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fics-for-my-heart · 4 years ago

Text

Newbie (s.s) p.2

Summery: Starting a new school with the ability to see that someone is supernatural takes a crazy turn

Word Count: 5720

Warning: someone gets taken, talk of blood, talk of torture

A/N: Woah this got out of hand. I wasn’t expecting this to take so long, and to be this long either. I hope the ending doesn’t come off as rushed. I kinda enjoyed this and if anyone wants, I could do another part? I’d need some ideas for monsters though! Hope you enjoy

Part One Part Two

Masterlist

You spent every day after school with Stiles and the pack in the week since your trip to Sunnydale. Stiles had insisted on taking you home after school, or picking you up whenever there was a potential lead. Stating that it would be faster to show you than to hope you didn’t get lost. You’d rolled your eyes, but secretly you didn’t mind being driven around. Plus, Stiles was cute, so that may have been another reason.

Argent and Derek had taken over most of the actual searching. Scott joined them most nights, but the rest of you had been tasked with connections and trying to determine who the skincrawler currently was. Which was proving difficult. You couldn’t do much without the identification of the skinned body, and you hadn’t been able to find anyone with the grey colored aura.

“We got an ID on the last body.” Sheriff Stlinski announced as he and Parish walked into Scott’s kitchen. Stiles grabbed the file folder from his dad, immediately shifting through the new information.

“We also think the church connection was the start. But it turns out that there’s also a family connection.” Parish added. “The first three victim went to the same church, but the fourth is related to the second and third.”

“It’ll stay with the family.” You sighed. “Once it finds easy prey like that it’ll stay. Who is it?”

“Stephan Milligan?” Stiles looked around the room. "Anyone know him?"

Heads shook, shoulders shrugged, then Mason, Liam's best friend, spoke up. "Yeah, he was in my math class." He turned his phone around to show a photo of an innocent looking kid. "He said something a few weeks ago about his aunt being sick. I didn't think anything of him not being in class."

Sheriff Stlinski nodded. "His aunt was the second victim. His cousin was the third."

"It's probably trying to keep a low profile." You said, thinking back to something Willow had told you before you left. "The resurrection ritual needs to be done just right to work. If anything goes wrong, or something interferes, then everything could go wrong. Most of the time they try to put themselves in the lives of whoever they have taken over. But because this one is trying to do this ritual it’s definitely not going to try and be noticed.”

"It's doing a poor job then." Stiles said, he was still looking over the files. "It's just leaving the bodies around in the open, like it wants to get caught."

"I can't figure that part out. Normally they are discreet. Unless it's part of the ritual or something." You pulled your phone out to text Buffy and Willow.

"Mason, can you send everyone that photo. It'll help knowing who we are looking for." Scott asked, before he could say anything else everyone's phones vibrated. "Thanks. I'm going to go out tonight with Derek and see if we can maybe track his scent." He looked at you. "Do you think that will work?"

"Honestly, not sure. The only other werewolf I know wasn't around when this was going on. But it wouldn't hurt to try."

After a bit more planning, with Malia agreeing to go with Scott, and Lydia going with Mason and Liam to see if she can pick up on anything from Stephans locker, you all called it a night. Per the new norm, Stiles took you home, he was silent almost the entire way. His brows pinched as he worked his lip. You’d picked up on this being his tell that his mind was racing.

"What's going on up there?" You asked, tapping his forehead.

He startled, glancing at you a moment before looking back at the road. "It's bothering me."

You waited for him to finish, but he grew quiet agan. "What is?"

He pursed his lips. "This thing, it's not being stealthy. I can't shake the feeling that it wants us to find these people. Wants us to find it. Something just isn't sitting right with me." He put the Jeep in park in your driveway, then turned to face you.

"It's not sitting right with me either. I texted Buffy and Willow, but they haven't gotten back to me. We still have a few days before it attacks again."

"That's what worries me."

"Me too. But, with everyone on the lookout now, I'm sure we will find it before it takes another person." You grabbed your bag, looking back at him. "Try and get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

He looked at you a moment before smiling softly. "Goodnight."He waited for you to get in your door before leaving, and you waited for his tail lights to disappear before closing the door.

-----

"Alright class," Mrs. Hopkins started handing papers out, speaking as she went. "I want you to pick a partner, and go over this assignment. We are about to start The Crucible. I want you and your partner to pick a character and write a character Analysis on them. This project will be done over the next couple of weeks but I want you to pick the character now. And no you can’t change it. Get started." She waved her hands, then returned to her desk.

Stiles immediately moved his desk against yours, blocking you in.

"Howdy, partner." He winked.

You laughed, rolling your eyes. "Who said I wanted to work with you?"

His hand went to his chest in fake offence. "Unbelievable. I thought we had something building here."

Your cheeks warmed, you knew he was joking, but you really had been growing some feelings for him. You grabbed his desk as he tried to pull away. "I'm kidding."

"I know. I just like messing with you. So, witch trials." He leaned on his hand, his fingers covering his lips as he looked at you.

"Ridiculous. And barbaric. Witches weren't even seen as being bad till some crazy dude was convinced one of the local witches cursed his horses. Then it was 'she made me ugly' and 'my crops died because of that hag'. And the tests? Who the hell even thought of them?"

Stiles had a smile on his face, his brows slightly raised.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"No, but it's kinda cute when you get all defensive over something you care about."

You rolled your eyes again before picking up your pen and getting started on the assignment.

The rest of the day went by quick, and before you knew it you were sitting in the Jeep waiting on Stiles. You'd been waiting a bit so when someone tapped on the window you jumped.

"Sorry." Liam cringed when you rolled the window down. "Scott told me to meet him here. Said there was some news?"

You shrugged, moving to the back of the Jeep so he could get in. The two of you talked for a bit before you saw Stiles and Scott coming out of the school. Their heads were close as they made their way to the car. Although the colors around Stiles were slightly muted, Scotts glowed like a light blue fire around him when the sun hit just right. You had become hyper aware of the auras to try and locate the skincrawler, you hadn't had much luck. You'd been working a few hours a day with whoever from the pack was available to try and hone in on making the colors appear more vivid. It had helped, but you hadn't had any luck locating the grey aura. But, you did notice that the colors around Stiles wern’t nearly as vivid as you had first thought. You also hadn't brought it up to him yet. It never felt like the right time, and you wanted to try and figure it out before springing it on him.

"Hey." Stiles said when he climbed into the driver's seat. "Ready to hear some good news?"

"Always." You responded, turning your attention to Scott who was leaning in the window.

"Argent thinks they may have found where the skincrawler is hiding."

"Let me guess, a really old crypt?"

He chuckled. "Yeah. Him and Parrish found one that had the door busted open and there were some clothes and stuff. They aren't 100% sure if it's the skincrawler, but they set up some cameras to watch it.”

"What is it with bad supernaturals and crypts?" You groaned. The boys laughed. "I'm serious. I've gone on patrols with Buffy and I can't tell you how many times we have cleared out crypts. That's where we took out the group of skincrawlers. It's weird. Plus they are always full of spiders." You shivered. Just the thought of spiders made you get creepy crawly feelings.

Liam spun around in his seat. "Wait a second. You've encountered actual demons, but spiders scare you?" His face was dead serious for a moment before he busted out laughing. "That's so fun..ow!" He reached for his arm. "What was that for?" He asked Stiles who was shaking his fist out.

"Get out of the Jeep if you're going to make fun of Y/N." His face was deadly serious as he eyed the young wolf who could easily whoop his ass.

"Oh stop." You laughed, covering Stiles' face with your hand. "Don't try and intimidate the wolf."

Liam stuck his tongue out as Scott pulled the door open and grabbed him by his shirt. "Alright, we don't need either of you crying later." He was already dragging Liam away from the jeep. "I'll catch up with you guys tonight." He waved bye and gently bumped into Liam as they both walked off.

You flopped yourself down into the passenger seat, taking a moment to look at Stiles as he fiddled with the sheriff department scanner. It surprised you that in a little over a week you had become close with everyone. Lydia and Malia had already talked you into girls night, and the boys kept an eye out for you just like they did each other. It was nice considering the seriousness of the situation in which you came into their lives. After losing the one person outside of family who understood and didn't judge you, you put up a wall. But these people, this pack that welcomed you with the understanding that being a little different isn't a bad thing, had slowly poked hole in that wall.

You pulled yourself from your thoughts, eyes focusing on the multicolored boy at your side. "Feeeeeeed me, Stilinski."

He turned to look at you, a smirk on his face. "Dude, I gave you my mini muffin pack like an hour ago."

"I'll have you know I've been working very hard in that hour and now need more food if I'm to have the energy to start this project early."

He rolled his eyes with a laugh as he started the Jeep. He didn't even have to ask you where you wanted to go as he headed in the direction of the local sushi place.

Thirty minutes later the two of you were sitting at the dining room table, the book for class and an ungodly amount of sushi between you both.

"I think we should go with Reverend Hale." You suggest, popping a piece of sushi in your mouth.

Stiles shrugged, looking up from his phone. "Sure, he seems like might be a bit of a complex character."

You look at him a moment, then look at his phone and back up at him. "Did you google it?" He slapped his phone face down, stuffing a piece of sushi in his mouth. "Oh my god, you did!" You reach for his phone and he pulls it back to him.

"Noh!" He laughs, his mouth still full.

"Ew. I know it's seafood, Stilinski but I don't need to see your food!"

He laughed harder, opening his mouth wider as your hand tried to close it.

Then there's a knock at the door and you both freeze. Stiles quickly swallowed the food.

"Were you expecting someone?" You shake your head. "Hold on, I'll get it." You follow behind him as he looks through the peephole then sighed with relief as he unlocks the door. "Hi Willow."

"Oh, hello! Sorry to just pop in like this."

"Wil!" You jump around Stiles and hug her. "What are you doing here? Everything okay?"

"Yes. Yes Everything is fine." She said, coming further into the house. "I brought you some protective charms, even though most of you won't need them, I feel a bit more comfortable knowing you have an extra layer of protection." She passed you the charm necklaces, they were subtle, looking like any normal necklace, but you could feel the slight hum from the protection spell. "Also. A slightly selfish reason." She glanced over at Stiles. " I was wondering if it would be possible for me to see The Nemeton."

"Uh." Stiles looks at you, then back at Willow. "I, uh, let me call Argent. He might be available to take you." He stepped into the kitchen as you and Willow sat on the couch.

"How's the search going?" She asked, taking your hand to trace your palm.

"They think they found where it's hiding, and who it is wearing. But nothing solid yet."

"How are you doing?"

You rested your head on her shoulder, relaxing a bit as her finger gently traced the lines of your hand. "I'm making it. Knowing it's out there is pretty scary though. I just keep thinking back on what happened last time." You grow quite a moment, deciding to tell her something you hadn't shared with anyone else. "I've been having nightmares." Her finger traces up and back down your finger. "I'm back at the crypt, and that, thing, is wearing Alice's face. Taunting me. It's like I'm reliving that night all over again. I wake up and I can't breath. I've never been so scared of anything before."

Willow laid her cheek on your head. "The protection charm will help with those. And you know I'll always answer my phone."

You snuggled deeper into her, feeling the comfort from something you use to do as a kid. "Thanks, Wil."

Before she could say anything more, Stiles came back, the tips of his ears were slightly pink, and he looked worried. "Sorry, uh, Argent said he would meet us in the woods and take you to The Nemeton." He seemed nervous about something and you made note to ask him later.

The three of you piled into the Jeep, but you could feel the nervous energy coming off of Stiles. By the time he parked the jeep he was practically vibrating with it. Argent was already at the gate waiting.

You opened the door, looking back at Stiles who had both hands on the wheel. "You coming?"

"No."

"Oh. Okay." You slipped out of the jeep, leading Willow to Argent. "Chris Argent, this is Willow Rosenburg. One of my aunts from Sunnydale."

"Nice to meet you." He said, shaking her hand. "Ready? It's a bit of a hike."

Willow smiled with a nod. "You coming with us?" She asked.

You looked back at the jeep. "No, I think I'm going to go check on Stiles."

"Good idea. He's got a past with this area of the woods, so he might need someone with him." Argent said, his brows pinched with worry as he looked at the jeep.

"Be safe." You called, watching them walk into the woods. When you turned around, Stiles was staring blankly after them. His hands were still gripping the steering wheel. He didn't even move when you climbed in. "You okay?" You whispered, there was worry growing in the pit of your stomach, you hadn't seen him so quiet before.

"Fine. Yea. Good." He stammered, his hands released the wheel and he rubbed them on his pants. Then he signed, as if he was trying to push out the unwelcome feelings. "Two years ago, Scott, Allison, Chris's daughter, and I performed a Druid ritual. We submerge ourselves in ice water to slow our hearts down so we could find our parents who had been kidnaped by this psycho teacher. But doing that we supercharged The Nemeton. We also lost a piece of ourselves. It also left us vulnerable." He cleared his throat, running his hand across his jaw. "I got possessed.”

Your eyes grew wide, there was a shiny spot down Stiles cheek where he had a tear slip. Your hand moved to his, your palm on the back of his, fingers weaved between his.

“At first I didn’t know what was happening. But things got really bad.” His fingers tightened around yours for a bit. “It was a Nogitsune. And it thrived off the chaos it created. Scott and Lydia were able to separate us, but shit just got worse. Allison. She died.” He was crying now, his breathing going heavy. “The thing still had my face. Had control over these demon warriors. It all started with this damn stump.”

You reached over, wiping at his cheek gently. “Hey, that’s all over now. But it explains a lot.” He finally looked at you, brows pinched. “You have this residual glow around you. That’s why I thought you were supernatural. It’s all these different colors at once, but now that my sight is stronger, I realize that it’s so muted that it takes just the right light to see.”

He dropped his head back to the head rest, his fingers still gripped yours. “I knew I’d never really be rid of it. I still have nightmares about the stuff it did, the stuff it made me do.”

“Willow said the protection charm will help with nightmares. I’ve, I’ve been having them too. About the skincrawlers. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner about the aura.”

Stiles looked at you, his eyes still shiny from the tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about being possessed. I try to not think about it much. But I don’t think I’ve had a chance to actually process a lot of it.”

“I’m here for you if you ever need to talk about it. I promise I won’t judge. I’ve experienced some crazy stuff and I know how it feels to feel like you don’t have anyone to talk to.”

He smiled, lightly squeezing your fingers again. Before anything more could be said there was a tapping on your window. You yelped, practically jumping into Stiles’ lap, his hands grabbing your waist. Willow and Chris were outside the window laughing so hard they had to hold each other up.

“That was so rude!” You yelled, trying hard to calm your heart.

“Maybe, but that was too funny.” Willow gasped as she opened the door. She looked back at Chris. “Thank you for showing me that. I think I’ve got what I need if you guys are ready to go.”

Stiles, with his hands still on your waist, helped you into the backseat as Will got in the Jeep. Chris spoke a moment to Stiles before heading to his car and following you out of the woods.

——

Two days later, Lydia and Malia decided that you all needed some time away from the boys and drove to the mall right after school. The three of you were currently enjoying milkshakes in the food court.

"You were right." You laughed as you wiped at your mouth. "Some time away from the boys was exactly what we needed."

"We should make this a regular thing." Lydia said as she pouted at her empty milkshake. "Although, I'm surprised Stiles let you out of his sight."

You flicked a straw wrapper at her, "Oh stop it."

Malia nodded in agreement with Lydia before her eyes focused on something behind you. Lydia also froze her eyes wide as she searched around the food court.

"Something is here." She whispered.

Malia silently pointed and you turned to follow her finger. Your heart stopped when you saw the grey aura around the kid whose picture you had memorized. He was walking slow, but not drawing attention to himself. Someone stopped to talk to him, patted his shoulder and walked off as he turned down another wing of the mall.

"Call Scott," You told Malia, "I'll call Stiles." You jumped up.

Lydia grabbed your arm. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to follow it." You replied, pulling your arm free and hitting Stiles' name on your phone.

"Y/N!" Lydia called after you, frantically pulling out her phone. But you were already heading down the wing after Stephan, phone pressed to your ear.

"Y/N! How's the mall?" Stiles asked the moment he picked up.

"We found him. Stephan. I'm following him right now at the mall." You kept your voice down, as you walked around people, keeping your eyes on the grey aura.

"What? What do you mean you're following him? Y/N don't do that. I'm on my way there." You could hear his keys jingling and the sound of a door. "Stay where you are."

"No. We can't lose him. This is the first we have seen of him. I can at least follow him to wherever he is going." You were nearing the exit, still watching Stephan as he pushed the door open. You could hear the jeep starting up. "He's leaving the mall right now."

"I'm serious, Y/N don't follow him. Please." Stiles' voice was full of panic, but you were slightly irritated he was trying to tell you what to do.

"No. We need to know where he is going. He might have found another person to take." You stepped out into the sunlight, squinting as you looked around. "Damn. I think I lost him."

"Go back inside. I'm almost there."

"I'm just going to do a quick walk around the parking lot. Call me when you get here." You pulled the phone away before you would hear his response. Sliding it in your pocket as you slowly walked towards the lot. After ten minutes with no luck, you turned around to head back, spotting Stiles pulling into the front of the mall. That was the last thing you remembered before everything went black

---

Your head was pounding. Your ears were ringing, and your mouth tasted like blood. As you opened your eyes, the light in the room was blinding. You quickly assessed yourself. Your hands were bound behind you, your feet tied to the legs of the chair you were sitting in, but no bones seemed to be broken.

"Ah, she's awake." A soft voice filled the quiet room, foot steps shuffled across the floor. "I was worried I hit you too hard." A finger touched your cheek and you tried to jump back. "Now, now. This will all go easier if you just sit still."

Your eyes finally adjusted, bringing the face of the voice into focus. It was Stephan. Well, the skincrawler. His eyes were black pits behind the glasses, there was a stench of death on his breath. "Go to hell." Your voice cracked.

"Is that any way to greet an old friend?"

"You're not my friend."

He circled around you, his finger dragging across your shoulders. "Oh, but I was once, wasn't I? Alice was quite fun to be, even though it was short lived." He laughed at his own joke. Stopping when he got in front of you again.

"What do you want from me? To use me as a resurrection sacrifice?" You twisted your wrist and pulled at your feet trying to get out of the rope.

He tisked at you. "No point in that now, you won't get out. And no. It's a funny story actually. Here I was, minding my business, becoming new people, and preparing to resurrect my family, when I saw you. Walking around here like nothing happened." His fist slammed into the wall. "Something happened! You killed my family!" The yell echoed in the small room.

"And you killed my friend, and many others! You had people locked in cages for your own fun!"

"I was going to ignore the fact you were here. That pack had no idea what or who I was. I thought maybe I could finish this, get my family back, and we would come back for you. But my need for revenge is too strong. I think I'll have some fun with you before though." He turned around and pulled the sheet off a table full of tools. "Which one first?"

The table was full of different knives and blades. The little light in the room reflected off the metal as he picked them up, examining them. “Eeny meeny miny moe.” He turned around with one pointed at you, taking slow steps your way. “I’ve been dreaming of this. But not that that I have you, I’m not sure where to start.”

“How about you start by backing away.” A voice called from the door. You both turned to see Stiles standing in the door with his bat.

“Ah, yes. So glad you could join us Stilinski. Where is the rest of your pack?”

Stiles didn’t move from the door as he answered. “They aren’t coming.”

You gasped, choking a bit. But, as Stephen turned to look at you, laughing, Stiles winked, and you almost sighed in relief.

“What a shame, poor Y/N probably thought they would come save her.” The cold metal touching your cheek made you shiver.

Suddenly, there was a thwack sound, and Stephen fell away from you cursing. Stiles was behind it, bat in the air ready to swing again. Before he could though, Stephen also had a hold of the bat, having jumped back up much faster then expected. The two struggled for it as you struggled against the ropes at your wrist again.

Just as you thought Stiles had the upper hand, Stephen drew his head back, smashing it into Stiles face as hard as it could. A sob racked your body and everything seemed to slow as Stiles fell back onto the ground.

“STILES!” You screamed, trying once again to break free from the chair. Your vision blurred as you failed to make it to his side. “Stiles get up!”

A foot nudged at his shoulder, sending him to his back, but he still didn’t stir. “What a pity. I was hoping to have more fun with him.” He leaned down and sniffed at him. “Ugh and I can’t even take his skin?” With a sigh, Stephen turned back to you, “Now, where was I? Ah yes, I was just about to torture you.” A sinister grin spread across his face. Before he could get any closer, a flash knocked him out of the way.

“Get them out of here!” Scott called out, his face was morphed into a wolf as he turned to slam a fist into Stephens face.

Hands were on your wrist as Liam tried to untie you. “I can’t get the ropes.” He huffed. “Don’t move, I have to use my claws.”

You could feel them slowly giving and were able to wiggle out as he quickly cut the ones at your ankles. Chris and Malia had already lifted an unconscious Stiles up and were making their way to the door. Before you could even get up, Liam had you in his arms running after them. The last thing you saw was Parish on fire and Lydia taking a deep breath. You kept your arms around Liam as the fresh air hit your face, Lydia’s scream was painful, you could only imagine how hard it was on the others.

The moment Liam sat you on the ground you were racing towards Stiles who was laid on the grass, still knocked out.

“He should be fine.” Chris said, letting out a relieved breath, pressing sand gauze to the cut on Stiles’ brow. “Melissa is on her way with his dad. He is breathing and his heart rate is normal.”

You gently ran your fingers over his cheek, your eyes moving to watch his chest move before whispering. “What happened?”

“Stiles saw you get taken.” Malia answered, sitting next to you as Chris and Liam moved to the other side. “He had called me the moment you hung up on him. And the moment he saw you taken he followed Stephen here. We weren’t far behind him, and we told him to wait for us, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“I’m sorry.” Your voice cracked, your hand moved down his arm to trace his fingers. “I should have listened to you. I shouldn’t have followed him.”

Malia rested a hand on your leg just as Scott spoke. “We’ve all done something we probably shouldn’t have. But what’s important is that you're both fine, and the thing is dead.” He helped Parish sit on the grass as he assessed everyone else.

You wiped some tears from your cheek. “How?”

“Once everyone was out of the room, Lydia used her scream to disorient him, and Parish wrapped him up in a fire hug. He is now a little dusty.” His eyes landed on you. “Are you okay?”

You nodded. “As good as I can be.” You looked down at Stiles, “I just wish he would wake up.”

Scott nodded at your wrist. “Have my mom take a look at those. And don’t worry, I’ve been listening to his heartbeat since I got out here. He’s already conscious.”

Your head snapped around just as Stiles squeezed your hand. His eyes slowly opened. You immediately threw yourself on him, sticking your face in his neck. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” You cried.

Slowly his arm wrapped around you, his lips pressing into the side of your head. “No need to apologize. I’ll always save you.”

“Actually I sav….ow!” Liam squeaked, you could feel Stiles flipping him off.

You sat up, helping him slowly to a sitting position. “If I had listened you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

He squeezed the hand he was still holding. “I heard what he said, he would have gotten you one way or another. Just next time, please wait for me before you go following a supernatural.” He brought your hand up to his lips, gently pressing it against them as Melissa and Sheriff Stlinski pulled up.

“Okay,” Melissa called out, a first aid kit in hand. “Who am I patching up tonight?”

———

“Can you pass me that water?” Stiles asked, turning his head on his pillow to face the water that was directly beside him.

It had been almost two weeks since everything went down. The bruises on you both had faded to a gross green, your wrists still hurt, but the ointment Melissa gave you helped. Stiles on the other hand, was milking the fact that he had a mild concussion.

“It’s right there.” You groaned from his desk. He’d been having you do so much for him. Even though you complained every time, you still did it, trying to prove how thankful you were for everything he did.

Stiles stuck his lower lip out. “But it’s too far, please?”

“Fine.” You dropped your pen in the book and crossed the room. “You’re so needy.”

“Hey, who has been helping you change your bandages.” He cocked a brow. He was right, he had been reminding you and helping the bandaged on your wrist and ankles.

“Drink your water.”

After a few sips his head fell back on to the pillow, his brown eyes scanning your face. “How are you?”

“Fine.” You said, he asked everyday, sometimes two or three times. You set the water back down. His hand gently grabbed the middle of your arm, pulling you closer.

“I’m so sick of hearing ‘fine’. I can see it in your eyes that you aren’t. Shit, I’m not even fine.” He tugged your arm again and you looked up. “I’m serious. Every time I close my eyes that night replays differently. Sometimes I show up and you’re all bloody and barely there. Others the Jeep wont go and my legs don’t work and I can’t get to you, but I can hear you screaming.”

“Why don’t you wear the protection charm?” You glanced at it on his bedside table.

His hand moved to lace his fingers in yours. Something else he had been doing a lot lately. Any chance he could he would grab your hand, holding it just tight enough that there was an empty feeling when he would let go.

“Punishment.” A deep breath. “I should have done more. Gotten there faster. Something.”

Your heart broke at the pain in his voice. “You did enough. You came, you brought the others. You made sure I knew I wasn’t left alone.” You glanced back at the charm. “I can’t be too irritated about the charm, I’ve not been wearing mine either. My dreams have been similar to yours. But you don’t wake up, or you never come. When I wake up I have to remind myself that everyone is okay. That you all came. That I’m out, and that thing is finally gone.”

“Hey.” Stiles tugged your hand, causing you to fall into his arms. “I told you that night and I meant it. I’ll always be there.”

Your head fell to his chest, letting him hold you for a bit. His heart beat, though slightly fast, was a reminder that he did wake up and was fine.

“Y/N?” He broke the silence again, causing you to look up at him, almost nose to nose. “I’m going to do something that I’ve been thinking about since I saw you get taken.”

“Stiles. If you don’t kiss me I might scream.” You whispered, your heartbeat now matching his.

And he did it. He pressed his lips against your gently, his hand holding your head in place as you pushed yourself up a bit more. Butterflies erupted in your stomach and stars twinkled behind your eyes. But he pulled away all too quickly, resting his forehead against yours.

“Woah.”

“I almost did that the moment I knew you were awake that night.” You laughed, gently touching your nose to his. “But I was worried you might have had something wrong and I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“I promise, you could never hurt me.” And he kissed you again, and again, and again.

#stiles teen wolf #stiles stilinski #teen wolf fic #stiles x you #dylan o’brien #dylan obrien

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tessatechaitea · 6 years ago

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The Extremist #3

I'm disappointed that this half picture doesn't match up exactly with the half picture from Issue #2.

It's probably good I didn't post any of the blurbs that tried to bribe him with a handjob in the backroom of the Portland Comic-con.

Anyway, let's see what happened in "July, Nineteen Ninety-Three"! I'll try to baby it up so Tumblr doesn't shit its diapers.

Peter Milligan begins this issue all Peter Milligany.

Remember that this was written in 1993 when Peter Milligan makes mention of how a person could, at some point, be alone in anything. But also imagine now how the death of an intimate would go in 2019. Back in 1993, Judy is surprised to find that she's whisked away from her grief for long interludes by the bureaucratic machinations of a death in a capitalist democracy. This same kind of thing probably still happens except with more texts and emails and less phone conversations and driving to speak to people in person. But also imagine the non-bureaucratic side of death. We probably have far less close intimate contacts in our physical space now than we had in 1993, at least by percentage when compared with all people we would consider contacts (intimates who now live in another part of the world, people we know only from online, friends of friends we've maybe met once but now sometimes interact with over social media). In 1993. it would be phone calls and personal visits with flowers and cake or cookies. In 2019, you probably receive a deluge of crying emojis and people replying "*hugs*" to your post about your world crumbling beneath you as you try to stagger on with your remaining years bereft of the person you thought you could never live without. I suppose there are plenty of apps where people could send you cakes and cookies so I suppose it wouldn't be too terrible. Should I create an app that sends cakes and cookies to people when they've lost a loved one? It wouldn't cost anything. You'd just have to send me a small cake and some cookies with every use of the app! I can't wait to get extraordinarily fat! The journey is going to be so worth it!

Grief is a savory, selfish feast.

Peter Milligan has a way of expressing potent, terrible truths in such a casual manner that most people probably don't even notice them. There's an almost expressible power in believing you're experiencing something that nobody else has or will ever experience. Or just in knowing that you lived a part of your life unknown to your closest friends and family. I cherish, greedily, the moments of my life spent alone and far from those closest to me and I parcel them out as stories in only the most meager of manners. Hell, I've probably told more about myself and my experiences here on this blog exactly because I know my friends and family don't read it. I might say this every commentary until this series is over but I still don't know if I understand the point of the overall plot. But I do understand that the plot is a way for Peter Milligan to be Peter Milligan. I understand the need for a framework to say things you want to say. Or to just put scenes out there that you don't want to bother encasing in some kind of larger whole that you're less interested in. So here's another scene Peter Milligan had to have thought about and then needed a place to mention it:

Of course people still get horny for their dead partner! But how often does anybody talk about it?! Maybe it's common and I'm just consuming the wrong kinds of media. Alex Trebek never once asked a contestant if they jerk off thinking about their dead spouse!

Netflix's Dead to Me has some pretty frank discussions about the loss of a spouse but while Christina Applegate talks about being horny and wanting to fuck somebody, I don't think she ever says she masturbates thinking about her dead husband. If the point of this story is about dealing with loss, I'm beginning to get it. And that would completely explain why I missed it at twenty-one. I'm only three pages into this issue and it's kicking me in the face with existential issues. Was I too dumb at twenty-one to understand any of this or just too sheltered to really feel it? Maybe I was just too fucking young. Judy finds the key to Jack's Extremist apartment. After looking around the place, she thinks, "It was like having Jack die all over again, but this death seemed more profound. 'I never knew you,' I thought." It's an easy statement to point out that nobody ever really knows anybody. But once, because Jim Starling wrote a terrible run on Stormwatch, I wrote an entire rant about how we all hide our innermost dark secrets from even the greatest loves of our lives. I was essentially asking how can we know anyone if we won't even let those closest to us know our most vulnerable thoughts and terrible crimes (I don't mean crimes in the law and order sense! I just mean like that time you put your finger in your ass and then made sandwiches for your friends and they all got sick and you didn't do it on purpose but you made the connection and nobody must ever fucking know! You know, those kinds of crimes. But not that specific one! I totally just made that one up for effect). So I could repeat myself or just link to the rant or just (and — Spoiler! — this is the choice I'm going with!) move on to page five of this comic book. Judy discovers an old diary written by The Extremist (but not Jack!). Then she finds some of the tapes he burned and salvages a few. She hears Jack speaking about murder and getting pissed on and, most appallingly, calling her "poor dull dead little Judy." She smashes the place up, finds The Extremist's gimp suit, and tries it on thinking, "What the fuck?! Maybe I'll feel sexy and start speaking in sex metaphors!" Then the phone rings. And I suppose the rest is history! And by history, I mean Issue #1! Except I'm only on page seven so maybe I'm jumping the gun. I guess we need to learn how Judy met Patrick and why she decided her life would be better by going out at night murdering people until she comes hard in a leather suit. Oh, I hope that last sentence wasn't too adult for Tumblr! A bunch of pages are taken up by the plot stuff that I apparently paid the most attention to in 1993 and which is the least interesting part of the story (so far!). Patrick "accidentally" runs into Judy and he pretends he doesn't know who killed Jack. He offers to help her find out if she'll pose as The Extremist and do murders and blow jobs for him. Judy is all, "What the hell! Maybe I'll understand Jack a little more! Maybe I'll know why he needed a boring piece of shit like me when he was having such fantastic fuck and murder adventures!" No wait. That's what I would say. Judy just wants to find out who killed Jack and to, maybe, feel a little closer to him. I don't think she's as amped up as I would be about the loads of indiscriminate sex and murdering of the most perverse perverts. The main story ends with Judy making her first kill. She learns that her problem was that she was always living in the past and the future. So even if she had wanted to kill somebody in the moment before, she'd be all tangled up in the past and whether the person deserved it and maybe some of it was her fault and perhaps she's been too hasty with her murder decision. And she'd also be lost in the future like how the person will stop existing and how she might wind up in prison and how the victim's guts are going to be hell to clean up off the floor. But in the moment, she can just satisfy the need without consequence or conscience! She discovers it's a thrill! Well, I could have told her that! I've been playing Dungeons and Dragons since I was ten! Never worry about what the orc did or if it deserved it or if it has family or if you're actually the asshole raiding its lovely home! The actual issue ends with Tony, the black guy on the stoop, sitting in The Extremist's apartment listening to Judy's tapes. He's just finished the last one where she says she's going off to kill Patrick and he's completely caught up in the drama. He wants to know who killed who just as badly as, well, not me but I'm sure some readers were on the edge of their seat at this point. The Extremist #3 Rating: B. I don't find myself caring about the framework. But Peter Milligan has thoughts and those thoughts are well worth the admission price to this story. In a way, this is just an extension of his run on Shade the Changing Man. It's almost the same story if you squint your eyes and unfocus your vision and punch yourself in the genitals. Patrick is the guy on Meta who was pulling the strings to get Shade to go into the Area of Madness and eventually Earth (I forget his name! I bet it was Patrick!) And The Extremist is Shade and Kathy too (they both have similarities to both Judy and Jack, so I don't mean to say either Shade or Kathy is essentially one or the other). The Extremist has crazy missions where they kill and fuck just like Shade and Kathy had! I think. I mean, probably! And Tony is just Lenny in someway that I haven't spent any time thinking about but they were the only characters left!

#The Extremist #Peter Milligan #Ted McKeever #DC Comics #DC #Vertigo

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geekade · 8 years ago

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Welcome to the F.C.U. (The Fargo Cinematic Universe)

In 1996, Joel & Ethan Coen created what many feel is their masterwork film, the murder mystery, crime drama, sociological regional study we lovingly know as Fargo. Near the end of the film, the only remaining living suspect, Gaear Grimsrud, is found stuffing the foot of his former partner in crime into a wood chipper near a cabin on a pristine frozen lake in the dead of winter. When the true hero of the film, pregnant law enforcement officer Marge Gunderson, stumbles across the crime scene, she shoots the eerily vacant-eyed psychopath in the leg as he tries to escape across the lake. As she transports him back across that frozen white tundra, she tries to make sense of the inconceivable tragedy which has unfolded.

“So, that was Mrs. Lundegaard on the floor in there,” says Gunderson. “And I guess that was your accomplice in the wood chipper. And those three people in Brainerd. And for what? For a little bit of money? There's more to life than a little money, you know. Don'tcha know that? And here ya are, and it's a beautiful day. Well. I just don't understand it.”

It was an amazingly well-crafted moment and perfectly captured our feeling of revulsion and bewilderment. Why would anyone commit those horrific acts on another human being? What could happen in anyone’s life that would allow him or her to think that this was any way to behave? Fargo would go on to win two Academy Awards – one for Frances McDormand for Best Actress and one for the Coen brothers for Best Screenplay.

I’ll be the first to admit that when FX announced it was doing a television version of Fargo, I was very skeptical. I mean, how could FX top the movie? Without the Coen brothers?

Well, the third season of showrunner-extraordinaire Noah Hawley’s expansion of that world is now underway on the FX network. What began as a sparse, tightly written 98 minute film has now spawned two (going on three) seasons of gripping crime drama with a healthy dose of absurdist humor and a sprinkle of supernatural goings-on. So what’s the secret? How was Hawley and his team of writers able to so brilliantly capture the magic? Not since M*A*S*H has there been such a critically renowned film that’s been turned into an unforgettable television program.

So here, then, are the ingredients for what I think you need to create what I think is the most imaginative program on television.

Strong female lead characters

It is a tired old trope, but with very few exceptions, crime dramas generally tend to have far more testosterone. Fargo, I can happily report, is the exception to the rule. Following in the film’s footsteps, the lead female characters are strong-willed, capable women who can take care of themselves, thank you very much. Molly Solverson (played by Allison Tolman) in season one and Carrie Coon’s character Gloria Burgle in season three are both dedicated, heroic police officers who innately can sense when something is amiss. And Cristin Miliotti’s portrayal of Molly Solverson’s cancer inflicted mother Betsy in the time jump in season two is a testament to her acting ability and the level of writing on the show.

Even better, the women on the other side of the law are all well-drawn, motivated characters. Jean Smart’s portrayal of the Gerhardt family matriarch was Emmy-worthy in season 2, as was Kirsten Dunst’s performance as hairdresser turned criminal Peggy Blumquist. And my favorite femme fatale so far is season three’s stupendously-named Nikki Swango, wonderfully played by Mary Elizabeth Winstead. Every time Nikki Swango is on screen you can almost hear Joan Jett’s “Bad Reputation” playing in your mind. You know she’s in charge, and her manipulation of Ray Stussy so far has been wondrous to behold. The women in Fargo are every bit as heroic, villainous, dedicated and savage as the men, if not more so.

Quirky Secondary Characters

Maybe it’s the accents. Maybe it’s the names. Whatever it is, the secondary characters in Fargo are so cleverly created. Every character has a significant purpose in the plot and every character seems to have personality quirks which draw us in. Bokeem Woodbine’s Mike Milligan, the philosophizing hit man. Brad Garrett’s Joe Bulo, an almost bureaucratic mob boss. Nick Offerman’s hilarious portrayal of Karl Weathers, an alcoholic libertarian lawyer. Ted Danson’s gentle Sheriff Hank Larsson who is trying to create a new language to foster greater understanding between people. And my favorite, the always reliable Oliver Platt and his portrayal of supermarket king Stavros Milos, whose discovery of a certain briefcase full of cash on a lone, desolate highway connects the television Fargo with the movie.

Star Power

The ever expanding list of top flight actors who appear in Fargo is truly mindboggling. The shorter shooting seasons which have now become the norm in television dramas has allowed an influx of a-team talent to lend the very capable writers a never ending parade of remarkable performances. When your program can list the names above as well as Billy Bob Thornton, Bob Odenkirk, Keith Carradine, Keegan-Michael Key, Jordan Peele, Stephen Root, Adam Goldberg, Patrick Wilson, Jesse Plemons, Adam Arkin and David Thewlis, you’re doing something right.

Family Rivalries

Each season seems to focus, at least partially, on a rivalry between family members. Whether it’s desperate bad guy wannabe Lester Nygaard (played by Martin Freeman ditching his British accent) sneaking out of the hospital in the middle of the night to plant evidence to frame his brother Chazz for murder, or the season long war between the crime family Gerhardt brothers in season two, Fargo excels at capturing the out and out animosity that can (and frequently does) exist between siblings. Season three’s stunt casting of Ewan MacGregor playing both Ray and Emmit Stussy, brothers in conflict over a rare stamp and a decrepit Corvette Stingray, continues the almost biblical family battles we have seen to date.

Unfathomable Pinhead-ery and the Inevitability of Fate

When Nikki describes the official cause of death of drug addict Maurice LeFay, a parolee who was crushed by a two-hundred pound air conditioner pushed out of a window by Swango and her lover Ray Stussy after accidentally killing the wrong victim at the wrong address, as “unfathomable pinhead-ery,” you know you’ve struck gold. Many of the plot complications on Fargo are not the result of a master criminal carrying out a complicated, Ocean’s Eleven-type scheme. Inevitably, the crimes committed in Fargo are of the purely accidental variety and are the worst possible idea anyone could ever have in their short, strange lives. The ideas never work, but the randomness of the crimes lead to a far greater ripple effect of violence and bloodshed. Those ripples always begin as diminutive pebbles thrown into the frozen waters in this series. But those ripples always grow exponentially into destructive waves.

The fact that we know almost certainly that certain characters will meet their end is something we always see coming from the beginning. But what is remarkable is how the characters meet their ends. After Lester spends the better part of ten episodes wiggling out of one jam after another following the mutually agreed upon murder of his wife by supernova of evil Lorne Malvo (Billy Bob Thornton), Lester finally dies by falling into a hole in the ice trying to evade the police, echoing the previous accidental death of a man mistaken for Lorne Malvo. Whether the death is by a plummeting air conditioner, the sudden random savagery of murdering twenty-two people in an office building, being hit by a car after murdering everyone in a diner or a car accident caused by a mysterious rainstorm of fish, the inevitable fate met by Fargo’s characters is probably one of the most satisfying and inventive aspects of Fargo.

Beautiful and Inventive Cinematography

I could spend pages just writing about the camera work done on this series. So many moments of stark beauty, creative storytelling and flat out kick ass cinematography. Case in point. The P.O.V. camera on the air conditioner falling in free flight. Or how about the final shot of the season opening pre-title sequence in East Berlin that slow zooms into a picture on the wall of what will become the Stussy backyard looking at rows of frosted trees in what is now the traditional Fargo title sequence. Gorgeous and forlorn horizontal lines of tundra and snow. The camera work on Fargo challenges the standard bearer Breaking Bad on creative placement and use of cameras.

Unspeakably evil characters with little to no compunction of any sense of morality

And…

Morally ambivalent characters who find themselves tempted to commit crimes either by accident or the temptation of a better life

In Fargo, these two categories go hand in hand. The absolute evil of Lorne Malvo and his ingenious yet devious means of eliminating his targets is an example of the first category from season one. As is the hilarious savagery of David Thewlis as the mobster/money launderer V. M. Varga in season three. The truly evil characters in Fargo don’t care a whit about life or the morality of protecting it. Inevitably, there is a huge chemical reaction when the truly evil meet the morally ambivalent. (spoiler alert – evil always wins due to a failure to recognize that evil doesn’t care about a “no rough stuff type of deal.”) The moments where the morally ambivalent see the true depths of depravity that humans are capable of recalls what Marge Gunderson was commenting on in that police cruiser.

What’s most remarkable about both the film and the television show is that writing never stoops to condescension; the plots and characters in Fargo are not being written in a fashion seeking to humiliate the people who live in the northern Midwest “flyover states.” Instead, the world Fargo inhabits is simply the setting of a grand drama, like Elsinore, Verona or Athens. The characters may have funny accents we’re not used to hearing, but they are fully developed three dimensional characters who only enliven and enrich what is arguably the best program on television.

#TV #articles

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