#i guess scott being good at the game is being taken in some part from other series.

[erstwhilesparrow]

hm. i don't know if any of this is a NEW thought, but i'm gonna start writing and we'll see what becomes of it, i suppose!

this was originally spurred by me going, "wow, it is so so important to me that cleo spends so much of double life being scared." and then i was like, "okay, why. what's so important about that and also why are they being like that."

if you'll forgive reverse order, the second one first: because her soulmate isn't there! it's all right if you can see the shape of the skeleton firing arrows at you, or the fire filling up your vision; at least you know where that's coming from and how to stop it. with the soulbond mechanic, there is a direct line from someone else('s pain) to you, some kind of forced vulnerability that you can never make stop and through which there is always danger you can neither control nor predict. you see what i mean about an open wound? an injury that doesn't scar, that keeps dripping blood and won't let you forget it?

(side thought: pain. what does or does not get counted as pain, what pain is / is not [for] in a minecraft world vs a physical world. i don't have clearer thoughts than this but i really think someone ought to.)

so the instinctive animal response is to curl around the injury, to hide and growl and hunker down. (thought: cleo's red life bunker.) it's... a response to soulmates that both captures how i tend to feel about these things (there is no soulmate story that is not a horror story to me!!) and is so interestingly in tension with how soulmates are so often talked about, even in the game. that's your partner, that's your buddy, that's the one you were meant to be beside, that's... the thing you have to keep an eye on because if you can't you may find yourself in grave danger without warning or recourse.

(another side thought: reading cleo's choice of scott as not just "yes, that's my friend, let's stick with him" but also as a survival choice, as "yes, i need to have someone willingly on my side, who is good at this game and has no particular fondness for their soulbound partner," is fascinating. like with team rancher, i don't think it's calculated like that by either party, but i do think there could be something sharp or crunchy or sparkly in the convenience of cleo continuing to stick with scott.)

and the rest i think i've said already. i'm kind of obsessed with the image this creates of cleo as someone who was fine before, who has now had something taken from them, because now they have an other half to consider at all. for soulmates to exist, they have to be missing pieces that the other person is meant to fill. for your soulmate to be a balm, there first has to be a wound, right?

okay. soulmates as open wounds. soulmates as thing imposed on you, as the tearing apart of a piece of you. "your soulmate makes you whole" vs imagery of something that was originally whole being gravely wounded. need to reconsider in the morning if this is anything.

[crown-of-roses-thsc]

How did you created CoR? Did you ever have any idea about this au that you discarded? If yes can you tell us? I really would like to hear!

Also, do you have new other au from another fandom? I really wish to check since you do such a good job creating this here that I also wanna to see more of your own works!

HEHEHE~ oh, prepare to learn some very silly things!

I don’t know if I’ve shared this before, but the story behind Crown of Roses delights me to this day. I was a young soul, obsessed with Henry Stickmin, and had taken it upon myself to come up with the funniest possible character to ship Ellie with. Mind you, I wasn’t a Henry Stickmin nerd yet, so I didn’t know many of the background characters.

It suddenly dawned on me that it would be absolutely hilarious to ship Ellie with Reginald…two characters who would hate each others guts if they’d ever met in any significant way in canon.

At the time, I was also blasting “Satisfied” from Hamilton- and in my head, I formulated this little story following the Toppat King ending, where Ellie and Reginald had been in love long ago, but Ellie was with Henry now- and she had to abandon her love for Reginald because she didn’t want to hurt poor Henry. I was an angsty teenager with a love for mellowdrama, so I thought this idea was delightful.

As time went on, I played more and more with the idea of Ellie and Reginald being exes- and came up with the possibility that perhaps Ellie was briefly leader before Reginald viciously betrayed her and took the role for himself. At first, I wanted to consider this a fan-theory, and scoured the game for any hint that it could be true (I actually think I still have a crappy google doc full of “evidence” for it, haha!), but I eventually had to concede that it was highly improbable.

I actually didn’t discover the scrapped side-game for Ellie until later on, so imagine my THRILL when I discovered that. I took quite a few aspects from it, since the differences between the ideas were almost entirely better on the scrapped side-game’s part.

The story was originally just that, until I discovered the song RÄT by Penelope Scott…and began to imagine a continuation of the betrayal story based around the song. (The ideas that came from this can be seen in THIS animatic, which is actually what “blew up” this AU!) From there I returned to the Toppat King idea, and that grew into…well, I guess you’ll have to see ;)

And oh, so many ideas from this AU had to be discarded (or were altered into things I preferred!)

Originally, Reginald was written to be more cold-and-calculating, with a bit of care for Ellie that was entirely drowned out by his thirst for power. Now he’s become my pathetic wet-cat, who makes mistakes more out of fear than any malicious intent. It makes a bit of sense, as my characterization of him is based strongly off of Aaron Burr (as portrayed in the musical Hamilton.)

That’s the least interesting one, though.

For example:

In this AU, Earrings is Sven’s sister! But originally, in the Toppat King ending, she was going to be the villain- wanting to kill Sven in revenge for…well, you’ll find out in two chapters! But here’s the kicker: I had her being haunted by Randy! His characterization was similar to how I portray him now, just a little more evil- the inspiration from Beetlejuice: The Musical was much, much stronger!

I’ve mentioned “scrapped endings” many times, so I won’t bore you all with that again- but a stranger aspect is that I originally had all of them being canon, and a reveal that Crown of Roses was an actual alternate universe to the main game; Henry had briefly decided to lend Ellie his multiverse powers, and so the world shifted to focus more on her- and she got to experience many endings before ultimately being able to get to a world where Reginald didn’t betray her, and the audience was left to imagine what different endings would look like from there once things were focused back on Henry! Like, Infiltrating the Airship with Ellie in charge…a neat thought, in my opinion!

On a darker note, Suave and Jessica’s relationship initially had much…darker implications. The emotional abuse remains canon, as well as implications of potential physical abuse, but…let’s just say that I briefly toyed with the idea that Suave had grown to abuse her in another way, too. I never planned on explicitly mentioning or showing it, so one could argue that it wasn’t scrapped- but I decided not to really go that far. I have no intentions of confirming or denying it as a possibility, but I wanted to back off of the subject.

On a lighter note, Ellie’s rogue-gang originally included Stu Pendles, a man whose voice claim was TheOdd1sOut and was in gambling debt to Carol. I actually think I originally had intentions of shipping them, too!

Wilting Darkrose was also originally meant to be a parody of emo edgelord characters, hence his goth appearance and edgy name- but I lost confidence in my ability to satirize that well, and grew attached to the idea of a character who saw himself as an important noble leader but was actually a college student with too much hair-dye. (Bonus fun fact!: Ed Zhaust is named that because it’s meant to sound like “exhaust(ed)”- which is what he is.)

Ho ho ho, what a ramble that was! As for the second part of your question:

I’ve worked on a few! I like to imagine Warrior Cats AUs, but I never do much with those. I usually focus on my own stories (I’m making progress in a book I’ve wanted to write for quite some time!) buuut I do have some published stuff!

For example, I’m the director of Wordgirl: Rewired! It was originally meant to be a fan-comic, but now we have two fully illustrated and voice acted episodes of an aged-up Wordgirl series! It’s mostly meant to be a continuation, but due to some slight changes to certain characters one could argue it’s an AU!

I also wrote a fan fiction called “The Night The Moons Collapsed” for Wings of Fire. I never finished it, but I do plan to rewrite it eventually! I’d been reading too many My Little Pony Infection AUs at the time, haha!

Any other things would likely be in my Ao3, and from there it’s mostly Wordgirl stuffs!

[jjsstars]

kiraweek2023: Day 1, Kitsune Attributes

|| for @kirayukimuraappreciation event

|| tags : kira’s able to full shift to fox form but can also halfway shift like the werewolves do, pet names, kira & theo, the puppy pack, scott

“That’s really disappointing.” Kira huffs and crosses her arms over her chest, the game she was just playing with Mason and Liam crashed on all three of their computers, meaning they all lost. It’s been almost four hours of nonstop playing to try and beat Hayden and Theo and now- nothing. All of it for nothing.

“Awe don’t look so down fire fox, you can beat us next time.” Theo teases with a grin and hand reaching to assumingely pet at Kira’s head but she ducks away before he can.

“We’ve already spent half a day playing and were just about to beat you.” He hums, an amused smile on his face as he leans his head against his hand, the others are all staring too, though they look a little more confused. Kira isn’t sure what they’re looking at.

“Such a shame. Maybe Scott can help you win next time.” Theo’s head nods towards where Scott and Corey are walking into the library, the towns library, they’ve all decided the schools library is obviously cursed and should definitely be avoided.

“Hey guys- uh what’s going on?” Scott’s eyes blow wide the second he’s in front of the table the five are sat at, Corey looking even more taken back.

“We were about to beat Hayden and Theo but our games crashed.” They hum along and slide into the two empty seats beside Theo and Hayden, eyes not leaving Kira as they move. She suddenly feels self conscious that maybe there’s something in her teeth or that her hairs messed up somehow, she can’t think of another reason to why they’re all staring.

“Can you guys stop looking at me?” Everyone but Theo quickly drops their heads and mutters out a sorry, Raeken only grins wider, hand reaching out for Kira again but she lets him this time. Maybe he was trying to fix whatever the problem is earlier and she stopped him.

“Hm softer than mine are.” His head tips to the side and fingers scratch gently at Kira’s ear. Her fox ear. Oh god her full fox ears are out in public, in front of the pack, she hasn’t talked to them about her shifting yet.

“Oh um- yeah- yeah they’re soft.” She blushes furiously but Theo only keeps smiling, petting at her ear like he’s done this a million times before. In his defense, it is helping her calm down a bit.

“Guessing they don’t know you can go full fox mode.” The others who are dead silent but quickly move their eyes away from Kira when she looks at them.

“It’s new. I don’t have great control over it yet.” Which is how every single part of being a kitsune has felt, she wishes there was a manual to follow or something, just to give her some sliver of guidance.

“I can give you some tips.” Theo assures and lets his hand fall away from Kira’s ear. She’d be lying if she didn’t say she was a small bit disappointed at the lack of attention, she didn’t know getting her ears scratched would feel so good.

“Are you guys going to keep staring?” She can feel how her ears peel back in nervousness, hands fidgeting in her lap as she tries to make her ears go back to normal, though she knows it’s really no use.

“Sorry, no, no of course not. Uh- what game were you guys playing?” Scott startles himself back to reality which thankfully makes the others start to look away and Hayden start to explain the game they were playing to Corey and Scott.

Kira briefly wonders if she’s going to have to get used to being stared at like that a lot? Theo doesn’t shift a lot around the pack, nor does Malia or Derek, but if she’s already halfway shifting due to lack of control maybe she won’t have a choice. The lore she dug up about kitsune’s shifting to a full fox form did little to nothing to help her understand how to get herself from one form to the other.

|| Theo : stop overthinking, we can take a ride to the woods after this and I’ll give you some advice

The text dings on Kira’s phone makes her smile, she gives a reserved nod to Raeken before turning to the conversation at hand. Hopefully Theo will be more helpful than the lore she read; but she can about her kitsune problems later, she needs to try and relax for now.

[dreamlandforever]

@writersmonth Prompt: Day 3 - Seashell

Fandom: Teen Wolf | Sterek WC: 600

AO3

III. Seashell | The Mermaid

“Did you know that seashells were once used as currency?” Stiles asked, playing with the seashell currently his hand, throwing it up in the air and catching it again. 

Derek held his hand out to Stiles, who wordlessly handed him the seashell he had found. 

“They also represent St. James, the patron Saint of Spain and pilgrims.” Stiles added, not really turning to see Derek. “He was the son of a fisherman, so I guess that’s why.” 

“Why do you know that?” Derek asked, pulling Stiles against him so the younger man could focus on him instead of on the sea.

“I researched it.” Stiles said simply, shrugging. Derek was sometimes taken aback with how casual Stiles was about some very random stuff he did. 

“You thought Neptune was the Big Bad?” Derek couldn’t help but ask. A part of him knew Stiles was way too smart for his own good. The other part of him also knew that Stiles was severely sleep deprived, which, at times, made him not the most coherent person. 

“No, dude. I had no clue what was happening, and excuse me for evil man-eating mermaid not being my first thought, and there were seashells all around town. So I researched if they were used for spells, or if they had any meaning. I learned a lot of useless information, because apparently the mermaid simply didn’t notice she had seashells all over her every time she came into town to steal a man.” Stiles defended himself, taking the seashell from Derek’s hands again to play with it. 

“You aren’t going to join them?” Derek asked, looking at the rest of the Pack in the lake. He rolled his eyes when he noticed that Scott and Isaac were trying to drown each other and passing it off as a ‘game’.

“They have the weirdest way to flirt, don’t they?” Stiles commented, finally setting the shell down. “There are no shells in Beacon Hills, I have no clue how mermaids work. I hate them, though. That I know.”

Derek couldn’t agree more, especially with the still healing bites he had on his torso and legs. A good chunk of his thigh was still trying to regrow. “Like you have a better way?”

“Hey! I got you in the end, didn’t I?” Stiles protested immediately, letting Derek hold him closer to him.

“Stiles, you almost got yourself killed. Literally.” 

“Look, I was trying to be brave and save your ass. I did. And then you immediately returned the favor. That’s how we work, Sourwolf, deal with it. Now, your co-Alpha and your son are trying to kill each other and I think you should intervene.” Stiles commented, pointing at where Scott and Isaac were getting more violent, and Lydia and Allison were simply sitting on their chairs fixing their manicure after dealing with the mermaid. The rest of the betas were swimming away from the two, ignoring them. 

Derek sighed. “Are you not coming?”

“The shade is this skin’s best friend, Derbear. Go deal with them and then come back here. And don’t get in the lake, it might be bad for your wounds.” Stiles told him, making himself comfortable in the outdoors couch Lydia had, perfectly safe under an oversize umbrella. He started wondering if he could find enough seashells to make a necklace, when he heard a big splash. By the time he turned to look, Derek was already on his way back to him, and Scott and Isaac were staring blankly at each other. Stiles had no clue what had happened, but he was certain it was a lot more violent than it had to be, judging by Erica’s loud laugh. He closed his eyes again, grateful for his life, while he waited for his perfect boyfriend to join him.

[xanfeursel]

heard you were bored so here are some questions :) (i realized halfway through that these are all durgetash because those little shits have taken over my mind) do you like leaning into the angst of durgetash or do you prefer the more lighthearted (aside from the atrocities) dynamic? if larian dropped a gortash romance, is there any icks that would absolutely ruin it for you?

or conversely, what would be the best thing they could add in a hypothetical gortash route?

what were your biggest inspirations for lophi and vyper? do you prefer one over the other or are they equal in your eyes?

(hopefully you won't have to answer these since you'll get out of work soon)

HELLO ANON. im sorry to tell you infact waited till i actually got home to answer these because i have!!! THOUGHTS and OPINIONS about the questions asked . thank you very much btw these are all really good questions ill have fun answering

FIRSTLY, it all depends on the kind of durge gortash is being paired w imo. with vyper i tend to lean more into These Two Are Fucking Insane while w/ lophi i lean more into the sort of melancholic 'angsty' side of durgetash that i think can be real yummy too. and it's all because of who vyper and lophi are as characters pre-tadpole, too. vyper liked being a loud insane freakus while lophi was a lot more reserved and kind of a miserable mess, and that informs their relationships w/ the characters around them. i think both are good and fun to explore and i definitely like exploring the more angsty side w vyper x gortash and vice versa w lophi x gortash, so. i guess both. really. LOL .

secondly, going to answer both of the gort romance related questions in one, but i think i'm probably in the unpopular opinion that gortash doesn't really neeeeeeeed a romance and i could go without it in game. i do think he deserves more content and screentime, but that's something i can say about orin also, and frankly a Lot of parts of act 3. me and act 3 have a toxic on/off again relationship. alright.

that being *said*, if i was mr larian and i was to implement a gortash romance, i'd have it be something exclusive to a durge/evil run. or at the very least, have it have consequences with your party (i.e karlach leaving or something. love gort but i do not think you should go off romancing him scott free).

i Do think having it be exclusive to a more evil-aligned run would help add more actual content to doing an evil run (and god knows we need some with how bg3 seems to like punishing people who just want to do the evil options They Gave You) and would make the most sense, but all in all i'd just hope it's handled better than the mizora sex scene cause god how that whole thing is handled still pisses me off. hopefully this all makes sense

tl;dr, its a fun idea but i can very easily go without it especially knowing how the game treated its one other antagonist romance option

now for the lophi and vyper question... i do obviously have my biases towards vyper /looks at my blog theme/, but i genuienlly cannot pick favourites with them besides that... i use them both to explore different aspects of the durge origin in different ways bc despite what some other people say i Do think you can be very flexible w durge as a concept despite the pre-established lore for them ^_^ and i think it's very fun to play around with.

as for specific inspirations, lophi takes a lot of insp from vintage pierrot art + has accidentally gotten a very 1920s makeup vibe in My Mind. i should also note her name comes from the scientific name for anglerfish, cuz thats what i had in mind when giving her those freaky sharp ass teeth i always draw her with

and while of course, both of my durges are trans, lophi specifically was birthed from my want to make a dark urge that leans in as heavily as she possibly could in the whole trans allegory thing. so theres that as well!

vyper's specific inspos are harder for me to pinpoint cause he's much more of a 'made up as i went' character than lophi, given he was my First dark urge and i didnt really fully know what i was going into all this yet while making him (and also i was maybe a little bit high while doing so...lol) THAT SAID THOUGH, i did initially make him with akira fudo from devilman in mind. he has the horn style he does because it reminded me of devilman ... although the akira insp is very lose and barely effects his character now.. ~_~ despite bg3 being my main fixation atm devilman is still a very very important piece of media to me so vyper being loosely akira-pilled is not too surprising if you know me well enough lololol

[ladyintree]

she rolls her eyes, like it couldn't be farther from the truth,  but realistically,  tai knows it's better for all of them if they do get along.  but mikayla isn't the only one tai struggles to do that with,  she's just likely the hardest,  so maybe she should start here.  ❝  yeah.  been waiting all my life to be your best friend,  ❞   she murmurs sarcastically.  ❝  okay,  for the record,  i said you could stay.  you're the one who insisted we go back,  ❞   she says, putting it on her.  she's actually relieved to be heading back now with someone else,  because the walk here was already making her uneasy,  and leaving mikayla behind, alone, didn't feel like a good option.  still,  she would've stayed,  no matter how awkward it might've been.  

she groans,  rubbing her hand over her forehead.  ❝  actually,  mikayla,  not everyone is fucking obsessed with you!  ❞   she shoots back.  there's an underlying fear to all of this -- coach martinez is dead,  coach scott only has a few years on them,  and they barely have any real leadership out here,  other than jackie's poor attempts at finding it.  tai has, consciously or not, taken that upon herself,  stubbornly so, and it matters to her that they don't lose anyone.  ❝  i just like to make sure everyone's back by the end of the night.  is it a fucking crime to not want anyone to die out here?  even you, ❞  she spits,  as if it was an option -- as if she hadn't risked her own life trying to save mikayla's when they first got here.  her eyes roll, not surprised by her refusal to talk.  ❝  fine by me,  ❞   she mumbles underneath her breath, like she doesn't care -- but as hard as it is to have those conversations, there is a part of her disappointed.  still, she's not going to push her of all people. 

 ❝  fun?  god, now you sound like fucking jackie,  ❞    she shoots back, because she doesn't really think of this place as fun,  and she's not interested in trying to make it that way -- especially by jackie's ideas.  ❝  that was a game for 11 year olds, played by a bunch of people who are tired and hungry and bored and clearly making shit up just to keep you all entertained.  ❞   she's referring to lottie,  still bothered by what happened in the end,  because while she doesn't want to believe that she was actually possessed or whatever,  it still makes her uncomfortable,  not knowing what really happened,  finding it easier to brush it off like it was some act.  ❝  no, pretty sure that was lottie,  ❞   she says underneath her breath,  shooting a look at her when she goes on.   that's not something she's really interested in talking about, as she's spent most of her time in high school avoiding talk of boys entirely because she had nothing to add to the conversation,  and maybe it's a little too obvious now how uncomfortable the words make her,  even though it's clearly a dumb joke.   ❝  not really my type.  but i'm guessing since you're being more of an asshole than usual, you're not getting laid, either.  ❞     she wants to make it clear that stuff doesn't matter out here, that she's not caught up in that at all, but it feels pointless,  easier to push off onto her instead. 

“ i knew it. you've just been dying to get closer to me from the beginning. ” she's not sure if it's sarcasm, wishful thinking, or just something in between. mikayla glares at her from behind, her eyes narrowing slightly. “ so it's cool for you to have space, but when i go out looking for it, i get dragged back to the cabin? ” she's aware that she insisted they go back already, but only because staying at the lake didn't feel like a realistic choice anymore, not when it only meant the two of them keeping an awkward distance. at least this way, they're talking, though maybe that's not something mikayla should be grateful about.

it only annoys mikayla further, the way her face warms at that, knowing it shouldn't, because it doesn't mean anything at all. “ you would have noticed me leaving from the fucking attic? do you think you have, like, fucking superpowers, or are you just that obsessed with me? like, actually. ” she rolls her eyes. “ there's nothing to talk about. i'm fine. ” a pretty obvious lie when none of them are even close to fine right now, considering, but she has to keep her composure when it feels like one of the only things she has left. and, like she said before, if she did open up to anyone, tai's the last one it would be.

“ jesus christ, do you even know how to have fun? or are you too busy taking yourself so fucking seriously all the time? ” she scoffs, despite having no real desire to defend what all of them were doing in the attic before things started going wrong. it's not as if she actually enjoyed herself, but was still relieving, to distract themselves with something so stupid. “ you're literally the worst buzzkill i've ever met. ” she grumbles, glancing down to the ground. “ yeah, i asked for you, actually. figured you'd be less fucking miserable if you finally got laid. ”

[rafaelblackbird15]

Teen Wolf Fic Recs Part 2: Steter

It took me quite awhile to gather all these together, so please enjoy discovering more parts to the incredible world of Teen Wolf, provided to you by the wonderful writers of our fandom.

Leave comments and kudos for these writers if you can, they really deserve it, they're wonderful. And it's my honour to try and share their creations with tumblr.

These are Steter, Stiles Stilinski/Peter Hale fanfictions. Read them at your will. Check the tags on the actual fics for warnings and such.

I have included links to authors that write a lot of Steter as well, and some of their fics for examples. I'm sorry this post got so long, haha, but enjoy the stories, they're worth it.

If any of the links don't work, just comment and I'll fix it.

Check out my other Sterek fic recs [Part 3] and [Part 4] and Steter fic recs [Part 1]

*********

Broken Bones and Broken Bonds by twothumbsandnostakeincanon(somanyofthekids) on Archive of Our Own

Words: 20148

Chapters: 4/?

Summary:

Stiles kind of wished that he’d at least tried weed before this. 

Or something, you know? Maybe taken up a graffiti hobby, or even just skateboarded in front of City Hall often enough to get a citation. 

He wished he’d done something to be deserving of the looks people gave him now, rather than just being the recipient of his dead father’s unused power. 

**********

Stigmata by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids) on Archive of Our Own

Words: 1661

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

He feels so hollow that he almost wonders if he's been turned inside out. This emptiness he feels; is it the vastness of the entire world?

How do you fill a world? With people, he supposes. But his people no longer want him.

He needs people.

*********

Beefcake Mountain by twothumbsandnostakeincanon(somanyofthekids) on Archive of Our Own

Words: 14565

Chapters: 7/7

Summary:

Shortly after moving back to Beacon Hills, the left hand of the Hale Pack opened a text from a mysterious number.

"Is there a mirror in your pants? Because I can see myself in them."

What the f—

**********

Steter Week 2019 by twothumbsandnostakeincanon(somanyofthekids)

Works: 4

Complete: No

Summary:

There isn't a summary listed so I've included the first fic underneath:

Marvelous Miss and Magnificent Mischief by twothumbsandnostakeincanon(somanyofthekids)

Words: 3346

Chapters: 1/1

also Part 1 of the Magnificent Mischief series

Summary:

“Marvelous Miss and the Magnificent Mischief!” the carnival barker shouted just outside the corridor with all the food tents. “Come see Miss Paige do amazing tricks with her talking raven! He not only speaks, but he jokes! He teases! He philosophizes!”

********

Author: twothumbsandnostakeincanon(somanyofthekids)

This author has a lot of wonderful Steter fics, and their writing of the pairing is really worth having a good look through.

*******

Blood Runs Cold by Smalls2233 on Archive of Our Own

Words: 111408

Chapters: 22/22

Summary:

“So then why are we letting Scott and Derek search for it if you know it's useless?”

Peter looked down at Stiles and cocked his head with a grin. “Because I think seeing my nephew and your best friend run around like headless chickens while I think up a plan is hysterical.”

“And the plan is…?”

----

Trusting Peter Hale is something that Stiles had repeatedly told himself to never do. He had seen first hand the results of Peter's plans and schemes, but when a shadow began tormenting Beacon Hills, he found that sometimes he'd have to to play along with Peter's games.

This story does include a dose of Chris&Stiles interaction about midway and carries on throughout, and then Chris/Peter towards the midend, which also carries on. And it kind of dissolves into Chris/Peter/Stiles. If that's not your taste, that's fine, because the majority of the story is Stiles/Peter, and that majority is really really good Steter.

**********

No One Listening Tonight by Smalls2233

Words: 6985

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

That left… well it left Peter and only Peter. Relying on Peter for help was only slightly better than stabbing himself through the eye with a hot poker. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

Of course, there was always the option of packing up and letting whatever was trying to destroy the town succeed this time. Stiles snorted under his breath as he thought about how that would probably leave him with fewer injuries than dealing with Peter would. But unfortunately, that wasn’t an option. Stiles knew he needed to head downtown to Peter’s apartment and pray the man was willing to work with him.

----

Stiles stumbles into a magical trap forged by a wannabe warlock.

*********

Author: Smalls2233

*********

Blue by Wynnebat on Archive of Our Own

Words: 3179

Chapters: 2/2

Summary:

Derek brings both Scott and Stiles to the hospital to prove a point about hunters, but Stiles isn’t sure the point he’s getting is the point Derek’s trying to make. Especially when his black and white world explodes into color the moment he looks into Peter Hale’s eyes.

*********

The Long Way Around by Wynnebat on Archive of Our Own

Words: 15569

Chapters: 3/3

Summary:

When Peter leaves Beacon Hills for good, he expects that to be it for the broken bonds of the last remaining members of the Hale pack. Fate and Stiles Stilinski aren’t of the same opinion.

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Prowl by Wynnebat on Archive of Our Own

Words: 3454

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Laura's body is never found, but instead of continuing with his murder spree, Peter gets distracted by the scent of his mate. Stiles gets very distracted by the huge wolf that starts showing up at his house all the time.

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Author: Wynnebat

This author writes some really interesting, deep stories about Steter that are really beautiful.

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your last white lie (everything is not alright) by snowdarkred on Archive of Our Own

Words: 4023

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Stiles says yes, and things go downhill from there.

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reflect by snowdarkred on Archive of Our Own

Words: 569

Chapters: 1/1

Part 1 of the dig your teeth in and tear until you taste (peter/stiles oneshots) series

Summary:

(previously posted to tumblr)

When he dreams, he can sometimes still hear his mother’s voice, explaining it to him: Reflections are the price we pay for what we are.

*********

sentire by snowdarkred on Archive of Our Own

Words: 1027

Chapters: 1/1

Part 2 of the dig your teeth in and tear until you taste (peter/stiles oneshots) series

Summary:

[to feel]

Stiles hears the whisper of death before it strikes.

**********

Author:

snowdarkred

This author writes some really intense, interesting stories about Peter and Stiles. Not as long as some fics are, but they're really good adaptions of Steter with a lot of feeling.

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The Striking Complication by aurevell on Archive of Our Own

Words: 27235

Chapters: 4/15

Summary:

The smile slips off Stiles’s face. “Hey, um. Why am I here?” he asks, voice unsteady. “I’m—I have this weird feeling like I shouldn’t leave you. I’ve felt all day like...” He can’t finish the thought.

Peter looks as surprised as Stiles feels. A strange expression passes over his face, there and gone before Stiles can decipher it.

Stiles snaps awake each morning with the sense that he’s missing something. Weirder still, he can’t wrap his head around his sudden, inexplicable trust in Peter Hale, who seems to know way more than he’s letting on. Nor can he guess why a half-remembered nightmare seems to haunt his every move.

Rinse and repeat. Because time loops suck, apparently.

*******

Author: aurevell

This author has 11 Teen Wolf fics under their belt. 5 Sterek and 6 Steter. Happy rummaging!

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the teeth right down to the blood by sazzafraz on Archive of Our Own

Words: 2133

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

‘We’re pretty fucked right now.’ Scott says. Stiles doesn’t speak but there’s something singing in his bones that says Scott got the message anyway. (In which both are bit and things are gruesome.)

This has a sprinkling of Scott/Stiles, Scott/Stiles/Peter, and Scott/Allison as well as Steter, but it's worth the read, a good story with an interesting concept.

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Author: sazzafraz

This author doesn't have that many Steter stories, although they do have a few. Although they do have some pretty lengthy Teen Wolf fics about other characters of the show.

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Everything goes (wow) by midmorning_bomb on Archive of Our Own

Words: 8215

Chapters: 5/5

Part 1 of the Aranea & Babewolf series

Summary:

It was supposed to go like this:

1. Peter summons demon to the circle.

2. Demon remains in said circle until Peter outlines their contract.

3. Demon agrees to elegantly crafted contract, becoming loyally bound to Peter and Peter alone.

Instead, the creature steps casually out of the circle, tosses its things onto the leather sofa, and starts immediately meddling in Peter’s immaculate space, touching all of Peter’s very expensive things.

*********

It's only by midmorning_bomb on Archive of Our Own

Words: 2905

Chapters: 3/5

Part 2 of the Aranea & Babewolf series

Summary:

“Darling, please don’t pout.”

“You’re pouting.” Stiles pouts, from the upper corner of the library, everything from his hip bones down an angry mass of hissing fangs and venomous chelicerae. “Why would we ever go back to that garbage town? Everyone there is the worst, the only good thing is the very rad and awesome curse I laid.”

*********

You are a memory by midmorning_bomb on Archive of Our Own

Words: 900

Chapters: 1/1

Part 2 of the Little glimpse series

Summary:

If he has to bleed to breathe warmth back into Peter’s icy body, he will.

Because Peter’s done the same for him.

********

Author: midmorning_bomb

This author has 16 Steter fics. A little unfriendly to some of the other characters, but it's only kind of obvious because it's not subtle about it, and not exactly underserved. Has some really interesting ideas as well as some kind, well developed Steter. Definitely have a read through.

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[sunder-soul]

I’ll start off by saying I adore this blog due to how amazing ur writing is & how active u r, it makes me so happy. I’m hoping you could write some tom smut where he’s the virgin & the reader (preferably a hufflepuff) is the experienced one? (cause I really can’t imagine Tom being popular or caring about sex in hogwarts). Like I can just imagine him having no idea what to do & letting the reader take in control and he’s highkey loving every minute of it (like he’s secretly just a sub).

You cannot imagine the effect this had on me. I… I am a changed person.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. 

Nox

Summary: You’re trapped in a closet with Tom Riddle playing Seven Minutes in Heaven. What happens in the dark, stays in the dark. Word count: 4.8k Content warning: explicit sex scenes. Underage drinking I guess?

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

PART II HERE! 💖

It had taken some convincing to get you to come to the party, but you’d have to admit that it had been more fun than you’d expected – the Slytherin common room was the perfect place for a post-Quidditch game blow out, hidden away under the lake where the Professors wouldn’t hear the music blasting from enchanted gramophones, the creepy light filtering in through the tall glass windows leading into the dark waters of the lake giving the perfect background under the dim green lanterns illuminating the party.

You’re drunk on Firewhisky that a group of cheeky-faced seventh-year Gryffindor boys brought to bribe their way inside, and by the time the party is winding down at around two in the morning you’re laid out across Ruth Willows’ lap on one of the black leather couches by the fireplace, giggling and very unwilling to move.

“Alright you two,” one of the Slytherin boys you don’t recognise says, smirking. “Clear out – this is strictly Slytherin territory again.”

“Aww, come on, Hartley,” Ruth says teasingly, “don’t tell me you’re done for the night – out-partied by a couple of Hufflepuffs, are you?”

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Willows,” Hartley says seriously, pointing at her.

You sit up, the room spinning around you in a pleasant, warm way. “We can take you,” you say cheerily, resting your head on Ruth’s shoulder.

There’s a smattering of laughs from the circle of lingering party-goers – You and Ruth are the only Hufflepuffs left, but there’s a couple of Gryffindors too, and you recognise some sixth-year Ravenclaw boys whispering to each other next to the fireplace.

“A game, then,” Hartley declares, looking around the circle with a grin.

“A game!” you and Ruth echo cheerfully, lifting your drinks.

“Alright, who’s playing? Scott? Peters? How about you, Avery?”

You glance over your shoulder to the far corner of the Slytherin room at the only group left in at the party – the gaggle of Slytherin boys who had spent the whole evening sitting at the circular table looking disapprovingly at the revelry as they sipped their drinks and evidently thought themselves far too mature for such nonsense. You share an amused look with Ruth.

“No thank, you,” Avery says aloofly, turning up his nose.

“Too good for a bit of fun, are you?” one of the Gryffindor boys snickers.

“They’re just trying to show off,” another smirks back, “think they’re acting all grown up and responsible –”

“I’ll join you,” says a very unexpected voice.

The whole circle looks around in shock. Tom Riddle has stood from the table and approaches the couches, his acolytes staring after him looking surprised. “What are we playing?” Riddle asks pleasantly, taking a seat on the couch opposite you – Ella Scott from Slytherin scrambles to the side to make room for him looking like she’s just won the lottery.

“That’s the spirit, Riddle,” beams Hartley, “not like those hoity-toity friends of yours, are you?”

Riddle smiles with far too much charm as he laces his arm over the back of the couch and crosses one long leg over the other, his Slytherin boys sliding into spare places around the circle and casting him perplexed looks of surprise.

“So?” Ruth asks expectantly, grinning at Hartley. “What’s the game?”

“Seven Minutes in Heaven,” Hartley smirks.

The circle erupts; the Gryffindor boys whoop with cheers as the Ravenclaws groan and roll their eyes, and you laugh softly as your head rolls back against Ruth’s shoulder, the alcohol still making the room spin slightly.

“I don’t know this game,” Riddle says quietly through the cacophony – though everyone seems to hear him with ease all the same.

“It’s the best game ever invented,” the first Gryffindor boy grins – you think his name is Rory but you can’t remember his surname. “When it’s your turn, you spin your wand on table and whoever it points to has to spend seven minutes with you in the broom closet.”

“What is the point of that?” Riddle frowns.

There’s a smattering of snickers and Riddle’s frown vanishes at the sound, his face going strangely blank.

“Making out, of course,” Rory smirks, “catch on, Riddle.”

Riddle’s face remains expressionless but there’s a coldness to it that the others don’t seem to notice as they continue to chuckle quietly. He clearly doesn’t like being laughed at.

“Who’s going first?” you say quickly, looking around the circle to distract them.

“Hartley’s the one who suggested this, he should start,” a Slytherin girl (April…? Avril…?) smirks.

“Only because Willows goaded me!” Hartley accuses, pointing at Ruth.

“I’ll happily go first,” Ruth says with an easy smile, “since Hartley’s too chicken.”

There’s a low murmur of amusement as Hartley’s eyes narrow at Ruth leaning forward and spinning her wand on the table – only to explode into raucous laugher when it comes to a stop pointing directly at –

“Looks like you’ll be going first after all, Hartley,” Ruth says breezily, standing. “After you,” she gestures theatrically at the wooden door to the broom closet in the corner, and Hartley gets up from the couch looking extremely gobsmacked.

“Make sure you return him in one piece,” April/Avril snickers.

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” Ruth says without missing a beat, grinning as she slams the door to the closet shut behind them.

“Hufflepuff’s got a set of claws on her,” the other Gryffindor boy laughs.

“Badgers are a natural predator of snakes,” you sigh, lying back on the couch and throwing back your arms in a content dizziness. “He doesn’t stand a chance.”

You lie there listening to the group talk and laugh, the reedy music wheedling away in the background, and by the time the closet bursts open again it doesn’t feel like any time has passed at all – though perhaps that’s the alcohol talking.

“And that,” Ruth exclaims, falling back onto the couch beside you, “is how it’s done.”

“How’s Hartley?” you ask her, laying your head back on her lap.

“He’ll never be the same,” she says smoothly, inspecting her nails.

The group is still laughing when Hartley sits back down on the floor beside the table, his hair dishevelled and his expression rather shell-shocked.

“Have fun mate?” Rory smirks, clapping him on the shoulder.

Hartley nods blankly, and the laughter only grow.

“Alright then, who’s next?” Ruth says loudly, looking very pleased with herself.

The turn passes counter-clockwise, and April/Avril gets landed with one of the reluctant Ravenclaw boys before Edgar Peters spins Rory. Scott casts Tom next to her a very unsubtle hopeful look before she spins her wand, but when it lands on Lestrange she has the good sense not to look too disappointed.

“Alright Riddle,” Rory grins, his arm now around Edgar’s shoulders (who is blushing violently). “Your turn.”

There’s something strangely blank about Tom’s face as he leans forward and sets his wand on the table, and you let your head loll to the side to watch with interest as Tom’s long, pale fingers deftly spin his wand. You cast an eye around the circle and fail to hold in a laugh; nearly everyone is watching in utter rapture, mostly leaning forward expectantly. Your laugh is drowned out by the noise that erupts across the group when Tom’s wand comes to a gradual stop pointing directly at your face.

“Is that me or you?” you ask Ruth languidly, looking up at her from her lap.

“That’s you,” she smirks down at you, “I’ve had quite enough Slytherin for one night.”

“Alright then,” you sigh, sitting up and stretching before swinging your legs off the couch and sprightly standing.

Tom is looking up at you blankly, unmoved from the couch.

“Well come on then,” you say in amusement, waving your hands at him. “The clock doesn’t start until the door shuts, you know.”

Riddle blinks and then smoothly stands, and you totter around the couch and stroll towards the door to the closet, still buzzing from the Firewhiskey. Riddle follows you silently, not looking at you as you hold the door open for him.

“Have fun!” someone shouts from the couches to general giggles.

You roll your eyes and let the door fall shut. Darkness and utter silence immediately falls, and you realise at once that at least one of the previous players has cast a muffling charm on the door to stop any potential eavesdropping.

“Lumos Volant,” you murmur.

A little ball of warm yellow light springs from your wand and hovers happily above the two of you, casting the inside of the closet into view – it’s small and cramped, a table stacked with boxes of books and old parchments beside you and shelves crammed with all sorts of things on every wall, hedging you in. Tom is standing in the middle of the closet, his dark, even gaze on you. There’s something suddenly very funny to you about the fact that he’s still wearing his uniform, impeccable as always.

“I thought lights were not permitted,” he says quietly.

You lift yourself up onto the edge of the table, feet swinging slightly. “I thought we might talk for a moment,” you say casually, looking around the closet.

Tom hesitates. “Talk?” he asks slowly.

“You’ve not done this before, have you?” you ask him, meeting his gaze with a tilt to your head.

“I believe I made it quite clear that I’m unfamiliar with the rules of this –”

“Not the game,” you interrupt, shaking your head with a soft smile. “This.” You gesture between the two of you.

Silence returns. Tom looks at you with an impenetrable expression as you wait for his reply, your feet still swinging lightly.

“And why would you think that?” he eventually asks, very evenly.

You shrug. “Just my read on you, I suppose. Am I wrong?”

Tom just leans back against the shelves, his hands pushing back his robes and sliding into the pockets of his slacks. For the first time you take a moment to appreciate exactly how good-looking he is; the black waves of his hair, the high cheekbones, the elegant curve of his lips – and the naturally regal quality of his features only augmented by the calm composure he always seemed to radiate. It was easy to see why he’d been made prefect, why Slughorn always fawned over him, why everyone said that he’d be Minister for Magic one day.

“You know, we don’t have to do anything,” you say conversationally.

Tom arches one of his dark brows. “What do you mean?” he asks in wry amusement.

“A stranger in a closet at a party?” you smile. “With a time limit, no less… Not exactly a very romantic setting.”

“I’m not a romantic,” Tom says lightly, looking away.

“No,” you say quietly. “You’re not, are you?”

Tom’s eyes flash to yours. For a moment you think you see something almost annoyed in his eyes, like your comment rubbed him the wrong way, and then the look is gone and his attention returns to the closet. “Your read on me appears to be quite extensive,” he says distinctly.

You laugh. “Does it bother you to be so transparent?”

His lips curve into a rather unsettling smirk. “Transparent,” he echoes, looking up at the ball of light floating above. “I must say, that’s a first…”

“You don’t like being laughed at, do you?” you say nonchalantly. “Specifically when you’re being excluded – oh! Is that why you spend so much time with those horrible blood supremacists even though you’re a half-blood?”

Tom’s eyes narrow on you and his smirk vanishes immediately. Something sharp has taken over his face, and you think that perhaps if you hadn’t drunk so much Firewhiskey, you’d find it scary.

“You tell those boys what to do, don’t you? They listen to you even when they don’t want to – Avery didn’t even want to play tonight but he followed you the second you came over. Are you in control all the time?” you ask curiously. “Is that why you dress all…” you wave a hand at his absolutely perfect uniform, shoes charmed to a shine, hair set into tidy waves, Slytherin tie dead straight and his prefect badge gleaming on his robes. “Well anyway, I suppose that would explain the grades, too.”

“Extensive indeed,” Tom breathes, tone very cool. “Is there more?”

“Yes,” you smile, holding the edge of the table lightly. “I don’t think you’re one to be coerced into doing something you don’t want to do.”

“Is that so?” Tom asks icily.

You nod. “Which means you want to be here.”

“I’m regretting it already.”

“You are not,” you scoff, “or you would have left.”

“I’m considering it,” he snaps.

“Come here.”

Tom’s expression falters, his brow furrowing. “What?”

You lift a hand and motion him closer with a casual wave. “Come here,” you repeat softly.

Tom huffs disapprovingly and looks away. “If I were really so transparent you would know not to give me orders,” he says coolly.

“Tom.”

His eyes find yours immediately, and you tilt your head again. “I’m not ordering you,” you say quietly, “I’m inviting you.”

Tom frowns slightly, something very calculating about the way he looks at you in the ensuing silence. After a long moment, Tom gently pushes off the wall and takes three slow steps towards you, stopping a respectful distance from where you’re sitting on edge of the table, his hands still in his pockets.

You smile, amused. “Closer.”

The blankness has returned to his face. You wonder if perhaps that’s how he looks when he doesn’t know how to look.

Tom takes the final step towards you, just barely brushing your knees, looking down at you with impenetrable eyes. You slowly reach forward and gently take his wrists, pulling his hands from his pockets and placing them lightly on your thighs. Tom doesn’t react, he only keeps his eyes on yours, his hands utterly still where you’ve placed them. You let your own remain on top of his as you look up at him, watching his face curiously as you gently guide his hands to push your knees apart.

He blinks, the barest flicker of his eyelids, a seemingly involuntary reaction – but that was what you’re looking for. Something beyond the composure. Something out of his control.

Slowly, you glide your hands up his forearms, keeping your eyes on his face and watching for his reaction. You can feel his warmth through his robes, his body beneath the impeccable layers of his uniform, your touch traveling up to his shoulders, down across his chest, and in a single, unbroken motion you lace your fingers around his tie and pull gently.

Tom’s eyes flicker again, but he lets you pull him down towards you, smooth and slow, and you feel anticipation thrumming in your chest as he gets closer, those dark eyes fixed on yours, his expression still blank and inscrutable. He’s less than an inch from your lips when you stop. Tom pauses at once, bent to you with his hands still resting on your thighs, your knees brushing against his hips. He’s close enough that you can feel his breath warm on your face.

“Are you quite sure I can’t order you around?” you ask softly, leaning up and very gently pressing your lips right next to his mouth. Tom exhales slightly, his eyes closing. You smile and then press your lips up against his neck, right in the most vulnerable point under his jaw. “I think you might like it,” you murmur against his skin.

Satisfaction curls in your stomach when you feel his fingers press ever-so-slightly harder into your thighs. “What would you have me do?” Tom asks quietly, and he’s almost entirely successful at concealing the slight thickness in his voice – but not quite.

“I’d have you move those hands of yours,” you say softly, your lips trailing back up his jaw. “I didn’t put them there to stay still.”

Tom exhales again, tense and measured, and then very slowly his hands slide up your thighs. His hands are warm and reserved, travelling to your hips as you press your lips against his pulse point and listen to his breathing, the deliberateness of it, the brittle tension in it. Tom is trying very hard to remain in control.  

You pull away and Tom’s hands fall still on your waist. His eyes have gone hooded and dark, and a flutter of excitement swells in your stomach at the sight. “Keep going,” you say quietly, gently pulling on his tie again, bringing him down to your lips and holding him there, barely a breath away.

Tom hesitates only for a second before his hands start to move again, sliding up your waist, your ribcage, the side of your chest – you nearly smile at how obvious he’s being at avoiding touching your breasts – up your collarbones, your neck, coming to a halt on either side of your jaw.

For a moment he holds you there, and you hold him there too, your hand on his tie anchoring him in place mere milimetres from you. His gaze is level but you can see the hesitation behind his eyes, feel the reservation in his hands.

“Nox,” you whisper against his lips.

The light above you goes out.

In the darkness, the warmth is all-encompassing, the sound of his breath louder, the heady, rich scent of him more potent, and the feeling of his hands on your skin more overpowering, and you lean without hesitation, kissing him slow and smooth, and…

Your stomach twists. He’s kissing you back just the same, restrained at first, hesitant like you were expecting, but when your arms slide up around his neck to pull him closer, drawing him into you, some of Tom’s restraint starts to falter. His hands against your face hold you more firmly, his breathing getting sharper, and his head tilts to the side to kiss you deeper. When you lock your ankles together behind him, the inside of your thighs pressing against his hips he breaks the kiss and you look up blindly into the dark.

“What?” you ask softly.

“I… you were right,” he says, still breathing slightly harder than normal. “I haven’t… done this before.”

“Do you want to?”

There’s a ringing silence. You frown in the dark. “You don’t have to, Tom.”

“You’ve already noted that I’m not one to be coerced into doing something that I don’t want to do,” Tom says smoothly, leaning back down to your lips.

“Right on that count too, was I?” you smile, kissing him again before he has a chance to reply.

Tom inhales and his hands pull your face closer to him, his mouth moving more insistently, and as you twist your fingers through the soft waves of his hair, you experimentally brush your tongue against his top lip. He immediately pulls away again and you laugh softly.

“Sorry,” you chuckle, “too much?”

He hesitates. “I wasn’t expecting it,” he says evenly. Some of the restraint has returned.

“Shall I do it again? Now that you’re expecting it?” you ask with no small amount of amusement.

By way of reply Tom slowly leans in again and kisses you deeply, and then – exactly as you had done – his tongue traces your top lip, like he’s mimicking you. He is mimicking you, you realise as you kiss him back enthusiastically, he’s copying what you’re doing because he doesn’t know what else to do.

If you’re leading by example, then there’s only one thing for it.

You slide your hands from around his neck down his body, pressing your hands flat against his chest and sighing against his lips – he feels good. Down your hands fall, curving under his jumper, gently tugging his shirt from his trousers, and Tom is kissing you harder and harder, stepping in closer, a hand falling from your face and slipping around your waist to pull you closer to him.

Your fingers brush his warm stomach and Tom breaks the kiss again, his head falling onto your shoulder as you touch him, your hands travelling around his hips and up his back. His skin is soft and smooth, his body lean and warm, and you’re breathing hard yourself when Tom lifts his head again.

“Can I…” he says slowly.

“Can you what?” you breathe.

Tom slowly kisses you, full and open, his lips lingering when he pulls away. When he speaks, he’s so close that you can feel his lips forming the words against yours. “Can I touch you?” he murmurs.

You laugh softly again. “If you weren’t so opposed to being ordered around, I would have already told you to.”

Tom’s arm around your waist tightens and pulls you into another kiss, and this time when his tongue brushes your lips you reach up and take his other hand from where he’s still cupping your face, gently guiding it down your neck, down the swell of your chest – Tom’s breathing takes on that same brittle quality – down your hip, your thigh, coming to a stop where the hem on your dress rests just above your knees.

Your lips draw from his and there’s a ringing silence. Too quiet. You realise that you’re both holding your breath.

“Is this what you meant?” you ask softly.

Tom swallows, and he nods.

You kiss him again, sliding his hand up your thigh and under your dress. When you bring his hand up to the hollow where your thigh meets your hip, Tom exhales again, breaking the kiss as his head tilts down. “I… I’ve never…” he says slowly, swallowing again. “I don’t know what to do,” he finishes quietly, and you can hear the conflict in his voice, his pride battling with his desire.

“Would you like me to show you?” you murmur.

He takes a breath and nods again.

You guide his hand inwards, the touch of his fingers against the outside of your underwear making heat spread across your skin. Slowly, you push Tom’s hand into place and carefully press to curve his fingers. When he feels how wet you are Tom breathes out very shakily and then – to your surprise – his lips are against yours, kissing you as you move his fingers with your own, showing him what to do.

He’s a fast learner. Tom’s fingers slide gently against you, mimicking what you show him and kissing you the whole time – it’s too much very quickly, and you can’t keep yourself from moaning as searing pleasure burns at his touch, smothered by his kiss. Soon you draw your hand away, confident that he knows how to continue, and place your palm against his cheek to draw him closer into the kiss. Tom’s grip around you tightens, his tongue meeting yours, the pressure and speed of his fingers just barely increasing and making you gasp into his mouth.

“Like that?” he asks softly.

“Like that,” you breathe, your eyes squeezing shut as tension coils in your core. “Don’t… don’t stop…”

Tom’s mouth presses hot against your jaw and your head falls back automatically, his lips moving – just like yours had  – right on the vulnerable part under your jawbone.

You feel the pleasure hike, growing and growing, and then with your palm still flat on Tom’s cheek and your other curled into a fist around his tie, it hits you hard, gasping as the dark closet seeming to spin with lights for a moment before you slowly come down.

Tom slowly draws his hand from you, and over your own panting you can hear him take a long, tense breath that sounds suspiciously shaky.

“Now,” you say a little breathlessly, “it’s your turn.”

Tom is silent as you slide your palm down his neck, his chest, keeping one hand fixed around his tie as the other brushes his hip, slips under his shirt again and traces the top of his trousers.

With a small, sharp tug on his tie, Tom’s mouth is nearly against yours again and you hear his breath stutter. “Do you want me to touch you?” you whisper against his lips.

He swallows. Nods.

Your fingers curl around the button of his trousers, pull it open, and then slowly undo the zip. Tom reaches up and takes your face in his hands, taking another shaky breath as his forehead presses against yours, and you can almost imagine his eyes closing, the tension on his face, the wanting.

Slowly, knowing that you’re teasing him, you slide your hand against his skin just beneath the line of his trousers, feeling the flat warmth of his stomach, the sharp angle of his hip bone – Tom’s hands hold your face tighter and he’s trying to control his breathing as you push your hand lower, lower –

There’s a rap on the door that makes you both jump and you pull your hand from him quickly.

“Time’s up!” someone yells from outside, muffling charm broken. “That’s seven minutes!”

You suppress a laugh as you reach for your wand on the table next to you. Just when things were getting good… “Lumos Volant,” you say again softly.

From your wand the same ball of light erupts, and you freeze.

Tom is still standing in front of you, but he looks nothing like when you saw him last. The refined, impeccable, composed Tom Riddle has been replaced by a figure unlike any you’ve seen – Tom’s dark hair is tousled and curled, his eyes black with hunger, his lips slick and pink and his cheeks flushed. His tie hangs loose from his crumpled collar, his shirt untucked and his trousers still unbuttoned.

Worst of all is the way he’s looking at you.

Tom’s dark, ravenous eyes sweep over you in what must be the same way you’ve been looking at him, lingering on the sleeve of your dress fallen from your shoulder, the hem pushed up all the way to reveal your thighs where his elegant, pale hands are resting. Whatever he finds on your face catches his attention because his jaw tightens and he looks on the brink of leaning in again.

“We… should…” you say slowly, unable to look away from him.

He nods silently.

Neither of you move.

You clear your throat and force your gaze off his face, straightening your dress pointedly and standing. Tom’s uniform slides back into its usual perfection with a single wave of his hand, but as he moves to step past you, your palm flashes up and catches his chest. Tom looks down at you at once and your heart skips a beat at the heat in his eyes.

“Your… your hair,” you say sheepishly, nodding at it. “You might want to…” You reach up before he can and push your fingers through it, smoothing it out and returning it to its regular impeccable state.

Tom’s eyes don’t leave yours as you touch him, and your cheeks grow warm, pointedly not lowering your gaze to his as you work.

“There,” you say quietly, smiling at him as your hands drop.

He doesn’t step away. He just looks down at you.

Your face gets warmer still. “Listen,” you say softly, “do you… want to keep this between us?”

The barest hint of a frown appears on Tom’s face. “Why would I want that?” he asks evenly.

“I just thought you might,” you shrug.

His lips flicker into what might be called a smile. “Just your read on me?” he asks with the faintest brush of dry humour.

“So?” you smile, rolling your eyes slightly. “Would you like that?”

Tom’s expression falls sober. After a second he steps in a little closer and you can’t ignore the way your pulse spikes when he lifts his fingers and pushes your hair back behind your ear, so soft that you shiver. “Yes,” he says very quietly, “I would like that.”

You nod and quickly turn away before you can get distracted again, pulling the door open and humming absently as you step out. You know without needing to check that Tom is following you with that blank composure returned to his face.

“Oi oi,” Ruth calls, winking at you. “You sure took your time – longest seven minutes I’ve ever seen!”

“We just talked, Ruth,” you say with a wry grin, leaning against the back of the couch. “Tom is an excellent conversationalist.”

“Conversationalist?” she repeats, smirking. “Is that what they call it these days?”

“We should be going,” you say dryly, giving her a look. “It’s nearly three in the morning and we’ve got Apparating class tomorrow.”

“Merlin’s beard, if I don’t splinch myself it’ll be a bloody miracle,” Ruth mutters, standing. “Alright you lot, try not to do anything too irresponsible once we’re gone!”

You catch Tom’s eye as he sits back down on the couch, but both of you look away again.

“Good night lovely people!” Ruth calls gaudily, throwing an arm around your shoulders and leading you across the Slytherin common room towards the steps, “Oh – and Hartley.”

The circle snickers, and you chance one last glance over your shoulder at Tom – but he’s not looking at you. His eyes are fixed on the little table in between the black leather couches, on his wand resting there, still pointing at where you’d been sitting.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

PART II HERE! 💖

To request sequels/being tagged in follow-ups, leave a reply in the notes!  💖

[scorpionyx9621]

Do you think Jason Todd fandom is kinda toxic? Because it seems like NO MATTER what DC do, there'll always be complains. Forget the bad adaptation like Titans. Even Judd Winick cannot escape the criticism with how he potrayed Robin!Jason. They just never satisfied.

SORRY, IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO RESPOND TO THIS. I just moved from Washington D.C. to Seattle, which, for my non-American friends, that's 4442km away. And I DROVE THERE ALL BY MYSELF. And now I'm trying to find new work in a new city and trying to stay mentally healthy and positive. Life is exciting but hard and scary.

*sighs*

As someone who was a fandom elder with V*ltr*n. I've seen some of the worst when it comes to fandom behavior. I'm talking people baking food with shaving razors and trying to give them to the showrunners. I'm talking leaking major plot details and refusing to take it down unless they make their ship canon (I am looking at you, Kl*nce stans) For the most part, DC Comics has had a decades-long reputation of treating their fans like trash and not caring what they think so from what I've seen, we all just grumble and complain in our corners of the internet about how we don't like how X comic portrays Jason Todd.

The challenge with Jason Todd is that he's your clinical anti-hero, the batfamily's Draco in Leather Pants, he's a jerkass woobie, and on top of all of that, he's a Tumblr sexyman. It's a perfect storm for a very fun but frustrating character to be a fan of. It doesn't help that every writer decides to re-invent the wheel every time Jason comes up so his canon lore is confusing at best and inconsistent as a standard.

I guess starting with a general brief on who Jason is and what is uniform about him with every instance he's appeared in comics/media.

Grew up in a poor family in Gotham with a dad who was a petty-mid-level criminal, and a mother who dies of a drug overdose.

Survives on the street on his own by committing petty crimes and potentially even engaging in sexual acts to keep himself alive.

Is cornered by Batman and taken in after Dick Grayson quits/is fired

Becomes the second Robin, but is known for being the harsher, more brutal Robin.

Is killed by Joker after being tortured, but somehow comes back to life and regains senses through the Lazarus Pit

Resolves himself to be better than Batman by basically being Batman but kills people.

Where there has been a lot of conflict in the fandom is the fact that Jason Todd is not a character that is written consistently. DC Comics loves to go with the narrative that Jason was "bad from the start" and was the "bad robin" when, yes, he has trouble controlling his anger, but he also still is just as invested in seeing the best of Gotham City and trying to be a positive change for the world as any other DC Comics hero.

Where I get frustrated with the fandom is its ability to knit-pick every detail of a comic they don't like while completely disregarding everything that makes the comics great and worth it to read. My example being Urban Legends. To which most people had pretty mixed reactions to. I was critical of the comic at first but as it went along I ended up really liking it. I have a feeling DC Comics went to Chip Zdarsky and told him he had 6 issues to bring Jason back into the Bat Family, and honestly he didn't do a bad job. Did it feel rushed? Absolutely. I wish there was more development of Jason and Bruce's characters and their dynamic as a whole. However, where I see a lot of people being angry and upset with Urban Legends is that they feel Zdarsky needlessly wrote Jason as an incompetent fool who needs Bruce to save him.

Whether or not that was the intention of Zdarsky is up to debate. However, and this may be controversial, but I don't think he wrote Jason Todd out of character at all. For as fearsome, intimidating, and awesome as Red Hood is. Jason is a character who is absolutely driven by his emotions. Why do you think he donned the role of Red Hood? As a response to his anger towards The Joker for killing him, and towards Bruce for not taking action against The Joker and for seemingly replacing him so quickly after he died. Jason didn't care about being the murderous Robin Hood or for being the bloody hammer of justice against N*zi's and P*d*ph*les. He only cared originally about making The Joker and Bruce pay. It wasn't until he trained under the best assassins in the world and realized most of them were horrific criminals who trafficked children and were p*dos that Talia began to realize that the teachers that she sent Jason to train under started dying horrific and painful deaths.

The entire story of the Cheer story in Batman Urban Legends was started because it finally forced some consequences upon Jason. Tyler, aka Blue Hood's father was a drug dealer who gave his supply to his wife and kids. And when Tyler's father admitted he gave the drugs to Tyler, it immediately made him fall within the self-imposed philosophical kill-list of Jason Todd. And Jason, well, he proceeds to kill Tyler's father. When this happens, Jason is in shock. Tyler's dad fit the bill to easily and justifiably be killed by Jason. We've never seen Jason having to deal with the consequences of being a murderous vigilante on a micro-level. When Jason realizes what he's done in that he's murdered Tyler's dad, he's shocked. He tells Babs the truth. He does a rational thing because he's in shock. He doesn't know what to do, he never has had to face the consequences of his actions as Red Hood and now the gravity of befriending a child as a vigilante hero who kills people just set in when he killed the father of the same child he was just introduced to.

(Oh here's a little aside because it had to be said, Jason would not have been a good father or a good mentor to Tyler and absolutely should not have been his new Robin. Jason is a man who is in his early 20's (not saying men in their early 20's can't be good fathers at all) who is a brutal serial killer using the guise of a vigilante anti-hero to let him escape most of the law. the complications of having the man who murdered your father adopt you and make you his sidekick are way too numerous for me to explain in a long-winded already heavy Tumblr essay post. There's a reason why we don't advocate for a story where Joe Chill adopted Bruce Wayne or one where Tony Zucco took in Dick Grayson.)

The next biggest argument is that they feel that Jason is giving up his guns as a means to just be invited back into the Bat-Family. To which I will tell anyone who has that argument to go actually read Urban Legends. Already have and still have that argument? Please re-read it. Don't want to? That's okay, I will paste the images from the comic where Jason specifically says that he doesn't want to give up his weapons for Bruce and his real reasoning down below since the comic isn't exactly readily accessible.

Jason gave up the guns because he felt the gravity of what he had done and knows how it'll effect Tyler. Thankfully his mom is alive and in recovery. But Tyler doesn't have a father anymore. And Jason killed Tyler's father. It may have been in accordance to Jason's philosophy, but it was a case where it blurred the lines. Jason Todd isn't a black and white character, just very dark gray. He doesn't kill aimlessly like the Joker. If you are on Jason's list you probably have done something pretty horrific, and also just in general, being in his way or being a threat to him. Mind you, in early days of Red Hood and the Outlaws (Image below) Jason almost killed 10 innocent civilians in a town in Colorado all because they saw him kill a monster. That being said, Jason isn't aimless in his kills.

(Also can we just take a moment to appreciate Kenneth Rocafort's art? DC Comics said we need to rehabilitate Jason Todd's image and Kenneth Rocafort said hold my beer: It's so SO GOOD)

That being said, the key emphasis in the story of Cheer asides from trying to introduce Jason Todd back into the Bat Family and give an actual purpose for him being there, other than him just kind of being there ala Bowser every time he shows up for Go Kart racing, Tennis, Golf, Soccer, and the Olympic games when Mario invites him, is that Jason and Bruce ultimately both want the same thing. Jason wants to be welcomed back into the family and to be loved and appreciated. Bruce want's Jason back as his son and wants to love and protect Jason. Both of these visions are shown in the last chapter of Cheer while under the effect of the Cheer Gas. It's ultimately this love and appreciation they both have for each other that helps them overcome their challenge and win.

Jason Todd is a character who, just like Bruce, has been through so much pain and so much hate in his life. The two are meant to parallel each other. While Bruce chose to see the best in everyone, giving every rogue in his gallery the option to be helped and give them a second chance, hence why he never kills, Jason has a similar view on wanting to protect the public, but he understands that some crimes are so heinous they cannot be forgiven, or that some habitual criminals are due to stay habitual criminals, and need to be put down. But at the end of the day, the two of them both try to protect people in their own ways.

I am aware that through the writings of various DC Comics authors such as Scott Lobdell and Judd Winick, the two have had a very tumultuous relationship. And rightfully so, I am by no means saying that Scott Lobdell writing an arc where Bruce literally beats Jason to within an inch of his life in Red Hood and the Outlaws, nor Judd Winick's interpretation of Under the Red Hood where Bruce throws the Batarang at Jason's neck, slicing his throat and leaving him ambiguously for dead at the end of the comic is appropriate considering DC Comics seems to be trying everything they can to integrate Jason back into the family. That being said, a lot of these writings have shaped the narrative of Jason and Bruce's relationship and have an integral effect on the way the fandom views the two. It doesn't help that Zdarsky acknowledged Lobdell's life-beating of Jason by Bruce at the very end of Cheer by having Bruce give Jason his old outfit back as a means of mending the fence between the two of them. That does complicate a lot of things in terms of how they are viewed by the fandom and helps to cause an even greater divide between the two.

Regardless, I want to emphasize the fact that Jason Todd is a part of the family of his own accord. Yes, he's quite snarky and deadpan in almost every encounter. However, Jason is absolutely a part of the family and has been for a while of his own will. There's a great moment in Detective Comics that emphasizes this. Jason cares about his family because it is his found family. Yes, they may be warry about him and use him as a punching back and/or heckle him. At the end of the day, we're debating the family dynamics of a fictional playboy billionaire vigilante whose kleptomania took the form of adopting troubled children and turning them into vigilante heroes. Jason Todd wants a family that will love and support him. This is a key definition of his character at its most basic. This was proven during the events of Cheer and is being reenforced by DC Comics every time they get the opportunity to do so.

Now, none of this is to say that I hate Judd Winick. I do not, I don't like the fact that in all of his writings of Jason, he just writes him as a dangerous psychopath, and Winick himself admits to seeing Jason as nothing much more than a psychopath. Yet Winick is the one who the majority of the fandom clings to as the one true good writer of Jason Todd because 'Jason was competent, dangerous, smart' Listen, friends, Jason is all of that and I will never deny it. However, what I love about Jason isn't that he's dangerously smart of that writers either write him as angsty angry Tumblr sexyman bait or that they write him as an infantile man child with a gun. There's a large contention of this fandom that has an obsession with Jason Todd being this vigilante gunman who is hot and sexy and while I definitely get the appeal. It is very creepy and downright disturbing that all of you hyperfixate on his use of guns and ability to be a murderer. It is creepy and I'm not necessarily here for it.

What I love about Jason Todd is that despite all of the pain, all of the heartache, all of the betrayal, and bullying, and death, and anguish. Jason Todd is one of the most loving and supportive characters in all of DC Comics. Jason has been through so much in his life, but he still chooses to love. He still chooses to see the bright side in people. Yes, he takes a utilitarian approach and chooses to kill certain villains, but at the end of the day he wants to see a better world, and he wants to be loved. It takes so much courage and so much heart to learn to love again after one has been abused or traumatized. I would not blame Jason at all if he said fuck it and just went full solo and vigilante evil. He has every right to, but he still chooses to be with the Bat Family of his own accord. That's something that I see a lot of in myself. I have been through a lot of trauma and yet I try to be a better person myself in any way that I can. It is extremely admirable of Jason to allow love back into his heart when he really doesn't need to. He kills and he protects because he has this love of society. It may have been shaped by anger and hatred, but Jason has found his place amongst people who love him and value him. I think Ducra, from Red Hood and the Outlaws put it best in the image given below.

To end this tangent, I love Jason Todd and all of his sexy dangerousness, but it's far more than that. As much as Jason may be dangerous and snarky, he loves his family without a shadow of a doubt. I look up to Jason Todd because despite all of his pain and all of his trauma, he still choses to love. Jason Todd is a character who is someone I love because despite all of his flaws and having a very toxic fandom, he still serves as a character filled with so much heart and so much passion. I wish more writers would understand that. But for now I will live with what I have. Even though the fandom may be vocal about it's hatred for his characterization, I choose to love Jason regardless because he is a character who chooses love and acceptance regardless of his pain. Jason Todd is by no means a good person in any sense of the word. He has easily killed upwards of 100 people by now. He is a character who is flawed and complex but ultimately is one who powers forwards and finds love and heart in a place from so much pain and anguish. That is what I love about Jason Todd. After all, to quote a famous undead robot superhero, "What is grief, if not love persevering?" Jason Todd chooses to love despite all of the trauma and pain and grief. Yes, he is hardened in his exterior, but inside there is a man with a lot of love to give and someone who deserves the world in my eyes.

[vyeoh]

this is your chance: wax poetic about an Empires or DSMP character of your choice to a fan who is new to both. Explain why I should love them. I need guidance in this new and meme-populated land.

okok this is a lot of pressure haha. Spoilers for EmpiresSMP and DreamSMP below, obviously. I wrote a lot so prepare yourself, anon

I watch a lot of empires POVs but the ones I most anticipate every week are Scott and Sausage.

c!Scott (I'll call him Smajor for the sake of simplicity) starts off the series chilling, not really getting involved with the rest of the server, and staying aggressively neutral. After all, he's an elf. He has lived far longer than most of the other rulers already, and will most likely outlive them for many years. So, the best thing is to stick to his mountains and not get invested in the dealings of mortal affairs, maybe sometimes causing problems on purpose and dipping because what's life without a little spice right.

But then, this demon comes to the server, Xornoth. He's going around causing havoc and wants to send the world into an eternal winter, but he doesn't bother the kingdom of Rivendell much so Smajor stays tentatively cautious but ultimately unbothered. But then, the puzzle pieces start falling together. The first thing that the audience noticed was was Xornoth sounded like Smajor, but we mostly thought that this was just due to cc!Scott voicing both of them and there was nothing more to it. However, then, the people the demon starts possessing start chanting in elvish. The demon hates mortals, and the elves are conveniently one of the two confirmed not fully mortal races in Empires.

This culminates when Smajor stumbles across a cave that contains the backstory of the patron god of Rivendell, Aeor. Basically, there's two opposing forces, Aeor and Exor, and both have a champion. In a previous life, those champions were two brothers, where Aeor eventually prevailed and banished Exor. In this life though, the champions are - you guessed it - Smajor, and the demon Xornoth.

So now Smajor is like. Well fuck. It's my literal god-given destiny to be responsible for defeating this demon who is technically my brother, and if I fail the server gets plunged into an eternal winter. And I have no fucking clue what is happening because I've just been here on this mountain actively trying to stay out of the issues outside my kingdom. We watch him panic and teeter on the verge of spiraling for an entire episode, and when the followers of Xornoth go to the End to kill the dragon, releasing Xornoth's full powers, he fails to stop him. Smajor is a character who was used to being the smart one, the prepared one, the one who has the least deaths on the server. But he's also a character who runs away from his problems and ignores them. Before and during the dragon fight, we hear the desperation in his voice, as he's thrown into a situation he is wholly unprepared for, and it's bigger than him going to the Cod Empire to kill their king, or assisting in other people's plans to kill the codfather. He can't run from this. cc!Scott plays this scene so well as well, as I've said before, one of the best parts of Scott's acting is how he's never super dramatic, but he's so effective in the little things like inflection to make you feel, viscerally, the panic and dread.

So after the dragon fight, Smajor realizes, I can't do this on my own. I've tried and failed. So he gets allies. We watch him, someone who has so strongly been an isolationist, learn the benefits of allies and watch him learn to trust others and watch him learn how to get that trust in return.

My favorite thing about Smajor's characterization is that he's an incompetent protagonist, but not in the way of the "plucky young adventurer". He's capable skill-wise, and fairly jaded and very pessimistic. However, his issue is that up until recently, he did not care about the rest of the server at all, and by the time he learned to, it was way too late.

Also, in 3rd Life, cc!Scott and cc!Jimmy were canonically married and they reference it sometimes in Empires. Like, Scott goes over to the Cod Empire every so often both in and out of character to kill and/or flirt with Jimmy, the ruler of the Cod Empire, which may develop as a secondary plot into the future who knows. So ty Scott for giving the gays what they want o7

Now onto Sausage: his is a story of Icarus, his hubris and ambition being his downfall. He's one of the two followers of Xornoth, who promised him endless power in exchange for his servitude. He started the series being eccentric, but not outright unhinged, but slowly gets more and more extreme as the series progresses, as he gets brought more and more to Xornoth's side.

One of the best parts of Sausage's character, in my opinion, is how his gradual corruption affects the people around him. Initially, he got into a conflict with the Cod Empire and was allied with two other people in the Witherrose alliance. They were allies, but also close friends. The fandom liked to joke that the three had sibling energy, and I'm pretty sure the ccs played to that even more lol.

It was painful to watch the other two members, Gem and fWhip, watch Sausage get corrupted right in front of them, and see them desperately clinging on to this old idea of Sausage in their head because if they faced the truth, it would mean that their friend was gone. Eventually, they do finally cut him out of the alliance, leading him to fully commit to the side of the demon. Sausage felt very clearly betrayed by this, and declared the remaining two Witherrose alliance members to be enemies.

He gets more and more possessed, and we even see the other Empires, his enemies even, slowly realize that something is very wrong with the ruler of Mythland. He starts doing more and more evil things, like killing people more, making sacrifices to the demon, and eventually helping to kill the dragon to free Xornoth. So things are good for Sausage, for a bit. He won, and is more powerful than ever. Then he finds out: he's going to die. Xornoth's possession is slowly killing his soul, and eventually, his body going to be fully taken over and he himself is going to be trapped in the spirit realm. So how do you react to this? Over the next few episodes, we watch Sausage struggle between "the demon is literally killing me" and "the demon has given me so much, and I love it", all while Xornoth takes over more and more of him. We hear him exclaim that "don't worry!! I'm still about 15% there!" while trying to downplay every time Xornoth completely takes over his body. We watch him willingly oppose anyone who is trying to end the thing that is killing him.

My favorite thing about Sausage is that he is undoubtedly evil and proud of it, but he's also undoubtedly human. If you like to watch evil characters go absolutely feral, he's the guy for you. He makes the deal with Xornoth in the beginning, knowing and fully embracing the evilness of the demon, but at the same time he knows what he's doing is detrimental to both himself and everyone around him, but he's gotten in way too deep at this point, and to be fair the demon has held up its end fo the bargain, right?

Also, I would be damned if I don't talk about cc!Sausage's editing. Every one of his videos is like a movie. The way he does camera angles and uses music is so skillful- every lore scene feels like something out of a high fantasy action saga (think: LotR). Every big lore event I always wait in anticipation for Sausage's ep because his editing truly takes lore to another level.

I'm just generally very excited to see where this series goes. Empires is such a good mix of talented builders and good lore. Part of the reason why the series is so immersive for me, beyond any other lore smp, is that they have the settings to back it up. There is a certain charm to the DreamSMP's objectively terrible builds (with a few exceptions) but in Empires, the settings help sell the plot so much.

Another part of why I love EmpiresSMP is how much the ccs are involved with the fan community. I'm sure you've seen the memes about Scott being on tumblr, and Sausage regularly goes through the EmpiresSMP fanart tag on Twitter and likes art, even ones not related to Mythland. Most of the ccs, in fact, have brought up tumblr content on stream at some point or another. Like, several ccs have said that they read tumblr lore theories and hcs and stuff and sometimes take inspiration from them. Fun fact: Rivendell's church was inspired by my pinned drawing; confirmed by Scott Smajor himself. It's just such a good cycle of ccs and fans being excited about each other.

As for DreamSMP, I'm gonna be honest here, the only person I really am invested in in Technoblade. I started watching when he joined the server, and he's the only person whose lore I keep up to date with.

Techno's fun to watch because he's like the Deadpool of DreamSMP. Virtually unkillable, very skilled and scary, but consistently cracks jokes and breaks the 4th wall during plot. His POV is just fun. Like, he does wild plans and gives speeches and some of the stuff that happens to him should be called deus ex machine if it wasn't for the fact that Technoblade is the one who's doing it, and all the stuff is grounded in the fact that cc!Techno is just that good at the game.

However, the fact that he rarely takes anything seriously makes the few times Techno is 100% serious so much more impactful. His whole character has a basis in being perceived as inhuman and being treated as such, and therefore in return trying to hide his humanity. So, when he shows that humanity, whether that's fear, anger, or genuine love for his friends, it really makes you go "oh shit."

Techno's often said not to have character development, but I'd argue that while he remains steadfast in his moral code, he develops leaps and bounds as a person. Like, at the beginning, he's brought onto the server to help Wilbur and Tommy overthrow a government; them knowing he's 1) an anarchist and 2) very very powerful. His character was more of a plot device at that point and was treated as such in the canon. Wilbur and Tommy straight-up lie to him about their plans to establish another government after they overthrow the current one, while he was led on to believe that they were abolishing all governments in the area. But he isn't a plot device. He's a person, as much as he only shows the terrifying, blood god side of himself.

After the establishment of New Lmanburg (the new government its a long story), his friend Phil joins. And for the first time, we see him be fully human with someone and we see someone treat him like a human. Like, we saw glimpses before, with Wilbur and Tommy in Pogtopia, but Phil is the first person we noticeably see he trusts 100%. Then Doomsday happens, and Techno essentially retires to the tundra. During this time, we see Techno learn to be more human, first with Ranboo, then Niki when he establishes the Syndicate. In fact, the two of them, along with Phil, canonically throw him a birthday party, which is a far cry from his treatment in Pogtopia.

Techno's development is one of a god learning to be human, and I just think he <3

[nerdzzone]

Only For A Moment: December

Summary: A series of shorter one shots from Chris and Whitney’s life together throughout the pandemic. Some happy times, some harder times, some fluff and some things a little more sexy - they work through it all as they try to get settled in their new and blossoming relationship.

Chris Evans x OFC

18+

Part of the Once Bitten/More Hearts series

Only For A Moment: November [part two]

Note: This is the last part of this section of the series! Thank you to everyone who has read, liked, reblogged and commented so far, I really appreciate your support and love reading all your thoughts! There will be more, focusing on their lives as the world starts opening up again, but I’m not sure when it will be posted.

-----

December 2020

December was a somewhat bittersweet month.

There were quite a few positives as Christmas always brought plenty of joy - and it brought Scott back from L.A. which was a nice treat for everyone - and there was also the big announcement of an approved vaccine. The roll out wouldn't be immediate, of course, but there was hope on the horizon and a clear sense of relief.

However, there were some negatives as well. I still had my concerns about how well we'd adapt our relationship to the realities of real life and, as excited as I was about Christmas, the holiday season was making me miss my family more than ever.

Chris' family was a great substitute - especially as the case numbers were low enough that we were allowed to have small family gatherings which meant they could all to stay over at our house on Christmas Eve as they had the year before - but I hadn't seen any of my own family in over a year and I missed them terribly. It made me so sad to think of how much Grayson had grown since they last saw him and knowing that I had a little nephew that I'd never even met was starting to break my heart.

In an attempt to ease the ache caused by the distance, we had a video call on Christmas Eve since my family were all together too and I was relieved that our friendly, confident three year old had no problem making conversation with the grandparents and uncle that he could barely remember. It was heart-warming and refreshing to have that time with them even through a screen, but it wasn’t the same and it left me wanting more. I wanted to see them, to hug them, to help my mom make Christmas dinner and beat my brother at the card games we always used to play. I wanted to be less than three thousand miles away and it was starting to weigh on me.

I held it together pretty well, not wanting to put a damper on the happy festivities we were having, but later that evening, when I was alone with my thoughts as I finished tidying up the dishes from dinner, it was suddenly overwhelming. I leaned on the counter as my chin dropped to my chest and the tears finally came. I wasn’t going to let myself have more than a few minutes to wallow in my sadness, but almost as soon as the tears started, a voice from behind me interrupted.

"Whitney?" Lisa quietly announced her presence. "Are you okay?"

I sniffled and quickly wiped my eyes before turning around to see her standing in the doorway with Scott, concern on both of their faces.

"I'm fine," I smiled weakly, but Scott wasn't going to let it go that easy.

"What's wrong?" He asked. "Why are you crying?"

"I just miss my family. It's hard not getting to see them at Christmas," I admitted. "I know I didn't get to see them last year either, but it's been so long now since I've seen them at all. I guess that's just made it harder."

"Oh, honey, that's understandable," Lisa assured me. "I can't imagine how I'd feel if we hadn't been able to be together at all for as long as you've been away from your family."

"Usually I'm fine," I insisted. "I think just seeing them all together and not being there got to me a little bit."

"Well their loss is our gain," Scott informed me. "Because we're really happy to have you here. I know it's not the same, but you're part of our family too."

"I know and I'm so grateful that I have all of you," I rushed to assure them, not wanting anyone to think I wasn't happy to be spending the holidays with them. "It's been so amazing how you've all taken me in and let me be a part of your family. I know things were complicated with Chris and I, but you've always been so good to me."

"You've been a part of this family from the moment we found out about Grayson," Lisa said firmly. "Whatever happened between you and Chris never mattered to us. We're glad you've sorted yourselves out now, but we've always thought of you as family."

Scott nodded in agreement and their kind words brought more tears to my eyes.

"That really means a lot," I choked out, blinking frantically to stop myself from crying anymore. It took a moment to compose myself, but eventually I let out a laugh and wiped my eyes again. "Sorry, I'll stop blubbering soon. I don't think I realized how much I missed them until now and once I get all weepy, it's hard for me to stop."

Lisa crossed the kitchen quickly and pulled me into a hug.

"If you need to let it out, then you go right ahead."

I returned her hug and was about to inform her that it wasn't necessary when Chris - who had been upstairs putting Grayson to bed - appeared in the doorway and interrupted our little moment.

"What are we letting out? Why is Whitney crying?" he asked. "What did you two do to her?"

"We were just letting her know that none of us would judge her if she wants to dump your ass," Scott lied, a smirk on his face. "And now she's crying tears of joy."

"Scott!" Lisa scolded despite the laugh that fell from her lips as she let me slip out of her arms. "That's a horrible thing to say."

"It's not true," I assured Chris even though I was sure he'd figured that out. "I just had a little sad moment. I miss my family so your lovely family members were reassuring me that I'm part of yours."

"You absolutely are," he agreed, coming over and slipping his arm around my waist before pressing a kiss to the side of my head. "I'm sorry that you're sad, but do you remember what I told you last year?"

I'd spent a lot of time trying to block out the memory of last Christmas in the months after it happened and apparently I'd done a good enough job to not know what he was talking about.

"No," I shook my head. "What?"

"There's no time for worryin' at Christmas!" He reminded me. "Let's get you a drink and turn that frown around!"

"Alright, that sounds good," I laughed as I slid out of his grasp. "Lisa, can I get you another glass of wine?"

"Oh, yes, that's actually why we came in here," she smiled. "We were sent to get everyone another round."

"Perfect," Chris grinned as he opened the fridge and started pulling out supplies.

He poured drinks for everyone, but held me back as his brother and mother left the room with as many drinks as they could carry. He pulled me into his arms again before I could pick my drink up off the counter.

"Are you good?" He asked, rubbing his thumb on the exposed skin just above my jeans. "I'm sorry that you miss your family."

"I'm fine," I smiled up at him. "It was just hard seeing them all together tonight and not being there. I do miss them, but I'm okay. I'm happy to be here with you and your family."

"As soon as things get better, we can go and visit," he promised. "I think I'll have to head to L.A. in the near future anyway. Now there's a vaccine and things might start to improve, there's more talk of starting The Grey Man."

While the thought of a trip to L.A. was encouraging in theory, it made my stomach turn. Travelling while the pandemic was still around seemed very stressful - if Scott's journey home for the holidays was anything to go by - and the thought of Chris returning to work was something I wasn’t eager to think about. I knew he was trying to make me feel better though so I stretched up and placed a kiss on his lips.

"That would be nice," I smiled. "I'd like you to get to know my family a bit more."

"I'd like that too," he nodded. "As soon as we can, I promise."

As I slipped out of his grasp, I tried to focus on that hopeful promise and push any sad feelings from my mind.

-

The rest of that evening was pretty lowkey. We knew that the kids would be up at the crack of dawn as they were the year before and went to bed early in preparation for that. It was a decision that I was very grateful for at six thirty the next morning when Grayson woke us up by launching himself onto our bed.

“Merry Christmas!”

His little voice cut through the silence of the room, ruining any possibility that we might have been able to sleep a little longer.

“Merry Christmas, Gray,” I heard Chris answer as I rolled over. Just as I turned to face him, Chris dragged him down from where he was bouncing on the bed and pulled him against his chest. “Let’s go back to sleep. Okay, buddy?”

We all knew that wasn’t going to happen and Grayson proved it as he giggled and wiggled around, squealing loud enough to ensure that no one in the house could possibly still be asleep.

“Gray! Shhh,” I laughed, pulling him out of Chris’ arms and into my own. “Merry Christmas.”

I kissed the top of his head and he pulled back, grinning up at me.

“Santa came, Mama!”

“Did he?” I gasped. “That’s so exciting!”

“There’s so much presents!”

“Wow, I guess we should go see who they’re for!”

“Probably me,” Chris teased Gray. “I bet they’re all for me and maybe one for your mom.”

“And for me?”

The hope in Grayson’s voice had me interjecting before Chris could tease him any more.

“I’m sure there are some for you,” I assured him. “I bet there’s some for everyone.”

“Even Uncle Scott?”

That question earned a howl of laughter from Chris, but I nodded.

“Even Uncle Scott,” I smiled. “He’s been pretty good this year, hasn’t he?”

“No!” Grayson giggled. “He scared Daddy! And me!”

I laughed, thinking back to the incident he was referencing. Ever since Scott returned from L.A., he and Chris had created some kind of ‘scare war’ where they were competing to see who could scare the other in the best way. They posted the videos on Instagram and their fans loved it, but it had gotten a little out of hand. Scott caught Chris off guard when he came home from a walk with Dodger the day before and got an excellent reaction from him, but he didn’t realize that Grayson was with him too. The poor kid was terrified and cried for almost fifteen minutes afterwards. Scott had been incredibly apologetic and tried to make it up to him, but apparently Gray wasn’t feeling particularly forgiving.

“He did scare us and that wasn’t very nice,” Chris agreed. “He’s probably on the naughty list!”

“Yeah!” Grayson grinned at his dad. “Let’s go see!”

He scrambled off the bed almost as quickly as he’d climbed up in the first place. Once the sound of his heavy footsteps faded as he ran down the hall, Chris pulled me into his arms.

“Merry Christmas, Win.”

“Merry Christmas,” I smiled up at him. “Crazy to think that we woke up like this a year ago too.”

“Almost exactly like this,” Chris smirked. “Until you snuck out of bed as if I wouldn’t know we’d been cuddling all night.”

My jaw dropped slightly.

“You knew?”

“Of course, I knew!” Chris chuckled. “I’d been awake for almost half an hour before you woke up, but it felt so nice cuddlin’ you that I didn’t wanna move.”

“That’s so embarrassing,” I laughed, burying my head in his chest as he assured me that it wasn’t. “But it’s so strange to think that if there hadn’t been that snow storm and I hadn’t stayed over that night, maybe we wouldn’t even be here now.”

“Do you really think that?”

“It’s hard to say,” I admitted. “I think we would have ended up quarantining together, but if we hadn’t had that slip up at Christmas, we wouldn’t have had the same incentive to talk about things during lockdown.”

“But that slip up showed that the feelings were there,” Chris pointed out. “So, maybe it would have happened while we were locked in this big ol’ house anyway.”

“I like to think so,” I smiled. “Either way, I’m happy it did.”

“Me too,” Chris placed a kiss on the top of my head as the sounds of excited children floated down the hall towards us. “I guess we should get up before they come looking for us.”

I reluctantly agreed and we dragged ourselves out of bed to join the festivities.

-

Christmas morning was much the same as the year before. The kids were overwhelmed with excitement at all the gifts, but very grateful and appreciative of everything they received. Chris bought me some new cameras that I’d mentioned wanting to buy before my work picked up again, but it was my gift to him that I was really excited about.

I watched as he opened the box that I’d carefully wrapped and pulled out the photo album that I’d put inside.

“Wow,” Chris murmured as he flipped through the pages with a soft smile on his face. “Are these all of me and Gray?”

“There’s some of Dodger too, but yeah, mostly it’s you and Gray,” I informed him. “I just thought, it’s been such a crazy year and there’s been a lot of stress, but there were some good moments too and I wanted you to have some memories of those.”

“This is amazing…”

He flipped through the pages that I’d filled - in order by month - of all the pictures that I’d taken since the start of the pandemic. There were some of him helping Grayson ride his bike, some of them reading together and doing puzzles, some of them playing in the pool, some of them raking leaves in the fall, carving pumpkins at Halloween, cooking dinner together, curled up on the couch watching movies and pretty much every other day to day activity that they did together through the lockdown. I was amazed by how many pictures I’d taken when I started compiling them, but I knew it was a gift that he would appreciate.

“That’s one of my favourites,” I giggled, pointing to a picture of bath time one night when Chris had fashioned them both beards made out of bubbles.

“I love them all,” he smiled, looking up at me with glassy eyes. “Thank you, Winnie. Thank you so much.”

I leaned in to place a soft kiss on his lips as Lisa moved to stand behind her son and sneak a peek at the album.

“That’s such a wonderful gift, Whitney,” she gushed. “Those pictures are beautiful.”

“Thank you. If you look through it later and pick out your favourites, I can make you some copies.”

“That would be great!” She grinned. “I would love that, if you don’t mind.”

I assured her that it would be no trouble and made notes of a few that I thought she might want as Chris and I spent the next half an hour flipping through the album and reminiscing on the happy moments we shared as a family during a very dark year. It was a rather odd feeling that such a bleak time had also been such a happy one for us. I was beyond grateful that our families had been relatively untouched by the virus plaguing the world and was more than happy to join Scott in his toast to all our continued good health when he brought out the mimosas as soon as all the presents were unwrapped.

-

The rest of the day was filled with plenty of love and appreciation of our little family and the opportunity to be together. As we had the year before, we called all the relatives who lived too far away to join us before spending most of the day playing games, drinking fancy Christmas cocktails and eating delicious food. We had learned something from the previous years celebrations though and didn’t let ourselves get quite as intoxicated as we had back then.

All in all it was a lovely day and my heart was feeling very full by the time we said our goodnights and headed to our room that evening. I was refreshed by the opportunity for such prolonged socialization and had a little extra pep in my step as I pranced off to the ensuite bathroom to brush my teeth.

However, when I came back out, I was surprised to find Chris sitting on the edge of our bed. He glanced up when I walked in, a soft smile on his face, but there was an air of nervousness around him that immediately put me on edge.

"You okay?"

My question was simply met with a nod as he beckoned me over. He grabbed my hand as soon as I was close enough and kept me standing in front of him.

"I have one more present for you," he informed me after a moment of quiet. "But I want to preface it with an explanation so you don't freak out."

I laughed nervously at that statement, wondering what kind of gift could possibly make me freak out. A car? A new house? A puppy? My mind was instantly running wild.

"Okay..."

"I know you're still nervous about things going back to normal and how we'll handle it - I can see it on your face every time it gets mentioned," he started, his words so far offering no explanation. "I've been trying to think of something that I can do to reassure you, something to prove just how committed I am to you because I am all in here, Winnie. From the moment I met you, I knew you were something special and it sounds a little cheesy and over the top, but you really are the love of my life. It took a little soul-searching and some brainstorming, but I eventually came up with something I think might help us both..."

He paused then and reached behind his back, pulling out a little box that made my heart start pounding in my chest.

"Oh my god," I gasped out as he slid from the bed to kneel on one knee in front of me.

He opened the box and looked up at me with hope written all over his face.

"Will you marry me, Winnie?" He asked, the question bringing tears to my eyes. I was biting my lip to hold myself together and didn't realize that I hadn't answered until he launched into some further reassurances. "We don't have to get married right away - we can wait as long as you want - but taking this step, making this extra promise and commitment, I thought it might give us both some comfort."

I was still stunned, completely blindsided by his proposal, but I took in his words and appreciated his reasoning as a grin slid onto my face.

"Yes, Chris! Yes, I will marry you."

Chris visibly relaxed at my acceptance and, with noticeably shaky hands, he took the ring from the box and slid it on my finger. As soon as it was safely in place, he sprung to his feet and pulled me into a breathtaking kiss.

"Holy shit," he let out a deep breath, moments later when we finally parted. "That was terrifying. I thought for sure you were going to turn me down and tell me that I'm insane."

"You kinda are," I smiled. "And everyone else is definitely going to think we've lost our minds."

"Well, we've never done things the traditional way and it just makes sense, doesn't it?" It was a question, but he didn't wait for an answer. "It hit me when we were talking in New York and you made a joke about me proposing, that it wasn't a bad idea, that it was something I wanted to do. I know we've technically been together for less than a year, but I haven't wanted anyone else since the day I met you so what's the point in waiting? I'm not gonna make decisions based on what everyone else thinks we should do - that would be crazy."

I smiled at his anxious rambling and stretched up to place another kiss on his lips.

"That would be crazy," I agreed. "And I don't care what they think. I don't want to be with anyone else either."

He matched my smile as he squeezed me even closer.

"And I mean it, we don't have to rush into anything or start planning a wedding right away," he assured me. "But I thought this extra step might make you feel better about things changing. I'm in this one hundred percent and I'll do whatever it takes to make this work for us."

I didn't need a ring to know that Chris loved me and wanted to make this work and being engaged wouldn't make any of the challenges that were ahead of us any less difficult to face. But there was something about how fearless he was in making such a commitment to me and something about the way he was so determined to reassure me of just how invested he was in our relationship that did put me at ease and fill me with confidence.

The fact that despite all the things we'd been through and all the things we still needed to work on - including my own insecurities - Chris was willing to marry me and make that lifelong commitment had my heart about ready to burst in my chest.

"I'm willing to do whatever it takes too," I assured him. "I love you so much, Chris."

"I love you too," he grinned. "And god, I'm so relieved you said yes."

"Of course I'd say yes," I insisted. "You know I love you."

"I do, but I also know you're worried," he reminded me. "And I didn't want you to think I was using a proposal as a band-aid or something. I know that it won't always be easy and we'll have to work hard."

"We will," I agreed. "But now, at least when you're away, I'll have this pretty ring to remember you by."

I pulled my arm back from around his waist to look down at my finger. I was grateful that it wasn't a massive, showy ring, but it was beautiful and seemed fairly unique.

"It's alexandrite," he informed me. "It's one of the birthstones for June which I thought was fitting for both of us. I was gonna use Gray's birthstone, but apparently April is diamond and I wanted something different. There's diamonds on either side of the big stone though so he's in there too."

"It's beautiful," I smiled as he grinned proudly.

"I didn't think you'd want something too over the top, but I wanted it to be something nice."

"Well, you nailed it," I assured him. "I couldn't have picked a nicer ring myself."

He captured my lips in another kiss and I leaned into it, trying to wrap my head around what had just happened.

"Have you told anyone?" I asked once he pulled away. "Does my family know?"

"I told them last night," he nodded. "I called them back after I tucked Grayson in to let them know. And my whole family knows because I was stressed about the whole thing and couldn't keep it to myself. Oh, and Hannah because she scares me and I thought she'd be mad if she didn't know."

I laughed, letting my head rest against his chest.

"She would have been mad," I agreed. "But I can't believe she scares you, she's like a little chihuahua. She's all bark, no bite."

"She cried on the phone when I told her," he admitted, earning another bubble of laughter from me. "She assured me they were tears of joy, but swore me to secrecy about it so let's keep that between us."

"Oh, no way!" I giggled. "That is too good not to tease her about."

"Well, it'll be your loss if she kills me."

"Again, all bark and no bite," I reminded him. "Did your family know you were going to ask me tonight?"

"Yeah," he nodded, looking a bit sheepish. "I think they're all waiting in the living room to see what you said.”

“Then let’s go share the good news,” I smiled, moving to link my arm with his. “Then we can come back in here and celebrate properly.”

I shot him a wink to emphasize what I meant and he let out a low growl of approval before dragging me out of our bedroom.

-

Of course, his family were thrilled that I’d said yes, even though it didn’t seem like any of them were particularly surprised. I called my family and Hannah as well before sharing a celebratory drink with my soon to be in-laws.

But it wasn’t until we laid, curled up in bed after our more private celebrations that it really started to hit me.

Sure, some people would think we were moving a bit too fast and they might have been right, if we had any intention of actually getting married right away. But for us, it was just another layer of reassurance. The ring on my finger was like a little security blanket, a memento of support for when things got hard and our schedules grew busier. It was a reminder that we were determined to make this work no matter what happened and it had me feeling much more hopeful about the new year ahead of us.

Things would change, there was no doubt about that, but we could get through it and come out stronger in the end. I knew it wouldn’t always be easy and there would be times when we felt like giving up, but with a little love and perseverance, I knew our relationship - and eventually our marriage - would only benefit and grow from our efforts.

-

Tags:  @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces @firoozehmoon @patzammit @sparkledfirecracker @mytbel0st @chvntelle-99 @mjey12

[herherteartear]

blanket kick

précis— Peter's not the suave man he would hope to be in front of his crush. instead, he's a blushing mess that haunts his memories and causes him to take out his frustrations on his blanket. luckily, you prefer cherry cheeks over smooth lines any day.

pairing— Peter Parker x enhanced!maximoff!reader

a/n— this is my first standalone written story and my first time writing for marvel! i hope you guys enjoy thisss<3 i'm also open to creating drabbles to continue this if anyone's interested????! pls enjoy and pls comment and let me know ur thoughts!!!

there are many ways to describe Peter Parker, but none could ever wholly capture the true essence of the boy

besides the obvious stuff,, his intelligence , his insanely good looks , his teenage awkwardness,,

it was a hard feat to string along words to describe the way he carries himself , the way he is with others , the way his heart loves with the same ability a sponge soaks up water and soap

Peter's had crushes before

perhaps more than he'd like to admit

(can't blame the boy, who gave Ty Lee the right be that cute!?)

but when he sees her, his heart begins to swell and suddenly, he forgets how to breathe..

or how to think... talk. y'know normal human stuff

in all honesty, Peter has tried his absolute hardest to block out their first meeting from his memories

he doesn't regret meeting her, of course not! never would he even repent that embarrassingly wonderful day

he only wishes it would've gone a little differently

let's set the scene, shall we?

the sun was shining brightly, the sky was a Carolina blue, the clouds were the prettiest porcelain color, rimmed with lace

Peter was riding in an awfully silent car that Happy was driving to the airport. despite being terrified of what's to come,, the fight Mr. Stark had recruited him for,, the boy was thoroughly enjoying this adventure.

the car came to a stop, which did little for Peter's nerves. he gathered his courage before stepping out, eyes squinting at the brightness of the yellow sun. once his eyes adjusted, they landed on the prettiest head of hair he had ever seen

(although he did think the same for Hermione Granger)

Peter had never been on a plane before that day. but even then, his sparkling eyes stayed trained on her,, completely ignoring the brilliant private jet behind her

"oh? Happy, i thought it was just us?" her voice made Peter's ears burn. he swallowed thickly. you blinked at Peter, curious but also intrigued , you smiled.

to which Peter choked. on air. your eyebrows furrowed in worry.

"a-are you okay?"

"god, kid, get ahold of yourself."

"i-i'm okay! it's– i'm– i'm fine!" Peter quickly stuttered out.

"well, Yn, this is– uh,, what's your name again?" Happy turned towards the boy who's cheeks were now redder than a firetruck.

"oh! i'm Peter– Peter Parker. it's nice to meet you- not that i don't know you. well i don't, y'know not personally. but like from the news.. not that i believe the news! they're awful to you, but i mean i guess i do sometimes– but never about what they say about you–"

"i'm Yn Maximoff. it's nice to meet you too, Peter." you cut him off before Happy strangled the cute boy. you had an amused smile

he was cute

finally getting on the plane, Peter had hoped he would be able to sit far away from you and wallow in his embarrassment,

maybe sneak a glance or two.. imagine a couple of scenarios where he wasn't a doofus,

but that's not quite what happened.

after witnessing just how much the new kids was able to ramble,, Happy was not about to spend a whole ass plane ride remotely close to him

so he took it upon himself to make the kiddies sit together.. much to Peter's dismay.

like!!? did Happy not see how Peter crashed and burned in font of you?!

you, on the other hand,, had the opposite reaction.

being the youngest avenger, you don't get to be around people your age too much,, which isn't something you're complaining about!!

you totally made the decision to be an avenger and you happily welcomed the consequences..

that didn't mean you didn't get lonely at times. especially now with the accords and the team breaking up., things got a whole lot more lonely

your sister, Wanda, had made her choice to leave the compound. you completely understood why, but a part of you had hoped she would've taken you with her

although, staying at the compound did ensure your safety.

it was a weird time for the avenger's , it felt wrong for you to say some of your teammates were criminals

it left a sour taste in your mouth

you glanced from the window seat to see Peter nervously wringing his fingers. you frowned.

"are you okay?" you asked, gently. Peter's eyes widened and his heart jumped to his throat. he wanted to say something, something cool or aloof, something that would make up for his ranting earlier

"i've never been on a plane before." Peter squeaked out. he dropped his shoulders, rolling his eyes at himself. that was the highest pitch he had ever heard his voice. you took in his clearly anxious posture.

"lets switch seats? maybe looking out the window will help you." you stated. before Peter could quickly shake his head, because how rude would it be of him to take your seat?, you were already stood up.

"oh god!" Peter breathed. he quickly shifted over to the seat you once occupied. he wanted to put up more of a fight, but the way you were swaying due to the turbulence, made his palms sweat in fear for your safety.

"you, like, swing from buildings and stuff, right?" you asked. he turned to you with a nod. "are you afraid of heights? or do you just not like planes?"

oh god. oh. no. you thought– you thought he was scared of being on the plane. Peter wanted to shrink in a hole and hide. you probably thought he was such a baby! that he could handle swinging from hundreds of feet in the air, but a plane is where he drew the line?

but what else is he supposed to say? 'oh, no! it's not the plane I'm scared of. it's just your beautiful smile and the way you smell like cocoa that gets me sweating'

wtf.

that was so wrong in so many ways.

"um, no, no. i'm okay, just– just a little nervous, is all." Peter tried to force out a chuckle. but it come out more like a cough. you mouth formed an 'o.'

"ohh, okay." you paused before your eyes lit up. "how about we play a game? to distract you?"

"o– okay.."

"can you talk with spiders?" Peter lifted his eyes from looking at his hands hovering above yours,; he let out a much more relaxed laugh than earlier.

you took advantage of his distraction to swiftly bring your palm from underneath his and slap the top of Peter's hand. he jumped.

"ouch!" he playfully pouted. you eyes glanced down at his lips. you giggled nervously. your hand went to hover over his, him now being the one to do the slapping. "of course i can't talk to spiders! i– i feel like i should probably be able to shape-shift into a spider in order for that to happen, y'know?"

you nodded thoughtfully. "that's true.. you didn't hear this from me, but i heard there's an Ant-Man going around." Peter looked at you with wide eyes.

"no way! that's crazy! does he like turn into an ant?" you bumped his hand with yours in order to get his attention back to the game. his hand burned at the feeling

"i don't know-" you said in a singsong tone. "it's just what's being said around the compound." you quickly slid your hands to avoid Peter's attack. he huffed.

"how are you so good at this?" he knitted his eyebrows to focus on how to attack quickly without hurting you.

"it's a game i used to play with my brother and sister." you answered. Peter finally took his chance to slap your hands, to which you squealed excitedly as you had tried to move in time. Peter and you fell into a fit of giggles.

you both leaned against your seats, still facing each other. your hands fell on top of Peter's.

the brown haired boy quickly slid his hand out from under yours, not because he didn't enjoy the contact, but because he was worried you'd feel how clammy his hands were

you frowned slightly at the loss of contact.

"a– are we really fighting your sister?" Peter wondered out loud, without a second thought.

you shifted uncomfortably. Peter quickly noticed; his heart sped up and he mentally scolded himself for being so inconsiderate.

"not because i think she's evil! i mean,, i know that's what the news says.. but they also think Spider-Man's like thirty. and i'm not thirty! its just everything's crazy right now.. with the accords., i can't even imagine how you're feeling! probably terrible.. oh, g od wait, not terrible, i'm s–"

you had been watching with an endearing look in your eye. you had come to find that you enjoy watching Peter ramble.

his eyes would become unsettled and shaky, his body would begin to become more and more animated, but his voice

gosh, his voice was something you wanted to listen to for the rest of your life

but you could tell he was getting more and more skittish. so you put him out of his misery

"terrible probably wouldn't be my go-to word, it's up there though.. at least i got to meet you." you smiled softly.

Peter's eyes ran over your soft features. night had fallen, so the windows of the plan displayed an almost picturesque display of the moon and stars. the light hue of color the moon provided painted your face in a way that clouded Peter's thoughts.

with your comment of being grateful to have met him, Peter wasn't in control of his mouth for much longer.

"so pretty." he breathed. both of you guys froze.

Peter's face quickly morphed from love-sick to mortified. you blushed violently.

deciding you didn't want Peter to fall into another rant-like apology (because if you got to listen to him talk for that long in this setting, you might just drop the 'L' word) , you said,

"let's watch a movie?"

the two of you sat, shoulder to shoulder, watching Scott Pilgrim Vs. the World, but being too hyper aware of their thighs pressed together and brushing hands to actually pay attention

upon arrival, both teenagers walked off the plane, sleep deprived , but with thumping hearts and dazed grins.

Peter threw himself on his hotel bed that night,, hiding under the covers

his thoughts replayed your interaction over and over (and over and over) in his head

the boy shoved his head, face first, into the stiff hotel pillow and let out a muffled groan

Peter flipped himself over, stared at the ceiling, before remembering his spouts of unnecessarily long explanations

he thrashed his body, kicking his poor blanket in frustration but most of all, out of embarrassment

he calmed himself down once his memories refreshed themselves over your gentle giggles and how soft your hands were

Peter fell asleep with cherry red cheeks and a blissful grin.

because despite those small mess ups, despite the futile way he beat his covers in humiliation, Peter treasures that day like no other.

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Favorite Human

Fandom: Teen Wolf Pairing: McCall!Pack x reader (platonic) Word count: 2.8k Summary: It’s Malia who first smells it - the bitter scent that had started to Infiltrate yours - and she, Lyida and Kira decide to find out what was wrong with you...  Warning: Nothing too much really, but it’s slightly Angsty I guess. Also the feels Requested by the amazing, patient and great anon: Hi~,Teen Wolf person again. Can i request a pack image where the reader is hiding something for the pack and the pack are all sort of catching on to it like chemosignals and behaviour. Eventually they kinda piece the bits together and figure it out. they all try to comfort you and help you get better. Something just along those lines.(They could be hiding selfharm stuff, family stuff or they like someone in the group or yeah, you can pick what your comfort writing for) Thank you have a nice day~

The California sun was beating down on Beacon Hills and its inhabitants, a feeling of peace and calm that was - by now - almost foreign in the city laid in the air and prompted the resident teenagers and young adults to enjoy a day away from school, stress and (for a very special group) life threatening situations. This particular group - the McCall pack, as they were known in the supernatural community of the city - decided to spend their free time on a very nice, but fairly unknown clearing in the beacon hill woods and for once being surrounded by these trees didn’t give them the vibe that one of them could probably die at any given moment. It was a rather nice change. “Uno,” Liam smiled as he slapped a +4 card onto the floor, making Mason groan and throw his head back. It was the third time in a row that Liam was winning and while it seemed to leave you completely cold it annoyed Mason to no end, but he couldn’t stop playing either until either you or him finally beat the wolf. While the three of you were sitting in your game circle, Malia, Lydia and Kira were lounging on a picnic blanket enjoying the sun and having their conversation. The only one who was sitting on the grass like a lost puppy was Stiles, phone in hand but seemingly not having the attention span to focus on it for more than five consecutive seconds. Originally he and Scott had been sitting there together talking about Lacrosse or girls or whatever the two of them talked about when they weren’t planning to save the city, but Scott had - after lots of pleading and begging on his betas part - disappeared into the direction of the city to buy some ice cream for everyone. “Y/N?” Liam shocked your shoulder and you had to shake your head to come back into reality and out of your thoughts. “Yes?” you looked at him with wide doe-eyes full of confusion. “It’s your turn.” “Oh, right, sorry, just lost in thoughts,” you smiled apologetically and shrugged before turning to your cards to think about your next move, not noticing how Liam and Mason exchanged a look. They had started to notice the change in your behaviour only recently. Your usual very cheery, always-seeing-the-best-in-everyone-and-everything self started to be stuck in your thoughts more often and your smile seemed just a little bit off lately. “Here you go,” you looked up again and put a +2 in front of Liam earning a quiet ‘Yessss’ from Mason at the prospect of finally beating his best friend, only to be sorely disappointed when a smirk immediately filled Liam’s face as he victoriously added his own - last - +2 card onto the pile, effectively winning the game and starting a rather useless discussion about whether the fact that the makers of Uno stated that putting a +2 on another +2 and making it a +4 wasn’t allowed counted anything. While Mason and Liam kept on blickering you pulled yourself up from the grass-floor and wandered over to the girls who welcomed you with kind smiles and made space for you on the blanket. As you sank down you were immediately pulled into Malias lap who hugged you into her and pressed her nose into your neck and y/h/l hair to smell you - a habit of hers that you had at first found more than disturbing but by now had gotten used to. In fact, the more time you spent with your not-quite-human friends and acquaintances, the more you noticed that they all had their own little versions of that, even though with Malia it was the most extreme since she was still the one running mostly on her basic instincts. At least that’s how Stiles explained it to you. He said that since you were logically seen the most vulnerable and ‘weak’ member of the pack their natural instincts where to protect and shield you from all dangers and make sure you are alright and - after your initial reaction of punching the hell out of Stiles’ shoulder in order to show him just how not-weak you were - you started registering it more and more. It was mostly very little things with Scott, Liam, Derek and in some situations (even though rarely) Peter like little hugs and giving you their clothes to scent you, pushing themselves in front of you in the face of even the most harmless of situations or the way they just sometimes randomly turned up at your house (this was mostly Scott, Liam and Malia though) to check if you’re okay even if they could just call. With Malia it was all that, but times ten in intensitivity. And the smelling. Malia herself wasn’t quite sure why, but she simply loved your natural scent. It always managed to calm her down. So you got used to her randomly smelling at you even if it did weird you out from time to time. Usually she would pull back after a few seconds, give you a happy smile and get back to what she was doing before like nothing happened, but this time when she drew back she looked at you displeased and confused. “Is something the matter?” you asked just as confused and now the other girls, who had gotten used to Malias antics and taken on the habit of just completely ignoring it in order not to get growled at, got curious as well and turned their attention towards you. “Something’s off,” Malia grumbled and scrunched her nose like she’s smelt something rotten. “Oi!” you scoffed and moved back a little, feign being offended, “Are you telling me I stink?” “No,” Malia sighed and rolled her eyes, “It’s not that, it’s just...your scent is- I don’t know how to put it really. Bitter? I think?” “What does that mean?” Lydia asked, her interest now seemingly spiked. “‘M not sure,” Malia shrugged and moved forward to take another good sniff at your hair, only for you to move your head back out of her reach and put your hands on her shoulders to keep her a distance away from you. “I think that’s quite enough,” you chuckled, but it sounded mechanical almost, “I appreciate the concern, but I don’t really think me smelling bitter means anything.” Noticing the way you held yourself defensive, something that you almost never did, all three of the girls wanted to investigate further, but you quickly moved off of Malia’s lap and stood up. “Oh look, there’s our ice cream,” you smiled as if nothing was happening and jogged over to your Alpha to help him. “This was weird, right? She’s acting weird, isn’t she?” Kira questioned and looked between the other two girls who nodded, “What’s that about?” “Not sure, but we gotta find out before the boys notice anything. Malia is bad enough already, but if the male wolfies find out we’ll have a real problem on our hands,” Lydia sighed and inspected you from afar. 

After then the three of them noticed it far more often, the way you held yourself changed and your smile seemed to lessen by the day. By the time you started to fold into yourself and Malia said that your smell was getting more bitter, to the extent that she could smell it above almost everything else surrounding you, they knew that it had gotten out of their hands. They had to involve the others as much as they dreaded their reactions. As they had predicted Scott, Liam and - surprisingly enough for a human - Stiles didn’t react kindly to it, immediately planning to confront you. But in a turn of events, their thirst for actions and the girls rational thinking evened each other out and they decided on an approach that was reluctant enough to not scare you away, while also - hopefully - pushing you to tell them what was wrong. They wanted to do it in an environment that you felt comfortable in so they decided to go to your place, but that meant that they couldn’t all come, since they didn’t want to overwhelm you either. So, after a long and exhausting discussion, they decided that Stiles would be the one who’d go in first to make sure everything was clear and then give the others a heads up to follow. The Pack was standing - as inconspicuous as it was possible for a group of five - on the other side of the street your house was in as Stiles was walking down your driveway, welcomed by a cute door plate that had obviously been made my a little child and he was pretty safe in his assumption that you had been the one who had made it when you were younger. After taking a breath of reassurance Stiles raised his hand and knocked on the door. You must have been near the door already, because not even ten second later the door was tipped open and you stared at him with tired eyes, in your alien Pajamas with messy hair. If Stiles had not known better he would have assumed you had tried to sleep. “Who is it Honey?” He heard the voice of your mother scream, but the usual sweet voice he was used to hearing from her was strained and mixed with annoyance. “Uhm...It’s Stiles! My friend from school, he was here last month to study for my english exam, you remember?” “Oh, yes,” your mother walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway, “Hello Stiles.” Stiles returned the greeting, but his thoughts were more occupied by the state of your mother. Her hair looked unwashed and even more messy than yours, obviously not because of sleep, but rather because she hadn’t brushed it in a while, there were red stains under her eyes, the skin around it dry and strained, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that she must have cried - a lot - and her blouse was wrinkled, which he knew from their previous meetings and what you had told him about her would usually be a no-go for her. “Well, if you’ll excuse me,” she smiled, but it was tight-lipped and obviously forced, but before she disappeared into the kitchen again she looked at you, “Y/N, make it fast please.” You just nodded and turned back to Stiles. “Hey,” he said again, a little bit uncertain now, the situation having thrown him off of the plan he had made in his head on the way from the pack to the door. “Hi,” you said and he had to admit that you were definitely your mothers daughter by the way your forced smile perfectly resembled hers. “I wanted to talk to you, uhm, we - I mean me and the pack by that, well it started with Lydia, Malia and Kira, but anyways - we noticed that you’ve been...how do I put this correctly- well, I guess you’ve been off more lately and so we’ve been worried, because usually you smile a lot and you always make unfunny jokes and all that and now you don’t so-” Stiles rambled and just let everything flow out at once, probably would have continued to do so if you hadn’t held up your hand to stop him. “Not-Not here, okay? I’ll answer your questions, but not here. Let’s take this outside, please,” you shut Stiles up and took his arm to lead him out of your house and onto your porch where you sat down on the stairs leading onto your front law. For a while there was silence as Stiles found himself unsure of what to do next, but he could basically feel the piercing stares of his friends on him. After a few seconds of contemplating he sat down beside you, while still keeping a little bit of distance - just to make sure he wasn’t too overwhelming. “So…” “Yeah, so…” “Why...have you been so off?” Stiles asked but honestly couldn’t help but cringe a bit at how completely un-smooth he sounded. “I- It’s-” you tried multiple approaches, but stopped yourself every time, only to sink your face into your hands and sigh, “I’m sorry.” You raised your face again and looked at Stiles and he could see the sadness, this slight sense of despair. “Hey, it’s okay, don’t rush yourself,” Stiles tried to comfort you, “If you can’t tell me that’s okay, we’re just all very worried about you. We want to make sure that you’re okay.” “No, it’s fine, I- I think I actually wanted to tell you all for a while, but- I don’t really know, it’s just been hard for me… My parent’s have been going through some rough patches for the last few months and now my dad - he,” you stopped again and hugged your arms around you, Stiles couldn’t help but notice the glistening of tears in your eyes, “-He moved out two weeks ago. I mean, sure there were signs, it wasn’t working well by all means, but moving out? That was pretty shocking for my mom and me.” By now the tears had started rolling down your face and Stiles couldn’t hold back anymore. He moved closer to you and laid his arm around your shoulder to pull you into him. It seemed that the pack couldn’t hold back anymore either, because only a few seconds either Lydia was kneeling in front of you holding your hands, the rest also finding positions around you - hoping to give you as much comfort as possible. You gave them a wet chuckle, even though your tears didn’t stop flowing. “I could’ve guessed that you’re not far. I’m sorry for being a mess.” “No, Don’t ever be sorry for feeling. We love you and that means that we’ll be there for you through the bad times just as we are in the good times,” Scott assured you and lovingly petted your head even though he knew that you always complained about how it made you feel like a little child or a puppy. “Thank you guys for being here - it’s just a lot right now. My mom is expecting me to be on her side, while my dad keeps expecting me to decide about where I’m going to live now. He wants me to move with him to New York into the city he grew up in, but I don't want to leave Beacon Hills. I have my whole life here, my school, you guys, my mom, literally everything, but I also don’t want to lose him- It’s just, I feel so torn and it seems like every choice I could take would be the wrong one,” you were full on sobbing at that point, but it was clear enough for your friends to understand you. “Hey, It’s okay,” Lydia tried to calm you down, “I know that this seems like an impossible choice, but I can assure you we will find a way. We’ve defeated some of the greatest evils that the world has seen and we were successful. We’ll be just as successful with this, okay?” You started nodding and for the first time in a while you were actually feeling just a little bit like yourself again, a sliver of home filling your heart at all your friends who were by your side and supporting you. “Lydia’s right,” Scott agreed. “There’s one thing I gotta ask though,” Liam started and before anyone else with a little more sense of sensibility could stop him asked: “Why didn’t you tell us before? I mean we’re you’re best friends ri-” At that moment Mason basically threw himself at him and put his hand in front of his mouth to shut him up. “You don’t have to answer that,” Kira assured you, but you just shook your head. “No, it’s fine, I get why he asked. I- I guess I just thought - it’s like Lydia said, we fight evil on a weekly base, we have to worry about so much more serious things than my stupid family drama.” “Now listen to me,” Lydia spoke up in her I-will-take-no-talkbacks-voice and looked at your sternly, “This is not stupid and it is by no means less imporant than anything else we do, okay? Maybe it’s not life-threatening or supernatural, but it is still hurting you and as friends we can’t let anything hurt our favorite human, can we now?” And in that moment everything was okay again - if only for just a few seconds - with your friends by your side and Stiles yelp of protest, because he insisted that he was at least Scott’s favorite human, - earning himself a look from Scott that told him that what Lydia said also applied to him - even made you laugh your normal laugh again. And so, when Malia finally got close enough to you with all your friends surrounding you to smell your scent, she found that your normal, sweet scent was finally returning again, and even though there was still a bitter undertone to it she now was sure that it would soon be back to her favorite scent again.

[lov3nerdstuff]

Hi Kay!

I just wanted to take a moment and say how deeply moving (and overall comforting) I find your writing to be! I've gone through almost the entirety of your masterlist twice in the past month alone and have found myself returning more often to the pieces of literature/poems your reference sometimes. (Especially that one poem by Benedict Smith! I've read a few more by him because of you and they're just wonderfully lovely 💛 so I'm eternally thankful to you for including it.)

I may be wrong in assuming, but I believe you may have studied/are currently studying a degree involving literature. I hope this isn't too foreward of me but I was wandering if you have any other works of literature that you'd recommend? (I'd love to read anything you recommend from poems to plays 💛) I'm slightly embaressed to say but the works I've read are quite limited to a highschool level and since I'm currently studying Pharmacy, there are very few people who can recommend me such moving works. :)

I also feel like I should apologise for writing such a large ask, so please accept this apology as well hehe 💕🥺

Sincerely,

Bek 🌻

Hey there Bek 💚💕✨

First of all... I'm incredibly sorry for how long it took me to reply to this ask, I know you sent it weeks ago and I'm honestly just ashamed of myself for only replying now! I've been taking a bit of a Tumblr break again, or rather a break from literally everything, and I guess not having written anything in a while made me feel guilty whenever I opened Tumblr, so... All I can say for myself really is that I'm sorry you had to wait so long! Again, I never ever ignore anyone, I promise! It just sometimes takes a while for me to reply 😅🙈

Now, I'm so happy to hear that you've been enjoying my writing! 🥺🥰 Hearing that it's comforting and inspiring to you is honestly such a relief and indeed does make me happy more than I can say 💚 It's so cool that you're checking up on all the references I make aaahhh 🥺🥺🥺 I love it 😁 You're always more than welcome, love! I don't think I could stop including references to literature, culture, history and the science around it even if I tried 😅☺️

And yeah, I did study classics and newer literature as a minor for my undergrad degree 😄 But tbh I still work with literally a lot even now (I'm in grad school for media and cultural studies) even though it's technically not something I've been properly taught ☺️ I'm just a nerd who likes to learn on her own, and with media and culture you can pretty much delve into almost anything you want 😂😅🤷🏻‍♀️

Now, it's not forward at all to ask me for literature recommendations! 😁😃 I truly love recommending stuff!!! I have a few up my sleeve, even though you've probably heard of a few already, for obvious reasons: A lot of what I truly enjoyed reading was something Tom Hiddleston has worked on in one way or another! It's truly a magnificent guideline for picking new literature... Just look up the literary origins of his films/shows/plays and you will be in for quality literature most of the time! I don't think I've ever mentioned it on here, but me reading High-Rise (JG Ballard) because I heard Tom would be partaking in the film adaptation was actually what sparked my love and passion for literature!!! Yep, it's that good. Now on to the recommendations though 😁(This... got rather long):

Plays

Anything by Harold Pinter really, but for obvious reasons you'll find a lot of additionally fun stuff for Betrayal, which is lovely and truly funny if you're in on the kind of humour btw

Medea by Euripides (a classic, but I love it nonetheless... You can find translations in almost every language) ((and pls stay away from Seneca's Medea, because ugh... Euripides is far better AND the og story, as much as anyone can say that for Greek mythology)

La Bohème by Puccini (I know, this is technically an opera, but if you read the libretto it's honestly just like a play... And if you're up for it, the og story is in prose and written by Henri Murger... It's better than the opera, but oftentimes more difficult to find) ((this one is hilarious and basically explains an entire cultural subgroup in the 19th century)

Faust by Goethe (many people hate it, but I LOVE this one!!! It's also been translated into any and every language, and it's so interesting philosophically!!! It's also referenced SO freaking often literally everywhere, and the operas and ballets based on it are always my fave) ((there's technically Faust I and Faust II, but you're good to go just reading the first one)

Anything by Shakespeare, obviously... Though I do love me my Hamlet like every other literature enthusiast (Yes, I can do that one famous soliloquy in act 3 scene 1 by heart as well...)

Poetry

Again, anything Shakespeare for the win, but I LOVE the sonnets and keep a copy of them with me most of the time (Yes, I own multiple copies of the sonnets...) ((My faves are 116 and 91, but there's always so much truth to be found in there!!!))

A lot of the stuff William Blake wrote is amazing, though you have to pick carefully with him if certain religious motives aren't your thing... I love The Tyger, which is an individual poem, and the collection of works called Tyger, Tyger which does have many good ones and a few ones that are a little more on the mediocre side

Do not go gentle into that good night by Dylan Thomas (I know this one by heart as well... It's beautiful, and there's a version of Hiddleston reading it on YouTube, which gives you even more goosebumps than the poem does anyway)

Invictus by William Ernest Henley (same for this one, also read by the one and only) ((I love to read this when I'm feeling down or powerless))

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T. S. Eliot (This is another wow piece with many quotable lines and truths... I love it a lot and keep coming back to it! It's also a great example of how literary modernism tried to condense the complexity and passing of time and history into a single frame that had to be intrinsically poetical in nature... As in, this poem could've been a short story in any other period, but modernists loved to make everything a poem so here you go)

Der Zauberlehrling by Goethe (This one sucks in all English translations I’ve found, poetically speaking, but in German it’s such a fun piece! If you’ve ever seen the Disney ‘The Sorcerer’s Apprentice’ with Mickey Mouse or listened to the orchestral piece by Paul Dukas, then this poem proves very useful in truly understanding either! But again, the English translation should only be taken for informational value... The German one is also worded hilariously)

Prose

Short edited by Alan Ziegler (This is a collection of short prose forms that honestly is a must for me... I love this book to pieces and have had it for years now! It’s an international anthology, so you’ll find more and less famous authors from all around the world represented with short stories, prose poems, short essays and just curious and interesting snippets of writing! I draw a lot of inspiration from this book)

High-Rise by JG Ballard (As mentioned above, I owe this book part of my personality... I don’t think I would be the same person without having read it. It’s not necessarily full of wisdom, but if you’re interested in a different kind of portrayal of the human condition, then this is the read you need to take a look at)

The City of Dreaming Books by Walter Moers (This is another piece that changed my perception of literature, even though this is a more ordinary and ‘fun’-value read... It’s one of my favourite books and it’s endlessly entertaining! So if the classics are a bit heavy for you, this one is perfect for casual readers as well! Its value really does lie more in the realisation of how fun literature can be, and the freedom you have as an author... So really, I could recommend everything by Moers, his style is amazing both in the German original and in the English translation. Yes, I’ve read both.)

Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett (This is comedic gold, stylistic gold and generally a bloody perfect book. Also a ‘fun’-value read, but it also does a magnificent job at showing you what you can do with literature, and how well-developed characters are supposed to be written)

The Penguin Book of the Undead (Penguin Classics) edited by Scott G. Bruce (This book is basically an education on fifteen hundred years of supernatural encounters and how culture wrote, used and perceived them. You get introductory texts for different periods and social groups, explaining how and why ghost stories were written and used, followed by passages of the prime source texts (eg. ancient necromancy shown on The Odyssey). Really, this book is just for cultural history nerds)

The Earthquake in Chile by Kleist (This isn’t necessarily one of my faves, but it has helped me understand what studying literature and culture can do for you. In case anyone remembers my insistence in Wicked Game that you gotta know what a pomegranate symbolises... this novella is such an instance where this knowledge would prove useful. Generally, it gives many opportunities to think about privilege and circumstance)

The Symposium by Plato (You’ll probably not want to read the entire collection of speeches tbh... But the concepts introduced mainly here and in some of Plato’s other work are well worth looking into! For example, the ‘double being’ introduces a concept that in modern fiction is called soulmates... Just sayin’)

[tsarisfanfiction]

Colour symbol prompts

Fluff: black: protection

John protecting Scott

The Role of Protector

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort Characters: John, Scott

Uh, so I kinda maybe missed the "fluff" part of the prompt. Whoops. Ah well - this prompt intrigued me a lot so who knows, I might write some more protector!John at a later date - hell knows I love it when Scott's being protected by little brothers for once, and there's a large scope for that out there (I already have a second idea for John, which might actually tend more towards fluff than this one - not that that's particularly hard...)

4am seems to have snuck up on me without warning, so while I have proof read this I can't guarantee it was a perfect proof read... But some protective!John (and a nice side dish of Scott!whump as well).

Colour Symbol Prompts

It wasn’t often that John found himself in this position. Spending most of the year on Thunderbird Five had something to do with that, of course, but it was hardly the only factor at play. The fact that the only brother with him at the moment was Scott was another – a younger brother, with the possible exception of Gordon, was somewhat more likely to put John in his current position, but Scott was a different matter entirely.

As big brother and former military with the skills to match, even if he didn’t like to show them, Scott was the protector of the family. It was a role he hoarded viciously, because if it had fallen to one of the others then, to Scott’s mind, he’d failed.

John would disagree. Their big brother was still only human himself, and John had a long list of grievances attached to the way he seemed unable to step back and recharge even for a moment. There were times, though, where the choice was stripped from Scott, leaving him vulnerable and leaving the role of protector to settle elsewhere temporarily.

It was normally Gordon, for all that he was fourth out of five. Military steel skipped over Virgil – too soft, Gordon had confided in him before, although John knew it wasn’t a complaint, or sleight against the brother between them at all. Being soft against a world determined to tear itself and everyone inside it apart on a regular basis took its own strength, and Gordon knew that better than most. The steel skirted around John himself, too, although he liked to think he still had sharp edges when he needed them – the fact that he was rarely there in person was just another reason for the role to pass him over. None of them were ready to let the steel go near Alan.

Gordon wasn’t there, off on the other side of the world with Virgil rescuing yet another fishing trawler in distress. Alan was stuck in the world of homework, leaving John alone with his big brother.

His barely-conscious big brother, slumped against a cave wall where John had deposited him despite Scott’s best efforts to the contrary. Blood was blotching the bandages hastily applied to his shoulder; those would need changing soon, but John had other priorities to worry about first. International Rescue didn’t carry weapons, but both Scott and Gordon had proved that with enough creativity most of their equipment could be utilised as such. Given the situation, John had taken a leaf out of their book – and the grapple gun from Scott’s hip, which he was currently aiming with less surety than he’d like at the narrow entrance to the cavern they were hiding in.

The distress call had been a set-up. John was beyond relieved that he’d been nudged out on the rescue by Scott, who’d declared that he needed the practice with Earth-rescues and it was just a simple one so it would be good to get his eye back in. Their assailants had been prepared for Scott.

They had not been prepared for John.

Although, to be fair, John had also not been prepared to see Scott collapse a little way ahead of him, nor for the gunshot that had immediately preceded that. He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d got both himself and Scott out of there without either of them taking any more bullets, but if pressed his guess would be that they’d been too surprised that Scott wasn’t alone to shoot immediately.

John had dragged his brother back, away from the assailants, and run through the cavern system as best he could with Scott injured and unco-operative to the sounds of angry shouts and pursuit. EOS had chirped in his ear that unauthorised personnel were attempting to gain access to Thunderbird One – she’d locked down the Thunderbird before anyone successfully got inside, but that had still meant that their only way out was blocked.

Instead, it was a waiting game – although it felt like a particularly dangerous form of hide and seek, if he was honest. He’d got in contact with the GDF via EOS, and they’d promised they were on their way. He just had to keep both Scott and himself safe until they did.

The small cave with its narrow entrance had been a find by EOS. Scott, of course, had tried to make him hide in there while he claimed he’d draw them away, but while that had made some sense in the form of the trail of blood leading right to them, it also made absolutely no sense for the same reason. John’s response had been to manhandle his unsteady and rapidly paling big brother into the cave and push him to sit down before he fell down.

His brother had not been best pleased, but John had been far more worried about the bullet and blood loss than keeping Scott happy. Still was, because despite the painkiller and bandaging, Scott was slipping further and further towards unconsciousness. John estimated he had two more minutes, at best, before Scott passed out entirely.

The GDF were more than two minutes out. It was touch and go if the blood trail would lead their assailants to their current location within two minutes. John tightened his grip on the borrowed grapple gun and swallowed.

He didn’t know if it was Scott in particular they were after, or if they’d just been planning to attack the first IR operative they saw. The lack of reliable data rankled; John despised being blind. EOS was digging, but so far nothing of note had come out of that.

But at the end of the day, what they wanted didn’t matter. They’d hurt Scott, they were hunting both of them, Thunderbird One was under assault, and John wasn’t normally the one with the role of protector on his shoulders but today he was, and he was going to do it justice.

They wouldn’t hurt Scott again. It didn’t matter if John had to use the grapple gun in ways it was not supposed to be used, or if he had to use his own body as a shield. He’d keep Scott safe.

The sound of something soft hitting the floor, which had to be Scott passing out because there was nothing else to fall, came at the same time as the voices. Angry voices, clearly following the blood trail, and John tensed.

All his instincts as a rescue operative were screaming for him to hurry to Scott’s side and check his condition. Common sense kept him where he was. Scott was around a craggy corner from the narrow entrance, impossible to see from the main cavern. As long as John didn’t move, there was no way they could get to Scott without going through him.

He kept his breathing low and even, counting his breaths silently to keep them under control. John wasn’t a fighter. Give him a computer and he’d destroy his target before they even realised what was happening, but in person was another matter entirely. He’d never even been able to scare off bullies at school, let alone armed assailants when all he had was the rescue gear in his and Scott’s uniforms.

There were many ways to win a war. Scott or Gordon would tackle the problem head on, offence the best form of defence, but they were trained for that. John wasn’t. John just had stories, some pranking experience, and his brain.

He didn’t need to beat their assailants. He just had to hold them off until the GDF arrived.

The voices were getting closer. Closer, closer, closer. John’s breathing hitched despite his best efforts to the contrary. Timing would be key. If he was even slightly out, then he’d have to fight for real, and while he’d stand his ground, he had no delusions about being able to win. He was too soon down from orbit for that, for starters.

They were close enough now for him to make out the words. Any chance that they had no idea where he and Scott were was destroyed by their discussions about the blood trail they were following. A blood trail that led straight to Scott.

John swallowed again. Sweat beaded on his brow, but he didn’t dare raise an arm to wipe it away. Both hands were locked around the grapple gun, still aiming through the narrow entrance. He couldn’t mess this up. Scott was – unconsciously, unwillingly – depending on him.

He could see them now. They hadn’t spotted him, too intent on the blood trail across the stone floor, but that could change at any moment. Three people, and he knew there were more but hopefully the others weren’t on hunting duty. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the best chance John was going to get.

It was the only chance he was going to get.

He pulled the trigger.

It was Scott he had to thank for the extensive knot knowledge, his big brother coaching him through the Rescue Scouts badges even when he just wanted to get the stargazing ones and leave it at that. Grapple cables weren’t rope, but they were strong and sturdy yet still malleable enough to loop over and around as required until he’d managed a makeshift net. Cable ties from his own baldric, meant for repairs in space, had been deployed as reinforcements.

Lay the net just so, set up large chunks of rocks to fall when hit in the sweet spot, and a rudimentary pulley system from yet another grapple cable – Scott’s baldric had been scavenged bare of useful items, including the trauma kit that was trying and failing to keep the blood in his body – and he had a way to contain the first wave of approaching assailants.

Hopefully.

John watched with bated breath as it all snapped together, cable-net wrapping around the assailants and hoisting them dramatically into the air, counter-balanced by the weight of as many rocks as he’d been able to shift in the short timespan he’d had to set up the trap. There was furious yelling.

A gunshot sounded.

More furious yelling.

The trap held.

How long it would hold for, John didn’t know, but he did know that he’d hear it if they escaped, so with a shaky exhale he backed away from the narrow entrance, clipping the now-empty grapple gun to his own baldric, and hurried to Scott’s side.

The bandages needed changing. John rolled him onto his side, putting him into the recovery position to keep him stable, and dug out fresh supplies. Scott didn’t stir as he stripped away the old, bloodstained, linen and replaced it with fresh strips. A check of his pulse told John what he already knew – Scott was still alive, but had lost far too much blood.

If John had managed to capture all of the assailants, his plan had been to get Scott back to Thunderbird One and head straight for the nearest hospital. Unfortunately, that had not been the case, so he was forced to accept Plan B – wait for the GDF to show up and hope they arrived before any other ill-wishers.

John had only had enough equipment for a single trap.

[arcticdementor]

In a democracy, every vote is supposed to be equal. If about half the country supports one side and half the country supports another, you may expect major institutions to either be equally divided, or to try to stay politically neutral.

This is not what we find. If it takes a position on the hot button social issues around which our politics revolve, almost every major institution in America that is not explicitly conservative leans left. In a country where Republicans get around half the votes or something close to that in every election, why should this be the case?

This post started as an investigation into Woke Capital, one of the most important developments in the last decade or so of American politics. Although big business pressuring politicians is not new (the NFL moved the Super Bowl from Arizona over MLK day), the scope of the issues on which corporations feel the need to weigh in is certainly expanding, now including LGBT issues, abortion laws, voting rights, kneeling during the national anthem, and gun control.

…

As I started to research the topic, however, I realized there wasn’t much to explain. Asking why corporations are woke is like asking why Hispanics tend to have two arms, or why the Houston Rockets have increased their number of 3-point shots taken over the last few decades. All humans tend to have two arms, and all NBA teams shoot more 3-pointers than in the past, so focusing on one subset of the population that has the same characteristics as all others in the group misses the point.

I think one reason Woke Capital is getting so much attention is because we expect business to be more right-leaning, and corporations throwing in with the party of more taxes and regulation strikes us as odd. We are used to schools, non-profits, mainline religions, etc. taking liberal positions and feel like business should be different. But business is just being assimilated into a larger trend.

Corporations are woke, meaning left wing on social issues relative to the general population, because institutions are woke. So the question becomes why are institutions woke?

…

Through the lens of ordinal utility, in which people simply rank what they want to happen, we are about equal. I prefer Republicans to Democrats, while you have the opposite preference. But when we think in terms of cardinal utility – in layman’s terms, how bad people want something to happen – it’s no contest. You are going to be much more influential than me. Most people are relatively indifferent to politics and see it as a small part of their lives, yet a small percentage of the population takes it very seriously and makes it part of its identity. Those people will tend to punch above their weight in influence, and institutions will be more responsive to them.

Elections are a measure of ordinal preferences. As long as you care enough to vote, it doesn’t matter how much you care about the election outcome, as everyone’s voice is the same. But for everything else – who speaks up in a board meeting about whether a corporation should take a political position, who protests against a company taking a position one side or the other finds offensive, etc. – cardinal utility maters a lot. Only a small minority of the public ever bothers to try to influence a corporation, school, or non-profit to reflect certain values, whether from the inside or out.

In an evenly divided country, if one side simply cares more, it’s going to exert a disproportionate influence on all institutions, and be more likely to see its preferences enacted in the time between elections when most people aren’t paying much attention.

…

Here are two graphs that have been getting a lot of attention

What jumps out to me in these figures is not only how left leaning large institutions are, but how the same is true for most professions. Whether you are looking by institution or by individuals, there are more donations to Biden than Trump. Yet Republicans get close to half the votes! Where are the Trump supporters? What these graphs reveal is a larger story, in which more people give to liberal causes and candidates than to conservative ones, even if Americans are about equally divided in which party they support (and no, this isn’t the result of liberals being wealthier, the connections between income and ideology or party are pretty weak). Here are some graphs from late October showing Biden having more individual donors than Trump in every battleground state.

…

In the 2012 election, Obama raised $234 million from small individual contributors, compared to $80 million for Romney, while also winning among large contributors.

…

In September 2009, at the height of the Tea Party movement, conservatives held the “Taxpayer March on Washington,” which drew something like 60,000-70,000 people, leading one newspaper to call it “the largest conservative protest ever to storm the Capitol.” Since that time, the annual anti-abortion March for Life rally in Washington has drawn massive crowds, with estimates for some years ranging widely from low six figures to mid-to-high six figures. March for Life is not to be confused with “March for Our Lives,” a pro-gun control rally that activists claim saw 800,000 people turn out in 2018. All these events were dwarfed by the Women’s March in opposition to Trump, which drew by one estimate “between 3,267,134 and 5,246,670 people in the United States (our best guess is 4,157,894). That translates into 1 percent to 1.6 percent of the U.S. population of 318,900,000 people (our best guess is 1.3 percent).” Even if the two left-wing academics who did this research are letting their bias infuse their work, there is no question that protesting is generally a left-wing activity, as conservatives themselves realize.

People who engage in protesting care more about politics than people who donate money, and people who donate money care more than people who simply vote. Imagine a pyramid with voters at the bottom and full-time activists on top, and as you move up the pyramid it gets much narrower and more left-wing. Multiple strands of evidence indicate this would basically be an accurate representation of society.

Another line of evidence showing that the left simply cares more about politics comes from Noah Carl, who has put together data showing liberals are in their personal lives more intolerant of conservatives than vice versa across numerous dimensions in the US and the UK. Those on the left are more likely to block someone on social media over their views, be upset if their child marries someone from the other side, and find it hard to be friends with or date someone they disagree with politically. Here are two graphs demonstrating the general point.

…

There’s a great irony here. Conservatives tend to be more skeptical of pure democracy, and believe in individuals coming together and forming civil society organizations away from government. Yet conservatives are extremely bad at gaining or maintaining control of institutions relative to liberals. It’s not because they are poorer or the party of the working class – again, I can’t stress enough how little economics predicts people’s political preferences – but because they are the party of those who simply care less about the future of their country.

Debates over voting rights make the opposite assumption, as conservatives tend to want more restrictions on voting, and liberals fewer, with National Review explicitly arguing against a purer form of democracy. Conservatives may be right that liberals are less likely to care enough to do basic things like bring a photo ID and correctly fill out a ballot. If this is true, Republicans are the party of people who care enough to vote when doing so is made slightly more difficult but not enough to do anything else, while Democrats are the party of both the most active and least active citizens. Yet while being the “care only enough to vote” party might be adequate for winning elections, the future belongs to those at the tail end of the distribution who really want to change the world.

The discussion here makes it hard to suggest reforms for conservatives. Do you want to give government more power over corporations? None of the regulators will be on your side. Leave corporations alone? Then you leave power to Woke Capital, though it must to a certain extent be disciplined and limited by the preferences of consumers. Start your own institutions? Good luck staffing them with competent people for normal NGO or media salaries, and if you’re not careful they’ll be captured by your enemies anyway, hence Conquest’s Second Law. And the media will be there every step of the way to declare any of your attempts at taking power to be pure fascism, and brush aside any resistance to your schemes as righteous anger, up to and including rioting and acts of violence.

…

From this perspective we might want to consider this passage from Scott Alexander, who writes the following in his review of a biography of Turkish president Recep Tayyip Erdogan.

The normal course of politics is various coalitions of elites and populace, each drawing from their own power bases. A normal political party, like a normal anything else, has elite leaders, analysts, propagandists, and managers, plus populace foot soldiers. Then there's an election, and sometimes our elites get in, and sometimes your elites get in, but getting a political party that's against the elites is really hard and usually the sort of thing that gets claimed rather than accomplished, because elites naturally rise to the top of everything.

But sometimes political parties can run on an explicitly anti-elite platform. In theory this sounds good - nobody wants to be elitist. In practice, this gets really nasty quickly. Democracy is a pure numbers game, so it's hard for the elites to control - the populace can genuinely seize the reins of a democracy if it really wants. But if that happens, the government will be arrayed against every other institution in the nation. Elites naturally rise to the top of everything - media, academia, culture - so all of those institutions will hate the new government and be hated by it in turn. Since all natural organic processes favor elites, if the government wants to win, it will have to destroy everything natural and organic - for example, shut down the regular media and replace it with a government-controlled media run by its supporters.

When elites use the government to promote elite culture, this usually looks like giving grants to the most promising up-and-coming artists recommended by the art schools themselves, and having the local art critics praise their taste and acumen. When the populace uses the government to promote popular culture against elite culture, this usually looks like some hamfisted attempt to designate some kind of "official" style based on what popular stereotypes think is "real art from back in the day when art was good", which every art school and art critic attacks as clueless Philistinism. Every artist in the country will make groundbreaking exciting new art criticizing the government's poor judgment, while the government desperately looks for a few technicians willing to take their money and make, I don't know, pretty landscape paintings or big neoclassical buildings.

The important point is that elite government can govern with a light touch, because everything naturally tends towards what they want and they just need to shepherd it along. But popular/anti-elite government has a strong tendency toward dictatorship, because it won't get what it wants without crushing every normal organic process. Thus the stereotype of the "right-wing strongman", who gets busy with the crushing.

So the idea of "right-wing populism" might invoke this general concept of somebody who, because they have made themselves the champion of the populace against the elites, will probably end up incentivized to crush all the organic processes of civil society, and yoke culture and academia to the will of government in a heavy-handed manner.

To put it in a different way, to steelman the populist position, democracy does not reflect the will of the citizenry, it reflects the will of an activist class, which is not representative of the general population. Populists, in order to bring institutions more in line with what the majority of the people want, need to rely on a more centralized and heavy-handed government. The strongman is liberation from elites, who aren’t the best citizens, but those with the most desire to control people’s lives, often to enforce their idiosyncratic belief system on the rest of the public, and also a liberation from having to become like elites in order to fight them, so conservatives don’t have to give up on things like hobbies and starting families and devote their lives to activism.