#in his plan 9 shirt… Gerard…

[gerardpilled]

Just in case twitter implodes I need to document one of my favorite tweets

[ollieofthebeholder]

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] || Also on AO3

Chapter 18: July 2016

Gerard stares up at the lighted window of the house across the street, hugging his shoulders.

Somebody is there, at any rate. She isn’t the sort to just leave lights on if she isn’t going to be home, or if she’s gone to bed. And it’s a bit early for that, really. Theoretically, he guesses it could be one of her housemates, but somehow, he doesn’t think so.

Gerard takes a deep breath to steady his sudden nerves. Relaxing his grip on his shoulders, he looks down at his hands. They’re rock-steady and pain-free. He feels solid, energized…healthy.

He also feels more than a little guilty. He knows he did what he had to—and he’s been in this life long enough to know that people like, well, like him are somewhat limited in their choices. But that doesn’t mean there weren’t choices. He just isn’t sure what there might be outside of “feed or starve,” and since he doesn’t want his family to worry about him on sight, he chose the former. There has to be a third option. One that won’t hurt…well, anybody.

He just needs to talk it over with them to figure out what it is.

Another deep breath, and Gerard crosses the street, slipping from shadow to shadow out of habit. The door needs a fresh coat of paint, and the knocker could do with a polish, but it’s the same familiar door, with—crucially—the same familiar knob and keyhole. He stoops down and examines the cluster of smooth, fist-sized river rocks next to the stoop, then plucks up one with a thin band of ocher across the center and turns it over. The key is still there, tucked behind a false panel. Gerard unlocks the door, replaces the key, and slips inside, taking care to lock the door behind him.

“Who’s there?” Melanie’s voice from the living room—just a couple of meters away—wavers between angry challenge and wobbly fear.

Instead of answering, Gerard moves forward slowly and steps into the room.

It isn’t just Melanie—he expected that. Martin stands in front of her, the same expression and posture he always gets when he put himself between them and danger, be it something called up by or in relation to whatever they’d hunted down or the women who controlled their lives for so long. He expected that, too. What he didn’t expect was Martin to be covered with bandages, encircling both arms and plastered to his neck and face, his left hand nearly immobilized, his shirt likely indelibly stained with blood and viscera. Or for there to be other people in the room.

He barely notices them, hardly spares them a glance. His eyes are fixed on Martin and Melanie, on the shock and fear and, yes, suspicion on both their faces. All the words he hoped, planned, to say stick in his throat. He simply stares.

Slowly, Martin reaches up with one trembling hand and pulls his glasses down—not all the way off, just past the end of his nose. His eyes go unfocused, and the familiar soft static-y sound fills the room. The pain that accompanies it is much duller than usual; Gerard doesn’t know if it’s because he belongs less to the Beholding than before or if it’s just that he’s used to it now.

After a moment, the static fades. Martin slides his glasses back onto his face and says in a small, pained, regret-laden voice, “Oh, Gerry.”

Gerard isn’t conscious of his decision to move. One minute he’s by the door, the next he’s across the room, arms outstretched, and both Martin and Melanie are hugging him. They’re warm and solid, so warm it almost burns, but it feels right, too, and oh, he’s missed them both so much. He doesn’t bother to try and fight back the tears pricking at his eyes. For long moments, they just stand there like that, clinging to one another. Martin trembles slightly, which isn’t a surprise, he always feels things more deeply than the others do.

Then Melanie pulls back from the hug, hauls back her arm, and punches Gerard in the shoulder. Hard.

“Ow!”

“‘Mother, may I?’” Melanie hisses at him, voice dripping with anger and dismay. “You fucking idiot.”

“Look,” Gerard starts defensively, pulling back as well. Then his brain catches up with what Melanie just said. “Wait, how did you…”

He trails off as he finally registers the three people sitting on Melanie’s sofa, staring up at him with varying degrees of shock and confusion. Two of them are men Gerard has never seen before, one also bandaged and with a jumper Gerard recognizes as Martin’s draped over his shoulders like a blanket. The other is the woman who claimed to work in the Archives, the one who was almost taken by the thing that wasn’t the Corruption.

“Oh,” he says, a bit stupidly.

“I take it that it, in fact, can be?” the woman says with a lifted eyebrow.

“Uh, yeah.” Martin sighs and waves a hand at the other three. “Sasha James, Tim Stoker, Jonathan Sims…this is Gerard Keay. Somehow.”

“It’s not what you think,” Gerard says. Anxiety curls at his stomach as he realizes that Martin and Melanie were probably informed of his death, at least in some part. They have to be thinking…

Melanie snorts at him. “It’s not what we think? So you did fake your death and waste a year and a half avoiding your promises instead of somehow making a deal with one of Them that got you brought back to life at a terrible cost?”

Gerard pauses. “Okay, so maybe it is what you think.”

“Sit down, you moron.” Melanie points at Martin. “You, too. How long has it been? I’m guessing him digging his hands into your back didn’t help matters.”

What of Martin’s cheeks are visible under the bandages turn pink, and Gerard realizes with horror that emotion probably wasn’t the source of his shaking moments ago. He wasn’t careful with the hug. “Not long enough for more, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Still.” Melanie waves for him to sit down and points a threatening finger at Gerard, then disappears in the direction of the kitchen.

Gerard takes a seat, slowly, and looks at the woman introduced—finally—as Sasha. “I guess you played your tape for them.”

“I mean, that was the whole point,” Sasha says with a shrug. “So Jon would have a record of what happened.”

“I thought you were recording for the Archivist,” Gerard says, puzzled. “You says it was for your boss.”

“I am the Head Archivist.” The bandaged man, presumably Jonathan Sims, speaks softly.

Dread runs through Gerard’s body. “What happened to Gertrude?”

Both Jonathan—Jon—and Tim open their mouths to answer, but Martin beats them to it, his voice rising in volume and pitch. “You were working with Gertrude Robinson?”

“Who’s Gertrude Robinson?” Melanie calls from the direction of the kitchen.

“She was the Archivist before Jon,” Martin calls back without taking his eyes off of Gerard.

Melanie appears in the doorway, holding the weirdly abstract mug that she always uses as a passive-aggressive capstone to punishment for a transgression or fuck-up, which, honestly, fair. “So let me get this straight. You went haring off around the world at the drop of a hat to help out someone working for the Magnus Institute, in the Archives no less—without an employment contract to protect you—got yourself killed in the process, made a deal with the devil to get brought back, turned up at the Institute in the middle of a crisis, and deliberately put yourself in a position to piss off your new patron so bad he reminded you what killed you in the first place in a very physical manner. Now you’ve turned up here to, what, spook at us?”

“Well, when you put it that way. Christ.” Gerard reaches for the mug. “How much lemon did you put in this?”

“I’m not that mad at you. Yet.” Melanie hands him the tea and sits down with a huff. “I make no promises about the milk.”

“Tell me you’re siblings without telling me you’re siblings,” Tim says, not quite under his breath. Sasha snorts at him.

Jon rubs at his forehead. “Right. I…” He looks up at Martin with an extremely vulnerable expression. “Are we—is this place safe?”

“Should be, unless Andy took something important with him when he left.” Martin directs the last part of this sentence at Melanie.

She shakes her head. “Knocked a couple points out of alignment, but it’s nothing I haven’t fixed before.”

“Points? Like a pentagram?” Tim is the only one of the three people sitting opposite Gerard and his siblings who seems like he knows anything about…well, anything. “You’re not a witch, are you?”

“Nah. And technically it’s a—what’s the shape called?”

“Tetradecagram,” Martin says automatically. Gerard can’t help the proud grin that splits his face.

Melanie nods. “Okay, so we sort of cobbled it together from a couple different sources, but it’s kept us safe thus far.”

Tim frowns at Martin. “So why didn’t you have one at your place?”

“I did. That’s the only reason she didn’t manage to get at me,” Martin says quietly. “A couple tried squeezing in through the gaps and fried almost instantly. She probably would’ve broken it sooner or later if she’d really wanted to, though.”

“Okay, more important question. If you know how to set these things—”

“Why didn’t I set one at the Institute?” Martin completes. Tim nods. “First of all, the candles are kind of a key component of it, and I wasn’t about to risk actually setting the Archives on fire if—”

“Wait, you work in the Archives?” Gerard blurts out, staring at Martin in horror.

“I didn’t get a choice,” Martin snaps back. “Elias appointed me to the Archives, God only knows why, since he sure as hell didn’t want Jon knowing what’s really going on. Maybe he just knew I’d eventually try to get away if I was anywhere fucking else in the Institute and he wanted to keep me trapped. Either way, it wasn’t a yes or no question, it was a ‘pack your shit and get it downstairs so everything is in place before your new boss shows up’ and putting a really sharp desk ornament in my way so I cut my hand open and bled on the dotted line before I could tell him where to shove it, although knowing Elias he would’ve had to pull out his head and the stick first and probably still use a hammer. And, again, you have officially lost the right to lecture me about my job, because at least the Institute’s employment contracts have guarantees.”

From the shocked and slightly awed expressions on the faces of the people on the sofa, Gerard guesses they’ve never seen Martin lose his temper, let alone in full combat mode. Gerard has, however, and while Martin might be right, that doesn’t mean he has to let him know that. He folds his arms over his chest. “Uh-huh. And it’s going to benefit you in the long run…how, exactly?”

Martin sucks in a deep breath, but Melanie opens her mouth before he can, leaning around him and hitting Gerard with a glare hot enough to melt glass. “You lost the right to make that argument when you told us you backed your mum and Lily about Martin Looking for books, even though you knew where it would lead too.”

Guilt stabs Gerard in the gut and deflates him instantly. “I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s just…God, the Archives?”

“Again, I didn’t get a choice.” Martin sighs, also deflating. “Besides. I’d probably have ended up down there eventually, let’s be realistic. It’s just a damn good thing Elias didn’t decide to appoint me Archivist.”

Gerard shivers. “Let’s not think about that. Uh, no offense,” he adds, looking over at Jon.

“None taken?” Jon doesn’t sound too sure of himself. He looks up at Martin. “Ah…second of all?”

“Huh? Oh.” Martin takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes tiredly for a moment. Gerard notices he keeps them closed until he’s slid the frames back into place. “It’s designed very specifically to keep out the Fourteen. And one of them…is the Institute, kind of. At any rate, it belongs there. Can’t keep it out if it’s part of the very stones of the place.”

Jon pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Okay, we…I think there are a lot of questions that need to be answered here. I just…need to figure out where to start.”

Gerard holds up a finger. “Can I start? Nobody ever answered my first question. What happened to Gertrude Robinson?”

“She’s dead,” Jon says. “Or…at least that’s what I was told. That she had ‘unexpectedly passed away’ last year.”

“Has…I hate to ask this, but I know the old bat. Has anyone seen her body?” Gerard asks hesitantly. He wants to believe she’s still alive…somehow…but he’s also terrified that she died at the hands of those two Hunters and her corpse is rotting somewhere in America.

Tim slowly raises his hand. “I…found her. Tonight. In those tunnels under the Institute. The, um, the police are looking for her body now. It’s a maze down there, I think it’s the remains of the old Millbank Prison, and I just—I was panicking and scared and I can’t remember where I found her.”

“And she’s still recognizable after being dead for more than a year?” Melanie frowns. “I mean, he is, but I think we can all agree he’s not a normal case. The air must be pretty good down there if you could still make out it was her.”

Tim barks out a surprised-sounding laugh. “It’s cold and dry, that’s for sure. And I think there might be limestone in there, maybe. Either way, yeah, she was, um, pretty well preserved. Actually, I’m surprised I recognized her. I only saw her like twice, and always from a distance.”

“How did she die?” Jon asks. He pulls Martin’s jumper more tightly around his shoulders, not seeming to realize he’s doing it. “Could you tell?”

“Yeah, I could tell.” Tim takes a deep breath. “It wasn’t natural, Jon. She was shot.”

“Shot?” Gerard repeats. Oh, God, it was the Hunters, that’s why they were in America, they shot Gertrude and fled the country…hang on, though, that doesn’t make sense. He turns to Martin, forgetting for a moment that he doesn’t know what happened to him. “Wouldn’t that sort of thing have been talked about? If a couple of Hunters took out the Archivist?”

“Probably. But it wasn’t a Hunter that did it,” Martin replies.

“It wasn’t?” Gerard blinks, confused. Wait, how the hell does Martin know that?

Something flashes in Jon’s eyes, a look of pure devastation, there and gone in a second. Gerard almost asks about it, but Sasha speaks up first. “How do you know?”

Martin stares into his mug of tea. “Because he showed me. Put the memory in my head as a warning.” He gives a bitter laugh. “Not really something I can go to the police with, and he’s not stupid, there won’t be any evidence. He just wanted me to live with the knowledge that he did it, and could do it again, and there’s not a whole lot I can do about it, is there?”

Gerard’s stomach lurches. Melanie’s frown deepens. “Put the memory in your head? That sounds like a…wait, who did kill Gertrude Robinson?”

“Martin?” Jon’s voice is slightly plaintive. There’s a lot of nuance and emotion packed into the two syllables of the name.

Martin doesn’t answer right away. After a second, however, he says softly, “Elias.”

[preciadosbass]

15/8/24 [1 DIY/2, if you concider the jacket diy due to the custom aspects + got 2 CDS!! key & significant photos at end]

reguarding the end of yesterdays journal, the update for when i actually went to sleep was 3:40-50. i woke up today at 8, fed boris and briefly said goodmorning to him, checked my socials, and got to adding a new addition to the things i post. i’ve decided to do weekly recaps/highlights to focus on the cool things i’ve done because i can imagine most people dont want to read the long journals i write and find out if there’s anything interesting hidden in there. i therefore started screenshotting parts of my previous journals to write it down and make a draft/drafts. at 9:20 i started making just random drafts, like unposted pictures ive taken at reptile experience, things like that.

AND saw the new gerard way sighting via my tumblr feed!! apparently he was at the cinema again XD — at 9:30 i started downloading drawing references of my fav musicians and got to drawing my killjoy oc again at the same sort of time. i finished at 10:30 and had to keep on redrawing stuff before uploading it to my phone because i couldn’t find a layer id drawn scribbles on so i could delete it lmaoo // i’m not really happy with how it came out, look for more than a quarter of a millisecond and you notice everything wrong with it. hopefully if i keep up drawing everyday i’ll improve.

i cant expect much from a second time drawing since like 4 years ago but i’m just disappointed. everyone else on here is so talented *cries /hj* i scrolled on scenemo-related posts on my tiktok feed until getting ready to go out. i didn’t plan on going out today, mostly because i thought i’d be sleeping all day, but i didn’t have the urge to go back to sleep so i tagged along to see some family with my parents. i got dressed into my dark cargo jorts [told you i’d be wearing these a lot] and my skinless shirt, as that and my silent hill shirt are the only ones that go with the cargos. i also accidentally forgot all of my bracelets, so i felt naked the entire time i was out. 11:20, i went outside with boris.

he was SO affectionate and spent the whole time i was out there circling around me while pressing his-self onto my back and then going over to my hand to nudge it, and prompt me to stroke him. he’s like this almost all the time but something about it today just made me more happy than usual. i literally couldnt stop smiling. like he was propped up on me that’s so adorable 😭. i must’ve looked crazy to all the people driving past though. i stayed out until 12:10 when i had to leave.

i went out to see my grandad at his assisted living facility, his daughter [my distant aunt], and my other grandad, of whom i didn’t know was coming until we got there. i listened to underoath and paramore during the car ride and we got there at 12:30. i was greeted by the care home’s cat and with my grandad [the one who lives independently] WITH LITERALLY JUST HIS FRONT TEETH AND NO OTHER ONES APART FROM HIS BOTTOM SET 😭 he talked about something to do with this when i came round his house not too long ago but i thought he’d have more than two?? just joking, he found it funny i was surprised too.

the care home had this outside music thingy on so me, my mum, and my mums dad sat in the garden while my aunt and dad wheeled my grandad down to our table. he wasn’t as unresponsive as he sometimes is today. it was clear he tried to make conversation and said a few things which were just so - him. [he has dementia and dosent usually speak/has little to no mobility to an extent/has been this way since i can remember etc. just tryna give you an idea of why this was amazing.] a few times he came out with like, full sentences, which was nice to hear. my aunt also gave me the can tabs shes been collecting for me. me and my dad left to go charity shopping [thrifting] at 2, while the others stayed. we went into at least seven/eight and in the third i found an evanescence cd RAA - such a good find. not even a minute later my dad pointed out an avril lavigne cd which i also took and bought.

i cant wait to play them both, i just need to find something to do while listening. i’m bad at just listening to music without another task, i end up focusing on my thoughts and not taking in or processing any of the lyrics etc. me and dad walked back to the home and sat with the others for a bit before my dad and aunt took my grandad back up to the living room area. to be fair it was getting colder and we had to head off anyways. he didn’t like the lift very much but they eventually got him into his signature chair around all of his housemates and i said goodbye to him. i gave him a hug and he kissed me on the top of my head without any prompt whatsoever, which was heartwarming. we starting driving back at 3 and i listened to gerard way on the way home before having not even a minute long nap.

we got home at 3:10 and boris was so happy to see me. he ran up to the car once we’d parked and meowed at me while lifting up his head for me to stroke it. i stayed outside with him and added the new can tabs to my tab bracelet. it was enough to finish it so i tied it off and it’s a perfect fit. its big enough to go down my arm a bit, but not big enough to fall off my wrist. at 4:50 i randomly sparked an idea to make an upcycled necklace with one of my favourite musicians on it. i didn’t have any pictures of jaime or chi that were small enough to fit on a bottlecap, so i resorted to a print of kellin quinn. my dad drilled holes through a corona bottlecap and once he was done i used mod-podge to still the picture onto it. i left it to dry on a book and went back outside with boris.

he came inside to sit on the table so i also sat there with him until around 7:20 as my phone ran out. while i was sitting with him however, i attempted to draw my killjoy oc again. its honestly embarrassing so i’m never letting anyone see it and i hope i neevr do again — but it’s a shame because i genuinely thought it’d turn out alright. in my room i checked to see if my necklace had dried [it had], doomscrolled on tiktok, and saved outfit inspo. this lasted up until 8:30 and at this time i got dressed again to try on one of the outfits in question, just so i knew how it looked on me so i can wear it the next time i do something.

the outfit was: [there’s a photo at the end but you can’t see a few things because of the lighting] a sleeping with sirens shirt, with a long sleeved burgundy shirt underneath it rolled up to just above my elbows. with my can tab bracelet, a studded single rowed cuff, a wooden bracelet, a string bracelet consisting of lots of shades of blue, an earth colour schemed crystal ball bracelet, ripped skinny jeans, and a sleeping with sirens band bracelet. after taking photos for journal reference and so i don’t forget anything when i wear it, i found a plain black zip up jacket. i took a few pins off my backpack and added them to the pockets and neck piece/line.

they consisted of: a saw pin, a paper clip with the gay flag on [again, not even really because i’m gay - i just love the colours, a paper clip with a black stone/crystal sphere attatched, a pin implying taxidermy, a kellin quinn pin, and a pentagram pin. i tried it on, and maybe it’s just because of the general heat [although i tried it on at night and my room dosent have a working radiator or anything] but it warms me up almost immediately. which is great because i haven’t worn a coat since i started dressing alt and im always cold. i did all of the above while listening to my new evanescence cd — my favourite song from the album hasnt changed, its imaginary. afterwards i went out to the kitchen table and sat with boris.

my sister suddenly [i say suddenly, she’s always like this - which is why it’s so draining.] started screaming at the top of her lungs and jumping and punching the floor [the ceiling above the kitchen] and it was terrifying boris and archie. boris was already panicking, and then it set off the dog because he must’ve thought someone was dying. it was deafening. i went upstairs, frustrated, because she genuinely acts like she dosent share a house with anyone else and screams while gaming everyday; despite also being told to quiet down everyday. she also knows how loud she’s being, and how sound sensitive me and the animals are. anyway, i asked her to be quiet because she’s scaring boris [in an slight angry tone, because it was angering. but not like, anywhere near shouting.] and she replied with something along the lines of ‘no im not, and i don’t care.’

i told her to stop again and she shook her head and continued speaking to whoever she was playing a game with. i just said her name, again, implying for her to stop and she smirked and started waving at me. i said ‘what is wrong with you?’, she told me she hates me, and i walked off. then i cried for like 30mins because i felt guilty about saying that. i’m just really sick and tired of my cat, who lives here, feeling scared in his own home because of her. aswell as me, i also feel on edge here because of the whole screaming thing, and how angry she gets over it when she’s told to shut her door or quiet down. [shutting doors dosent make a difference though, as our house is from the 1800s and the walls are paper thin.] i carried on accompanying boris and made a couple of gerard way gifs at 11.

i went into my room for a split second and when i came back i saw that boris was sitting in corner beside the doorway of the kitchen. which i immediately thought was really weird, and then i saw that he’d been sick. i called my dad because i don’t know how to clean stuff like that up from our old floors and tried my best to comfort him. he wasn’t really having it, which makes sense because he obviously couldn’t have been feeling good. it was a hairball, thankfully [and unkthankfully, of course], most likely due to him licking/biting out lots of his hair because of the bugs from outside getting on him. my mum will be giving him treatment for it soon, it’s just always trouble when its applied, because he gets very agitated and one he runs away, your not getting another chance. and if you do get through to him and apply the treatment, you can’t really fuss him for over a day.

which is such an obstacle for me because i try my best to spend a lot, if not all, of my free time with him. he kept on wanting to go outside afterwards, so i left him to his own devices as he was still quite skittish over being around anyone. at 12:20 i was in my room after checking if he wanted to come in, when i decided i was gunna nap. i slept on and off for 10 minutes before my mum came back from being out with her friend. i napped again, this time on and off for 15-20 minutes. she came back once id woken up and let boris in with her. he straight away had something to eat at the bowls outside my room’s door and was purring. my mum told me that it was raining outside so i felt terrible that id accidentally left him out there while i slept. hopefully he managed to get under my dads car/the bit over the front door but he was clearly wet.

i attempted to fuss him and apologise. i spoke to my mum about why i think he’s not okay and then got the yes to coming up and doing the questions. on the way upstairs, boris followed me round the living room and onto the living room table. he put his head back for me to stroke it and purred again. which sort of gave me the idea that he was/is feeling better, which i hope with every part of me is the case. upon going up to ask the questions, my sister got into a huge heated argument with my parents over some update that’s coming to one of the game she plays tomorrow. she said that it’s being released at 4am our [UK] time.

my mum said my sister could put an alarm on her phone, but she said that it won’t wake her up and started begging my parents to wake up at 4 to get her up. they said no and she started screaming and everything. she finally went into her room after my dad looked it up and found out it’s allegedly happening at 9, so she got her phone back for 10 minutes to put on another alarm and tell her friend that the original time is most likely wrong. i started doing my questions after my sister agreed she wouldn’t disrupt them and everything would still be okay, even though she’s not supposed to be awake when i do things like this. mainly because of change in routine.

i started doing my questions and she came into my parents room and i had to stop. she eventually left after kind of verifying that didn’t mess everything up and i finished doing my questions. i actually managed to get downstairs at 2:25, so that’s also when i finished them. it took longer that it should’ve because of the really long argument and after boris being sick, i had even more reasons to believe he isn’t okay. and, my parents didn’t ask me to do them until quite late. i went on to pour myself some icy water, feed boris, do my teeth, and then say goodnight to boris.

i showed him what i’d done today and fed him his treats like always. he was purring like crazy throughout the whole time i was speaking to him which made me feel really relaxed. i finished at an unknown time [i thought i logged it but apparently not] and went to sleep at 4:10.

🗝️ — boris/my cat, archie/immediate family’s dog, questions [about boris]/i ask my parents questions about my cat to verify he’s okay + will be okay in the morning. its a compulsive thing and i’m hopefully going to be tested for OCD in the future.

have a good day/night O_o

[elizabethplaid]

Gerard, wearing Pullip Assa’s jumpsuit

saved from my flickr archive - Sept 7, 2009

2009ish, I went a bit crazy for doll-sized jumpsuits. Pullip Assa and a certain Petworks Momoko were the biggest reasons. No hope of getting the Momoko, but I managed to get some of Pullip Asa's stock outfit. I got the long-sleeved shirt, the jumpsuit, and her bag.

I'm still fascinated by these (screen printed?) "patches", with English phrases. (Pullip is made by Groove Inc, formerly Jun Planning, and is based in Korea, afaik.) Alas, this series of pics got cut from my flickr page, amid the purge.

Photo descriptions below the cut.

1- Gerard is a playline action figure that I acquired through a Canadian friend. (I regret trading my repaint and her awesome wig, but I still really love this guy.) At the time, I thought he resembled actor Gerard Butler. Aside from his great (almost too many!) joints, I really love his beard.

I think the line is called World Peacekeepers. (Maybe “Power Team”?) Andrea @dollsahoy knows that they're a very good line for customs. And yes, he's standing on his own, without shoes.

This jumpsuit is purposely baggy. It's even baggy enough to fit my "broad"-sized Ken. The striped shirt underneath is from an early-2000s Ken fashion pack, iirc.

Please note the backwards "music" design on the right-hand lapel. Or it could be a stylized "wazic" upside-down.

2- Portrait view. On the left-hand chest, a curved banner with the text "American" (all caps). On the pocket, a smaller version of the circular logo that's on the back of the jumpsuit. At this size, you can read PubblP Pullip in fancy lettering. The web address isn't easy to read.

3- A broad view of the legs. The close-ups in the next images show the designs better.

4- Right hip area. Above the waist line, near the side-seam, "Beach Deli 125[?] Pacific Coast Hwy Holister CA". Tiny letters are tough to read, so that might not be the correct number.

Below the waistline, there's a curved banner that follows the opening of the hip-pocket: "pullip" (all caps).

5- Along the outside seam, between the hip and cargo pockets, there's a strap-band thing? Idk, I think it's supposed to help hold Assa's tools in her pocket.

Just above the knee is a large cargo pocket. There's a pink-and-white star ribbon "tag" sewn in a loop on one side. The pocket's "patch" looks like a sign. "Neighborhood Watch" with a lady holding a surfboard. "Community of Hermosa Beach" at the bottom. All the text is in caps again. I just hate reading all-caps.

6- Left leg, viewed from the front. Below the hip pocket is a black cow (with udder; odd detail) on a yellow background. Next is a yellow square: "get wet" in large letters; "feet in san diego" in smaller text below that.

I can't read this next one. Tiny text, then "great takers?" in larger text. Can't figure out what that splotchy design is supposed to be.

"Best Male Performance", with a goateed guy in sunglasses.

Thin cargo pocket at the bottom of the pant leg, likely to hold Assa's screwdriver. "Trust me... I'm a director", again in all-caps.

7- Right sleeve. A blue number 6, no background. In black text, "t-shirts are played" in all caps, also with no background.

8- Backside, broad view. Guess I didn't photograph the "patch" on the left sleeve, oops. Back-torso design shown in next image. On the left butt-area, another number 6 and "want some action?"

9- Back torso. Shoulder banner with a "stitched" border and military chevrons. "082 N'ENG basic style"

Two curved bits above the circular logo, both say "American" but in different colors.

Circular logo says "PubblP" "Pullip" in fancy script. Middle circle is a stylized photo of Asa herself. Underneath is a web address, likely defunct by now:  www.yrmania.com

[killjoyhistoryarchive]

“Conventional Weapons” and the Rocky Road to “Danger Days”

In 2009, My Chemical Romance was buzzing with activity. The band performed several shows and festivals (including Summer Sonic in Japan), Gerard and Mikey Way attended San Diego Comic Con, and The Umbrella Academy was named one of Amazon’s top comics of 2009. Ray Toro held a Whopper eating contest on the official MCR website (no joke), while a certain comic series written by Gerard Way and Shaun Simon was announced in August. And at a show at the Roxy in Los Angeles, MCR performed three new songs from their upcoming album.

But while their next album seemed easily slated for an early 2010 release, MCR was about to hit a series of hurdles that would leave them with a scrapped album, a lost drummer, and a totally new outlook on where their music was headed.

On July 31st, 2009, MCR performed a set at the Roxy that included three new songs–“Kiss The Ring,” “The Drugs,” and “Death Before Disco.” Gerard was enthusiastic about the new tracks, even telling Rolling Stone that “Death Before Disco” was “the greatest song we’ve ever written.” Videos of the tracks soon appeared online, where fans eagerly devoured what they thought would be the follow-up to 2006’s The Black Parade.

As the days and weeks went on, the media blitz kicked into high-gear. While Ray Toro posted short studio clips on MCR’s website, the band gave several interviews where they gushed about producer Brendan O'Brien, discussed their new stripped-down style, and claimed that this would be their best record yet. In an interview with MTV, Gerard described the still-untitled album as a “true love letter to rock and roll,” adding:

“There’s something about being an American rock-and-roll band that we’ve kind of grown into and we’re very proud of. And I think that’s what we’re celebrating with this record. There’s no agenda, there’s no mission; it’s just about rock and roll.”

Meanwhile, Gerard Way and close friend Shaun Simon had another surprise in store: a comic series called "Killjoys.” Dark Horse Comics announced the release at San Diego Comic Con. Jeremy Atkins, the Dark Horse Director of Public Relations, described “Killjoys” as “a psychedelic rock-and-roll road trip adventure geared toward both fans of The Umbrella Academy and My Chemical Romance.” But not much else was said about the comic, as MCR’s upcoming album had become Gerard’s top priority.

As the album drew closer to completion, MCR gave fans more glimpses of what lay in store. They shared the titles of various tracks, including “Still Alive,” “Trans Am,” “Hail To The King,” “Save Yourself, I’ll Hold Them Back," “L.A. Heavy,” "The Only Hope For Me Is You,” and “Black Dragon Fighting Society.” They cited a variety of influences, including Queen, Judas Priest, Bruce Springsteen, The Killers, and Blade Runner. By all accounts, this was going to be MCR’s defining album.

In December, MCR previewed seven tracks for SPIN magazine. A month later, in January of 2010, the album–which was still untitled–was rumored to be released on March 30th. As they continued to rework the songs, they realized that the stripped-down sound wasn’t working. As NME reported in January:

Things turned around with a song called “Trans Am,” now renamed "Bullet Proof Heart,” the likely first single. And perversely, they did it by returning to fiction. Broadly, it’s about a boy in New Jersey, dressed in a Judas Priest T-shirt, called Johnny. And a girl called Jenny who might be his girlfriend, but who also (honk the pop fact sirens!) might also be the missing girl from “Jenny Was A Friend Of Mine” by The Killers.

But in the same interview, Gerard restated that the album would give "the purest, best version of the band you could ever hope for.” And in early February, MCR finally started to wrap up production, telling Big Cheese that the album would probably be released in spring or summer.

“Killjoys” also looked promising–back in January, Scott Allie had reported in a blog post that Shaun Simon and Becky Cloonan were ready to get started. Once Gerard wrapped up the album and finished working on the Umbrella Academy movie screenplay, it seemed like he’d be ready to dive in.

But February was also when the band publicly stumbled for the first time.

Before the Big Cheese interview, MCR had abruptly cancelled their appearance at the Soundwave festival in Australia. In a blog post on MCR’s website, Frank claimed that Gerard was having voice problems (he jokingly implied that it was due to coffee and cigarettes) and required treatment to make a full recovery.

Fans were disappointed, but most understood that it couldn’t be helped. But a month later, the fandom received another shock: MCR’s drummer Bob Bryar had departed the band. In another blog post, Frank told fans:

As of 4 weeks ago, My Chemical Romance and Bob Bryar parted ways. This was a painful decision for all of us to make and was not taken lightly. We wish him the best of luck in his future endeavors and expect you all to do the same. We also wanted to give you all a quick heads up on how the record is progressing. We have been writing some very powerful new songs so this week the four of us entered the studio once again, and what has been ending up on tape each night is some of the most exciting and honest work we have ever created.

The fandom was stunned. Clearly, MCR had been experiencing some behind-the-scenes turmoil, suggesting that the process wasn’t going as smoothly as fans had thought. While it wasn’t known at the time, they also parted ways with producer Brendan O'Brien, who had been hired specifically to channel their raw, back-to-basics sound. Where would MCR go from here? And when would fans hear the latest album–which was apparently undergoing rewrites once again?

It wasn’t until late 2010 that fans would finally learn what had happened to this unreleased album.

This moment, says frontman Gerard Way, looking back on what went wrong, “was the hardest part”. Guitarist Ray Toro was “home dealing with some family things”, leaving Way, his bassist brother Mikey, and guitarist Frank Iero alone in the mixing studio. “The sinking feeling was really starting to become loud that it wasn’t right - that the record wasn’t finished, I couldn’t even put them in a track order … "Thinking about it now, it’s kind of upsetting, because I just felt so lost,” Gerard says.

This was discussed in an interview with Herald Sun, where they talked about the process of starting again after the departure of their drummer and producer. Speaking to Music Radar, Ray Toro talked about the struggles the band had with original producer Brendan O'Brien, admitting that it hadn’t gone as well as they once thought:

“He was really trying; he did the best he could with us. He knew things weren’t clicking, and he’d try to rally us. I remember he said, ‘Hey, on some songs, I’d love to hear you do what you did on The Black Parade.’ Because there wasn’t any of the harmonized guitar parts or the stacking that I usually do. He was trying to get us to make one record, and we wanted to make something totally different.

Musically, we wanted to go back to our basement. But just because we wanted to do something different didn’t make it easy. In many ways, we felt as though we were holding ourselves back creatively. We were going through the motions. Some of the songs were good, but we weren’t happy with all of them.”

Needing a break, Gerard took a vacation to the desert that surrounded Los Angeles. There, as he told Terminal 5, he realized “I had started the band after 9/11 when I hated art. Black Parade had been about hiding and punishment. I couldn’t tell the truth so I’d talk about cancer instead. I had to put on a mask to show people who I really was. But now it was time to own it. To be who I was before this band started. And I had something in my back pocket: this song, ‘Na Na Na.’”

Reunited with producer Rob Cavallo, who had worked on The Black Parade, the band kicked things off with “Na Na Na.” Gerard and Shaun Simon’s comic “Killjoys,” once a separate side project that had nothing to do with the band, suddenly became the concept that they formed the album around. Fueled by fresh creative energy, the band wrote and re-wrote tracks, came up with concepts and characters like Dr. Death Defying, and shredded the limitations that had confined them. At one point, Gerard turned to his brother Mikey and said “Danger Days, here we come again!”

Not everything from the previous record was scrapped. “Trans Am” became “Bulletproof Heart”; “Death Before Disco” became “Party Poison.” A few new versions of old tracks appeared on the record, as well as the Mad Gear and Missile Kid EP that came later. But MCR’s fourth album had gone from a rock and roll record that deliberately avoided ambitious storylines, to a vividly realized concept album that invited fans into the world of post-apocalyptic California. In many ways, it was the opposite of what they had originally planned. And it seemed to be exactly what they had been looking for.

During this time, Frank snapped in-studio photos that he sold on MCR’s official website, offering one-of-a-kind peeks into the recording process. In March, Mikey Way stated in a blog post that “One day you will wake up, and nothing will ever be the same again, but it’ll feel like an old friend.” He was talking about upcoming changes to the MCR website, but in a way that statement reflected the band’s process at the time–they had completely reinvented themselves, and yet there was still a certain familiarity in the old tracks they had revamped.

The band completed the album with fresh energy, offering sporadic updates in the coming months. Fans waited with some skepticism to see what MCR had in store. And finally, one day in early September, MCR’s website disappeared and was replaced with a mysterious transmitter. The Danger Days era had begun.

But was the scrapped album hidden away, never to be heard again? Not quite.

In 2012, in a blog post on MCR’s website, Frank talked about the feelings of depression that he had faced after The Black Parade. He felt like MCR had done it all, leaving them with nothing left to accomplish. In November 2008, Gerard called him up to talk about the band. As new ideas took shape, they prepared to start recording the album that would eventually be scrapped after months of work.

Frank pointed out that while the band had limited themselves during the recording of this album, the songs weren’t inherently bad–in fact, some of them were among his favorites that the band had produced. As time passed, he developed a greater appreciation for the tracks. And when the band met up and listened to those songs, they decided to release a selection of tracks to the public–two tracks a month for the next five months, for a total of ten.

After all this time, the album finally had a title: Conventional Weapons. Tracks included “Kiss The Ring,” “The World Is Ugly,” “Surrender The Night,” and the fan-favorite “The Light Behind Your Eyes.” Listening to the tracks, it was clear that MCR had aimed for a rock album with a pure American sound–no ambitious concepts or storylines, just a set of killer tracks. Whether they succeeded is up to the listener to decide, but they provided some insight into what came before Danger Days.

Due to its unconventional release, and the fact that the album was a series of random tracks and not a finished product, Conventional Weapons is not considered an “official” MCR album. But while Danger Days was the final album, Conventional Weapons was the final release before MCR broke up in 2013. Since the split, the release of CW has caused many fans to wonder–will My Chemical Romance’s fifth (and unreleased) album ever be shared in a similar fashion? Or will it be locked away forever, like the other CW tracks that were never released?

Only time will tell. But for now, Conventional Weapons serves as an intriguing part of MCR’s history–a time when the band set out to make one type of album, and ended up making the complete opposite.

(Picture credits: 1 2 3. Other in-studio photos by Frank Iero.)

[Originally published 07.09.2017]

[ilooklikeaburntchickenugget]

Only Mine

A/N: So I’m going to warn this ahead of time, I used Taylor Swift songs. So all credit to Taylor (she’s absolutely incredible and a genius ngl), but all these songs are hers. Just pretend for this story like they’re not and like you wrote them and sang them or something. If you don’t know them then listen to them if you want. They’re all great. And yes, I know some of them are her pop songs and from different albums and eras. But her lyrics are masterpieces. Pairing: Gerard Way x F!Reader Warnings: Mentions of sexual doings, not the actual action though. Word count: 1,535

Gerard’s birthday was fast approaching. And you couldn’t wait.

Of course, you didn’t make it obvious. He never got too excited for his own birthday, to him it was just another day. With cake and presents and such included, but just another day nonetheless. “Gee?” You called into his tour bus, walking up the stairs.

“Hey Y/N.” You heard Ray, who you saw sitting on the couch on his phone.

“Oh, hey Ray.” You smiled in response. “Do you know where Gee went?” “No,” He sighed, “Talking to some manager, I think.” You nodded, sitting next to him, “What’re you planning on getting Gerard for his birthday?” He asked, you smiled at the masterful plan you had.

“You just really can’t tell him.” You said, laying back, “Like this is actually something that if you tell him I may have to hide your dead body.” “Got it.” He lightly laughed.

“So I’ve made this collection of songs over the years, since we started dating. And I put them into an album. About him.” Ray looked slightly surprised. “What? Is it dumb. Oh no is it dumb?” “No, actually no.” He smiled, “It’s brilliant to be honest with you. I mean you’re an incredible singer but an even better song writer. You’ve won Grammy’s so I think anyone would be more than grateful to have an entire album written about them. By a Grammy winner.”

You weren’t known for love songs, at all. You had written and released a few which many fans raved as your best, but you weren’t necessarily known for your song.

“Have you named it yet?” Ray asked. You shook your head.

“I don’t know if I will. Or if I will maybe it’ll just be ‘To Gerard’.” He lightly smiled and shook his head, “What?” “C’mon, you’re so creative. And the best you can come up with is ‘To Gerard?’“ You nodded. “What about something more creative? Like something he reminds you of?” “Cigarettes, coffee, comic books, horror movies, having nothing to say.”

“Those are terrible.” Ray said, “What about something super nice about him?”

“I don’t know, I need to think.”

And you did. For days and days and days. You had the CD ready to give to him, in a blank case. You couldn’t stop thinking, day and night. You were staying at a hotel for a few days, his birthday falling right in the middle of the stretch.

The only thing written on it was on the back, displaying each song name in order in your handwriting.

1. Paper Rings 2. Miss Americana And The Heartbreak Prince 3. Gorgeous 4. Cruel Summer 5. King Of My Heart 6. Dress 7. Lover 8. So It Goes... 9. Afterglow 10. Delicate 11. Call It What You Want 12. cardigan 13. False God

Gerard held you close at night, having not held you in a few weeks due to being on separate tour buses. Strands of his growing black hair were scattered across the crevices on his face, soft snores leaving his mouth occasionally. You rolled over to see the clock next to you display 11:58. And that’s when it hit.

You carefully crawled away from Gerard, quietly going through your bag and finding the CD case and a sharpie. On the front you wrote, “My Midnight Boy”.

“Babe?” You heard him ask.

“Yeah?” You lightly said back.

“What’re you doing?” You could tell by his groggy voice that he was only half awake.

“Just had to make sure something was here, it is.” You said, carefully placing both items back in your bag and crawling into bed with him again. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to him.

The next morning you woke up to the sound of the shower starting. Gee was taking a shower you knew, so you decided to browse on your phone for a few moments.

“Hey, sugar.” You heard Gee’s voice as he walked out of the bathroom.

“Hey, Gee.” You lightly smiled. “Are you excited?” You asked him, smiling like a fool. “For what?” He asked, confused.

“It’s your birthday tomorrow!” He gave a small smile.

“Yeah, well that’s tomorrow.”

“That’s my point, babe, it’s tomorrow.” “Well there’s no need to get excited for today.” You rolled your eyes.

“You’re something else Mr. Way.” You told him, standing up to go get in the shower yourself.

-A time skip because I’m lazy-

Finally it was Gee’s birthday. You could easily tell you were more excited than Gerard, considering he had the same attitude towards it as literally every other day of the year (besides Christmas maybe).

You both woke up around the same time, so the minute your eyes met you knew he was awake. “Happy birthday.” You lightly smiled, leaning to him in bed and giving him a soft kiss on the lips.

“Thanks.” He smiled back once you released.

“How does it feel to be 30?” “Don’t remind me,” He said and you lightly laughed, “I’m an old man.” “Well,” You said, “Kinda.” He lightly laughed.

“The only positive is I have a super hot 25 year old girlfriend.” You chuckled.

“Don’t bring up the age difference,” You sat up, he was already standing on the other side of the bed, “The media’s attacked both of us for that enough.” He sighed. “Do you want your present now or later?” “Well that depends, what it is?” He smirked. You rolled your eyes.

“If you’re implying a blowjob, that would be later.” He let out a sigh, “Jeez, Gee, let a girl prepare.” You got up, placing your feet on the cold carpet of the hotel floor, “But your other present, which I can nearly guarantee you is better than a BJ, I can give it to you whenever you want.”

“Better than a blowjob? That’s hard to be beat.” You rolled your eyes, going to your luggage to grab some jeans and a shirt.

“You are such an immature boy sometimes Gee.” “Hey, it’s my birthday, don’t insult me.”

“The truth is not an insult.” You said right back. You walked to the bathroom, shutting the door and quickly brushing your teeth and changing, before brushing your hair and walking back out. “So, when do you want your present?”

“Mmmmmmmh,” He hummed for a moment, “Now?” “Of course, my dear.” You smiled, walking over to your bag and picking out the CD, “It’s not much, but I really do hope you’ll like it.” You handed it to him, he took it and looked at it briefly, studying the look of it.

“A CD?” He asked. You nodded. “By you?” You nodded. “Unreleased?” You once again nodded.

“Just listen to it Gee,” You smiled, “I to go meet with my manager, but I’ll be back in two hours.” “But-” “It’s your birthday, babe, I know. But Will is being an asshole and said I have to go to this. So I gotta go.” You gave him a long kiss, “I love you.” “Love you too.” He replied.

-Another time skip-

You walked back in to the room, taking off your light coat and shoes. “Hey Gee.” You announced your arrival. No reply. “Gee?” You called out again. You walked further to see him on the bed, laying there, tears in his eyes. “Baby, what’s wrong.” He picked up the CD. “Did you mean it?” He asked. You gave a puzzled look, “The lyrics, the everything? Do you mean it?” You nodded and lightly smiled.

“Of course, Gee.” He looked away from you for a moment, sighing before putting his hand in his pocket and ruffling it around for something.

“I was gonna do this later but I need to do this.” He got off the bed, his eyes still slightly watery, and kneeled down. There in his hand was a silver ring, with a tiny diamond in it. “Marry me?” He asked. You were taken aback slightly.

“Um, yes, of course Gerard.” He quickly slipped the finger on the ring, getting up and slamming his lips onto yours.

“Good.” He said, his hands on your cheeks, faces less than two inches apart. “I want to spend every damn moment of the rest of my life with you.” You lightly laughed.

“I do too, Gee.” He gave you another long kiss.

“You need to release it.” He stated, letting go off the kiss but his hands still rested on your cheeks.

“What?” You aksed.

“Release the album. You have to.” “I, um,” You began, “I- are you sure? I mean it was kinda personal Gee-” “It was a masterpiece!” He said, letting go and picking up the CD, “You have to. You absolutely have to! Do you know what this would do to your solo career? Do you know how many Grammys you would get?” “I-” You were taken very aback by this, “Gee, I didn’t do it for awards-” “Yeah, but it deserves them. Ask anyone who listens to it.” You sighed.

“Fine,” You said, “I’ll think about it. But are you 100% sure? I mean it kinda talks about our sex life too-” “Yeah, well all the better. I want the entire world to know you’re mine. Only mine.”

[ascottywrites]

The Angsty Post

Where Happy Endings come at the slowest of paces.

*Or, you know, sometimes not at all. 

Rewriting the future by Synesthetic  (Complete: 28/28| 106,631) --Steter 

Two days before their planned bonding, alpha Derek Hale runs away with his secret beta girlfriend, leaving Stiles heartbroken. With the demands of his omega physiology forcing him to bond with someone before his first heat, Derek's uncle Peter steps in and offers a solution.

Backstage is Full of Parasites by Falln_Grce (Complete: 14/14| 61,346) --Steter 

A little tweak to the Teen Wolf universe where Stiles learned to take care of himself from a young age. And despite going through trauma as a child, he's 17 now and has adjusted to the new normal as well as he can. With a soulmate-AU just to keep things interesting.

What if the Sheriff didn't turn to alcohol when his wife died... What if he focused all of his attention on helping a seven year old, recently removed from an abusive home, Isaac get settled into the Stilinski household... Where would Stiles fit into that world?

How I Long For Yesterday by sweetbutterbliss (One-shot| 6,017) --Sterek 

Stiles blinks, his throat going dry, and he moves his thumb without thinking - liking the post. He feels a surge of petty satisfaction. At least the fucker will know he knows now. He stands up, his body feeling too heavy, and he blows out the already guttering candles. He lets out a sob of frustration when the last one won't fucking blow out. But he sucks it back in and bites down on his tongue, using his thumb and forefinger instead.

He throws himself into their empty bed without undressing. He lies there repeating the words 'Derek blew me off for Isaac' over and over. He tells himself to shut up while rearranging his pillow violently, but he goes to sleep with the refrain continuing its painful loop.

You're Not Who I Thought You Were by halcyon1993 (Complete: 21/21| 84,549) --Sterek 

Stiles is lonely. The only person who really talks to him is his best friend, and even Scott seems eager to ditch him whenever someone better comes along. Following a stupid decision made late one night, his small world opens up as he discovers things he never before thought possible and he meets a mysterious man who could be the answer to all of his problems.

In Word and in Deed by lielabell (one-shot| 7,778) --Sterek 

Stiles has stopped saying "I love you." Derek wants to know why.

(Once in a) Blue Moon by clarkoholic, skywardsmiles (Complete: 14/14| 60,051) --Sterek 

Stiles and Derek are getting along, but they’re not a family, and they’re sure as hell not mates. Christ, they’re basically just two stupid guys who happened to get pregnant because of a full moon and sheer dumb luck.

We Are Made of Our Memories by JenyaKeefe (Complete: 9/9| 12,441) --Sterek

"I don't have amnesia." "Um, clearly you do. You're under a spell that's taken a year's worth of memories." "No. I've wakened from a spell."

Lost on you by devilscut (Complete: 7/7| 51,322) --Steterek 

A deadly encounter with an Alpha changes Stiles' life forever - kicked out and betrayed by his best friend and brother, Scott McCall, he leaves Beacon Hills, but much to his surprise not alone. Ten years down the track, living a life he never dreamed possible, a chance meeting brings back memories of that night - the good and bad mixed with a whole lotta WTF that even now still has him scratching his head as to what happened.

In Treatment by tzzzz (Complete: 22/22| 166,937) --Sterek 

Derek hires Stiles, a professional alpha sex therapist, to help him through his heat.

The New Normal by midnightcas (Complete: 27/27| 63,392) --Sterek 

After Stiles gets hurt...again, Derek puts him on the metaphorical supernatural bench. Meanwhile, Stiles tries to have a normal life and make normal friends. But when a new pack comes to town and the Hales start getting threats, things start to get a little....not normal.

The Mating Privilege by Kikileduc (Complete: 12/12| 35,380) --Sterek 

Stiles and Derek have been happily mated. The pack is doing well, but in hopes of creating alliances for it to do better, Derek accepts a neighboring pack's request to allow two wolves to join the Hale-McCall pack for a full moon cycle. They hope to form a blood-tie, or at least a long term friendship between the two packs. The issue is Kohona, the tribal leader's daughter, has her eyes set on an unavailable alpha wolf. This could have drastic consequences for their young emissary, however...

Beta read by the amazing Splash_of_ bi! Cannot thank you enough!!

Jokingly I'm adding this WARNING after having two separate comments talk about heart palpitations and others stating they are physically shaking or experiencing high blood pressure after reading the first few chapters.... WARNING: read with caution if you have a pre existing heart condition, Derek and the Pack may cause you to be upset!!

If We Could Match by forestofbabel (Complete: 9/9| 23,455) --Sterek

As Stiles waits behind the camera during an interview, he thinks he should maybe quit. Because, in all honesty, despite the charming smile the actor is pulling out for EW, Derek Hale is kind of a jerk.

Your Heart for My White Fences by zgdtx (Complete: 10/10| 29,444) --Sterek 

At first, Derek was the one night stand that he could not pry himself away from. Before he knew it, Derek was the married man Stiles had fallen in love with. Then, Stiles was the little lamb being tossed into a pit of wolves, helpless and alone. There was not much he could do, no, not much at all. Dark AU.

Call in the Air Stike (Tell Them to Make the Drop) by WednesdaysDaughter (Complete: 2/2| 5,126) --Sterek 

"How do you tell your best friend that the guy you were slowly falling in love with flat out said you were nothing but a waste of space, and you’ve secretly felt that way about yourself once or twice on a bad day? The answer is, you don’t."

Twyla Hale by FiccinDylan (Complete: 13/13| 37,123) --Sterek 

After the formula of their go-to product changes, "Hair Day" becomes "Hell Day" in the Hale Pack household. It's time for Derek to call in the pros, imagine his surprise when he's presented with a wicked tongued white boy with honey brown eyes.

***sure there’s some stuff that happens that’s not fun but i think I would characterize this as light angst in comparison to the inherent possibilities of this fandom lol  

Baby You're Beautiful by supernaynay (one-shot| 1,089) --Sterek 

“God you’re beautiful.”

Derek hadn’t even realized that the words had left his mouth until the whole room went silent, including Stiles, who until about five seconds earlier was busy yelling at him for putting himself in danger yet again.

I want to do this for you by Late_to_the_fandom (Complete: 17/17| 19,323) --Sterek 

“You must be delusional,” Derek deadpanned as he stood abruptly and stalked away indignantly to throw the broken shards of his cup in the garbage can. “In what harebrained scenario of yours did you think I’d say yes to this?” His heart thundered in his chest as he stared at Stiles in disbelief. “Nothing good can come out of this and you know it.” He paced angrily, his hands fisting then uncurling as he tried to rein his emotions. He stopped suddenly, his glare piercing and his words cutting, “I would never let you use me like this.”

There's Something About Love that Breaks Your Heart by Stereklover11 (Complete: 5/5| 7,835) --Sterek 

"I love you," Stiles said.

Derek didn't answer right away. Then he said:

"I'm sorry Stiles, but I don't feel that way about you. Or any guy for that matter."

The one where Derek is bisexual but doesn't know it and refuses Stiles' love...at first. ;)

Baby Daddy by DiscontentedWinter (Complete: 25/25| 55,369) --Sterek 

Laura Hale decides it's time to expand her pack. And Stiles could really use the money. And Derek... well, that's when things get complicated.

Bake to Remember, Eat to Forget by butyoureyessaidyes (Complete: 19/19) --Sterek 

It’s 6:18 A.M. on a Monday, and Stiles is using his thumbs to shape the fondant butt of a Winnie the Pooh sculpture. It’s the most action he’s seen in a long time.

--

Or the one where Stiles runs his own bakery, never locks the front door, and doesn't know he's part of a werewolf pack (until he does).

Kill Me Once, Shame On You by AllTheseSquaresMakeACircle (wip: 15/?| 46,512) --Sterek 

In the aftermath of their final bout with Gerard, things kinda went to shit. Yeah, they won. But Scott had violated some major boundaries. Jackson was still an emotionally constipated douche. Erica and Boyd were missing. In general, everyone was left missing a piece of themselves in one form or another. There was also the fact that there was a literal pack of alphas bearing down on them. Stiles was really getting sick of this shit.

(There's) Sulphur in Our Blood by WonderWolf (wip: 19/21| 186,356) --Sterek 

"Harris put you on a recon mission with Derek. You. Alone with Derek. On a mission. Together,” Scott says, slowly. “Does Harris want you dead?”

“I believe so," Stiles says gravely.

(Secret Agent AU where Derek blames Stiles for his sister’s death and Stiles is pretty sure that Derek’s going to murder him. As if that weren’t enough to deal with, Stiles’ familiar keeps having public breakdowns.

Oh, and there’s a mole in the agency, so there’s that too).

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Bad Blood - Chapter 9

You can read it on AO3 or find the Tumblr Chapter Index here. 

______________

Allison texts Stiles the day after the party, complaining about her parents trying to ruin her life, because Scott invited her to go to a movie, but they said no. She’s sneaking out to meet him later though, because apparently Allison never learned that Romeo and Juliet doesn’t have a happy ending.

It’s none of Stiles’s business, really, but Allison would be a hell of a lot safer if her parents actually told her the truth about the world, and about her heritage, and her future as a hunter. She’ll be the head of the Argent family one day, and she should have started training the moment she could walk, the way that Kate and Chris did.

And Scott seems like a nice guy, but there are werewolves in Beacon Hills, and Allison is an Argent. She shouldn’t be sneaking out of the house at night. It could be dangerous. But at the same time, Stiles doesn’t want to betray her trust.

He’s not sure what to do, and then remembers that, well, he’s a hunter, isn’t he?

Later that night, when Kate’s out and Gerard is dozing in front of the television, Stiles sneaks out his bedroom window, leaves the neighbourhood, and calls an Uber to get him into town. He’s at the movie theatre when Allison arrives. Five minutes later Scott joins her and they go inside. Stiles spends the next two hours hanging around the parking lot.

It feels weird, stalking his cousin, but at least this way he knows she’s safe.

His stomach swoops when a police squad car rolls slowly through the parking lot. Stiles feigns interest in the movie posters, fighting back the urge to turn and stare at the car. Then it drives on again, and Stiles’s heart rediscovers its regular rhythm.

No.

It wasn’t even his father, probably.

Just some other cop.

He’s unsettled though, for the rest of the time he stands there.

Gerard hasn’t said anything about his father, and Stiles hasn’t asked. But it’s a test of some sort, because everything is a test. Stiles isn’t afraid that he’ll fail—he’s spent the last six years training to retake his birthright as a Stilinski—but he’s afraid his hands will shake just like they did when he went on his first hunt.

He’s afraid Gerard will see his weakness.

Stiles swallows, and stares at the posters for upcoming features, and wonders what it would feel like to be sneaking into a movie with Derek. He wonders if they’d share snacks, and hold hands inside. He wonders if they’d kiss again, and if it would feel as wonderful and desperate and earth shattering as it did on Friday night.

It hurts to think about, because he knows he can’t have that again.

Stiles is a hunter. He has a higher purpose, Gerard says sometimes, which is just a fancy way of saying he has a fucking job to do, and he needs to remember that.

He needs to remember that.

When the movie finally ends and Allison and Scott come outside again they’re holding hands. Stiles slips into the shadows and looks away as they share a kiss before Allison hops into her car and drives off.

Stiles can barely stop himself from laughing when Scott does what can only be called the world’s dorkiest happy dance right there in the parking lot.

And then his delight vanishes in an instant, and is replaced by something hot and painful in his chest, because he suddenly wonders if anyone will ever feel that way about him.

He’s pretty sure they won’t.

***

On Tuesday night it’s Victoria’s birthday, which means a family dinner at Chris and Victoria’s house. It’s a stilted affair. Gerard is full of his usual false bonhomie, Kate joins him, and Chris and Victoria seem to communicate entirely in shared glances laden with meaning that Stiles can’t parse. Allison, because she’s a ray of sunshine, is a little perplexed by the weird tension at the table, and Stiles sits and eats his dinner quietly like a good little soldier.

He hasn’t eaten placki ziemniaczane in years. He catches Victoria’s gaze when she serves it, and can’t read her expression.

“Potato pancakes,” Victoria says when Gerard asks, not giving them their Polish name, and Stiles wonders if she knows how much these taste like his childhood. He wonders if they taste like hers as well, and if this is a moment she’s sharing with him, or one that she’s trying to sting him with.

He knows better than to ask.

Dinner is interminable.

***

Stiles is in the back of the SUV when they leave, so he doesn’t see it.

Doesn’t see the flash of movement in the bushes, and the shine of beta gold eyes.

“Did you see that?” Kate asks, slamming on the brakes. “They’re stalking us now?”

She’s already reaching for the firearm she keeps in the glove compartment, while Gerard is on the phone.

“Chris,” Gerard barks. “You’ve got a stray dog problem in this neighbourhood.”

That’s when Stiles sees the werewolf—it cuts quickly across the street in front of the SUV, a flash of movement, and Stiles glimpses a shifted beta face. Fangs and claws.

He feels a stab of…of anticipation, of energy, of fear as the werewolf races past the SUV, and Kate executes a screeching three-point turn in Chris’s quiet street. And then they’re speeding down the street behind the werewolf, the headlights bouncing off trash cans and parked cars and bushes as they chase it down.

Gerard passes a firearm back to Stiles.

Stiles takes it and unclips his seatbelt, ready to leap out of the SUV as soon as it slows. A sharp left turn sees him slamming into the door with a grunt.

“Okay, string bean?” Kate asks, not taking her eyes off the road.

“I’m good,” Stiles says, rubbing his shoulder.

He squints out the window, trying to get some idea of where they’re headed. Where the werewolf is leading them.

To the Preserve, probably. Maybe the werewolf thinks it can lose them in there, with its superior speed and sight. Or maybe it’s leading them into a trap, because why the hell else would a lone werewolf let itself get spotted hanging around Chris’s house? Right about now Stiles wishes that Gerard and Kate weren’t so damn secretive about their plans for the Hale pack. Would be nice not to go in blind.

When they reach the edge of the Preserve, the tall trees looming up into the moonless night, Kate slams on the brakes again.

“It’s heading north,” Kate says. “You follow it, and we’ll try and cut if off.”

“Got it,” Stiles says.

He leaps out of the SUV and heads into the woods on foot.

Behind him, he hears the SUV roar away, and then he’s alone.

***

On a proper hunt, a planned hunt, Stiles would have night vision goggles and more than just a handgun. But that’s the thing about being a hunter, Kate tells him all the time. You have to think on your feet. You have to adapt. And, when it comes down to it, technology and hardware only get you so far. In the end, you only have yourself to rely on.

Stiles isn’t scared.

He ignores his own thumping heartbeat.

He isn’t scared.

He’s the predator here, not the werewolf.

He’s the hunter.

He picks his way as quietly and as quickly as he can through the dark woods. The night is cool, and Stiles hasn’t got a jacket, but adrenaline keeps him warm enough for now. Keeps him from feeling the chill that pebbles his skin.

Stiles moves by instinct more than anything else. Unless the werewolf doubles back—and it might, if it realises there’s only a single hunter behind it—Stiles is unlikely to catch it. He follows the path of least resistance through the trees, following what might be an old fire trail, because that’s probably the one the werewolf took as well. He runs, as light on his feet as he can be when he’s unsure of the ground underneath him, and covers maybe half a mile, maybe a little more, when—

He hears a shot ring out a little to the northwest, and his heartbeat spikes. He changes direction, heading for the sound, and then he hears another shot, and an aborted howl that ends on a whine.

Kate and Gerard!

They’ve got it!

Stiles keeps moving, scanning the trees as he runs. An injured werewolf is still dangerous. More dangerous, because it’s cornered with nothing to lose.

Stiles sees flashlights cutting through the trees up ahead.

He rounds a bend, coming to a sharp stop as he sees the werewolf.

It’s…

It’s hurt. It’s limping, and whining, stumbling from tree to tree in a vain attempt to find cover. And then the moon sails out from behind a cloud, bathing the fire trail in light, and Stiles sees that the werewolf is wearing jeans and Converse and a maroon Vans t-shirt. The werewolf stumbles toward Stiles, and Stiles raises his firearm.

He’s not afraid.

He’s a hunter.

He’s not afraid.

The werewolf lifts its head to look at him, its beta-gold eyes going wide. And then the shift is receding, claws and fangs and fur vanishing and facial ridges sinking back into smoothness, and—

Stiles’s breath catches.

—and there’s a cute boy with floppy hair and a crooked jaw and beautiful eyes that Allison loves standing in front of him. His face is wracked with pain. There’s a hole in the thigh of his jeans, and blood soaking through the denim. He’s clutching his arm too, blood welling between his fingers.

“Stiles?” Scott asks, his face creasing with confusion through his pain.

Oh god.

Because all Stiles can think of right now is the way that Scott did that dumb-ass happy dance outside the cinema after Ally kissed him.

Scott’s not…

Scott’s not a monster, is he?

Over Scott’s shoulder, Stiles sees movement. Kate and Gerard, walking slowly towards them in the moonlight, weapons drawn.

“No,” Stiles says, his voice rasping, because this is Scott. This isn’t a monster. This is a kid, and if he was hanging around Chris’s house it has to be because Ally asked him to come. Because Stiles followed Allison to make sure she was safe from werewolves—dumb, since it turned out he couldn’t see the forest for the tress—but she was sneaking out to meet Scott, and Scott never hurt her. “No, wait—”

He isn’t sure which one of them shoots.

It doesn’t matter, probably.

Scott’s body jerks as the bullet catches him, and he pitches forward and hits the ground.

[nedcanquen]

Chapter 10: Mr 7th Floor

When I posted Chapter 9 I mentioned that I applied to grad school. Well the good news is...I GOT IN! I had to once again move to a different country (in a different part of the world) and start my Masters. I’ve enjoyed it, but it was a huge adjustment for me, hence the long delay. Thank you so much to anyone still reading this and following this story. <3

---

Tags: Slow Burn (like…really slow burn) - endgame is NedCan but they don’t get there directly, Single POV, Yep, Canada will date other people before endgame because he’s very desirable even if he doesn’t always know it, Audit firm AU, Office AU, some angst…

Pairings: NedCan (endgame), NorCan, implied NedDen, DenNor, implied Spamano, France/Jeanne d’Arc, GerIta

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 |  Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

Matthew is about ready to stop fucking crying already. But it’s therapy, so all he gets is a break until the next session, he supposes. Dr Laurinaithis is not fussed, he must have a closet full of tissue boxes in this job, and seen a few swimming pools worth of tears. Matthew doesn’t know how he feels about that, but he does feel like going through two boxes of tissue papers is too much, no matter how kind Dr. Laurinaithis is about it.  

It's a relief to leave the building, though he wishes that the lightness he’s supposed to feel after a huge cry was actually there. It’s not. Because he’s forced to talk about things out loud that he usually tries to hide from himself, he’s feeling raw. It occurs to him that he may need emotional support to even get through therapy. His mind jumps to Lukas, just because it had been his idea in the first place, and immediately dismisses it.

Sometimes the hard thing about a breakup wasn’t the breakup itself, but breaking the habits that had been formed before it. Matthew and Lukas had moved slow, but he had always been aware of him in a strong sense, and knew that Lukas was a reliable man and a good listener. Maybe that was why Lukas was the first person he had called when he panicked about Arthur. He feels embarrassed about that now, Arthur is a grown man who doesn’t need anyone to be regulating his drinking, and when did Matthew care about drinking this much? It wasn’t the drinking he had responded to, he knows that now, it was the realization of the loneliness Arthur would have had to have been experiencing to over-rely on a bottle. If Arthur were still his direct Manager, Matthew would have found him and kept him company. As it was, not he never really knew where Arthur was in the world at any point of time, or if he would be welcome, or if Arthur the Partner would have any time for him, so he tried to get other people to make sure that Arthur was cared for. It’s a strange thing, Matthew doesn’t even do this for his own father, and his mother has never needed help. He’s always felt like the soft and vulnerable one in his family, but Arthur respected that, somehow teaching him how to succeed in this firm despite wanting to hide from the world sometimes.

Maybe it’s time to visit Mom. Except he feels bad for burdening her with his insecurities, and moving to the city and thriving here is supposed to be proof that he’s grown up now, all her hard work was worth it. She would see right through him the moment he walked through the door.

As he climbs into his car he looks at his now terrible reflection in the mirror. Not good, Arthur's farewell do is in a couple of hours. He really didn't plan this out very well, but Dr Laurinaithis‘ first available appointment had been today and sometimes Matthew was a little too efficient with getting through his to do list. He pulls out the wet wipes he keeps in the glove compartment and runs it over his face, hoping the cool and damp cloth will do something about the obvious swelling around his eyes and nose.

He can blame it on allergies. Yeah why not. They were going to a park after all.

But first, time to pick up Shell.

He knows the way to her place so he drives there almost on autopilot. She wouldn't be fooled by the “allergies”excuse, so he'll probably have to come clean to her about therapy. The idea makes his stomach clench, he knows objectively that Michelle wouldn;t judge him, but therapy is still something intensely personal. But still, shouldn’t he give her a chance? Friendship was also about vulnerability. Then again, she was also a colleague, and he doesn’t want their friendship to make her work more difficult. She just saved him from a terrible meeting earlier in the week, and now he wonders if she'll question his ability to work and lead, if his lack of promotion somehow pushed him off an edge.

Matthew takes a deep breath and decides to get on with it. She’ll notice or she won’t.

He drives up and sees her standing in front of her apartment, grinning at him in a light blue dress, and waving excitedly at his car. He cracks a smile at that. He's just thrown on an old red t-shirt and a pair of jeans, it's a barbecue after all and he'd rather not have his better clothes stained with fat and smoke.

The moment she gets in the car, her face drops. Yep, no fooling Shell. He opens his mouth to try to explain but finds he can't really.

Michelle squeezes his shoulder. “Matt… are you…” but maybe because he couldn't say anything, she opts not to either, and just leans in to hug him.

There's a moment of guilt where Matthew feels terrible for bringing her mood down, guilt that he can't admit something that is nothing to be ashamed of, but he appreciates the hug and leans into it all the same. Somehow it’s a little better.

“Sorry to worry you Shell, I just had a rough morning, I'll be fine.” Her hair smells like coconuts and there’s some part of him that thinks of warm island breezes and white sands, far away from his problems here.

When they pull back, she tilts her head, pondering. “Matt I didn’t want to bring it up earlier because I wasn’t sure if it would help and you didn’t seem to want to talk about it, and I’ve always looked up to you. But I feel like I have to say something. You’ve been through a lot lately, and you've been holding it together really well. Sometimes I don't know why you're still even in the team instead of running off to a well deserved island break. Francis would deserve it. And Lukas I mean… have you had a chance to talk about Lukas? And you invited him today so...Look Matt, no one will think less of you if you’re selfish for-.”

“I don't want to talk about it right now Shell.” He’s exhausted, he's talked all morning. “Thanks, really. It’s just that… trust me I'm talking a lot.”

She doesn’t press, and Matthew is glad, but she does pat his arm. “That’s great, but...I’m here too if you need me you know. Also, I would totally make up a good excuse for you if you decide you need to leave early today. You’re the one who told me that rest doesn’t mean weakness, it’s just strength in the long run.”

How did he come up with these things? “It’s a marathon, not a sprint.” He repeats out loud, but in his head he hears Arthur say it, because that’s who he had learned it from. Sure, Arthur wasn’t great at living by the occasional wisdom he managed to say out loud (and read in a book somewhere), but that didn’t mean it wasn’t wisdom. It was Arthur who showed him that you trudged on, no matter the difficulty or tears. He’s seen Arthur fight through insecurity and frustration with little to no guidance to rise on his own.. It’s another reason why Matthew has to turn up, has to celebrate his day with everyone. Arthur was the first person whom he felt had really seen the value in him and invested time into him. He’s a big reason why Matthew is the professional he is today.

“Yeah.” Michelle replies with a worried smile.

First they stop off at the florist to collect the flowers that Michelle had ordered. Gardening was one of Arthur’s passions, though Matthew wasn’t sure how many people remembered that anymore. These flowers wouldn’t imitate a garden, but they would be the closest they could get to recreating a happy space for Arthur.

Under Michelle’s guidance they had outdone themselves. Somehow, Michelle had secured two barbecue pits in the park. Jack and Gerard  from Daan and Arthur’s team were cooking up a storm, and as far as Matthew could figure out - took barbecues very very seriously. But it’s exactly what Matthew had previously envisioned - children ran around on the green, playing with each other. The open air and casual atmosphere made everyone relax, the flowers they were setting up made everything look that much more festive. Although, the lack of beer at a barbecue was perhaps a little obvious and noticeable.

“Juice?” Ha strolls up with a grin, holding two cartons of orange juice in hand.

Oh man...they’re never going to hear the end of this.

“Or…” Ha grins “Are we holding out for the sparkling juice?” The alcohol-free ‘champagne’ - still get the pop, but no kick. For the purposes of the day, Michelle branded it “child’s wine.”

Matthew grins, “No reason not to have both.”

All the Partners are late, which doesn’t surprise anyone. It seemed to be a regular code of conduct to allow the rest of the staff to enjoy each other’s company before the bosses came in. What was surprising however, was who arrived next.

“How come there’s no music at this party?” Mathias grins as he walks in with Emil, rolling in a cart of danishes and other delicious foods. Just how much were they going to eat today?

“Mathias? Hi.” Matthew waves. Why was he here? Was it weird to feel like he and Mathias were kinda friends? Even though they didn’t know each other very well and had met under very convoluted circumstances. “Oh wow these kids are going to be on a sugar high all day today.” He doesn’t know how Arthur will feel about rowdy children - he knows the man loves kids but generally in an unrealistic way.

“That’s the plan!” Michelle laughs.

Matthew nods and walks around, greeting everyone but ultimately he’s just looking for a bench to sit on while everyone else is occupied. He lets the sound of happy children trill behind him as he takes in the view of people simply enjoying their lives on the green. He breathes in deeply, and lets his breath out, calming his mind and thinking about nothing in particular. When he finds his empty bench, he sits and muses a little. He realizes that he’s not changed as much as he thinks - he’s generally known who he is. But at the same time, he feels born anew, like he’s stumbling to figure out the world all over again for the first time. He thought he had it figured out, he’s been doing what some invisible societal book out there tells him he has to do, that Arthur had mastered, and the book wasn’t wrong per se, but it was wrong to deny him himself. As Dr Laurinaithis (Toris, he had told him to call him Toris - Matthew can only imagine how he must have butchered the man’s name) gently told him this morning - it’s about learning to rephrase, to be present, to be conscious and aware. Matthew is focused on what he hasn’t achieved, and not so much on what he has.

Easier said than done really. It’s one thing to understand the logic of doing that, it’s another to be personally sold on it. So he’ll start with baby steps - if he doesn’t feel comfortable with something, he won’t just push down that feeling, he’ll process it. Maybe Shell is right, maybe he needs a trip…

“Didn’t think you’d be the one to judge a party without alcohol.”

Matthew is jarred out of his thoughts by a somewhat concerned looking Daan, who’s holding a cup of orange juice in his hand.

Daan looks like he’s about to say something with his trademark dryness but stops. His expression shifts from glib to concerned. “Hey…” He doesn’t finish his thought though, Daan casts a nervous look behind at the party for a moment, then looks down with a sigh. He silently comes over to sit next to Matthew on the bench.

Matthew tries to saw something to dismiss the concern, some greeting, to steel himself to stand and join the party. But he’s just too tired. Instead he asks “I look that bad huh?” It’s not much of a question.

Daan doesn’t bother to voice the obvious, and offers the orange juice instead. “I haven’t had any.”

“No thanks.”

They sit in silence for a moment, and Matthew is glad. He’s glad he doesn’t have to explain himself, but he’s not happy that Daan has seen him like this. There’s nowhere to escape in a park though, so he may as well just sit here. Anyway, Daan’s presence has its advantages, like giving him a further excuse not to go back to the party. And now that he’s free to just return to his silence, Matthew finds himself observing Daan when the other leans over, resting his arms on his knees, sipping from his cup. He remembers what Lukas said, about Daan having to give away a project, about Daan going through a weird transition right now.

He can’t see a shred of evidence of it anywhere.

Matthew takes a breath “How do you do it?”

“Hmm?”

“Arthur drinks, I...well I work out and occasionally go hiking, but I’m obviously not dealing with my troubles well because you took one look at my face and decided it’s better not to drag me back to the party. But you, you’ve never looked weak, no one would look at you and go ‘hey...maybe I shouldn’t promote him, I don’t want to be guilty of manslaughter.’”

Daan let’s out an annoyed huff. Matthew observes him as Daan sits up and straightens himself. “I’m pretty sure you saw me during a pretty rough patch at least once. Like that night you brought Emil to Mathias’ cafe. Man...that was a really shitty time. I was doing a pretty good job at denying just how shitty it was just two days before that, but there’s nothing quite like enforced quiet solitude on a 24-hour flight to make you realize how much you’re not going to be able to lie to yourself about this one.”

Daan’s voice is filled with so much...regret? Matthew doesn’t realize he’s reached out until he’s squeezing Daan’s arm in reassurance. They both tense with the contact, and Matthew quickly withdraws his hand. Stupid stupid stupid. “Sorry.” He mumbles, though he’s not sure what exactly he’s sorry for.

Daan doesn’t move, he just stares at the grass. “I trust my people.”

Matthew screws up his face in confusion. What did Daan’s team have to do with anything?

“Arthur drinks; you work out and hike; I have pets, a sister who can’t ever stop mocking me to remind me that I’m not that great, a baby brother who somehow looks up to me enough that it balances out her mocking, a friend who makes sure I’m fed and will drag me out of my door kicking and screaming if needs be to just...cycle somewhere, a…” Daan stops suddenly and frowns, squeezing the bridge of his nose and taking a deep breath, which he lets out. “You get the idea. I have people that I trust, to see me like that, like this - the way you saw me when I forgot my keys. I didn’t always have them, I didn’t always appreciate them, but I get by because I have them. I’m not a particularly social man, but I have a community that’s mine. That’s how I do it.” Daan stands from the bench and Matthew’s eyes can’t help but follow him, looking up and Daan turns. “You do too. And so does Arthur to be honest, neither of you are the lone wolves you try to be.”

Matthew laughs. “Lone wolf? Me?”

Daan shrugs. “We never really knew each other until recently, but I remember seeing you around before. Always in a group with other associates, usually with either Michelle or Ha, or…well, leaving birthday cupcakes on Arthur’s desk in the early hours of morning...”

Matthew’s eyes widen, Daan had seen that?

“Made me jealous to be honest,” Daan continues. “No one’s ever left me cupcakes.”

Matthew laughs. “Your housemate makes damn good danishes.”

“Well yes, but let’s be honest here, he’s never really made them for me, I just happened to be around. Besides, is a danish a cupcake?”

Matthew shakes his head and rolls his eyes fondly. Honestly.

“My point is,” Daan adds pointedly. “You have a community. Let them help you. Not saying hiking isn’t a good coping mechanism though.”

Matthew finds himself feeling a little lighter, and able to stand to return to the party. He looks up at Daan’s concerned face and smiles. “Thanks for the pep talk.” Daan is really really good at his job - who knew that this guy could give good talks like this? No wonder his team did so well.

Daan nods and looks behind him. “You want to join the party? Or should I make up an excuse?”

Matthew turns and observes the party too. It’s happy, pleasant and perfect - Michelle’s magic in full displace. “I don’t want to ruin it by bringing down the mood, Shell worked so hard. But I haven’t quite reached the point where it’s polite to leave yet. I should at least speak to Arthur. It’s crazy, I haven’t really talked to him at all lately.”

Daan’s tapping his fingers on the back of the bench, and Matthew doesn’t look at him, expecting him to leave at any moment. But instead, Daan surprises him.

“Want company or to be alone? Lukas will text me when they’re about to arrive, no one’s going to hold it against you if you sit out here. You’ve already greeted everyone.”

“I…” Both? Matthew wants Daan right next to him, a solid presence on a day when Matthew feels cast out at sea, riding on tumultuous waves of his stamped down emotions. He also doesn’t want to be a burden.

“Right, don’t worry. Take your time.”

“Wait!”

Daan pauses in his stride surprised. He must have presumed that Matthew’s reluctance to speak was out of politeness, not indecision.

“I don’t mind company I’m just not great company myself right now so, it’s really up to you. I’m sure you have schmoozing to do.”

Daan casts a skeptical look at the party. “I see them practically everyday. I don’t mind some quiet. They’re all in love with Mathias anyway, I’ll give him a chance to keep charming his regulars, uninterrupted.”

Matthew can’t help but laugh. “So he knows everyone?”

Daan shrugs. “Well whenever we have a party we tend to buy food from him, so by now, yeah.”

“I distinctly remember him telling you that night at the cafe, that PKDE was your life, not his.”

Daan lets out a snort and a little laugh. Matthew likes that little laugh, a little too much. He churns inside because no.

No. No. No.

Nononononononono…

“Sometimes when I piss him off he says things yeah, but he’s such a softy now you have no idea.”

For lack of anything else to say (because he’s afraid to say anything), Matthew just replies, “Tell me.”

So Daan does, and Matthew looks down at the grass seeing nothing because he knows he’s gone and done something even more irrevocably stupid. It was inevitable really, just a matter of time, and he had been in so much denial because he hadn’t wanted to stop himself. But was there really any other way that this was going to go for him? He can’t even hide it from himself anymore.

He’s in love.

[pitchofheart]

22 Questions

I was tagged by @jessparaguss ( thank u :) 💕 ) and I added two questions at the end since it was only 20 questions? Feel free to be tagged here if u want to do this as well :)

Nicknames: I don't have a name where you could form many nicknames out of it, but there was a short period of time in 5th or 6th grade where I was called 'blondie' because of my vibrant natural hair colour

Height: lol I'm pretty tall, so I'm about 178cm I'd guess , it's about 5'8"

last movie I saw: was a German movie in the cinema ( 'rate your date' it's called ) and it was surprisingly really good. But before, I watched Happy Deathday 2 U

Last thing I googled: how real madrid played ( I low-key wanted to know if they lost ) and the prem and buli results

Favourite Musician: that's probably the hardest question ever... I can't decide, I have to list all my favs: Rihanna, Twenty One Pilots, Eminem, G-Eazy, AJR, Bebe Rexha, Kehlani, The Black eyed peas, One Republic, Oasis, Queen, Bruno Mars, the weeknd, 30STM , Linkin Park, Coldplay, Fall Out Boy, RHCP (and probably more, especially German artists, I'll add some more if I forgot anyone now)

Song stuck in the head: currently it's:

I don't belong in this club - Why don't we & Macklemore

Needed me - Rihanna

Burn the house down - AJR

other blogs: lol I actually have one. I made @whiteheartlane in association with tottenham's new stadium and instead of the 'hart' I put 'heart'. I made it to save the URL for me at first and I planned to do a only England nt blog / Tottenham/ premier league blog but I haven't done anything like that yet 😅

Following: 171

Followers: 48

Amount of asks: basically none lol

Lucky numbers: I don't have numbers nor do I believe in it, but I guess I'll stick to the jersey numbers of my fave football players ( 4 , 6 , 9 , 10 etc. )

what are you wearing?: Socks, a black leggings and a long shirt kind of dress in camouflage pattern with white 'original' letters (I believe I got it in h&m )

Dream job: okay, I'm really being honest here.

I'd love to be a TV host or journalist for sports channels or even a correspondent. I was always interested in the lives of persons I adored, I'd love to interview so many people that inspire me. Or even take part in debates. Interview coaches and players on the fields after a crucial game. I think I'd never get tired of it. I live and breathe football and formula one, so it'd be a dream to become a Sky Sports host or something for example (just for you to know what I mean). I love to write in many languages so sign me tf up @ skysports

More real dream jobs have to be pharmacist, journalist, politician idk to be honest

Dream trip: in Europe it has to be Greece, Italy, Spain, Netherlands and England / UK

Additionally, south america would be beautiful as well as Canada maybe, or Australia, New Zealand idk

Favorite food: lasagna, noodles, fries, pizza, burgers, barbecues

instruments: lol I'm fucking untalented with instruments I'm glad if I can play a triangle right lmao

languages: I can speak German (native) , English and Latin since I learned it for 4 years in school, and a little bit of Spanish/Portuguese (basics, I learnt them from football)

favourite songs:

Never forget you - Zara Larsson & MNEK

The Bravest - Sir Rosevelt

Wavin Flag - K'naan

Locked out of heaven - Bruno Mars

Wall of Glass - Liam Gallagher

Don't look back in anger - Oasis

And many more

random facts: I share the same birthday as the formula one driver Nico Hülkenberg and he's German as well :)

Aesthetics: some tattoos are aesthetic to me

favourite sports (players): I love football and formula one. My fave drivers in F1 are Daniel Ricciardo, Niko Hülkenberg and Charles Leclerc and Michael Schumacher ( tho he doesn't drive anymore ) and his son Mick :)

Fav football players have to be Messi, Lewandowski, James Rodriguez, Leon Goretzka, Sergio Agüero , Virgil Van Dijk, Jordan Henderson, Thiago and Rafinha Alcantara, Gerard Pique, Corentin Tolisso, John stones and Kyle Walker, Eric Dier, Harry Winks and many more

best throwback songs:

shut up and drive , only girl, we found love - rihanna

heart skips a beat - olly murs

lose yourself - eminem

coming home - Dirty money ft. Skylar Grey

say my name - destiny's child

And many more xx

[gerardpilled]

Funniest part of that transmasc karkat enjoyer Gerard photo is that he’s at his high school graduation dinner… in a plan 9 shirt…

[biotic-banshee]

Tagged by the lovely @lacevingflies thnx bby

Rules: Answer these 21 questions and tag people you want to get to know better.

1. Nicknames: Jess, Jevans (my first and last name combined, lol) and Bucky

2. Zodiac sign: Pisces

3. Height: Um, about 163cm I think

4. Last movie I saw: The Greatest Showman

5. Last thing I googled: How to make a hair mask at home

6. Favourite musician: Harry Styles for his overall beautè, but also Florence Welch for making metaphysical love to me with her voice

7. Song stuck in my head: Faith No More, Easy Like Sunday Morning

8. Other blogs: No, only Instagram

9. Do I get asks: Occasionally 

10. Following: 209

11. Amount of sleep: Varies, but usually about 8 hours

12. Lucky numbers: 7, 13, 27

13. What I’m wearing: Jeans, t-shirt and boots

14. Dream job: (this is not a dream job but more of a dream retirement plan because I do not actually want a job at all).

Crazy cat lady living in a cottage in the woods. I write weird poetry and recite it to my cats. My herb garden is thriving.

Harry Styles lives on a baby goat farm next door. Ezra Miller visits for dinner parties in which we both wear elaborate 1800s Victorian gowns and drink red wine while getting tarot readings from Taylor.

Trista drops by on weekends to teach me how to play D&D and talk about video games and cats.

James and Amelia come to see me frequently, as they both work on Harry’s goat farm and often bring me baked goods that we enjoy with herbal tea that I have concocted from my garden.

My mum lives across the stream with her pet rabbits and bird friends. She tends to our communal lavender field and cooks dinner with me on Sunday nights.

We are all happy. 

15. Dream trip: I travel to Transylvania in search of a vampire queen that I have been hunting for several years. I am accompanied by my powerful and dignified familiar, Duchess the cat. My fellow vampire hunter and life partner, Ezra, is waiting for me at the local vampire hunter tavern. He travelled ahead of me to follow a lead while I took a detour to gather rare hunting supplies. We are both wearing this exact outfit http://www.darkincloset.com/men/3246-punk-rave-black-gothic-punk-personality-skeleton-vest-top-for-men.html

After much searching, promising trails lead to dead ends and we are about to give up our hunt. We are riding back to our lodgings along a dark and foggy road. There is nothing but the sound of our horses' hooves and the occasional rustling of leaves from the nearby woods. Then, appearing out of nowhere, a fierce and beautiful woman in a flowing red gown stands before us. Her face is partially hidden by shadow and ghostly fog. Her giant, bat like wings fold behind her and seem to disappear in a puff of black smoke. A braided bun of black hair sits atop her head.

Ezra is quick to act. He unsheathes his crossbow that shoots wooden stakes made from trees blessed by holy water.

The vampire queen hisses at him and steps forward out of the fog. Finally her face is revealed and my breath catches in my throat. I see Ezra hesitate with his crossbow.

It cannot be her. She was killed by an infamous vampire clan years ago. They drained her dry. I watched her die.

She stares at us with pale grey eyes and says, "I knew it would be you who came for me."

I draw in a shaky breath as I dismount my horse. "Lenore," I whisper, "how is this possible? You're the vampire queen of Transylvania?"

"I am," she replies, drawing closer. "And soon you will both discover, all things are possible in the world of the undead."

16. Favourite food: Cheese platter with a varietè of crackers, fresh fruits, meats and olives. Accompanied by a lot of fermented grapes

17. Play any instruments? No but I dabbled in a bit of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star on the keyboard when I was growing up

18. Languages: English

19. Favourite songs: Um I really like that crazy frog song

20. Random fact: Well recently I discovered that in 2014 Gerard Way released a solo album called Hesitant Alien and I cannot believe it took me five years to find out about this

21. Describe yourself as aesthetic things: Hm, too much coffee, piles of unread books, candles and incense, creepy dolls, Netflix and a bottle of wine, shelves full of action figures, Chapstick for every occasion, #ThrowbackThursday on Spotify, succulents.

I tag @unklarity @thecatblade @lehdenlaulu @ojirawel @stratosphericstrawberryslimexlr

[thehorrcr]

u can also read the second chapter for the MCR vamp-fic here!!!

Gerard had only gotten two texts from his brother that night. He stared down at them now, as he stood outside the front of Mackey’s bar. One read, “I’ll be home soon.” Gerard blinked at the words, until they started to swim through his brain. Like radiostatic being scrambled. The bar was closed, and dawn was starting to peel away the edges of night. The fruit of darkness, sweet and tangy on his tongue, like a pomegranate. He could smell morning on the horizon, waiting to bloom. Gerard shivered in the chill. “Mikey… where are you?” He asked, his voice only received by the street lamp that stood like a sentry, next to him.

Gerard studied the last text his little brother had sent, all it said was, “I am being followed.” The digital lines of text sent a chill running up and down Gerard’s spine. As if the grim reaper were running her fingernails across his pale skin. Desperation was starting to get the best of him. He had jumped into his car, and flown to the bar as fast as he could once he had received the text. This was Mikey’s usual Saturday night haunting ground. Gerard had expected to find him black out drunk, and passed out on the bathroom floor.  And that, would be a problem in of itself. Nevermind Mikey’s cryptic fucking text messages.

However, when Gerard had gotten here, the bar was closed. The lights dimmed, and the neon hum of the “open” sign, was silent. The place looked abandoned, and Mikey was nowhere to be seen.

Gerard remembered the last time this had happened. He had received a text from Mikey that had said, “I am fucking dying.”

Gerard had broken every traffic law that there was, and had sped through Jersey like a bat out of fucking hell. Only to find his brother at a local sushi joint, high as hell, and gourging himself on wasabi. Needless to say, Gerard wasn’t fucking pleased. He hadn’t spoken to his brother for days afterward. It wasn’t until Mikey offered him popcorn over a movie marathon of Star Wars, that Gerard finally had given in and forgave him.

Now Gerard felt a hollow feeling that rang all throughout his body. Something told him that finding his brother wouldn’t be so easy this time… and maybe once he finally did find him, he wouldn’t like what he would discover.

Gerard was about to head back towards his car, that he had left running. Smoke was pouring out of the exhaust pipe, and hitting the air like a snake. The sound of Danzig spilling from the speakers, calling him towards it. When, he got got a tugging feeling in his stomach. Gerard paused, frowning. He looked up and down the dark street, the store fronts were all dark. No one was out at this hour, and yet, he had the feeling of being watched. “Hello?” He called, but nothing answered him. Of course nothing would fucking answer him. It was a ghost town. And yet, somehow, the echo of his voice bouncing back to him felt like a million shattered phantoms. All of them, hungry.

And then… there was the moaning. It was a low, guttural sound. It made the hair on the back of Gerard’s neck stand on end. He could hear where it was coming from, a dark alleyway that was about as welcoming as a murderer straight from Elm Street. The sound was filling Gerard’s head like cotton, until all he could make sense of was the pain that filled each pitch. Bright hot red, like a fire burning in the heart of a star. Begging to be blown out.

“Gerard.” A familiar voice coughed out. Fear, primal and stark white, turned Gerard’s legs to jelly. He recognized that voice. Of course he would, he’d recognize that voice anywhere. That voice, that had called his name so many times before, the noise usually filling him with a sense of home… now… only flooded him with horror.

It was Mikey.

Gerard’s legs were running towards the alley, before he could even had a chance to tell them to. Everything in his body, begging to get to his brother as quickly as possible. His soul, felt like it was trying to burst through his ribcage. Like a baseball player sprinting for home base. Gerard tore down the sidewalk, and then turned into the alley. Shadows played like cats on the walls, dancing as Gerard tried to make sense of the shapes that lay on the ground. There were bags of trash, and stay dogs, discarded bins…

And a shape that was the same size as Mikey, huddled on the other end of the way. Curled up on its side, like a deer on the side of a highway. It’s belly swollen, and gutted, spilling red on the ground beside it.

A noise tore itself from Gerard’s lips as he ran towards his brother, it sounded like a mix between a car crash, and Mikey’s name. Like glass, exploding, the shrapnel sparkling like crushed stars in the twilight. The sound of chaos, singing like a choir of hell-bent angels. Gerard bent down next to Mikey, tears spilling from his eyes. Wet and heavy, like rain drops. “Mikey, Mikey please. Say something!” Gerard gasped. Mikey’s chin was covered in blood, and so was his shirt. The scent was acrid, and smelled like something that spilled from the mouth of a rotting carcass. It made Gerard gag, as he quickly fumbled with his phone to dial 9-11. He swore when he hit the wrong number on the pad, and was about to chuck his flimsy flip phone into the wall, when a hand landed on his wrist. Everything in Gerard stilled, and his attention turned towards the pale fingers that were cool against his skin. “Mikey?” He breathed.

“Don’t call the pigs. They always ruin the mood.” Mikey coughed. Gerard didn’t put the phone down, and Mikey fixed him with a sad glance, “I am beyond their help now, Gerard. Trust me.” Mikey extended his hands up towards the stars that were shining like pinpricks in the bruised purple, of the new morning. “I am a God.”

Gerard’s brows furrowed, as Mikey’s hands fell back down at his sides like they were dead weight. And that was when Mikey’s body started to twitch, as if he were a corpse on Dr. Frankenstein’s operating table. Like electricity were jumping from one nerve ending to the next. He convulsed on the ground, blood welling up from his mouth and spilling down the side of his cheek. Gerard’s heart beat was racing, as he called his brother’s name, desperately, “Mikey! Don’t fucking die on me! I need you, I need you. Don’t leave me. Please, please.” He placed both his hands on the sides of his brother’s face, and was shouting at him. As if his pleas could be heard up in heaven, itself. But Mikey’s tremors did not stop. “Snap the fuck out of it, Mikey!” Gerard screamed, and smacked one side of his brother’s face.

Mikey stopped shaking. Gerard had never seen him lay so still, it was almost worse than the convulsions had been. “... Mikey?” Breathing his name sounded like a betrayal for some reason. Gerard could hear his pulse in his own ears, as it hammered against his ribcage. Mikey’s eyes didn’t open, and he didn’t respond either.

Everything had gone quiet. So quiet, that Gerard was sure he could hear his own heart breaking. It felt like someone had slit his wrists, as if his soul were stardust, pouring from his veins until there was nothing left of him. Until he couldn’t tell where he started, and where the pain began.

Gerard took a deep breath, trying to get a grip on his aching chest. He needed to figure out what had happened, so that he could plan on what to do next. He looked around the alleyway, it was deserted except for the two of them. There were no clues around that suggested a mugger, or anything of the sort. However, there were blood splatters everywhere. Pools of the tar-like liquid covered the ground, and Gerard’s brows furrowed as he realized that there was far too much of the stuff, to just belong to Mikey. Which meant, there had been more than one person at this scene.

The question was, what had they done to his brother? Gerard turned back to Mikey, and his eyes fell back on the blood stains on his shirt. He quickly lifted up the fabric to reveal… nothing. There was nothing. “What the fuck?” Gerard whispered to himself. It looked as if Mikey had been shot, but the wound was already healing. New skin was growing over the entrance wound, and it had already stopped bleeding. Gerard pressed a finger to it, and found that it was hot to the touch. “Mikey, what happened to you?” Gerard asked, but his brother didn’t reply. Another shot of pain echoed through him. Bouncing against the inside of his skull, until it was all he could think of.

Think Gerard. He thought to himself. You need to think.

Gerard’s eyes landed on his brother’s neck, just below his collar. There was what looked to be bite marks, that were slowly turning a deep blue color. Like blood, deprived of oxygen. Dark veins were growing from it, slowly crawling their way up Mikey’s neck. Gerard’s blood turned cold. He knew what it was with a sickening certainty in that moment.

His brother had, what the locals were starting to call, “The New Age Black Death.” The sickness had been spreading across Jersey, taking people one by one, in the night. Officials had been called in, and towns like Edison and Paterson had been blocked off. Quarantined and evacuated, as people started to fall ill, one by one. Each and every one of them, turning up with bite marks on their necks, and black veins spreading across their skin. They’d go into a comatose state, before dying.

However, that wasn’t the weird part. The weird part was what happened afterwards. Families would bury their loved ones, only to get phone calls days later saying, “Surprise! Your great grandma’s grave has been desecrated!” from the funeral homes. This happened to every single case, each one disappearing as if by magic, after being buried.

It was almost as if the bodies were getting up, and walking out of the graves themselves. Like zombies, clawing their way out of their coffins, and into the Jersey night. Filling the air with decay, and death.

Gerard’s mouth settled into a thin line, as he debated what to do. He couldn’t take his brother to the hospital, he just couldn’t. They’d keep him in a fucking plastic bubble, until he died, and Gerard would have to endure knowing he turned his brother into a lab rat in his last days. That was something he couldn’t stomach, it would drive him insane having that sort of thing on his conscious. Gerard bit his lip, it wasn’t like he could take him home either. Their landlord would shit bricks, and the neighbors would surely complain about the smell.

The last place Gerard could think of wasn’t far away. It was only a few blocks down, and he was sure that the host wouldn’t mind a few uninvited guests.

Gerard scooped up his brother, and carried him back to the car. He apologized a few times, when he knocked Mikey’s head into the side door. Cringing at the sound of bone, hitting metal. But, he finally managed to get him into the back seat. Gerard shut the door, and then patted his back pocket to get his keys, but there was nothing there. He cursed, and turned on his heels backs towards the alley, where he must’ve dropped them.

Birds were singing on the powerlines, and people were slowly starting to crawl out onto the streets. If Gerard didn’t hurry, someone would call the police when they spotted him, covered in blood. He looked as if he had just escaped a slaughter-house.

He searched the alley, and was starting to grow inpatient, when he finally found his keys next to a beaten up converse shoe. He frowned, had that been there before? There were blood splatters next to the ALL STAR symbol, and scribbled sharpie on the toe. Gerard picked it up, and studied it for a few moments.

Gerard’s mind wandered back to the bite marks on Mikey’s neck… they had looked as if someone had… well, bitten him.

Someone human.

Or at least, he hoped they were human.

Could this shoe have belonged to them? And if so, what did that mean? What monsters crawled the streets of Jersey?

And did they have anything to do with the sickness that had taken his brother?

.

Pete was prepared for most of the crazy shit that happened to him. Freak lightning accidents, car wrecks, girls smacking him on the first date, Gabe Saporta. For the most part, he considered himself a laid-back, go-with-the-flow type of person. And he was proud of this.

However, when Gerard Way showed up at his house, banging on his front door like a mad man. He was not prepared to open it to see him carrying, what looked like, the corpse of his younger brother. Gerard looked as if he had seen the devil himself, as the rain poured down in sheets, plastering his black hair to his face. It spread across his cheeks in tendrils, making him look almost mad. Patrick called from inside the house, “Pete, who the fuck is it?”

Pete blinked at Gerard a few times, “It’s… Gerard...  and… Mikey?” Pete was struggling to grapple with the situation.

Gerard’s eyes were half-way manic as he explained, “Something’s wrong with Mikey.” Gerard paused for a moment, as if deciding how much he wanted to say, “He was mugged.” Pete’s mouth was hung open in a wide O, and Gerard let out a frustrated grunt, “Would you please fucking let me in?!”

“What the hell happened to his neck? Are you sure he was mugged, and not attacked by a grizzly?” Pete asked, his eyes hovering on the deep red stains that were covering Mikey’s neck. It was hard to see, but it looked as if he had been bitten. Two, bruised purple marks were leftover, and were still glistening with rain and wet blood. It made Pete’s stomach turn just by looking at them.

“Pete! For fuck’s sake! Let me in!” Gerard barked out, his voice breaking at the end of his sentences. It sounded as if his words had been dragged through mud, and it was suddenly hard to tell whether or not it was raindrops or tears rolling down his cheeks.

Pete’s face softened, “We’ll fix this.” He promised, and then grabbed Mikey from Gerard, lifting him over his shoulders. Gerard let out a gasp, as if he were a little kid and Pete had just stolen one of his favorite teddy bears from him. Pete raised an eyebrow at him, as his friend lingered on the doorstep. “You gonna stay out there and catch a cold, or are you coming in?” Gerard’s head had turned to look over his shoulder. Almost as if he expected someone to be waiting outside. When he turned back to finally look at Pete, there was an odd expression that hung on the edge of his lips. Somewhere between a mix of paranoia, and bewilderment. As if Gerard wasn’t quite sure how he got to be in the place he was standing. “Gerard?” Pete asked again.

Gerard’s eyes snapped up, like he realized Pete was still there. He crossed the threshold, and closed the night out behind him. The warm lamp lights swallowed up Gerard’s inky-black figure. Pete led Gerard and Mikey into the front room, where Patrick, and Joe were both sprawled out on the floor, framed by pillows and popcorn bowls, and beer cans. For a second, they were so absorbed in the video game they were playing, that they didn’t notice Pete and his two American Horror Story-eque guests enter the room. Pete cleared his throat, and Patrick looked up.

His face paled, “Holy shit!” He exclaimed.

“Nice to see you too, Patrick.” Gerard greeted him.

Joe paused the video game, and helped Pete place Mikey down on the couch. Pete propped his head up on a pillow, and cringed when blood started to stain the white cloth. “Dude, he’s bleeding out like a fucking gusher. Why didn’t you take him to the hospital?” Pete studied Mikey’s face. Now that he was in the lamp light, he could clearly see the details of him. His skin was cold, too cold. His lips were almost purple, and the usual rosey-hue was gone from his cheeks. And his eyes, were framed by dark veins, that cobwebbed away from his sockets. It made him look as if he were made of shattered glass.

It was the eyes that struck a plink of fear on Pete’s heart strings. He recognized that look, he had seen it on pictures on the news, with headlines that read, “New Zombie Sickness Ravages Jersey Streets.” Pete suddenly felt the need to take a bath, his skin crawled with the thought of the disease.

Gerard wore a dark look, he shook his head, “I couldn’t take him the hospital.”

“So, you brought him here? Ha!” Joe barked out a laugh, “That’s great! Patrick your skills as a doctor are obviously in high demand.” Joe nudged Patrick in the arm, and Patrick glared back at the other boy. “I’ll get some dental floss and needles, and he’ll sew Mikey right up!” Gerard threw a venomous look at Joe, that made him shut up, instantly.

Pete had gone silent. He met Gerard’s gaze, who looked stricken and scared. Like a little kid left behind, without someone to take them home. Pete suddenly understood why Gerard had brought him here, instead of to a doctor. If it was the sickness, and Gerard had taken Mikey to the emergency room, he would have never seen him again. They would have quarantined his little brother, and Mikey would have sat in the ICU, hooked up to cold machines, being poked and prodded by doctors. Until inevitably, three days later, he would finally succumb to the new, mysterious disease and he would die. Gerard wouldn’t get to say goodbye, or hold his hand. Or even be given an idea of where Mikey would be buried, because they would burn the corpse. They’d take everything from Gerard.

It was a fate worse than death.

“Gerard… Tell us the truth. This wasn’t a mugging, was it?” Pete’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Gerard’s voice trembled, like moonlight dancing across a water’s surface, “I think… I think it’s the plague.”

Joe and Patrick both stilled, and all of the boys stared down at Mikey in both pity and fear. Patrick was the first to move again, breaking the statue-like curse that had fallen over them for a few moments. He knelt down beside Mikey, and picked up his wrist, pressing his thumb to the inside of it. He didn’t say anything for a second, the rest of them all seemed to lean in. Curious to see what Patrick’s verdict would be. “He’s.. alive -” He began.

“Hallelujah!” Pete exclaimed, a wide grin blossoming on his face.

“But… he should be dead.” Patrick said, and then motioned for Gerard to sit down next to him. “Feel his pulse! It’s going at least 200 beats per minute! His ticker should’ve fucking tocked by now!”

“Tocked?” Joe scrunched his nose up. “That’s just bad writing.” He said, with a shake of his head.

Gerard checked his brother’s pulse, and his eyebrows raised in alarm. “You’re right. That’s fucking bat shit.” He breathed. His eyes lingered on his brother’s face for a few moments longer, before his face crumpled. His shoulders shaking as his head slowly sank down and rested at Mikey’s side. “I am sorry, Mikey.” He groaned, “I am so, so sorry.” Gerard clutched at his stomach, almost as if he were trying to claw the pain out of himself.

Patrick looked over at Patrick with a raised eyebrow, that said, “Say something!”

Pete glowered back at his friend. He might be a big mouth, but even he didn’t know how to comfort Gerard’s weeping figure. His mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to find the right words before finally settling on, “Now is a good time to get alcohol, right?”

“Goddammit.” Patrick mumbled, rolling his eyes a bit. Patrick sat down beside Gerard, and patted his back. The same way an older sibling would, Pete always admired Patrick’s softness and ability to reason with people. It was one of the reasons Patrick was his best friend, he was yin where Pete was yang. Chaos and peace, mixing together. “Gerard.” Patrick started, Gerard had stopped shaking, but his eyes looked far away. As if he had sunken down into the same place his brother had, “Mikey isn’t going anywhere. We’re going to figure this out. I promise you, I will get you your brother back.” Patrick said, firmly.

Gerard looked back at him, and laughed. The sound was broken, like an out of tune violin. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“Trust me. I can keep a promise.” Patrick replied. And if Gerard was doubtful, he didn’t say. A few moments lingered like stray cats, before a bolt of lightning struck the ground. The living room lit up, bright hot electric white. The lamps flickered and pulsed, before they all finally went out. Plunging them all, into darkness.

.

[certaintraveler75]

1) for sure more punk then emo or scene

2) fave band is saint Etienne atm

3) new year's resolutions - can't even remember but draw more probably

4) fave music video is probably your tomb by craft spells rn

5) fave song is probably stray dog and the chocolate shake - grandaddy

6) P!ATD or FOB. Damn that's so hard. Went through a massive emo phase lol. I even saw panic! Live which was Hella cool. but also like.... Fuck Brendon so fob

7) fave album is sound of water by saint Etienne

8) yep, fingerless gloves haha

9) most of my clothes are second hand cause sustainability! baby. But yeah, I have one of my mum's alvvays shirts she got from their gig, and I have a tøp hoodie that used to be my brother's.

10) jacket with pins? Full on punk jacket more like.

11) atm my hair is only slightly coppery at the ends from where I dyed it orange before, but I've had dyed hair so tons.

12) hmm haven't got any plans for restyling my hair.

13) still the only band member/celebrity I've ever had a crush on is Gerard way...

14) killjoy name - battery after

15) don't know who the used are

16) for sure want tattoos, the only one I know I definitely want rn is of two dragons circling on my wrist.

17) I've dabbled in playing piano, whistle and electric guitar - not great at any of them tho

18) fave MCR song is either dead! Or house of wolves.

19) tøps older albums are emo, but not so much nowadays

20) don't know who taking back Sunday are

21) hardly ever, except eyeliner once in a blue moon.

22) I don't really paint my nails lol. But if I did it would be black

23) nah, band posters cost too much money. I have a bunch of printed out stuff tho lol.

24) man idk about peircings. Half of me wants snake bites and an eyebrow peircing, the other half can't be asked.

25) all the classics - not my fave but alright.

26) emo was a phase, punk is a lifestyle for me not an aesthetic - my political views and music taste is what makes me punk, not style lol. I don't have that kinda money.

27) not to be basic, but fave mythical creature is dragon

28) I like a couple of black veil brides songs, but not a massive fan.

29) honestly I have no idea what time period any of the bands I listen to belong to, so idk.

30) softcore indie, for sure. Quite the juxtaposition to punk.

31) yeah, mindless self indulgence is alright

32) where did the party go is my fave fob song, purely cause of the memories of me and my brother listening to it while playing Forza all summer long.

33) honestly the majority of stuff I listen to is softcore indie, so no.

34) ?????

35) nah

36) brother by Gerard way. The chords are good.

37) haha yeah some are.

38) yep! Super blurry pic tho sorry

39) rusty orange, cool green, moss, that sorta stuff.

40) "the gas man loves his street, he loves to drill, he loves to think about his girl" - black and white unite - belle and Sebastian. This line has always really touched me for some reason.

"I die on the inside every time, you will never be alright, I will never be your type" your type - alvvays. This one really helped to rage sing along to after I broke up with my abusive ex.

Every single line to baby teeth - deal casino

41) the black parade 100%

42) don't like Paramore, green Day is amazing, blink-180 is sorta overrated but not awful

RAWRING 20s ASKS

I made some asks! Have fun!

1. Are you more emo, scene or punk?

2. Favourite band?

3. Any New Year's resolutions?

4. Favourite music video?

5. Favourite song?

6. Panic! At The Disco or Fall Out Boy?

7. Favourite album?

8. Do you own a pair of fingerless gloves or skeleton gloves (or the combination)?

9. Do you own any band merch? If so, from what bands?

10. Got a jacket with pins?

11. Have you got dyed hair? What colour?

12. Any hair dying or haircut plans for 2020?

13. Crush on any band member?

14. Killjoy name?

15. Are you into The Used?

16. Do you want any tattoos? Of what?

17. Can you play any instruments? Which?

18. Favourite My Chemical Romance song?

19. Do you think Twenty One Pilots are emo?

20. Are you into Taking Back Sunday?

21. Do you wear any make up?

22. Do you have black painted nails?

23. Have you got any band posters? Of what bands?

24. Do you want any piercings?

25. What's your opinion on All Time Low? Sleeping With Sirens? Pierce The Veil?

26. Do you think it's just a phase or that you'll be emo/punk\scene forever?

27. Favourite magical/mythical creature?

28. Are you into Black Veil Brides?

29. Do you like any newer emo/scene/punk bands? Which?

30. What's your favourite music genre besides emo/punk\scene?

31. Are you into Mindless Self Indulgence?

32. Favourite Fall Out Boy song?

33. Are you mostly into the so-called "emo trinity" or "emo quartet" or do you listen to a lot of other bands too?

34. What's your opinion on Waterparks? Palaye Royale? I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME?

35. Are you into Bring Me The Horizon?

36. Favourite solo project by a emo/scene\punk band member?

37. Are any of your friends IRL emo/scene\punk?

38. Are you into drawing? If so, show some of your art!

39. Favourite colours and colour schemes?

40. What are some of your favourite lyrics?

41. The Black Parade or Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge?

42. What's your opinion on Paramore? Green Day? Blink-182?

[willgayers]

ladies and gentlemen ,,, and others

fans of tattoo!reddie headcanons

i proudly present to you 

THE STORY I AM TURNING IT INTO! YAY!  this is the first chapter and it was beta read by @tohzier <3 thank u for correcting some mistakes my non-american ass might make

Things were working out pretty great in the life of Eddie & Richie — the couple had moved into their mutual apartment two months ago, Eddie was spending his mornings at college and his evenings working at the diner near their apartment.

Meanwhile, Richie was "working" from home; aka, trying to work on some monologues for auditions. Eddie had been kinda cool with it when his boyfriend proposed the idea of his staying at home, since Eddie knew his partner wanted to become an actor in the future. Though Eddie had silently wondered who would hire a boy tattooed from head to toe, (since the makeup artists would have a lot of work hiding them) but he didn't point it out to Richie.

And it wasn't like he wanted to rush Richie into things; if Richie wasn't emotionally ready to get a "real" job, Eddie didn't wanna force him to do that. Richie didn't exactly have the easiest past, so he understood. Also, Richie staying home meant he was keeping the house clean and Eddie didn't have anything against that; the boy would've been tired as hell if he had to study, work and clean the house after the whole day.

One of the reasons Eddie was doing all of this, letting Richie stay at home while he was out there studying and bringing money home for the two of them, was the sad fact that Richie couldn't afford college. The only reason Eddie could was because his father had started saving for his future son the second he found out his wife was pregnant, and every month Eddie's mom would add a little to the savings. Richie's parents had never thought of their son's future plans. The whole thing was sort of a taboo; they both knew that opening the conversation would lead to nothing good.

Therefore they hadn't even considered talking about it.

Not yet, at least. They were too busy living in their perfect little relationship bubble.

"I'm home!" Eddie called out as he stepped in to their condo, closing the door behind him, a paper takeaway bag in his other hand.

"Baby! Hi!" Richie answered, excited, from their bedroom, soon walking out to greet his boyfriend face to face.

Richie had a wide smile as he made his way over to Eddie and grabbed his face, pressing a kiss to his lips; even though the two lived together and saw each other every morning and every night, Richie still missed his boyfriend like crazy during the daytime.

Of course Eddie missed him too; but Richie was always a little more needier, even if he didn't admit it. But he didn't really have to.

"What do we have here?" Richie asked after the kiss, grabbing the paper bag from Eddie's hand.

"A double cheese burger—"

"With chili fries?" Richie's eyes widened in excitement.

"Yes, with chili fries." Eddie smiled with the other side of his mouth, watching as his boyfriend did a little fist in the air and then made his way to the living room. Eddie followed, sitting opposite Richie on the sofa.

"There's also my burger." He noted as they sat on the couch, and Richie nodded, handing out the regular cheese burger that Eddie then grabbed.

"God, Eddie—" Richie mumbled with his mouth full of burger. "You're the best boyfriend ever."

Eddie, who hadn't still taken a bite out of his, smiled wide.

"Why thank you, Richard." He said.

"You're very welcome, Edward." Richie gave Eddie a goofy smile before nudging his leg gently with his own.

"How was school?" He asked.

"It was okay." Eddie shrugged. He didn't want Richie to know that everyday went slow as hell because the poor boy was all by himself.

"What about work?" Richie then asked.

"Same old, same old." Eddie murmured with his mouth full of burger. "My boss was an asshole, though. Again."

"Do you want me to hit him?" Richie asked, and Eddie let out a laugh.

"Even if I did, you shouldn't do that. I might get in trouble." Eddie said.

"Fine." Richie said. "But if he gets too asshole-y..."

Eddie smiled; it wasn't like he was gonna ask Richie to hit his boss, but the fact Richie would kick somebody's ass for Eddie— and he would— somehow made his heart warm. Even though violence wasn't good, Eddie couldn't help but be happy with the idea his hot tattooed boyfriend would wanna protect him.

Oh, yes.

His hot, hot, tattooed boyfriend...

Then Eddie flinched back to the moment, the dreamy smile (that Richie wasn't even noticing as he was too busy gobbling his burger) washed off from his lips fast and he bit his burger.

"What about you?" He asked with a slightly muffled voice, mouth full; but then he swallowed so he could speak clear now.  "The monologues coming out well?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Richie shrugged.

"When will you act one out for me?" Eddie asked, a small smirk on his face, that immediately caused a blush to creep up on Richie's.

"Never." He said and Eddie laughed.

"What? Why?!" He asked.

"Too much pressure, that's why." Richie said.

"Oh, come on. I'm sure you're at least as good as Tom Cruise." Eddie said.

"Tom Cruise? Honey, I'm better than Tom Cruise." Richie said and Eddie laughed again.

"Okay, sure you are," he said.

Even though Eddie always went with onion rings and Richie with chili fries, they always ended up leaning over to grab the other one's side dish.

"So... are there still any hot girls at your college?"

"Richie!" Eddie blurted out.

"Just kidding, babe." Richie smirked, and Eddie shook his head in disbelief.

---

Most days passed like that for the couple.

Eddie's alarm would ring at 7 a.m., and he would get up and go make himself some tea while Richie would snore in the bed. Kaspbrak would drink his tea in his pajamas while he went through the news, and once the clock read 8 a.m. he'd start getting dressed— after that he would wake up Richie with a gentle nudge on his shoulder or waist or something, and once Richie opened his eyes, he would always be greeted by a smiling Eddie.

"I'm heading to school." He'd say.

"Okay." Richie always said, before making a pouty kissy face, and Eddie would kiss him.

"I love you. See you tonight."

"Mhm, I love you too," Richie murmured sleepily— Eddie was living in the belief that Richie did wake up at 11, but usually the boy slept till 12. At least.

"Kick ass." Richie would say as Eddie was already at the door, and he'd turn around to give his boyfriend a loving smile even though the boy in the bed had his eyes closed.

"Sure." Eddie would answer before leaving.

It took Eddie approximately 30 minutes to get to his school— they were still living in Maine, but this was a little more of a distance than they were used to.

They weren't living in Derry anymore; none of the losers were. They had all moved all across America, and unfortunately weren't as close as they used to be. Sure, they were in touch; but they definitely weren't as tight as before. Bill and Eddie were sending texts regularly though, and the only one Richie had really stayed in touch with was Beverly.

Eddie wasn't really big on friends at college either; he was shy when it came to new people.

And by really big, I mean: Eddie had zero friends.

However— while Eddie had been driving to school, jamming out to all kinds of songs played loud from his speakers (Africa by Toto being one of them, obviously) he finally arrived at the college...

Richie had just gotten out of bed, made himself some coffee and then enjoyed it with a cigarette smoked on the balcony.

It was a miracle they'd ended up with a condo that even had a balcony; Eddie had always complained how Richie's room in his parents' house smelled like cigarettes due to him smoking out of the window.

While Eddie was at school, attending his classes and studying quietly, marking down all kinds of important things in his notebook...

"-And I will promise you, Lorelei...."

Richie was standing in front of the mirror in their bedroom, holding a pout and a frown.

"I am never. Never, ever... leaving youhhhh..."

He gave himself a serious glare.

Staring at his reflection for a moment, he then cursed loudly and turned away from the mirror, before stomping the floor.

He would repeat until he was finally pleased with the outcome. Which was usually never.

The day passed fast and Eddie would hop in his car again, jam to some more music, and then stop at the diner. He'd walk in, switch to his working clothes (a black apron, black pants and a purple t-shirt with a patch of the diner's name, Hungry Henry) and start repeating sentences like; "Hello!", "Here you go!", "Thank you sir/madam!", "Aaaaand this is for you— this one's for youuuu—", and "Thank you, have a great day!" (Depending on whether he was at the cash desk or if he was a waiter.)

Richie kept on repeating words like; "Don't you see, Gerard—?! I am bleeding!", "She is the wicked witch of this town!", "I saw it in his eyes... before he was murdered...!", "No— King Felix Third is not my father!", and "I will come back to haunt you, ALL of you!"

And every day at 9 p.m. Eddie finally got home.

Tuesday and Thursday were burger days, because those days Eddie was working the same shift with the cool chef who didn't want any food to go waste, so Eddie could easily sneak some leftover burgers back home to himself and Richie. Always making sure Richie got his favorite.

But that Friday, around six thirty five p.m., things would start to change.

"Eddie, you have to go serve a table."

Eddie frowned as he stared up at his boss from the kitchen floor where he was at the moment, scrubbing some burned grease off of it.

"Me?" He asked. "I'm not even on waiter duty."

"I don't care," his boss shrugged. "Stacey isn't doing her job fast enough and the customers have been waiting for fifteen minutes already. They're gonna get pissed."

Eddie just stared at him.

"Chop chop, Kaspbrak!" The boss said and walked away.

Eddie closed his eyes and cursed the man inside his mind, before he tossed the rag from his hand to the floor and got up.  

He washed his hands and walked to the public side of the diner. He didn't even have to look at the table when he grabbed the tiny notepad and a pen; everything was way too unfortunately memorized inside his head.  

However, he stopped as he was on the other side of the desk now, and stared at table number six.

There were four boys, most likely Eddie's age, all wearing either leather or worn out jean jackets. They had messy hair and piercings and tattoos. One even had a tiny green mohawk. They looked like they were gonna be mean– but Eddie knew he didn't really have a choice. He was gonna have to take this table.

So he breathed in and out, before making his way towards it.

"Hello," he said, and everyone at the table lifted their heads.

"About time." Said the green mohawk guy in an annoyed tone of voice, and Eddie felt his stomach turn a little.

"Now, now, Tony. Let's not be mean." Said a guy from the right side of the booth, and Eddie turned his gaze to him.

The boy had dark brown hair, a ring in the middle of his lower lip, and his other ear was pierced all the way from the lobe up to the cartilage. His eyes were green and he had long lashes; and Eddie had no idea why he was taking his looks in so detailed of a manner.

"Hey," the boy said, a flirtatious smile on his lips.

"H-Hey," Eddie blurted out, and some of the guys chuckled.

"Eddie, right?" He asked.

Eddie raised his brows.

"Huh?" He asked. How did this guy know his name?

"Eddie." The guy said again, before nodding at his shirt. "It says so in your badge." Eddie glanced down at his shirt.

"Oh." He said. "Right."

A smirk spread on the guy's face.  

"Hey." He said.

"Hey." Eddie said, a little bothered and blushing lightly; the guy was straight up flirting with him, with no shame.

"So-" the guy now cleared his throat and started giving the orders, pointing each friend at the mention of their name. "Tony will get a chicken-bacon burger, Joe will get a chocolate cone, Kevin will want a..."

"Do you guys have a vegetarian option?" Said the boy in the corner. Eddie was a little surprised because this guy was bald, wearing a spiked collar and his eyebrow was pierced.

And he was a vegetarian.

"Um, yeah." Eddie said. "It's a falafel burger."

"I'll take that." The guy said and Eddie nodded, writing it on the end of the list.

"And I will take..." The green eyed boy spoke, staring at the menu. "A double cheese burger."

He was holding the menu at Eddie, waiting for him to grab it.

"With chili fries."

Eddie raised his brows.

"What?" The guy asked.

"Nothing," Eddie rushed to say and grabbed the menu from him. "Drinks?" 

"Coke." They all said in unison and Eddie nodded, writing that down too.

"Got it." He said.

"Thanks, cutie." The boy said and Eddie almost dropped the menu from his hands.

"Okay..." he just mumbled and walked away, hearing some of the guys laughing again.

What the hell? He thought. Why did this random guy flirt with him? And most importantly, why was he getting all flustered?

"Hey, Eddie— good news!"

His work buddy Jenna said, grabbing Eddie by the arm.

"Remember when you did my shift last Wednesday?" She asked.

"Yeah," Eddie said.

"Well I can take yours now."

"Really?" Eddie raised a brow.

Jenna nodded.

"Yeah." She said. "What table?"

"Six," Eddie said, handing the girl his notepad.  

The girl read it through fast, before nodding.

"Okay— I'll take this." She smiled. "Have a good Friday, Eddie!"

Then she took off to the kitchen. Eddie was left to stare after her a little confused; but then decided it was probably for the best.

He made his way to the changing rooms and switched back to his regular clothes, before going out through the backdoor. Maybe it was better he didn't take that table.

@nopetaking @xbell22@donthateonk8 @stenbroughbros @reddiebrekmyheart@itsgreywaterrichie@donvex @blueeyespurpleskies @ageorgymi @oh-youre-the-worst@eddiekaaspbraak @whipashwhipash @rissyq @richietoaster@edskasqbrak @waterlouis@wyattghouleff @urtury @bukiminajimu@kcutieeesblog @stansmansuris@adorefack@reddieaddict @icyeyes102@denbroughbill @graveyardshipper @taletellingsir@anxiety-freak-yuuri@rheddie @queertrashmouth @richiefreakingtozier @castletozier  @tohzier

[were-cheetah-stiles]

The College Years - Freshman Year (Chapter 9) - Stiles Stilinski

Author: @were-cheetah-stiles​

Title: “The First Kiss”

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Liam Dunbar, Hayden Romero & Reader/OFC

Warnings: Fluff, kissing, mentions of death and violence, cursing probably because I am me….

Summary: Stiles and Y/N share their first kiss.

Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten

“So how’d last night go, besides, you know…” Scott asked Stiles, as he sat in the chair in the corner of Stiles’ bedroom.

“Well, I told her I liked her finally.”

“Dude!”

“Yea, I know, and she sort of said it back�� but not really, so that’s going to have to be clarified eventually. Y/N and I danced a bunch. One of her roommates hooked up with Simon after you left. Then I walked them home, and Y/N agreed to go on a real date with me, but still hasn’t kissed me and I think might still be pissed about Lydia, since apparently you told her that whole story because you’re an ass.”

“I’m sorry, buddy, but I was trying to help you out.” Scott said with remorse.

“Yea.” Stiles sat on his bed, across from Scott. “But honestly, I was dreading having to tell her about Lydia, so you kind of saved me from having that conversation, so whatever.”

“No problem, buddy….” Scott paused. “I talked to her about the coven witches and Allison last night.” He divulged.

“How’d she react?” Stiles asked.

“I don’t know.. worried?”

“Do you think Gerard would ever do it?”

Scott shook his head, unsure of the answer to the question that Stiles and him had been throwing around ever since you mentioned the coven witches to Stiles. Suddenly there was a knock on the front door. Stiles went to answer it and saw you standing in the doorway with your hands full.

“I thought you all could use some breakfast and coffee.” You said, lifting both up as an offering.

“Hey, you.” Stiles pulled you in against him, and kissed you on the top of your head. He grabbed the coffee from you, and you closed the front door.

“Y/N brought you all breakfast sandwiches and coffee.” Stiles yelled from the kitchen.

“Can you not yell? Liam is still asleep.” Hayden said from the dining room table, gesturing to the sleeping Beta on the pull-out couch.

“NOPE!” Stiles said, throwing a breakfast sandwich at the couch, and seeing Liam pop up with his fangs out. “Oh put them away, and come eat, ya freaking Beta.”

Scott and Liam stumbled into the kitchen to receive their breakfast. They all sat down at the small, round table that Scott and Stiles had in their dining room. Stiles stood against the counter, his arm wrapped around your waist, sipping his coffee and breathing in the vanilla scent of your hair.

“So what happened last night?” You finally asked.

“They killed her.” Liam said quietly.

“Who’s her?” You asked.

“One of the girls who was flirting with Simon last night got pissed and left early because Simon was making out with Sarah. Liam and Hayden were busy following the others in their neighborhood on the South Side of campus, and no one thought that we needed people on the North side, but we were wrong.” Stiles explained.

“They bled her dry, and it was our fault.” Liam said in an aggravated tone. “We should have been there.”

“It’s not your fault, Liam.” Scott interrupted his Beta. “We shouldn’t have taken the night off and left it to you. Beacon Hills is your responsibility, not Berkeley.” Scott sipped his hot coffee, and stared straight forward, weighted by his decisions. “This is starting to get out of hand though.” Scott lamented to his pack.

“This was the third attack?” You clarified.

“Yea, but the first one where someone died… I think her name was Lilah.” Stiles said.

“Liam, Hayden, you need to go back to Beacon Hills and protect everyone there. We’ll take care of things here.” Scott reassured them.

The werewolves continued eating their breakfast and Stiles pulled you into his room and shut the door behind him. He grabbed you and held you tightly against him, burying his head in your hair. You gripped the back of his t-shirt in your fingers, and pushed your face into his chest.

“I’m so glad I took you home last night and I am so glad you’re okay.” Stiles whispered to you.

“Stiles, I am so sorry about last night. I sucked. You didn’t do a single thing wrong, but I’ve been… I’ve been pretty insecure because I wasn’t sure about what was going on between us and I think I just kind of lost my shit last night.” You admitted, as you pulled away from Stiles and sat down on his bed.

Stiles followed you over to his bed, and sat down next to you. He picked your legs up off the side and slid them onto his lap. “It doesn’t matter, Y/N. None of that matters, I promise. I like you so much… You like me, right?” Stiles asked you, gently stroking your leg.

“Of course I like you.” You replied.

“Then all that matters to me is that nothing happened to you last night and that you’re here now.”

He leaned forward and slid his hands in your hair, his thumbs reaching around, and pressing against your cheeks gently. He stared into your eyes for a moment, they were the perfect shade of Y/E/C. He leaned in slowly and pressed his lips against yours. You lifted your hands to grip his biceps and pressed your lips back against his. You felt fireworks.

He pulled his lips away from yours and pressed his forehead against yours. Your hand pressed up against his chest, his cotton shirt felt soft on your fingertips. Your heart was pounding. You wanted more.

When Stiles pulled his head away from yours, he noticed that his favorite pair of Adidas were floating in the air behind you. He glanced around and noticed that everything that wasn’t heavy or nailed down, was levitating in place.

“Y/N..?” He said softly, as everything crashed back to earth around you two. “Did you even know you were doing that?”

“No…” You laughed quietly, and covered your mouth. “I guess I was feeling a little um.. weightless..” You smiled. “Do you think anything broke?”

“Who cares, as long as my baseball bat is good.” Stiles teased. You rolled your eyes and smiled.

They were interrupted by a knock on Stiles’ door.

“Ugh… Yea, come in.” Stiles yelled, sighing, as he pulled at your legs to get your body closer to him. “What’s up, Scotty?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I think we need a better plan than what we’re doing here. We’re losing.” Scott looked so serious, as he leaned against the doorframe.

“I agree, but what can we do? We don’t know anything about vampires.”

“I think we need to take a couple of days and go back to Beacon Hills.” Scott said, ruffling his hair in his hand.

“What’d you have in mind, man?” Stiles asked.

“We need to talk to Gerard.”

Eight <- -> Ten