Y/N) hurried to the bathroom. She set her change of clothes on the bathroom sink before ripping the dirty clothes off her body. The fabric had darkened with her blood, making it cling to her as it dried. Both items were unsalvageable, already cut and sulked by her wounds. They were evidence of a fight well fought but they reminded her of all she had done wrong.

(Y/N) set the shower to run hot before she allowed the stream to over her aching body. As the water came close to singe her skin, she allowed the tears to fall from her eyes, one of her hands flying to her mouth to muffle the sobs that escaped her.

Her mind kept replaying the night. She had started off strong with her fight back at the school. Hell, she had felt invincible then. When she had helped Erica and Boyd escape, she was sure the night would be filled with nothing but wins. But all it took was one wrong move and she’d allowed Allison to incapacitate her for the rest of the fight. If Stiles and Lydia had not burst in, she would have just become a burden to her friends. All the training and records she had broken had meant nothing. Not when a simple knife to her leg was enough to take her out of the running.

Then there had been Derek. She couldn’t get the gut-wrenching look of betrayal he sent her out of her mind. As much as he had hurt her, she didn’t want to hurt him. Yet, she knew Scott’s plan inevitably would. Derek was too married to the notion that the only way they could defeat Jackson was by killing him, but in doing so, he’d unravel too many knots that had already been tied.

When she had gone to see Scott after the fight in the sheriff’s station, (Y/N) had been sure she’d be leaving his house on Derek’s side. But there she learned just how much was at stake, and to beat Gerard they had to start playing his game. He had begged her not to tell Derek, knowing the alpha would find a way to get the Argent man exactly what he wanted. Knowing how much they could lose in the process, she had agreed. She didn’t tell anyone.

Much like she had done for her pain since she was a little girl, she kept it all inside. The girl shielded everyone around her from her fears and her sadness, too afraid to let them be consumed by the darkness that hid within her—in her mind and her heart. It was that very darkness that she was afraid would eat away at her when she least expected it. The void that lived in the chest of every Argent, waiting dormant until it was its time to wake.

(Y/N) had seen that darkness in Allison that night, but it had started its consumption many nights before. It had chiseled away at the barriers of her mind, clouding her thoughts with ire and vengeance. That night, it was the darkness that had sunk its knife into (Y/N)’s body for standing in the way. She couldn’t blame her cousin because she knew it all too well. It had visited her in her dreams, and it had been biding its time until it could have a taste of her too.

The water had grown cold by the time it had finally run clear. Ache returned to her muscles as the temperature dropped, and she knew her laments had to stop, too. No good would come from being alone with her thoughts, spiraling down an endless tunnel of dread.

At that moment, there was only one person that her mind drifted to for consolation. Regardless of what he had done and what he had said, she had grown to find comfort in him—his arms, his touch, his lips. And at that moment she needed that solace.

But he had made things clear, and no phone call or message could change his mind.

At least that’s what she thought.

(Y/N) left her bathroom, ready to sink into her cold bed and fall asleep to Brody’s gentle snores. She left the mess of dirty clothes on the floor—a problem for the morning. All she wanted was rest. Just rest.

She hadn’t expected to find Derek in the middle of her room, welcomed by an excited Brody. He was petting the dog and singing him praises when he noticed (Y/N) coming into the room, making him stop dead in his tracks. “(Y/N), I…” he started, unsure of what to say. “I know I shouldn’t be here, but after tonight I just had to see you, make sure you were okay. I can go if that’s what you want. I just…”

(Y/N) didn’t let him finish. She ran to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, letting herself come undone in his arms. Words be damned, hurt be damned. All she wanted was that moment. She allowed herself to sob into his chest, melting into his embrace like she had done before, and she cried. She cried until she didn’t remember if she had stopped.

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[ladybizarre13]

Please tag/comment on what questions you want to see next and reblog for larger sample size!

[deedsofmercy]

I need some petopher straight up thirsting after each other pre-any getting together. where is peter running into a door because he was too busy staring at chris' forearms? where is chris clenching his jaw, unable to stop staring at peter's ass?! i want these old men to be EMBARRASSING in their lust. i want FRUSTRATION.

[novasillies]

Somewhere, in a dark and twisted alternate universe, Teen Wolf is a comic. Trump was never president there. World hunger was ended.

[just-a-tiny-goldfish]

I’m constantly in a loop of would sidestep be more sympathetic to the ppl they’re kinda brain washing and using or would they care less cause why should they care?

[kitkatwinchester]

...wtf??

Does someone wanna tell me what Chris thinks he's doing??

Wha--

WHAT'S THE PLAN HERE?

WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!

WHAT IS GOING ON?!

WHAT IS HE DOING?!

WHAT DOES THAT ACCOMPLISH?!

JFDL:AK:FJKLADJ Fk: LJF:LKDJ SKL:ZJFKLD: SJKL:FJE:KLS:JLS

...anyways.

Okay.

So in other news, I ship Isaac and Allison again.

And honestly, as much as I hate to admit it...I think I'm starting to ship them more than Allison and Scott....

PLEASE DON'T HATE ME YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU SCOTT!!

But honestly, I think Isaac's and Allison's personalities mesh better, and Isaac REALLY cares about her, and as much as I think she doesn't want to admit it to herself...I think Allison really cares about him.

And, like, the way she was just starting to panic and Isaac just grabbed her and held her and I just...

I'M SORRY SCOTT!

But I love them.... <3

Also.

I was about to be all pissed at Peter for being all manipulative of Derek and his feelings again, because I really thought Peter was trying to trick him into doing something really bad to save Cora.

But INSTEAD, he's actually trying to STOP him from doing it. He told him about it, but then he really broke down how bad and dangerous this could really be, and he's RIGHT. This is probably EXACTLY what Jennifer/Julia/the Darach (what are we calling her? This is giving me Stranger Things vibes lol) wants. She wants him to be weak, so that he has to come to her for help, so that she ultimately wins.

And I have never been so freaking grateful for Peter.

Thank GOD for that man, and I really hope Derek listens to him, because there has GOT to be another way to save Cora, and Derek...that isn't it.

Anyways UGGGGH CHRIS!!

(I mean LOOK AT THIS SCENE! <3)

Update: So...Chris was just hoping she wouldn't do a full cavity search and take ALL of his weapons? THAT was his big plan?? THAT WAS YOUR PLAN, CHRIS?! ... *sighs deeply* Why are teenagers smarter than you Mr. Big Bad Werewolf Hunter, Chris Argent??

[casually-eat-my-soul]

Something I need to see more in fics is Derek absolutely owning the argents. I really dislike it in fics when he has to beg Chris and Allison to work with him. Especially when they’re like “oh we are here to keep you in check”

Like no, beacon hills is his home, his family has bleed and died for beacon hills for centuries. That land bends to Derek’s will, and if he doesn’t want hunters on his land, beacon hills will make it so.

He owes the argents nothing, not his allegiance, not even his understanding. “Oh Chris didn’t know that Kate would” stfu. Christ argent still perpetuates the bigotry of being a hunter.

Give me alpha Derek hale, continuing on the legacy of his family. Having the hale pack, marrying stiles. Having a happy ending.

Anyway that’s my rant for the day 🫢

[thedecadenceofwar]

Elle Argent as Jesus Christ: Heartstopper art analysis.

Yesterday, I made this post where I wordlessly compared Elle's art piece for the Lambert School to the painting that draws her attention at the Louvre, Caravaggio's Supper at Emmaus, a depiction of Jesus breaking bread for his disciples after his crucifixion and subsequent rising.

Elle's perspective on the painting / a full view of the painting (source)

The first thing I noticed that helped me draw the connection between these two paintings was their composition, the basic triangular lines that guide the eye in each painting; from Jesus and Elle in the center to the innkeeper and Tao at the top.

Heartstopper also clearly wanted us to make some connection between Elle and this Caravaggio: they focus on her face before they show us the painting, so we wonder what exactly it is she's seeing, which increases its narrative importance. I assumed she recognized herself in a painting; she did, but not in the way I expected.

The National Gallery (see above source) has this to say about the Caravaggio:

On the third day after the Crucifixion two of Jesus’s disciples were walking to Emmaus when they met the resurrected Christ. They failed to recognise him, but that evening at supper he ‘... took bread, and blessed it, and brake and gave to them. And their eyes were opened, and they knew him; and he vanished out of their sight’ (Luke 24: 30–31). Painted at the height of Caravaggio’s fame, this is among his most impressive domestic religious pictures. He brilliantly captures the dramatic climax of the story, the moment when the disciples suddenly see what has been in front of them all along. Their actions convey their astonishment: one is about to leap out of his chair while the other throws out his arms in a gesture of disbelief. The stark lighting underlines the dramatic intensity of the scene. Typically for Caravaggio, he has shown the disciples as ordinary working men, with bearded, lined faces and ragged clothes, in contrast to the youthful beardless Christ, who seems to have come from a different world.

Jesus, in the story, opens the eyes of his disciples in more ways than one (I pulled my Bible out for this!). First, in the scene depicted in the painting, the disciples do not know that this man is Jesus until he blesses the bread and breaks it for them, revealing himself as Christ. Second is the context in which Jesus comes to share dinner with his disciples: they meet him on the road during the day before, and he interprets the Old Testament for them: (stay with me I promise we'll leave the Biblical stuff and get back to the gay stuff soon)

Luke 24:13-16 Now on that same day two of [the disciples] were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. Luke 24:25-27 Then he said to them, "Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?" Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.

If Safe Space is an exact analogue to Supper at Emmaus, then Elle takes the position of Jesus, and she draws from the story of Christ's crucifixion and rising a trans metaphor.

Death does not always mean death. For example, in the world of tarot, the card of Death does not signify literal Death, but a transformation: that the idea of death is a catalyst for change. If you're trans or non-binary, you understand the idea of the person you were being dead; that's why they call it a deadname. For me, the girl I was is dead. The person I am now, a living, breathing, non-binary person, is alive.

Jesus died and lived again; the boy Elle was died and the girl Elle is lived. Elle takes the spot of Jesus. Elle is risen.

There's another half to this metaphor: of the disciples that don't recognize Jesus. See where I'm going with this? At first, after Jesus had undergone his transformation, the disciples do not recognize him; literally "Their eyes were kept from recognizing him." The fault is not on them – it is another stronger force that maintains their blindness. But Jesus stays with them, despite the fact that they don't know who he is, and he talks to them about the scriptures.

We don't know much about Elle, pre-transition. But we know that Elle, Tao, and Charlie, at least, were friends before Elle's transition, and she had to come out to them at some point. So, in essence, she is Jesus on the road to Emmaus; unrecognized, a stranger, until she reveals herself for who she is.

She takes the moment Jesus tells his disciples who he is and shows what happens when Elle stays. We don't all have the luxury of being the Son of God, who can just pop away at a moment's notice after coming back from the dead (which is what he does, in the story: once the disciples have their eyes opened, he leaves). But this is Elle, out, resurrected, staying.

"So. There've been a lot of changes in my life over the last couple years. But with this piece I guess I wanted to capture a place that holds a lot of happy memories. Even in the darker times. Somewhere I always felt safe."

Safe Space comes after the moment of realization, after Elle comes out, after her friends' eyes are opened. But implied in its source and its inspiration is the moment of truth, the moment of coming out. There's been a lot of that, this season, coming out. There's people that want to and are scared, and people that refuse to and walk away. We never had to go on that journey with Elle. But she's telling us about it, now. She's telling us that it was glorious, that it was godly, that it was religious, that she died and was resurrected.

Before I leave, I want to touch on Tao's importance in this piece. The disciples in Supper are the two men that are seated; the man standing is the innkeeper, who is not quite a part of Jesus' world. Interesting, that Charlie and Isaac, the two people of Elle's group who are part of the queer community, take the place of the two disciples, and Tao, the token straight friend, is standing in the place of the innkeeper; not a follower of Jesus but a witness to the miracle of his resurrection anyway. They are all different people in this painting; different identities, different lives, different loves. But they were all there to witness Elle revealing herself in her resurrection. Tao, afraid of being left alone, is brought into this inner sanctum of Elle's world. Into her safe space.

[beaconfeels]

Happy, happy birthday to my darling @derpylittlenico I wrote a lil Stargent just for you. Love you lots! ❤️

It’s Friday night, and Chris is holding down his favorite barstool at Mick’s. The music isn’t too loud, the pool table is well-maintained, and the crowd is mostly affable. 

He swivels around on the stool and leans backwards against the bar to survey the crowd while he waits for his food. He spots Deputy Phillips at his own favorite table, in the corner near the jukebox. 

It’s then that he sees him. Well, truthfully he notices the ass first. The man’s back is to him, and damn, it’s a nice back too. A round, firm ass that even his loose jeans can’t hide, a trim waist, broad shoulders, and muscles that bulge just a little under the long sleeves of his Henley. The guy pushes his sleeves up as he talks, and yeah, those are nice forearms too. They don’t look like the kind of muscles someone gains from working out at the gym all the time, more the kind that comes from doing manual labor, and lots of it. 

Chestnut hair curls around the guy’s neck, and Chris imagines running his fingers through it. Hmm. Been awhile since he’s felt attracted to someone like this. Granted, the guy hasn’t even turned around yet, but it’s hard to imagine there would be anything so wrong with the front that it would put him off. 

Almost as if hearing his thoughts, the guy turns around, and Chris tracks his eyes up from that waist, up to the bit of dark hair showing through the unbuttoned Henley, up to the guy's face and—Jesus Christ. Stiles Stilinski? Chris only just manages not to smack himself in the forehead at the realization that he’s been ogling Stiles Stilinski’s backside. 

Tonight is definitely not his lucky night, because Stiles is looking right back at him. He smiles at Chris, a wide smile that he refuses to recognize as knowing. No. Stiles didn’t catch the hungry look he was giving him. Absolutely not. 

Stiles says something to Deputy Phillips, and then he’s heading across the bar towards him. Shit. Unfortunately, he doesn’t look any less attractive than he did before Chris knew who he was. He knows that Stiles had worked on a fishing boat doing tours off the Oregon coast before fighting wildfires all over the west in late summer, and all that manual labor had done that body good. 

“Hey Chris,” Stiles says.

Chris swallows. His name in Stiles’s mouth. It sounds so strange. Why does it sound so strange? Then it hits him, Stiles has never called him by his first name. It was always ‘Mr. Argent,’ or in recent years, ‘Mr. A.’ Said with a little smirk that made Christ fluctuate between wanting to wring the kid’s neck and throwing him over his shoulder to do something more fun with him. 

“Stiles,” he says, jerking his chin upwards.

Stiles grins. “Still holding down the fort huh?” 

“Yup.” Chris wishes he could speak in something other than monosyllables, but it doesn’t seem to be happening at the moment.

Stiles leans up at the bar next to him, and Chris has a hard time taking his eyes off the movement of the muscles in Stiles’s forearm as his fingers tap the bar. 

“Hey, Clint,” Stiles says as the bartender nears their end of the bar, “Can I get another beer?”

”Sure, Stiles,” Clint says. He’s young and blonde and handsome, and he winks at Stiles when he hands over the beer a few moments later. 

Stiles just grins and looks down at the counter. Still not used to attention then, although looking like that, there’s no way he hasn’t gotten plenty of it. 

“Been awhile,” Chris says. “How have you been?” There. That’s normal conversation, right? This is Allison’s friend, and he’s Allison’s dad. This is the sort of thing your friend’s dads ask you. Granted, none of Allison’s other friends have been sending him memes all summer, and making him laugh with increasingly ridiculous texts.

“I’ve been good,” Stiles says, grinning over at him, “And it’s good to be back, to see…everyone.” 

The energy crackling between them isn’t the same energy he normally feels around Allison’s other friends either. His mouth feels dry, and he licks his lips and goddamn nearly blushes when Stiles’s eyes track the movement. Fuck. “Good,” he croaks out. “That’s, uh. Good.” 

Stiles is full out smiling now, his eyes sparkling with mischief. 

Chris stares across the bar and tries to remember how not to be attracted to Stiles. He was just some kid at one point. Some defiant, brilliant kid always winding up places he shouldn’t be.

“You good to drive?” Stiles asks.

Chris nods, confused.

“You got your bike?”

Chris nods again. 

Stiles puts his beer down on the bar decisively. “Take me for a ride,” he says. 

His brain shorts out a little at that. He happens to keep an extra helmet on his bike because he’s not immune to pretty people asking him for a ride, but this feels different. 

He feels like he should be protesting, but he lets himself be dragged out of the bar, and over to where his motorcycle is lined up with a bunch of others along the curb.

Stiles runs his hand over her appreciatively. “Just as sexy as I remembered,” he says. “Extra helmet, huh? You do this a lot?”

“Not a lot,” Chris protests, shuffling his feet. 

Stiles laughs. “Whatever you say, man. I’m not mad about it. My dad would be pissed if I got on a motorcycle without a helmet, so it all works out.” 

Chris just shakes his head, still feeling like he’s about to do something incredibly unsafe, helmets or no. That wicked grin on Stiles’s face as he pulls on the helmet only confirms it. 

The rumble of the bike is soothing in its familiarity, as is the winding road up through the trees at the edge of town. Stiles’s arms are tight around his waist, and he lets himself sink into it a little. 

He doesn’t know he’s taking Stiles to one of his favorite places until he arrives at the overlook. Stars wink into focus as he shuts off the bike and takes off his helmet, the lights of the town down in the valley spread out below them. He gets a little mesmerized by the sound of the wind in the pines until a disgruntled grunt wakes him out of his reverie. 

“Can’t. Get. it. Off,” Stiles says, wiggling hard enough that he threatens to overturn the bike. 

Chris laughs. “Get off the bike first, baby, and I’ll help you,” he says. 

Stiles gets off the bike, and Chris follows, running his fingers under the strap to the familiar buckle and carefully lifting the helmet off Stiles’s head. 

“Did you call me baby?” Stiles asks. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is rumbled and he looks delectable. 

“Maybe,” Chris says. 

Stiles squints his eyes at him, but he heads over to the large, flat rock in the middle of the ring of rocks surrounding the pullout. 

“You’ve been up here before,” he comments, settling down on the rock beside Stiles.

“Yup. Used to come up here all the time with Scott. Derek, too, once in a while.” 

“Derek too, huh?” he can’t help but ask. “Did you two ever, uh…”

Stiles gets what he didn’t say. “Nah. Don’t get me wrong, I would have, but he was never into me like that.”

“His loss,” Chris says before he can think better of it. 

“Damn straight.” Stiles laughs, leaning into Chris a little. 

Chris puts his arm around him and pulls him in closer because that’s what he wants to do, and he’s really tired of denying himself what he wants. 

Stiles lets out a little contented hum, and leans his head on Chris’s shoulder. They don’t say anything for a long while, and he can’t help but wonder when his feelings shifted in this direction. Sure, it was Stiles’s body that first drew him in tonight, but if that had been all it was, then it would have dissipated when he knew who he was looking at. 

He thinks maybe it was that phone call in late August. It was the only time Stiles ever called him. He’d sounded worn down and a little shocky. He hadn’t wanted to go into details, but Chris gathered it was a moment gone wrong, a change in the fire that could have gone south quickly. “Just wanted to hear your voice,” Stiles had said, and Chris had wondered why me? But kept talking to him until Stiles’s voice had gone soft and slurred, and Chris had told him to hang up and get some sleep. 

Or maybe it was before Stiles had ever left. That pack BBQ when Stiles was 24 and they were picking teams for volleyball. When Stiles had said, “I want Chris,” and Erica had giggled, and Chris had found himself replaying the words in his head later that night for reasons he hadn’t been able to articulate. 

Maybe it was when Stiles turned 23, and Chris had made him a knife for his birthday. He spent hours shaping the blade and carving the handle, and researching what ruins to put where, and it had all felt worth it when Stiles flung himself into his arms and held on tight for an awkwardly long moment when Chris gave it to him. 

Maybe he’s been a little blind. 

He kisses the top of Stiles’s head and threads their fingers together. 

Stiles squeezes his hand and lets out a deep breath. “You know, I’ve wanted this for so long. I used to dream all the time about showing up back home and you finally seeing me like that, finally wanting me back. I feel like I should pinch myself, like this can’t be real.” 

The ache in his voice makes Chris’s heart hurt. “I’m sorry for making you wait so long. I was so stuck on how I thought I should see you, that I didn’t really let myself see you in any other way.” 

“That’s okay,” Stiles says, snuggling closer, “These past few years have been good. I learned a lot about myself, and I had a lot of fun, and I just kept loving you more.”

Chris stops breathing. There’s a long silence.

Then, Stiles whispers into the dark. “Oh fuck. Wasn’t supposed to say that.” 

Chris laughs, feeling lighter than he has in ages. “I think I kept loving you more too, I was just too stupid to know it.” He tips Stiles’s chin up so he can look him in the eye. “You’re so smart, baby, are you sure you want to be with a stupid old man like me?” 

“You’re not stupid,” Stiles says, already starting to giggle before he adds, “Now, the old man part-”

Chris shuts him up with a kiss right on the corner of his smiling mouth, then nuzzles against his face until Stiles kisses him again, holding Chris’s face and murmuring against his mouth and still smiling too much to turn it into a proper makeout. 

“I want to take you out on the boat I worked in Oregon,” Stiles says in between kisses to Chris’s neck. “And I want to go running with you in the mornings,” he says while caressing Chris’s face.

“We should get a dog,” Chris says, slipping a hand under Stiles’s shirt.

“Mmm, yes,” Stiles says, crawling over to straddle Chris’s lap. “You know I let my lease go on my apartment when I left,” he adds. 

“Move in with me,” Chris says, cupping Stiles’s ass. 

“Okay,” Stiles answers, running his fingers through Chris’s hair. “Let’s become regulars at Lucy’s. I wanna be one of those guys who eats breakfast out most of the time.”

“I could like that,” Chris says, although the last word comes out a little wobbly when Stiles grinds down on his lap. 

He retaliates by biting down on Stiles’s earlobe, and Stiles moans before he asks, “Do you have a fireplace at your place? Because we need to sit in front of it and read books and drink hot cocoa.” He pulls back to look Chris full in the face, gripping his cheeks between his hands, “This is a very serious fantasy of mine. I need it.” 

Chris kisses him. “Yes, I have a fireplace. And I have a faux fur rug in front of it that would be nice and soft on your hands and knees,” he says. 

“On my hands and knees?” Stiles asks, and then his eyes go big. “Christopher!” he sounds scandalized, and Chris can’t help but laugh. 

Stiles laughs too, before leaning in to kiss him again. “We’ll definitely use the rug,” he says, scraping his nails gently down Chris’s back, “and the bed, and the couch, and probably the kitchen counter.”

“So unsanitary,” Chris says, pulling Stiles’s shirt to the side to kiss his collarbone. 

“You’ll love it,” Stiles says.

“I’ll love you,” Chris counters, and Stiles’s answering smile is brighter than the full moon overhead. 

[derangedfujoshi]

Thoughts on s4 of Teen Wolf

Very very good I really liked the whole deadpool situation and intrigue

It was so nice to have more about Lydia and Banshees, they're honestly so interesting because again, it's not every day you see them being used in mainstream media!

Liam is SO cute I need him to 💕suffer💕

Christ Argent you are SUCH a soaking wet kitten bend over babygirl

GREATLY prefer Kira over Allison in the role of the "Not Like Other Girls" girl. I didn't hate Allison ofc but at least I actively find Kira likeable-

The whole Stiles/Malia thing bothers me so much like- it just doesn't make sense to me I have to look away every time they're on screen bleagh I LOVE their friendship tho, it's super sweet but the writers just HAD to make them kiss UGH

The moment between Stiles and his dad at the hospital when he said "Of course I go through all your stuff how am I supposed to take care of you otherwise" and "we're supposed to take care of each other" had me in TEARS I love their relationship SO much they make me weak and emotional ｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´⁠∩⁠`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡ It's so good to have a father/son relationship with no toxic masculinity involved and where they hug each other and express their love and care for one another. Beautiful.

I truly Do Not Care for Scott. I simply don't. He's slightly more likeable, like, he's ok but also good GOD do I not care.

Parrish is SO cute I need more of him. Stat.

I keep saying Derek is the real victim in this show and I'm sorry but it's also so fucking funny man can't catch a BREAK. He's such s girlfail it's endearing to me...

I really enjoyed Peter this season, I liked the twist of Meredith starting the deadpool after listening to him going slowly insane, however I did NOT appreciate his treatment in the last episode :/ like sure, go lock him up with the guy that will make him go crazy. Again. That man needed actual therapy something like, SIX YEARS AGO CAN SOMEONE UNDERSTAND?? I want to enter inside the show and smack everyone because yeah Peter is a morally questionable fuck and I LOVE HIM for that but also he could benefit from some therapy and NOBODY is being even slightly sympathetic towards his situation like cmon!

All in all good season 7/10 I would've given it an extra .5 point but I deducted them for the last episode being unfair to Peter >:(

[kingdoms-and-empires]

why there is women in army ?

is there lack of men in argent or something ?

13th century BCE (THIRTEEN CENTURIES BEFORE THE BIRTH OF CHRIST) – Lady Fu Hao, consort of the Chinese emperor Wu Ding, led 3,000 troops into battle during the Shang dynasty. THAT'S OLD AS FUCK Also guess what: She is credited fighting the earliest recorded large-scale ambush in Chinese history. With up to 13,000 troops and the important generals Zhi and Hou Gao serving under her, she was also the most powerful military leader of her time. This highly unusual status is confirmed by the many weapons, including great battle-axes, unearthed from her tomb. One of Wu Ding's other wives, Fu Jing, also participated in military expeditions. So i guess we can say that Wu Ding got that thang for strong women, like many of the other dudes in my discord server lmao

I wanted to show you the earliest record of a woman leading an army, now let's see actual combatants.

For some reason, the nomadic horse riders, since the times of the Scythians, had women in the ranks. That means the guys that almost toppled civilization if it wasnt for the Assyrians, the Mongols, Turks, Huns, Xiongnu, and moreeee, way more.

You should also read the Book of Shang, and see what it details in regards to women in the army. "...he recommended dividing the members of an army into three categories; strong men, strong women, and the weak and old of both sexes. He recommended that the strong men serve as the first line of defence, that the strong women defend the forts and build traps, and that the weak and elderly of both sexes control the supply chain. He also recommended that these three groups not be intermingled, on the basis that doing so would be detrimental to morale."

And this is all before I even get to the more well known instances shieldmaidens from the vikings, Onna-Bushi (or Musha) women of the samurai, or Celtic and Germanic warrior women.

Course, i grabbed most of this from wikipedia with just a quick search lmao

I just wanted some facts and historical instances before I could end it with "Cause I want to have women in the army cause it's my story"

Plus, the Blessings are an equalizer, as the Sword Saint Wythela will show you in the story. With the advent of so many women being able to fight with a strength that surpasses that of a normal man, of course these women will champion female rights and ensure a more equal society, and that's what Belthean women did. Even in Nareth before Belthean culture dominated there are instances of women leading, like in the Carsthe dynasty or Remiel's grandmother herself, Queen Calmiel.

[delta-pavonis]

July Kinkfest Days 7, 8, 9, and 10

The Sandman (human A/B/O AU) || Dreamling (Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling) || Rated E || 3294 words

Prompts: Blood Kink | Omega in Heat | “What have you been up to without me?” | Piercings and Tattoos | Desperate Sex | “I’m going to take care of you.” | Denial | Roleplay | "Careful darling. You're this close to being pinned against the wall until you beg forgiveness." | Double Penetration | Phone Sex/Sexting | “Be a good boy/girl for me now.” 

Warnings (in addition to the prompts above): Mafia Boss Alpha Hob, Gun Moll Omega Dream, they have always been humans, impact play, sex toys, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, shibari (mentioned), they are very very in love

Author's Notes: Four days, NINE PROMPTS. Buckle up, folks, this goes right into the smut and it doesn't stop. Little glimpses of background for these two thrown in there.

"Christ, just look at you. So wet and open for me… I wasn't gone but an afternoon, love. What have you been up to without me?" Hob trails his fingers through the sloppy mess that is his lover's ass, his fluttering hole crying in its need to be filled. "Oh, darling." Hob sighs and circles his thumb around the rim while palming one ass cheek. Then he drops his fingers between quivering thighs only to find folds that are impossibly more slick. "All this? For me?"

Dream moans something filthy, claws at the bed sheets and gets his knees under himself enough to sweet fucking Christ present his holes to Hob. "Please. I need…"

Hob pets his lover's lower back, soothing across the rear fetlocks of the enormous white horse coat of arms tattooed from the nape of his neck to the very first indent of the crease of his ass. Per chevron inverted sable and azure, a rampant horse argent the heraldry terminology floats across his mind as he shucks his clothes off. The entire device is shiny with sweat that gleams in the low light of their bedroom.  

"I got you. I am going to take care of you, don't worry." He gets the last of what he is wearing off and then heads to the drawers and grabs some supplies, which is when he realizes what is missing. “Oh, my Dream. Little pet. You used the teal one? Were you really that desperate for me?” When he turns back to the bed he can see it, wedged halfway beneath a pillow near Dream’s stretched out, grasping hands: the blue-green dildo that they had made from a mold of Hob’s erect cock, for Dream to have while he was away on business and couldn't risk bringing an omega, even his own omega, along. It has no knot though. That is for Hob and Hob alone. 

“Get up for a mo, pet. I need your help.” He instructs, dropping the items in his hands onto the foot of the bed. Hob stands there, knees pressed to the side of the tall mattress, as his gorgeous Dream complies. He strokes his cock lazily, admiring how Dream has to work so hard just to concentrate on this during the ramp up into his heat. Hob honestly did not mean to leave his sweet Dream in his time of need – he truly thought that he had at least another twenty-four hours before it got this bad. If managing cleaning up after the Corinthian hadn't taken up so much of his damned time he would have been here for when Dream… Fuck, Hob would put a contract out on the little shit again if he could. As it was he made a mental note to up the reward.

Finally, Dream is on his knees before him, facing him, waiting. His slim omega’s cock bounces a little with each panting breath, the ring hanging from his frenum piercing glinting in the moonlight streaming through their penthouse windows. Dream has put in work to gather himself together enough to be present for Hob right now – his instincts are no doubt pushing him towards incoherence. Even the ruby hanging from his one earring trembles. Hob cups his face in both hands and gives in to the temptation to kiss his love, who whimpers in pleased surprise. He maps Dream’s mouth slowly, until the need for air becomes more than a buzzing annoyance. “What was that for?” Dream’s voice is so low and sultry Hob feels it as much as hears it.

“I am endeavoring to make it up to you that I was gone when this started.” He strokes flushed cheekbones with his thumbs and watches as inky black eyelashes flutter like raven’s wings. “You know I wouldn’t leave you during a time like this on purpose, not without it being an intentional scene, right?” They have plenty of kinks, but that kind of denial is not generally one of them – abandonment isn’t the kind of pain Hob likes his omega to be in.

Dream’s blue eyes catch the moonlight like gemstones as they widen in surprise. “Of course, my love. I didn’t think any different.” 

“Good.” Hob runs his hands through Dream’s wild black hair and the lithe man leans into it, purring all the while. “That’s good. Well, since we are in this situation a little suddenly, lets make sure I can assist you properly.” He reaches down into the small pile on the bed and pulls out the two-inch wide strip of silicone and hands it to Dream. “Nice and tight now, darling. Need to be able to fuck you through at least four orgasms to bank this heat for you, you know that.”

His perfect pet hums in pleasure as he takes the silicone, wraps it around the base of Hob’s cock, and pulls it tight. “Tighter?” 

Hob's breath comes out in a shudder. “One more notch. Need it to keep my knot down until you are ready for it and you’ve already gotten me quite worked up tonight.” The pain of the wide cock ring preventing his knot from swelling will be its own sweet searing ecstasy as the evening progresses. 

The smirk that Dream levels at him is pure sin, even with lust giving a haziness to his eyes, as he pulls the cock ring tighter and secures the band. “Oh, have I?” Dream’s fingers find their way into Hob’s chest hair, combing through it while he turns those ridiculous bedroom eyes back up to Hob. He can see the subtle dusting of shadow on Dream’s lids from here, combining with the black liner to make him look like some Hollywood starlet all in black-and-white.

“Oh, have I?” Hob mocks, voice high-pitched and lilting. He grabs Dream’s waist and heaves, throwing him back onto the bed. “You know damn well what you’re doing.” He crawls up on top of his giggling lover. “I know I keep a clever omega.”

And he knows that his lover is a greedy, vain creature, so it is not shocking that he preens and arches prettily with the praise. “Well this clever omega is tragically empty and would like his alpha to get to fucking him until he can’t remember his name.”

“So demanding.” Hob grins and nuzzles under Dream’s jaw so he can mouth and nip along that gorgeous swan neck. “You are lucky I like your smart mouth.” He rocks his hips down to press their erections together, stopping any response Dream might have had as his long legs part immediately. Dream’s whine as he grabs at Hob’s shoulders is delicious – Hob can taste it on those plush peony lips as he repositions himself and sinks into the welcoming heat of his omega’s cunt.

The first round doesn’t last long for Dream, he is too worked up and Hob knows his body too well. He snaps his hips in hard, fast thrusts and twists his hand on Dream's cock just so and then he is letting out a sweet little shriek as he comes all over his own chest. 

“That take the edge off, darling?” Hob reaches backwards for the towel and does a quick clean-up while Dream just nods in reply. “Alright, be a good pet for me now and turn over, get that ass back up in the air.” Dream complies so easily it takes Hob’s breath away and he curls around his lover to kiss between his shoulder blades. When he speaks his lips caress the ears of the white horse on his lover’s back. “Be as loud as pleases you, my Dream. Peel the paint off the walls with your screams. I know you can. I want to hear you.”

Hob feels more than hears the chuckle given that Dream’s face is buried in the sheets. He reaches up for the discarded teal dildo and brings it back with him to kneel behind the curve of that lovely little ass. Dream is still absurdly open and wet, so Hob just lines the head of the shaft of silicone up and shoves it into Dream’s ass to the flared base in one go.

Dream’s entire body goes taut as he wails, “Yes!” And then Hob puts the tip of his actual cock back at the entrance to Dream’s cunt and the omega sobs. “Ohpleaseohpleaseohplease…”

“Well, since you ask so nicely.” Hob thrusts into the wet heat where he just was and it is like a different world. At this angle he reaches deeper, hits a spot in Dream's body that makes his moans hitch every time he drives in. And all along the way he can feel the dildo deep in Dream's ass, a solid mass that presses along the top of his dick, providing a different kind of stroking than the muscles clenching around him. 

He takes it slow, rolling his hips and talking filth into the safety of their bedroom. "Look at how easy you take two cocks. My god, you were fucking made for it, weren't you? Have you always been this greedy? Or is it just for me?" An incoherent string of consonants is Dream's only answer and it sends a shock of arousal down Hob's spine. His cock twitches, trying to leak fluid, but it can't. 

"I know pet, I know. You are still burning up, inside and out. How about another for me?" Hob gathers some of the copious amounts of slick streaming down Dream's thighs and then puts his hand back on Dream's prick. He strokes in time with his thrusting, being careful around the frenum ring, while he uses the thumb of his other hand to push the dildo in a little on each instroke. Each of Hob’s pulls back drags the dildo out a little with it, so he presses it in again as he rolls into Dream's cunt.

Hob revels in it, lets the steady rhythm build his own pleasure until his prick is throbbing with it not too long later. His knot tries to swell and presses against the wide ring of silicone and it causes a bright flash of pain to rocket up his spine. Hob groans with it, thrusts deeper, so Dream starts rocking with him, trying to keep the same angle.

Dream's next orgasm is longer and louder than the last and he makes a mess of the sheets. But Hob doesn't stop, just keeps thrusting through it all, torturing both Dream and himself into overstimulation. The omega wobbles beneath him and then collapses onto the bed, his body lax with pleasure as Hob keeps fucking him through the post-orgasm sensitivity, strong and steady until Dream’s voice is climbing in volume and pitch again. When Hob slips his thumb into Dream's ass alongside the dildo his sweet omega comes again, rutting into the mattress, voice cracking on a sob like glass under a hammer.

Hob hoists Dream's hips up to get a couple of pillows under him – he needs the angle even if his lover can’t hold it himself. As the dildo comes out it makes a lovely wet squelching noise, almost as arousing as his Dream's groan of "Noooo."

"Shhh, pet. Just need to tighten you up again. You fucked yourself so damned loose before I got home…" Hob grabs for the last three items on the bed. "Your cunt is never going to be able to hold the egg if you can't clench tight." He drops the dildo and grabs the leather paddle, a strip of thick leather about as big as Hob's hand with a wooden handle. Hob scoots back on the bed, giving him enough space to generate the velocity he needs in a single swing. "Ready, love?"

"Hnnnnnngh yes." Even Dream's voice is coming out lust-hazy now. Perfect.

Hob doesn't ease into it, just goes immediately for his usual impact strength, right on the curve of Dream's left asscheek. The leather's snappy slapping sound reverberates in the room along with Dream's ecstatic gasp. He hits the other side, watching as Dream's whole body tenses, jerks forward, then relaxes; Dream lets out a blissful sigh.

With one hand Hob pulls on the right cheek, just enough that he can see the wet hole fluttering. He watches, enraptured, as everything clenches with the next impact. And the next. And the next. Heaven above, even in this his omega is beautiful. 

Hob concentrates on hitting only one side first and then pauses to check his work. Dream is panting and trembling and moaning, his cunt leaking all over the pillows beneath him. When Hob sticks a finger into said cunt to see how the muscles have tensed he does so roughly, with all the gentleness one might use when stuffing a cornish hen with herbs and aromatics. Dream hisses, but then tries to push back, still desperate to be filled. "Pleasemorepleasemoreplease!"

The begging makes Hob's cock want to leak in sympathy, but it can only twitch in its bonds. It is starting to be more constantly painful the more aroused Hob gets, the longer he is denied release, and the adrenaline fuels him onward.

"Not until you tighten up for me, darling." Hob scolds. "Still too easy to get two fingers in you now, see?" He drives said fingers into Dream's ass with only passing resistance and Dream moans, the sound coming from deep in his chest, resonant and worshipful.

Hob pulls his fingers out and switches sides, holding the reddened asscheek back now, making Dream gasp and writhe. Then he is smacking the other side of Dream’s ass with equal force. After the first two, Dream is arching backwards towards Hob. "Harder, please! Give me all of you!" 

Oh. So that's how this is going to go. Hob adjusts his grip on the paddle's handle, takes a deep breath, and strikes Dream with all of his strength. 

The sound of leather hitting skin is almost deafening and his omega's sweet moans have turned into pleasured sobbing. On the next one Hob is watching as both Dream's cunt and ass clench so tightly fluid dribbles out from them. Gorgeous, just gorgeous. 

One more hit at maximum strength, just so Hob can see that deep body reaction again, and then Hob is praising Dream, "That's it dove. Almost done. So good for me." He knees Dream's thighs apart, pries his cheeks open as much as he can with one hand, and then uses just a flick of his wrist to smack the leather onto the little strip of flesh between Dream's vaginal opening and his asshole. He screams and Hob does it again, just a touch harder. The scream this time snaps at the end, a tree branch struck by lightning. "One more, baby." 

On the third hit Dream shrieks "Please fuck me! PleeeaaAAAAA-eh-eh-eeees!"

Ah, there it is. That’s the sound Hob fell in love with. He heard it across the room at a private party, that euphoric howl of an appeal to be filled, and had been drawn to it like a vulture to a carcass. The attendees at the party all knew who Hob was and they parted silently as he stalked forward. He found the ethereal source of that sound strung up in a complicated shibari scene, his ass being teased with a soft flogger. Miles and miles of milk white skin, not a scar nor a tattoo nor a piercing in sight, just dried blood smeared over his back from recent cuts and distilled omega perfection begging Hob for his attention.

He walked around to the omega’s head, crouched down in front of him to meet his eyes on the same level. The omega’s blue eyes were fogged shower glass, unseeing even while pointed at him. Hob snapped three times directly in front of the other man’s nose and, with a gasp, the pretty thing focused on him with bright, clear intention. “Wha-?” 

His voice was so much lower than Hob expected that it made him shiver. “Hello, gorgeous. Heard you begging to be fucked… any chance I can take you up on that offer?”

Hob couldn’t resist then and he can't resist now, his alpha desire for this omega bullying forward, and it takes a minute to remember his plan. He throws the paddle aside and flips Dream over, hefting one leg onto his hip. 

Dream is gasping, cock still hard and bobbing, dripping its mess all over. The impact play worked well, because it actually takes a little effort to pop the egg into Dream's cunt, but once Hob does and slips the little remote into his palm, it only takes turning the vibrator on to low and Hob's teeth gently tugging on the ring in Dream's frenum piercing to have him screaming into another orgasm. Hob gets around to catch this one in his mouth, sucking on the tip of his omega's elegant prick until Dream is sobbing again. 

When Hob moves above Dream, the omega growls, eyes almost completely black in their dilation, still burning with the increasing heat, and attempts to climb onto Hob, arms around his shoulders and legs around his waist. 

Hob’s movements have become a little frantic now, he burns to be inside his Dream. So he coats his cock in the copious amounts of lubrication his omega’s body is providing, grabs bony hips, and fucks hard into the tight heat of his lover’s ass; he gets immediately drunk on Dream’s screams of encouragement.

Oh fuck, yeah, this is what Hob needs. He has pulled four orgasms out of his wildfire of an omega and now it is his turn. His cock is throbbing in its confines, impossibly hard, and he fucks with all his might into Dream and turns up the vibrations higher and higher and higher. He can feel the vibrator clear as day now, like there aren't walls of flesh between his cock and where it is nestled inside Dream. Even better, he’s found an angle where each thrust in rams the egg up into the underside of all that nerve-dense tissue behind Dream’s dick and his sweet whore omega is screaming himself hoarse with it.

On the next pull out Hob unclasps his cock ring and lets it fall beneath them, pulling his dick all the way out and getting Dream’s legs over his shoulders so he can bend his pretty little thing to his will. “Gonna knot your ass, darling.” He rumbles a warning and before Dream can respond Hob is fucking down into his omega, folding him in half so that he can nip at those pink lips, cracked and dry from all his howling. 

It only takes three thrusts and Hob’s knot is swelling along with his pleasure, both reaching a crescendo. On the fourth he is almost too wide at the base to get in and out. And then with the fifth drive in he is locked in place, his climax descending upon him violently as he roars into Dream’s jaw. 

Once he can hear more than the blood rushing in his ears, Hob realizes that his sweet Dream is begging again, voice rough and ragged, “Touch me, please please, let me come, please Hob.” 

“Christ on the cross, again, my love?” Hob pants, chuckling. But when Dream keeps pleading with him, he acquiesces, wraps his hand around his omega’s prick and brings him to one last orgasm without drawing it out or any fanfare.

It takes a little maneuvering, but Hob gets them lying curled on their sides, the omega’s cock finally soft and Hob buried into his lover for the next short while. Dream pulls Hob’s arm around his waist and interlaces their fingers. “Welcome home, love.” Dream coos.

Hob laughs into his lover’s hair and can only agree.

[blackhholes]

okay i finally watched the teen wolf movie and i've had like 5 glasses of wine so sorry if this is intelligible but jesus christ.

i was sooo right to never consider this canon just based on what i read and i'm soooo happy i didn't watch it alone because that would be miserable.

like the movie had so many aspects and themes and tropes that fuck so hard and would make me go feral but they just fell so incredibly flat in the way it was executed. i truly think if they make allison being stuck in bardo and having to either bring her back or finding a way to bring her to peace the focus instead of including the nogitsune that would have already improved the movie so much. there was way too much going on and the pacing was incredibly weird like watching it you can tell that the screenplay was written by jeff davies, someone who only has experience writing for tv, alone with no outside help. it legitimately felt like he had an idea of a story that could take place over the 10-12 ep season of teen wolf and he just thought he could condense that into a movie and it'd flow well enough. it does not.

and there were things in the movie i truly did enjoy like the scallison photobooth picture like them talking about that genuenly made me tear up which again if you focused the movie on allison it would be so much stronger, as well as the melissa/argent/peter throuple they were sooo fun to watch to me but even the scallison endgame and the toxic throuple could not save it from its many crimes.

like it felt like jeff davies was so far removed from the show and he didn't care to reacquaint himself with the characters he created like at all they all felt weirdly out of character like someone just writing based on memory. and i think russell mulcahy's direction worked well for the show because it was an mtv show and that was what was expected of it but for a full feature length film it just didn't work (i know mulcahy had directed features before but i haven't watched it maybe they're good and this is all of jeff but still).

and don't even get me started on how they treat their japanese characters and use japanese setting like it's soooo disrespectful. and that's not even including how arden was treated which was just sooooo gross.

[hotgirlstiles]

no really bc sterek bones and all au when??? stiles on the run sent away by his sheriff father who meets derek whos living a nomadic lifestyle (hmmm should he also be a werewolf?? are all werewolves cannibals or has dereks cannibalistic nature made him force himself into solitude?? ) and they fall in love and NO ONE DIES (maybe peter could be sully in this au....the fire still happened and and instead of just killing laura he eats her.... but again no one dies so sterek kills and eats him in the end <33) this is all over the place lol but sterek cannibalism is soooooooo !!! ESPECIALLY with the added idea of lycanthropy and where cannibalism stands in werewolf culture ugh and im OBSSESED with the idea of cannibal claudia whos passed the desire on to stiles but died before she could ever explain just AHH there is so much that could be done with the stiles and derek + cannibalism both separately as characters and together as a couple it makes me CRAZY !!!

jesus christ HELLO OH MY GOD. HELL9. HELLO HELLO HELLO FUCKKKK STEREK AND BONES AND ALL STEREK AND CANNIBALISM PLEASE PLEAS ELELASE

the hales having a cannibalistic nature.. just their wolves being stronger … they just appeal to their supernatural/wolfy side stronger than others hence their cannibalistic nature…. Stiles as his mothers son of course.. he will always have her illness and she will always haunt him etc etc.. you get it.

claudia’s desire being passed off onto stiles is so fucking crazy and sooo good to me im so obsessed omfg. he genuinely is and will always be claudia’s little monster.. her little mischief.. little claudia……..

i wouldnlike to suggest maybe an argent for sully though.. i love peter tew much i always love him to be the good guy.. maybe peter is in the hospital instead of maren’s/stiles mother….. smthn smthn peter explaining to sterek how theyre not monsters and they feed off each others desires …… and then back to kooky silly peter rambling. . Sorry i just love silly peter..

also i missed thus part but stiles being sent away by the sheriff is so devastating to me . the sheriff will always drive away his loved one

[solradguy]

Alright. Reached the end of the Livejournal search results for "guilty gear scans." Didn't find a whole lot. There was the Christ doujinshi from yesterday, the Axl/Ky doujinshi, and a bunch of icons. Found a pile of dust that used to be a Testament themed Geocities site. Lots of dead links. Wayback Machine had more than I expected, but those niche fansites just do not survive well.

I knew Sol/Ky was the biggest ship in GG by a country mile, but holy shit it's way bigger than I thought it was. There was like one mention of Sol/Axl, Johnny/May, Millia/Jam (?!), and some others I've already forgotten. There was one very forlorn Millia page. More Jam than I expected, to be honest. So so so so so soooo many jokes about how gay this series is. GOD it's funny how it's been seen as "the LGBT video game" since at LEAST 2003 here in the English community.

Overture opinions were pretty 50/50 split. That game absolutely was the wedge that split the fandom back in the day and why it died off the way it did until Xrd. Most of the translators/archivists didn't like what it was doing to the lore and jumped ship while the people that liked the gameplay of it didn't pick up what the archivists were doing. There was more love for Missing Link than I expected too, and a surprising chunk of people working really hard to make GGX materials accessible to English-only speakers.

I used to think there was at one point a full/partial English translation of Lightning the Argent that had been lost, but after digging around tonight I don't think there was ever even a full first chapter translation. Just really detailed summaries of the story for it and Butterfly & Her Gale. That was haunting me, so I'm grateful to finally have that mystery solved lol What convinced me was that there were a lot of posts from people excited about what translations were in progress at the time, but LtA was this big mystery thing that was only mentioned briefly as something that existed somewhere out there over in Japan. No one was posting about how they were looking forward to it or referencing anything other than the summary off the old gearproject site. No one talked about Butterfly &HG at all. Not a single post about it.

Even though I didn't find anything really exciting to share, it was cool getting to see more of the old fandom and what their thoughts were on things. I want to add some of the site archives to my Neocities for other people to flip through soon. For now though I need to get to bed. It's almost 3am again lmao

Here are some icons I saved. Wretched Photobucket watermarks...

[wyrmguardsecrets]

people will keep ignoring you if you are unable to provide evidence of said people being pedos, this is not hard to understand, people can show the argent's pedo crap along with a few other's, so what is the deal? Some of you are clearly using anon blogs so just fucking post it. Christ you guys are pathetic/useless

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