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heliads · 3 years

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I Need a Savior

Based on this request: "A songfic for My Demons by Starset? Stiles and the reader are twins. She’s a witch and part of Scott’s pack. The reader helps Scott and the others get rid of the nogitsune and save Stiles."

masterlist

There’s a video playing on your computer. You’re sitting before it, knees tucked up to your chest like you’re a child right now instead of watching yourself as one on the screen in front of you. Your eyes are glued to the two playing figures as if they’ll find some way to save you from the mess you’ve found yourself in, as if by watching what you used to have you’ll be able to have it all back once more.

You’re not alone in the video. The four-year-old Y/N rarely was, and in this particular video her laugh is joined by someone else- your twin brother, Stiles. He’s racing after you in a grassy backyard, in the midst of some no doubt momentous game of tag. He’s shouting something at the top of his tiny lungs as he goes, something about how he’ll always get back to you in the end. If only you could make that same promise now.

The video ends, but you still sit there, unable to move. It’s barely been a few days that your brother was fully possessed by the Nogitsune, but the loss still cuts at you like a knife. Stiles is your twin brother, older only by ten minutes or so. You’ve never had to go without him for longer than a few hours- he’s always there, at home or at school or at your father’s station. This, knowing that he’s somewhere within Beacon Hills but utterly gone to you, is an entirely different kind of pain.

A knock sounds at the door, and you look up to see your father hovering in the doorframe. His attempt at a reassuring smile drops as he sees the video still up on your screen. “I thought I heard voices.” You sigh. “I miss him, Dad. I miss Stiles.” Sheriff Stilinski sighs, walking inside the room at last. “So do I. We’re going to get him back, though. Don’t worry about that.”

You throw your hands in the air, frustrated. “We don’t know that! We don’t know that at all. This is so out of our range that it’s almost crazy. I mean, you barely even started to believe us about the supernatural. You didn’t trust us that werewolves existed, and now my brother has been possessed by a spirit that’s thousands of years old. None of us have any proof that we’re going to get him back.”

Your father winces for a second, then his expression smooths over again. “I’ve heard what you said about all your other exploits with Scott. He never gave up on anything or anyone, and I know you won’t either. None of us are giving up on Stiles, and even if it means that we have to play the long game to get him back, we will. Sure, I may not completely get why Scott McCall went from a kid with terrible asthma to a werewolf, but I know we won’t leave my son behind.”

His voice twists slightly as he says ‘my son’, and you’re hit with the distinct memory that you’re not the only one grieving someone you might have already lost. Yes, you lost your twin brother, but the sheriff lost his son. You can’t snap on him completely. So, you close your laptop screen, forcing the image of you and Stiles away into the darkness, and stand up. “What do you say we get some dinner? It’s late and I’m hungry.” Sheriff Stilinski nods, accepting this best attempt at an apology, and heads back downstairs. You’re left in the dark again, alone.

You can’t help but think through the whole thing over again. Your dad’s right- there’s no way Scott or you or anyone else is remotely considering letting Stiles go. You’ve seen Scott before, and you’ve known him for almost as long as he’s known your brother, so you know for a fact that he won’t give up until your twin is back and as he should be.

Besides, you’ve got another tool in your kit that will help you rescue Stiles- namely, your magic. You are a witch, just like the women in your family before you. Well, just like most of them. Your mother, Claudia, should have inherited the power of the family coven, but the magic seemed to skip over a generation and it went to you instead. Your grandmother kept the power of the witches a secret until it manifested in you a few years ago. You’ve learned spells from her, and you’re hoping that you’ll be able to use at least one of them to save Stiles.

This, actually, is what you find yourself doing the next day. Scott calls you up early, saying something in a rushed tone about how he found an old story about a healing spell in some dusty text in Deaton’s storage. You head over there immediately, and are surprised to find that Scott’s spell just might work. It’s fairly simple, as spells go, but it’ll take a lot out of you. In the spell, you’ll be able to peel back the Nogitsune’s control over Stiles, but you’re not sure that you’ll be able to completely eradicate the spirit’s presence from your brother’s mind, you don’t have enough power for that. Then again, even a brief reprieve for Stiles may help you save him.

So, you, Scott, Lydia, Allison, Isaac, Kira, and the rest head down to where Stiles was last spotted. Derek’s waiting for you there, and he points wordlessly into the Beacon Hills preserve. “I think the Nogitsune is trying to find the Nemeton. He just went in there a few minutes ago.” You nod your gratitude, already slipping between the trees. You used to play in these very woods with your brother when you were small, doing your best to escape your father’s watch long enough to have some fun before the rules came crashing back down around you.

When you see Stiles at once, you almost wonder if you’ve stepped back into your memories. It makes no sense- surely, you should be able to tell that this is an ancient spirit and not your brother. You should know your twin by soul and heart and word, shouldn’t you? Yet, for that one moment, you want to run over to him, sure that Stiles has managed to shake the spirit possessing him and come back to you.

Then Stiles turns around, and you’re hit by a wave of utter wrongness. There’s no other way to describe it- this being is your brother in flesh, sure, but in nothing else. There is no soul in the eyes looking at you, no love or even familiarity in the gruesome smile twisting this thing’s lips. The body is your twin brother, but the mind, oh the mind is so far from being him that it’s almost repulsive.

The Not-Stiles leers at you from where he stands amongst the trees, taking a few steps towards you as if relishing your horror. “Ah. I see my sister has come to visit me.” You shake your head. “I’m not your sister. You’re not him.” The Nogitsune shrugs. “Well, I see I can’t fool you like the others. Unfortunate.” Scott and the others have reached you by now, and your old friend hands you a scanned copy of the spells. You take it wordlessly, although you notice that the Nogitsune’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly at the transferral of the document.

Seconds later, its voice rings out across the forest again, and you swear you can detect an almost nonexistentant strand of nervousness in the spirit’s voice. It’s as if it’s woven trepidation in with the usual array of emotions as it toys with Stiles’ vocal chords. “What’s that about?” You ignore it, beginning to read the spell. You can only hope that it will work, that it will clear the Nogitsune from Stiles’ mind long enough to speak with him.

You finish reading out the spell and stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do next. At first, it looks as if the spell hasn’t done anything at all, and then the boy in front of you that was previously not your brother spasms slightly, bending over at the waist. When he straightens, you know at once that Stiles is back. You run to him, unable to keep a slight sob from tearing its way out of your throat. “Stiles!”

He catches you in his arms. Stiles feels the same way he always has- your brother is well and truly back. He stammers at first, hand rising to his temples as if he can’t believe that he’s back in control once more. “Y/N- it’s me. I’m me.” You muffle another sob. “How are you? Are you okay?” A dark look crosses Stiles’ face now, so mute in its agony that you almost think the Nogitsune has come back to possess him once more.

“It’s bad, Y/N. It’s really bad. I keep trying to fight, but it’s like I’m going insane. Even now, I can feel it circling around me like a vulture.” He grabs at your hands now. “I need you to save me, Y/N. I’m becoming it.” You try to speak, but you can’t find the strength. Already, the power necessary to cast the spell is wearing at you; you’ll only be able to keep it up for so long.

Stiles seems able to sense this, and his voice takes on an additional note of urgency. “I need you to make everything okay again, Y/N. I can’t fight this forever.” You shake your head slightly, afraid to let him down yet knowing that you can’t do much more. “I’m not all-powerful, Stiles. I wish I was.” Something like a broken half-smile flits onto his face. “You’ve always been able to take my pain away, Y/N. Not like Scott, but because of you. We are one and the same, are we not? We’re twins. I know you can do this.”

The spell is clawing at you now, practically tearing you into pieces. You manage to fight it back. You can’t let him go yet- you just got Stiles back. “What can we do? How do I get you back?” Stiles looks panicked, as if he can physically feel the Nogitsune forcing its way back into his head once more. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything. I just need you, Y/N. Save me if I become this demon.”

Then you’re stumbling, lost in an intense thicket of pain. The spell is overwhelming you now, and through tears you release it, letting your thin veneer of control go once more. Scott and the others catch you before you fall, but you’re not paying attention to yourself anymore. No, you’re looking back at your brother, or the body of a boy that was once your brother. The Nogitsune is back, and all traces of Stiles can only be seen in his physical form once more. You feel like sobbing, like breaking down entirely, but you remember what Stiles asked you to do. You have to save him, and that is exactly what you intend on doing.

In the end, you do save him, along with Scott and the others. You barely have time to mourn Allison’s death before you’re plunged into yet another peril, this time to take the Nogitsune down for good. You end up separating from the pack as they go into battle, choosing instead to maintain protective spells around the area that will keep the Oni and other aspects of the Nogitsune from killing your friends. The cost of maintaining all of that magic is wearing on you, but you stand firm. When Scott calls out to you, asking you to give him one last ounce of strength or courage or anything, you do it. Anything to save your brother.

They come out of the school in the end. Walking with them is a dark-haired boy who’s been your friend since birth, someone who was there to take his first steps with you and make you laugh when no one else could. For a second, you draw back, terrified that after all of this the Nogitsune might still be lurking under some crevice of Stiles’ mind, ready to draw him back under again, but when your brother looks at you, you breathe a deep sigh of relief. It’s him. It really and truly is.

Before you can run to him, though, Scott is offering you a small container. “We trapped the Nogitsune inside it, but it could escape at any moment. Can you secure it?” You nod, the spell to contain the evil spirit already running through your head. A second earlier, you would swear that you didn’t have enough energy to levitate a feather, let alone trap a thousand-year-old spirit, but you’re not about to let any chance of harm come to your twin again.

When you finish the spell, you see Stiles straighten up beside you, as if one last chain binding him to the earth has been released, one final shackle broken. You carefully hand the now-bound contained to Scott, and wrap your arms around Stiles. He holds you tight for a second, then steps away, holding you at arm’s length as if he’s almost forgotten what you look like. “Thank you for helping me. Scott told me that you’ve been using your magic to save us.”

Scott nods fervently. “I don’t know that we could have done it without her. Her spells saved our asses several times over.” You can’t help but grin shakily at that. “I needed to get you back. Anything else didn’t really matter.” Stiles hugs you one last time. “Thank you, anyway.” You smile back at him. “Of course, we’re family. You’re my twin, I would do anything for you. Besides, you asked me to save you and so I did. We don’t have to be our demons anymore.”

teen wolf tag list: my savior @underc0vercryptid

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagines #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski oneshot #teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf oneshot #stiles #stiles imagines #stiles x reader #stiles oneshot #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf stiles imagines #teen wolf stiles x reader #teen wolf stiles oneshot

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sheafrotherdon · 2 years

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Tagged to talk about some of my planned reading for 2022 by @boutiquetraveltravelboutique, who also told me how to make the collage after I tried (and failed) a lot in photoshop (I say, laughing at myself). ope.

An Afro-Indigenous History of the United States is top of my list, because while I’ve read a bunch of Indigenous history and African-American history, and while those categories often overlap I am not nearly well informed enough about Afro-Indigenous history itself.

Until Justice Be Done is about the fight for civil rights before the U.S. Civil War, and I love anything and everything that turn accepted periodizations and narratives on their head. So looking forward to this.

I just finished reading Claudia Rankine’s Just Us, and it was magnificent. That was the last in a trilogy she has addressing race in America, and Citizen was the first part, so I’m going backwards to read it. It’s poetry, and I’m not that good at appreciating poetry, mostly because it makes me slow down my reading pace I think? I also have no words to really describe poetry. But that will not deter me!

Kiese Laymon is such a powerful writer, and I will read anything he writes. I read Heavy earlier this year, and was blown away by the writing, so I’m eager to check out the rest of his work.

Devon Price is the author of a favorite book - Laziness Does Not Exist - and they are an incredibly clear communicator on a host of topics that fascinate me but which are often really complicated. This book doesn’t come out until June, I think, but I’m so looking forward to it. Price is autistic, themself.

A novel! I’m so bad at reading novels. Non-fiction all the way. But You Exist Too Much came highly recommended by a friend, so I’m going to give it a whirl. Doesn’t the blurb sound so good?: “On a hot day in Bethlehem, a twelve-year-old Palestinian American girl is yelled at by a group of men outside the Church of the Nativity. She has exposed her legs in a biblical city, an act they deem forbidden, and their judgement will echo on through her adolescence. When our narrator finally admits to her mother that she is queer, her mother’s response only intensifies a sense of shame: “You exist too much,” she tells her daughter.”

I have wanted to read Bad Indians for a really long time and this is going to be the year, goshdarnit. Deborah Miranda is an enrolled member of the Ohlone-Costaloan Esselen nation in California.

I finished Matrix by Lauren Groff in January, and I freaking loved that book. It was stunning. So now - despite hearing Fates and Furies is a really different kind of novel - I’m going to try it, and see if the author’s really amazing across the board or whether Matrix was just a particular compelling mix of ideas.

Michael WItgen is Ojibwe, and Seeing Red is about the expansion of the US into what settlers called the Old Northwest (what we currently call the U.S. Midwest) and which was, of course, actually Native land. I’m particularly interested in what it has to say (cause hey, I live in the Midwest). This is also my favorite period of American history (after the Revolution, before the Civil War), so I’m eager to learn more about expansionism from a new perspective.

Tagging anyone who would like to share their reading list!

#books #reading #2022 #memoir #history #contemporary fiction #poetry

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some-creep · 2 years

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Oh also for the ask meme: splatoon and silent hill why not

put a fandom in my ask and i’ll answer:

otp I see you demand I go DIRECTLY to jail with this one huh. Just right of the gate jail for creep.

Splatoon: LOOK. my name is SOME DASH CREEP. You KNEW what you were getting into. Anyway it's Callie / Marie obviously. This isn't amateur hour.

Silent Hill: Claudia / Alessa (Heather). I'm obsessed with a tag I saw that said Claudia: I consent! Alessa: I consent! Heather: I DON'T. And I think that's beautiful...

favourite canon pairing Splatoon: These don't exist. But it's Pearl and Marina are obviously in love and as close as we'll ever get Spoon 3 notwithstanding.

Silent Hill: these also don't exist... sorry @ everyone...

worst pairing ever Splatoon: Fucking. That guy from 1. I've seen so much shit with him and ??? i guess legally it'd be agent 3 but generic splatoon 1 inkling girl. I just. No.

Silent Hill: HEY DO YOU GUYS REMEMBER THAT JAMES / ANGELA FIC I SHOWED Y'ALL LOL

guilty pleasure pairing Splatoon: I don't feel shame, obviously, given my opener. Also I think Callie deserves a harem of cute octoling girls.

Silent Hill: i think heather can have a little pet bdsm monster (valtiel). as a treat :)

a pairing you want to see more Splatoon: Stop being cowards and admit that Callie IS a cute gf for Marie. I'm dying for content. . . .

Silent Hill: Just once... ONCE. Someone needs to admit that the world needs more Heather / Claudia. Okay? It's toxic af and I drink sludge to sustain myself.

that pairing everyone likes but you’re like “lol no” Splatoon: I have a confession.... I don't really like Marie / Agent 4... at all....

Silent Hill: for no other reason than i think it would be funny to start drama im going to say henry / walter only because i answered solid / otacon on the other. even though i dont have any actual opinion on it i just know its the most popular one because hot yaoiz was big on the internet around the time 4 came out

favorite non-romantic pair Splatoon: Marie and Stinky Agent 3. Valid to bully the green guy. Even if she's now the captain. She still smelly lol

Silent Hill: Claudia and Vincent because they never mentally matured their relationship beyond playground kids who don't really get along but keep seeing each other because their parents are friends. And I'm obsessed.

#splatoon #silent hill #yeah i know what im about

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harringrovetrashrat · 3 years

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Tagged by @disdaidal !!! Thank you! Omg I’m like 🥺💖🥺💖

So, I figure since I have so many things I’m working on, and no idea when I’ll actually finish them (outside of my Big Bang Project), I should share the bits of them that I do actually have dhfoiahfiosh

What we have are these:

A fic where Billy meets some older queer people while kicked out, and learns from them how to love himself

“So I’m guessing you’ve never met a queen before,” they said. Billy shook his head.

“I’ve never met any royalty.” Juicy laughed and it made Billy feel like he’d said the wrong thing until she looked at him again, practically beaming.

“Well honey, there’s queens abound in here. Drag Queens, specifically.” Billy’s mouth formed a small ‘o’.

“So, you’re a… man?” Juicy shook her head.

“Personally, I find man and woman too limiting. All gender is a costume, darling. I just think dresses are prettier than suits.”

“You haven’t been in the right suits,” Cindy said with a smirk. Juicy gave her the finger without looking.

“It’s called taste, sweetie.” Cindy just laughed. Billy stared at Juicy, feeling awed by them. They were so tall, toned and beautiful. Their skin was dark and glistened with the glitter they’d spread over it. “I’m sure you have taste, don’t you munchkin?” Billy couldn’t help it and he pouted.

“I’m not short, I’m average for my age,” he snapped. Juicy just smiled.

“I like you,” they said, pointing a long nailed finger at him.

A Cheesy Summer Camp Horror fic, with romance and comedy because Like. Y’all know me.

“Let’s stop talking about her,” Heather cut in. “Let’s talk about this weekend.”

“This weekend?” Billy asked, perking up. “What about it?”

“Well, I was thinking we could celebrate the end of the first week with a skinny dip,” she said, eyes sparkling. Billy didn’t miss the flush that crossed over Robin’s face, though he wasn’t entirely sure who it was directed at. He definitely had a guess.

“I’m game!” Tommy piped up, grin wide, anger disappearing from his face. Billy rolled his eyes and snorted, but raised his hand, tongue running over his top teeth.

“Why not,” he said, giving his eyebrows a quirk. “I ain’t no pussy.”

“Of course,” Adam muttered, rolling his eyes. Billy’s eyes snapped over and narrowed. “Isn’t it a little, I dunno, juvenile?”

“Oh come on,” Steve chimed in, munching on the cookie now, relaxing with the change of topic. “Maybe so, but it’s summer, it’s camp, why not, right? Start it off with a bang?” His smile was teasing, bright, and Billy found it hard to look away, hard to deny that smile what it wanted.

The Reverse AU where Steve moves to Hawkins with his father and step family, Claudia and Dustin, and Billy was adopted into the Mayfields

“I’m not--! It’s just midterms! That’s what has me all out of sorts.” He opened his notebook and tried to will his blush away. There was a soft thud and Nancy joined them.

“What has you out of sorts?” She asked.

“Mid--”

“Billy so has a crush on that new guy from New York,” Heather said. Billy made a noise of protest when Nancy smiled, leaning over.

“Oh he’s so cute! Truly impeccable taste you have,” she teased. Billy rested his head on the table.

“I hate both of you so fucking much,” he hissed.

“No you don’t,” they chorused.

“I do, I really do,” Billy replied.

Mermaid AU where Steve and Billy were young friends before being separated. Steve tries to reunite them obviously

“I can show you a bunch of cool stuff,” Billy said, feeling oddly proud of himself. And well, the ocean was his home. And he never got the chance to really show it off to someone who didn’t already know it. “If I show you the ocean, will you tell me more about humans?” Steve nodded. “Like, why are all the ships girls?”

“Huh,” Steve said, tapping his chin with his finger. “I don’t actually know… Usually I think ‘cause a guy names them. I’ll ask my tutor. He knows everything.” Steve wasn’t a huge fan of Professor Owens, but he was nice enough. He let Steve find things to bring in and ask questions about, he didn’t get mad like Steve’s other tutors had when he had trouble reading. So even though Owens still pushed for Steve to focus more on his future, he was better than the other adults in Steve’s life.

“Tutor?” Billy asked. “What’s that?”

“Like a teacher,” Steve replied. “But like… Different.” In fact, Steve wasn’t totally sure what the difference was. Billy just squinted, looking confused.

“Different… how?”

“Uh, tutors are… are taller,” Steve replied matter of factly. Professor Owens was taller than Ms. Joyce had been, so there wasn’t anything to argue against that. Billy nodded seriously, making a note.

There was a ringing bell and a distant voice calling Steve’s name, making him sigh dramatically. It was already time? Billy’s ears twitched a little and he looked at Steve.

“What’s that?”

“That’s my nanny,” Steve said, mopey and pouting.

More of You’ll Find Me Looking Over the Edge of the World

“Oh, King Steve thinking about skipping?” Billy tugged him down, making Steve stumble as a fist started rubbing against his scalp and messing up his hair.

“Fuck, dude!” Steve cried, nearly dropping his tray. Billy just cackled, letting him go and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“No,” Nancy said through grit teeth. “He’s thinking about staying and taking--”

“He can’t go around looking like that,” Billy said with faux concern, eyes all worried as he leaned on the table with one hand and used the other to point at Steve’s, now fully messed up, hair. “I think Steve’ll have to take the afternoon, don’t you?” Billy turned to look over his shoulder, not seeing the way Nancy rubbed at her temples as Jonathan very obviously tried not to snicker. Steve almost felt bad. Billy knocked on the table with his knuckles, pushing up with a grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll get him home safely.”

“Get me home--” Steve began, but before he could finish his sentence, Billy was shoving him around and out of the cafeteria. Nancy sighed, shaking her head, giving Steve a look he knew would turn into a talk later. “Sorry guys!” Steve tossed over his shoulder.

Billy with a rat he named Max to piss off Max (he calls her human Max and she hates it)

“And what the fuck are you doing here?!” He asked her. Max, the little trouble maker, just squeaked at him, wriggling in his grip. “No fucking wonder I didn’t see you in Barbie’s house this morning, you decided to be a fucking Houndini, didn’t you.” She squeaked again, tail swirling and dragging along his wrist. He heard footsteps behind him and moved to shove her back into his jacket sleeve when Steve approached.

“You okay-- Oh!” Steve blinked, brows raised as he saw Max reach with her small, cute little pink hands to grab for Billy’s hard nipple again. “So…”

“Cut that out!” Billy hissed, moving her down to cradle her against his stomach. She settled in, but she was definitely hungry and would get restless again quickly. “I didn’t see her this morning but just assumed she was hiding in her little pile.”

“Me too,” Steve said, checking around the hallway for anyone who was late. Luckily, there was no one around to see them trying to hide a rat in Billy’s jacket. “How’d she even get out?”

“I mean, we are keeping her in a Barbie dream house instead of a cage--”

“Really? You’re gonna sass me now? After you insisted that she ‘live like the princess she is’--”

Stranger Than Fiction AU

“Billy, I swear to fucking god if you don’t get out there right now--” Billy stumbled out from the back, head turned to glare at Max, who was pushing him from behind. She pushed until he was at the counter, face to face with Steve. He glared, though his face was flush. Max crossed her arms. “Like we fuckin’ practiced.” Billy shot her another angry glance, but then looked back to Steve. Who was so confused.

“Max may have, uhm, brought it to my attention that I may have overreacted just the tiniest little bit.”

“That’s not at all right,” Max said under her breath. Billy swatted behind him without looking, missing her completely.

“Anyway,” he pressed on, “I just,” he sighed, pushing an errant curl behind his ear. Steve watched the movement before snapping his eyes back to Billy’s. “I don’t often take the chance to be nice, so I got maybe a little offended.” Max scoffed. “Okay a lot offended,” he said with an eye roll. Steve couldn’t help it; he snorted. Billy’s eyebrows shot up and his eyes lit up, like a kid who just learned Santa was real. Steve blushed, looking away, but he couldn’t hide the smile on his face.

“It’s okay,” he replied, turning back to look at Billy. The sun lit up the stray blonde hairs poking out of his messy bun, making a light halo around him. Steve had to catch his breath.

It was like looking at an angel, vengeful and dangerous, but exciting all at once. His eyes seemed to shine, bright and gleeful, but also full of mischief.

“It’s okay,” Steve repeated, feeling his face heat up more. “I would have taken them if I could. They were amazing.” He smiled, nodding towards the stairs. “I should get to it though. Last day and all.” Something sad briefly flickered over Billy’s face, but it was gone as soon as it was there, and Steve thought he must have imagined it.

“Yeah, good luck,” Billy said. Max was smiling, smug, and she punched Billy’s shoulder.

Leverage AU

“Well,” he said slowly, letting the trio shake off their shadows. “The lab closed.” This isn’t about the kid was the underlying message. “But, what’s happening now is that Mayor Kline accepted a lot of weird bribes. They’re from a company called Starcourt Industries. Now, that’s the name of the mall that opened, Starcourt, but what’s weird--”

“--Is that they didn’t exist for very long before suddenly popping up in Indiana,” Alec cut in. “It reads like one of our companies. General background, seems legit, but I did a lot of poking around most of this stuff leads to loose ends. It took a while to get there, so at first glance…” The group nodded. At first glance everything checked out, and even a little digging would provide a general cover that most people wouldn’t think to look past.

Of course, none of them were most people.

“So who are they?” Eliot asked.

“All of the loose ends lead back to Russia,” Alec said. “But nothing concrete or connected, just more companies that do really general stuff. It goes real deep.” The implications there were discomforting. Alec was a genius, and excelled in his line of work, but this kind of grand scale cover up meant one thing: this was bigger than just a few bad apples in a company. This was a plan.

“So who’s the client?” Sophie asked. Nate pulled up a picture of a grumpy looking man, mustache groomed and eyes hard, but kind.

“Chief Jim Hopper.” That got Parker’s attention, bringing her out of the funk she’d been in since the mention of San Diego and Billy.

“Like, Police Chief?”

“Yep,” Nate said, popping the P. “He’s the one who found the kid, found out there was something going on at the lab. Now, he’s positive something weird is going on. Knows he’s done everything he can to legally take the Mayor down, but the man has a lot of friends in high places, and Jim can’t do anything. And that’s,” he smiled, “Where we come in.”

That’s still merely some of what I have going on, but that’s what I’ll share rn. Anyway, tag me in ur WIPs! I’d love to read them :) tag ur it

#harringrove #tommy h #stranger things #angst #fluff #aus #tag game

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444piscesprincess · 3 years

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childhood friends to lovers/growing up together sterek fic reclist

uhh this kinda got a lil angsty but i recommend you pick a growing up together fic and listen to this song i promise you will not regret it

https://open.spotify.com/track/5Dz8nrwQlPLE68WaTEIqY5?si=aogjMc1aToSALmAlfQOR7A

anyways as usual check tags please!!

(click on the title for the fic)

you know you're on my mind

bibliosexual

Summary:

If there’s one thing Derek’s learned in life, it’s that crushing on someone who lives on an entire other fucking continent is probably a bad idea.

(hs!au + texting!au + childhood friends to lovers the ULTIMATE fluff fic)

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) (series)

yodasyoyo

Summary:

Stiles is six years old when he first hears Derek's voice in his head.

Or what happens if you have a soulmate bond, in a universe where soulmate bonds don't exist?

Up Down Lock Unlock

isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

Summary:

“Why are you going into grandma Ito’s apartment?” he asked.

Derek turned to him, key sliding into the lock. “What do you mean?” He tried to turn it, but the key wasn’t budging. Maybe the lock was sticking again, it’d been doing that the past few days.

Stiles was staring at him like Derek was stupid.

Derek did not appreciate sass from a ten year old.

“That’s grandma Ito’s place.”

“No,” Derek said calmly, pulling the key out and then shoving it back in, wiggling it a little when it continued to refuse to unlock the door. “This is my place.”

“I think you’re on the wrong floor then, because that apartment belongs to grandma Ito.”

(time travel counts as childhood friends right?)

the difference between going back and going home

thepsychicclam

Summary:

Stiles and Derek were inseparable growing up, but then college, jobs, and life happened. When Stiles comes back to Beacon Hills a decade later, he doesn't expect to reconnect with Derek, and he sure doesn't expect to fall in love with him.

It's Such a Gas When You Bring Up the Past

orphan_account

Summary:

Stiles finds a box of old photo albums that dredge up the sweet, the funny, the adorable, and the mildly heartwrenching parts of his and Derek's past.

(mainly a friends fic but its too cute to not include)

It's Always Been You

charlesdk

Summary:

Stiles' love life was practically non-existing, always had been. He was always terrible at picking up clues when people hit on him (it had happened, Erica had been witness to it and had been the one to let him know it was happening in the first place) because he never expected anyone to do so.

He wasn't the most desirable guy around, he knew that. He was loud, extremely nerdy, never knew when to stop talking, not exactly much of a looker if you asked him, the list was endless.

Point was, he never did know when someone was flirting with him. Which was probably how he ended up in the fight that would change his life for the better.

Lead You Home Again

GotTheSilver

Summary:

The first time Derek meets Stiles, the kid’s brown eyes are wide, and he’s staring up at him with a mischievous grin as he tugs at the arm of Derek’s first ever Batman figure like he’s trying to separate it from Batman’s body.

An alternate take on Teen Wolf, wherein Stiles and Derek are childhood friends, and things unfold from there.

Kingdom By The Sea

kilaem

Summary:

Lydia grabs his arm and pulls him down in the seat next to her. “When the hell did you find time to bag a guy like Hale?”

“We’re friends,” Stiles feels his face heat up, and then the team are running out and Derek sees him and smiles. His blush gets worse.

“Oh really?”

“Our moms were friends, okay? We’ve been in diapers together.”

“I thought you two hated each other.”

Those That Bump In The Night

bleep0bleep

Summary:

A boy’s head appears upside down, hanging off the bed. “Is anyone there?” he calls out curiously, looking right at Derek’s eyes. Caught, then. The protocol for being deliberately seen by a child is just to look as strange and fearsome as possible. No one would believe them, anyways. But Derek is tired, and he’s been running and scared, and now he just kind of flickers, curling out a tendril of dark smoke, hoping that he’s a little bit scary. No such luck. The boy’s eyes widen. “Oooh, are you the bogeyman?” “Bogeyperson,” Derek says, before he can help himself.

When Stiles was a boy, he had an imaginary friend named Derek. Ten years later, Derek comes back, and is very, very real.

Five Times Derek and Stiles Kissed For Practice (And One Time They Didn't)

mikkimouse

Summary:

In which Derek and Stiles grow up together and practice kissing, roughly in that order.

216 + 1: Words To Say Instead of I Love You

briggs

Summary:

Derek and Stiles have been best friends for fourteen years. They have their differences, sure, but it's never been a question for them. Their friendship has been the most solid thing in their lives -- until suddenly it isn't anymore.

Funny how just a few choice words can throw fourteen years of friendship off-balance.

a collection of "Bro, That's Gay" one-shots that actually ended up turning into a concrete storyline.

hope is the thing with feathers (part of a series)

ShanaStoryteller

Summary:

Stiles is ten when he saves the Hales from their burning home and Derek from a wolfsbane bullet, and this establishes a pattern that seem to continue indefinitely.

"Then he's facing a burning home, and he wraps the hood of his sweatshirt around his mouth before he pushes the door open and steps inside. There's Mr. Hale asleep - he hopes asleep - on the couch, next to - Stiles thinks that's his brother but there are so many Hales, who can keep track. He rushes over and starts shaking him, can see the rise and fall of the man's chest so he knows he's alive, but he's not waking up. He shoves away his hood so he can shout, "Mr. Hale! You have to get up, there's a fire! Mr. Hale, get up!" Nothing, he's not even twitching, both of them taking in deep even breaths like they're having the most peaceful of rests, and Stiles is going to cry. "Wake up, wake up, wake up!" There's a moment, where all Stiles can hear is the blood rushing in his ears and not the roar of the flames or the creak of wood, then with a violent, silent pop it's all back and both of the men are gasping awake, eyes open and jumping to their feet. "

(one of my favourite fics like EVER)

it came from the trees

whatshouldntbe

Summary:

“Don’t worry, Scott caught me up on everything,” Kira assures with a bubbly smile via video-chat. “You and Derek, huh? I probably should have seen that coming. I always thought it might be Cora, but Derek was the one that looked at you how I used to look at you.”

Stiles goes a little pink. “It’s still kinda new but, yeah. I really like him. He’s...” Beautiful. Patient. Smart. Painfully honest. Sweet.“...a total dork.”

Kira laughs and laughs. When she gets herself together, she replies, “Yeah, those little hearts and stars in your eyes definitely say different."

Stiles moves from the shiny, fast-paced lifestyle of Los Angeles to the foggy, sleepy town of Beacon Hills so his dad can become the new sheriff. Newly fifteen, he does his best to finish out his freshman year of high school (by staying under the radar) when he suddenly becomes the Beyoncé of the Supernatural community. And, without much prompting on his part, he ends up catching the eye of one of the most prominent Werewolf families in all of North America. It literally all starts with a stuffed animal(s).

(oh god this fic is the literal best even though its abandoned it ends at okay-ish place. this is one of the best hale family characterisations ive ever read. if you squint it can be a childhood friends to lovers fic but im including it anyway bc its amazing)

Promises aren't Meant to be Broken

paradis

Summary:

“Thanks for saving me,” Stiles blurts out, staring up at Laura, wide eyed.

Laura grins. “I like you,” she says, “we’ll be friends.”

(more laura and stiles besties centric but totally worth a read)

The Things We See

MelodramaticSalad

Summary:

Stiles grew up in the life of knowing that there was always more to life than what others saw with a first glance. Even as a child he saw things that no one else seemed to and always had a fascination with the unusual.

Some considered him an unusual child, but Claudia welcomed every single quirk her son displayed. His mother had a few special talents of her own and thrilled her to see it in her son as well. She'd raised Stiles to always keep his mind open and as grew and started to display his powers, she began to teach him how to use them. She even taught Stiles about werewolves at a young age, his infatuation with them growing once he had learned the truth about her closest friend.

Stiles spent nearly every possible moment that he could roaming the Hale house, following after the middle child most of the time. Derek was three years older than Stiles, but the bond they developed with each other was something their mothers considered out of a story book. Like Derek, Stiles was sensitive to his emotions, but unlike Derek, Stiles didn't need a scent to figure it out. He could feel it.

take me back

matildajones

Summary:

“I dare you to kiss me,” Stiles taunts, and he’s not expecting the way Derek says a naughty word under his breath and then leans forward.

Stiles yelps. He just dodges Derek’s mouth before he’s laughing wildly and running through the trees, calling out a series of ew ew ew as Derek chases him back home.

#sterek #sterek fic recs #childhood friends to lovers #au #growing up toget #reclist #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale #hale pack

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abybweisse · 3 years

Note

I've seen a thread on ig about how Undertaker was probably never Claudia's lover, and I know you kinda ship them or at least are a believer of the UT=Cedric theory, I kinda am too and I tried not to be bias while reading that post but I feel like their points were rlly weak. Here are some points that tried to debunk UTxClaudia: 1. Cedric canonly has a birth and a death date which means he is human (lol).

2.Because UT was already a shinigami when he met Clau, we need to ask ourselves some questions: Why should a shinigami be able to have children? Since the shinigami duty is a punishment for those who commited suicide. Being able to live a nice life, have kids and interfere with human affairs and lives does not respect those facts.

3. Isn't it weird for him to fall in love with someone that was born 24 yrs after he came to the human world?

4. UT expressed strong feelings toward all the other mourning lockets and Vincent especially. Why would Claudia be more important than the rest of them?

Idk but when I read this I went ??? a bit cause I dont think it rlly debunks anything :/.. or maybe I cant see it that way cause I'm a fan of the theory/ship. However I wanted to see the side of a theorist/ an analytical pov, so what do u think?

Thanks for thinking of me! 😊

Only two things boggle my mind, here:

How that person thought their arguments debunked anything in the world, and

How you managed to send such a long ask in one message....

Anyway, I’ve received asks like this before, but it’s usually from people who think more like that thread on ig. You can try searching my blog with some of the tags on this post, like #cedric k. ros—, etc. But let me see if I can pull up something that gets to the heart of this ask....

....Um, it’s really spread out over way too many posts for me to grab that many links. Anyway, a search for “cedric k ros” brought up a ton of posts generally on this topic.

Also, my beliefs have changed somewhat over the years. I wonder how old that ig thread is, since we’ve learned a lot more canon information on Undertaker and the Phantomhive family since I first joined the discussion of Undertaker’s true identity. So, I’ll address each part of your ask here and now.

Cedric has a canon birthdate and death date, so he must be human. Well, it means he must have once been human, but it doesn’t mean he’s a mere human now. Besides, the years of his birth and death are rather conveniently covered up by a speech bubble. The rest of his last name, too. Go check out all my #cedric of rotherwood posts. Cedric might have lived and died centuries ago, might have become a reaper long ago, too.

Shinigami having kids breaks the rules. Reapers being able to have children could actually be part of their punishment... if my theory is correct that reapers are reborn as a form of karmic reincarnation. That would mean reapers are born to biologically female reapers, who definitely do exist; there just don’t appear to be as many of them, which fits suicide statistics. A reaper having children with a human goes against reaper rules, since they are not supposed to meddle in human affairs... just collect souls. Technically, they don’t even judge the souls, they just follow a protocol to verify it’s that person’s time to die. This doesn’t mean it’s impossible; it just does, in fact, mean Undertaker is breaking reaper rules. But he’s obviously doing that anyway. Why not break all of them? 🤨 Edit: There’s a good reason for him to want to have children with human females (not even necessarily just one), for the very reason that it skirts around this punishment of making more reapers with reaper females. Reapers like Undertaker, who might be mating with humans, can cause the reaper organization to become even more understaffed over time. That’s something else I have mentioned before in my theory about them being reborn. There could even be a backlog of souls from suicide victims that are waiting around for new reaper bodies to be placed into. And the way Ronald flirts with females both in the reaper realm and the human realm suggests that Undertaker isn’t the only one who might be spreading around his reaper genes... changing the very nature of humanity over the generations.

It’s weird that Undertaker would fall in love with a human within however many years of deserting his post. Not weird at all, plus we don’t know whether love is the only thing that might have brought them together. Also, 24 years is merely a guess... and not a very good one. 136649 tried to destroy reaper HQ ~70years before 1889, so around 1819. The year these three things historically happened: 1. Queen Victoria was born, 2. Prince Albert was born, and 3. (Sir) Walter Scott introduced the world to Cedric of Rotherwood in Ivanhoe. He even invented that name, Cedric. Undertaker says he hadn’t been called a reaper in about 50years. That suggests two things: 1. He not only failed to destroy the HQ, but he also might have been captured, punished, and returned to his work as a reaper until he finally deserted about 20years later, and 2. If he didn’t actually manage to escape until around 1839 or thereabouts, then Cloudia/Claudia was just a kid at the time. Undertaker might have become involved in the Phantomhive family’s “work” before she became watchdog; he might have been an informant to her father, for example.

Why should he care more about Cloudia/Claudia than the other people on the lockets or Vincent? If he loved her, and if she bore his children, then it would explain this quite easily. Who wouldn’t cry over the death of their child? These other six people represented by the other lockets must also have been particularly dear to him, for various possible reasons. But he seems to focus the most on her locket. It’s also placed directly in the center of the chain; they are not in order of death dates. (In fact, their last initials create a pretty cool set of notes, with Phantomhive becoming an F or an F# [F sharp]. Please see #lockets’ melody and #leitmotif posts that date as far back as 2016). And more recently, her locket (and her locket alone) has become a symbol of Undertaker in series merchandise. Them having been lovers would explain it pretty well, I should think! And, if I’m right that “136649” means he became the 49th registered reaper of 1366, then Cloudia/Claudia died (was killed) not just on a Friday the 13th... but also 500 years after Undertaker was registered as a reaper.

Thanks for this ask, and please check out the tags below for more information.

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stereksecretsanta · 3 years

Text

Merry Christmas, leninille!

For @leninille. These are the first three chapters and a complete story within a new storyline I've got several chapter outlines for. All of this came up during development of this Secret Santa Exchange gift, and as more familiar faces are revealed, the tags will be updated accordingly.

Read On AO3

*****

Health Tonics and Love Gardens

Chapter 1 - The Stiles In The Garden

Stiles has been working on this garden for months. It is colorful now, with tiny bushes he'd groomed into shape and the better airflow they get without the other plants strangling the light and air from the garden. He's been restoring this garden to what it might have once been, and tried to keep remembering what his mom told him about the garden back home.

"These flowers may look nice, but they can also cause healing or harm." He thought in his mother's voice.

This specific phrase stuck with him, and usually when he's daydreaming and not paying attention to what he's saying, he'll speak the words and try to recall the exact details of the garden as it was when his mom was caring for it.

"Why?" he again remembers asking, and he says the same thing aloud every time this happens.

The details of the answer vary, probably because his child mind wasn't really any better at staying on target for even half the time his adult brain can do now. That means that his mom's voice answers the questing with different words, and the theme generally was: "Sometimes a little of a plant can help a person heal from an injury. Give them too much, and they will suffer, may come to harm, and could die."

It's the stinging nettle that his mother is indicating to him today. He looks at the plant in the present and gives it side-eye.

"A good cook can turn this nettle into a healthful tea."

Little Stiles can feel himself interrupt her. "I've made tea, mom. It's easy!" He used to be so excited about stuff. He was what... maybe eight years old when this happened?

He favors his mother's memory by having her always say something that humors the younger him.

"Yes! You can make very good tea. And thank you for doing it! But some teas we can make require very good care. A good cook like me knows how to prepare the stems, or the flowers, or pieces of the root all cut up into tiny pieces of any of these plants." She makes tickling fingers at him and he smiles at the recollection.

"What if the cook uses the wrong pieces?"

"Then instead of healing, maybe nothing will happen. But with some plants, you can make someone worse. They can be hurt forever, and might even die."

Little Stiles did not want to make that kind of tea, and he considered not ever being near tea again.

"Promise me, Stiles, that you will not try to make tea from anything that comes from this garden."

That was an easy promise to keep. The Stiles in his 20s, having these memories, appreciates how well his mother understood how he thought. Under her brief guidance, Stiles cultivated a voracious curiosity and analytical mind. He got over the worries about tea, eventually, but it wasn't until after this gardening thing started that he want and tried to learn more about exactly what were these plants in the plot and what kinds of tea could be made with them.

As he found out later, after many hours and days of looking through cookbooks and materials online, he started to feel like this was a medicinal garden instead of an herb garden for actual cooking.

"And never make tea with anything outside the garden without talking to me first, okay?"

Little Stiles nods again. At that age he loved strawberries, and he thought he might not worry so much about tea if he had some of the best tea with his mom right now. "I want to make the strawberry tea!"

"Oh! That sounds good."

Little Stiles helped Claudia put the tools away and gather the strawberries and lemon and sugar from their places in the kitchen. They talked about his day at school, and the memory always fades from there.

It is well more than ten years since that day and it's one of his favorite memories of his mother. Many memories stick because they sucked, or because he thinks about them so much he can't tell if they're real or if he made them up.

He does think it's odd that every week, at least once a week, Stiles is at this old burned house in the Beacon Hills Preserve, working on this garden, talking to himself to review what he's learned about these different plants, and making threats at the plants who he still can't identify or which are giving him troubles that day. He's still just as wary of the nettle, but they've got a grudging agreement not to bother each other. For the rest? He'll unlock their secrets soon enough.

It's fair to say that he lets his guard down at this point. Nobody's ever been around here. He expected there would be graffiti on the house or whatever, but no, it's just been the house and this garden, and Stiles taking care of the latter.

He clips a sprig of lavender and adds it to his bag with the rosemary, adds some heather blossoms, and mutters "Calluna" as he snaps them. It's their genus, and they're in the same family as rhododendrons. There are two of those in the yard, not close to the house.

His thought withers as he turns to the house and takes it in with a slow breath. It always seems like the house is watching him, but not seeing him. It's never felt threatening, just... omnipresent, he thinks.

This house was full of the potential of these many lives. The family suffered, and in his investigation into public records and police records ("Heya, daddio... Can I ask you a question?" being only the most direct route to the files, and not the only one he took), he had learned that the family's absence left some big holes in the town at the time.

Curiously, it was hard to find photos of any of the family members. Even social media didn't have much. The kids weren't in school yearbooks he could get hold of, and he's gone through everything he could find in the school archive, even the old student newsletters.

He had found a photo of Talia Hale. She was the mother and as far as he could tell, the kind of person everyone in town seemed to know and most respected. He had no idea that Talia's spouse looked like, having seen only the name "Blake Hale" and having no idea who that was.

The dusty family obituary Stiles found in the paper printed after the fire listed several dead. But the count doesn't match what the police logged, and that doesn't match the fire inspector's. The insurance company itself gave a third number in a quote taken by a reporter.

The situation didn't make sense to him, and it bothered him that nobody seemed to know what really happened here. How many Hales were impacted by the fire? Did any escape? The body counts ranged from fewer than ten to the low 20s. Nobody knew if there was a party that night because despite all the fresh vehicle tracks at the scene, there were very few vehicles in the driveway. So where did those other visitors go? The firefighters' work destroyed the scene and they couldn't find any tire tracks that might lead them in a useful direction.

And weirdest of all: He's still not found anything that even hints that his mother and the Hales were affiliated. So this garden and the exact matching one at home, which Stiles and his dad have somewhat neglected after many years of close attention, Stiles still doesn't know why he cares so much about this plot at the Hale house.

He'd explored the ruins many times in his months of gardening. The house sits still and aging, creaking wearily in the winds as it always does. The only trespassers seem to be him and the squirrels.

He tugs a threatening vine away from the garden and trims it back. It's probably a volunteer left by some bird.

On his first day here he didn't go in the house, but walked slowly around it, walking his blue bike as he walked the perimeter. It was coming around the back of the house when he caught the scent of a familiar combination of herbs and he discovered his garden out here in the woods.

It is exactly the same layout as at the Stilinski house, but these plants were overgrown and struggling, and the vines were getting close. As he got on his knees and started his first concerted effort at gardening the plot, he started trying to find answers to these two questions: "Why does this garden layout look identical to ours at home?" and, given that the garden does exist in both places, "How did the Hales know his mother?"

Derek doesn't know how to respond. He had never been an alpha, and would never be, so he'd mostly ignored those lessons when his mom and Laura talked about them. His alpha and sister in one being swore to him years ago that no matter how much they'd already lost, they'll always be near each other.

"Are you alright? Did you hear me?" she glances at him and pokes him. She feels the sensation of being mentally stunned, then gives him an annoyed look. "Why is this weird for you?"

He blinked at her. "You don't think it's weird that for years we've not even talked once about Beacon Hills and now you say that you've spent weeks fighting an unidentified and suspicious pull to return home for a few weeks?"

"No, I said a few months. Three or four, maybe. Who cares? It's still a calling."

Derek looked at her and asked the obvious. "Couldn't this be hunters?"

She shook her head. This wasn't aggressive magic, and she wasn't sure how she knew that. It was more than intuition, though... it was certainty. Werewolves are often sensitive to many kinds of magical activities that may happen around them or to them, and her enhanced abilities told her that this just wasn't like any of that. She considered an odd possibility.

"Maybe it's my wolf?"

Derek rolls his eyes. "We are werewolves, Laura. It's a gift of a greater life, not a spiritual possession."

"Hey, I know that there's no separate little spooky spirit inside any of us beyond what most people seem to think they have. But this is like..." She searches the room until her eyes land in the opposite corner. She points at the TV and clarifies, "It's like I'm getting a new channel, and it's focused on the wolfish instincts, not the human side. Can't you feel it, too?"

He shakes his head. There has been zero sensation of compulsion in Derek to return to Beacon Hills. He would be happy to never return. It was once a beautiful place, but that's lost with everything else and he doesn't want to find any of it again.

"Can you check the pack bond and tell me what you see?"

He glares at her, already tired of this conversation. The alpha sees different things in pack bonds than each member sees. Laura likes to learn what Derek sees, and tells herself that it'll come in handy when she's got a bigger pack. They haven't even tried to connect with any werewolves despite there being many free-roaming supernatural family hanging around. The Hales are a duo that nobody can mess with.

She's persistent, so he focuses and listens with his inner senses and finds the same pack bond with her that he's seen for years. It's identical to how it was before. Nothing new, nothing seeming magical beyond the usual. It's hard to believe her about this when he's got no evidence it's happening.

"Damn. I hate this. I wish I had an emissary to ask."

Derek doesn't know what to think about emissaries, and leans toward not-in-favor since theirs failed to protect them from the hunter assault that lead to his family's near-annihilation. This emissary was newer, replacing their former emissary who had died of a normal, terrible cause like brain cancer. Derek met the new guy once and hated how he smelled of animals and cleaning supplies. The man's day job was as head veterinarian at the Beacon Hills Animal Clinic.

Last time they talked about him, Laura recalled that he was mostly a quiet man, didn't like giving full answers, and Talia mostly found him annoying, though useful at times.

Derek stewed on the fresh thoughts of the vet being partly responsible for what happened. Now he's feeling some kind of pull to return, to demand answers, at the very least.

Magic, as far as Derek was concerned, has been far more bother than it's worth.

"I never liked Deaton, but he's all I know." Laura suggested.

"Oh, then all of this was your fault," Derek said in an attempt to lighten the mood. It took a second to realize that he just accused the emissary of letting the family come to harm because he and Laura didn't get along.

"No emissary and no wolf was responsible for what happened, Derek." That left only the implication of the hunter woman he'd let get too close.

With regard to that person, Derek only ever harbors stabbingly angry thoughts about what should happen to her. She'd lied, she'd taken advantage of his life inexperience, and in the end of it all, she failed to murder him with everyone else, and he simmered deep inside from a wound that hadn't healed. His eyes flash.

Laura doesn't look away. He's upset, and he's not great with expressing himself on the best of day. She doesn't flash her eyes back at him. She's not angry, she's sad that he keeps blaming himself.

Derek reads this on her face and understands. "Fuck!" he mumbles a disappointed apology. "It wasn't your fault." He punctuates the air more softly with a mumbled repeat of the exclamation.

"Derek." She has come to a conclusion and in that tone she's warning him to prepare himself for something he is going to dislike. "I think we need to go back. We'll be careful," she says as he gives her an irritated and skeptical. "We'll stay in another town, sneak in as wolves and investigate the Preserve and the house. Maybe check out Beacon Hills and," she said, conspiratorially, "get some donuts before we leave."

"Leave?"

"We don't have to stay. I just need answers."

He considers this. It's not a demand or a request, it's just what she's going to do and she knows he's coming with her. But the confectionary he'd not thought about in years comes back to him. "I forgot about the donuts! And because of you," he glares at her, "now I have to have one."

"Perfect!" she says. He makes a good show at faking indignation, but he's heading into his room and looking around. They weren't likely to come back, so he shoots a message to his boss about a family emergency and he starts packing.

She's looking from the main room at his back as he starts sorting things out. He's always the scaredywolf, and she starts to pull snacks together that they'll want for the long drive.

Chapter 2 - These Wolves Are Here To Play

"Iiiiiiiiiiiiiii've been working on the raaaaaaaaaaailroad!" the man shouts. "All the live-long daaaaaaaaayGAACK!" Choking sputters and spitting follows the interruption. The approaching wolves still and listen.

"What the crap?! I'm working on your stupid habitat here!" A triple spitting sound. "Leave me alone you big dumb m-moth!"

The wolves glance at each other and share a look that says, "This guy's got worse problems than his big, stupid voice."

Laura steps ahead, leading them closer, keeping the shrubs and other undergrowth between them and the person in the distance. This guy doesn't scream "Threat!" to anyone but himself, but even well-meaning people can lead to tragedy. It would be best, of course, if the guy happened to take off before they got near him.

But if he did, she warns herself, that could mean he knows they're coming. That would make him either a super or a magic user. If he stays for too long, they'll need to scare him out of there so they can take a look around.

Derek made a subvocal growl. He's always preferred the hostile approach to any conflict and she nudges him with a low-pitched growl of denial.

Derek huffs. He actually huffs at her.

What a whiny puppy.

"Rodzina," Stiles says to the wolf the second he realizes he's not alone.

And then he slaps his hand over his mouth, uncertain why he's speaking Polish. The wolf regards him, unflinching. "It's Polish for family." This creature is huge! Larger than any dog he's ever met, and it's broad and got a defined mane around its neck. It's a really beautiful and terrifying wolf. Oh, oh god. It's a freaking wolf.

The wolf glances at his chest and tilts its head at him. She seemed to know that word, somehow. How could that even happen? Well, he's happy she hasn't been all growly and dipping her head down and being mean.

"I'm sorry, but there's no food here, and I can't take you home and get you any." With real sorrow, since having a wolf pet would be totally awesome, but a really bad idea, he adds, "You're beautiful, but I can't can't have a pet."

The wolf chuffs at him.

What? A chuff! That's practically falling over with laughter in wolf terms, as far as Stiles is concerned.

"Hey! Don't chuff at me!" He's wiggling a finger at her. It's 10% aggression and 90% cowardice. He focuses on forgetting everything except that 10%. He nervously walks through his thoughts aloud because he can't help his mouth moving of its own accord at this moment.

"Okay, so fine, let's see... I'm gardening here, that's legitimately all I'm doing. No looking for secret treasure at the house or anything. You're coming here passing through or whatever, even though there haven't been wolves in this part of California in decades. I know you understand me, and you're pretending not to. But why don't you talk back?"

He is looking directly into her eyes before consciously realizing he's taking her measure. This is a specific thing he definitely remembers promising himself he'd never do if he were being challenged by a large predator in the wilderness. And yet, he's challenging this alpha wolf—

"You're an alpha wolf? How can there be alpha wolves when the whole scientific hypothesis was proven to be wrong?" He wants to ramble the name of the research article on the subject, and about the way the article was written, but manages to catch hold of his thought trains and redirect. "That's not important right now. It's crazy enough that I somehow know you can understand me clearly."

She's a smart wolf. Human-equivalent intelligence, for sure. She tries not to tilt her head in an approximation of doggy confusion, but it's a projection. Odd how that he's here gardening and along comes this alph—

"WEREWOLF?! You're a werewolf?!"

Stiles describes this later to his father as, "when all hell breaks loose."

The alpha wolf lifts her lips and growls at Stiles, who is immediately cowed. She's joined half a second later by another large wolf, slightly smaller than her as he is a beta, but he's also got very long and sharp and they're massive and this is a very bad place for him to be right now!

"Shit! I'm not delicious! Don't eat me!"

The alpha stops growling again, and seems to be shaking. The other wolf snarls at her. She snarls back.

Of fucking course! "You're siblings?" Okay, that's it, you need to tell me who you are. Between cautiouswolf and hyperprotective wolf," indicating the alpha and the beta in order, "who the hell are you?"

The beta keeps growling but defers reluctantly to the alpha. She studies Stiles, looking at him and not laughing wolfishly anymore. There's no hint of threatening demise, just curiosity.

It would be too far to say it's quite trust, but it's the recognition that the confusion is mutual and that there is no threat.

Stiles also looks at this as another opportunity to try to talk himself out of the situation. He gives explaining himself another try.

"I was here by accident the first time, and then I found the garden," he waves over to it, easily seen from where all three wolves stood. The beta wolf didn't take his eyes off Stiles, but the alpha regarded his handiwork without apparent comment and resumed studying Stiles.

"Keep talking," was the obvious implication. Order. It was definitely an order, and Stiles agreed that he should continue.

"My mom planted a garden exactly like this one at home. So finding such a unique one out here, at the site of," he looks at the house and murmurs, "really bad stuff is just weird." He feels his cheeks tighten and get heavy and a tear slips down his cheeks. "She died before she told me what all the plants are for. As far as I know she didn't even know the family." He turns around, letting embarrassment at his own emotions put his unguarded back at risk of wolfish sneak-attack.

There's a shuffling noise behind him that tugs his attention back and he wipes his face. It's blotchy, and gross, he's sure, but he's looking at the wolves.

Something quiet happened here while he was turned around. The male wolf is looking almost... ashamed in some way, and the alpha turns back to Stiles after a staredown with the beta and seats herself a step closer to Stiles.

He decides not to mention that moving closer is just as terrifying than all of the other scary things they've done because the seated pose is probably just a ruse to get him when he's vulnerable, but...

Thump.

That was a tail. He looks around her sitting form as if trying to find her tail. Her expression reads as, most likely, "You seriously need to chill." Off to the side, the beta just looks mean as ever and ready to chew on his soft and fleshy neck.

He pulls his phone out and texts his dad. He holds up a finger to the wolf who'd risen to her feet again.

"No, just a minute. My dad's expecting me and I need to let him know that I'll be a little late. I'm not telling him about our little one-sided conversation, which you really should join, by the way." The wolves seemed mollified, if not satisfied with the answer. Neither rises to the bait and starts speaking, so the beta keeps his ears rotating around, listening for danger, and the alpha's ears are firmly oriented in his direction.

"Do you know this place?" The ear flick of the alpha and the glance at the house let him connect some dots. "The Hale family lived here and you knew them."

For the next several minutes, Stiles explains what he has learned of the Hales from his look into the school archives, the police and fire reports, the insurance report he'd acquired through a friend of a friend who shall all remain nameless. He tells of the obituary and the news stories and the details that don't make sense.

He's speculating and journeying down educational, if difficult to follow sidetracks, and mentions one detail that catches the wolves' complete attentions. It was about the catatonic John Doe found a few days later a short walk from the highway.

"Oh? Uhh, I just think maybe there's a connection between that John Doe and the Hale fire. There's too many weird details, things that haven't happened at any other time in this town or probably any town. It's tidy and messy at the same time. I don't trust that."

He's been looking at things on his phone that are pictures or notes or scans of things he's found and looks for the rest of what he discovered about that John Doe.

"Look," he says as he flips the phone toward them. "I found evidence that— Oh, I don't know if you even see in color, or if you can read this in your current shape. Hopefully you're better than other canines about that but you're not answering questions right now, so we'll park that for later.

He reviews the notes and continues.

"I snuck into the hospital and I think this guy really could have been a family member or friend of the Hales. He was scarred badly, as if from a fire, and though he wasn't near the Hale house, the paramedics estimated he'd already suffered two days in the cool air in probably this very state."

The sad whine of them both went unnoticed through the racing thoughts of the human.

"I still think he looks like an age-progressed version of the Beacon Hills basketball team player I found in this picture."

He makes the face as large as he can. It's just a face, and it's blurry.

The first wolf shifts back to human. She says, "Who is this?"

Stiles gasps and then tries to pretend a wolf didn't just shift in front of him to human form and start asking him questions.

"This is a picture of Peter Hale."

She turns to the other wolf. "Derek!" and she motions at him to stand up, but the wolf Derek declines. It wasn't an order, but a move of cautious excitement. Derek's keeping a wary eye in the human's direction even as his sister looms closer to the phone and examines the picture.

"I'm sorry, madam alpha, or whatever is the right title, but you appear to have no clothes on and I am not prepared to um... talk with you in this manner at this time. And stuff."

She looks at him, and then herself, and shakes her head. "When it comes to werewolves, clothing is as optional as it gets."

"Oh, your kind can't transform your clothing when you shift?" Something subconscious snags his attention. "Are you sure about that?"

She looks at him. Her hair is a little wild, and she's strong even in this form. "I know more about werewolves than you do."

He tucks his phone in his pocket.

"Okay, look, fine, you want to talk in the nude. You do you, but I really am just going to need to leave right now and clear my head and then I can... I can come back tomorrow, yeah?" He's not sure why he's excited to return. They did nearly eat him several times in this conversation, based on the number of flashes of teeth he caught in the last several minutes.

"Fine, come back tomorrow, but do not tell anyone we were here."

Stiles nods, distracted, and takes a few tries before he gets all his gardening things stuffed back into his bag and gets himself situated for the ride out of the preserve.

"I'll be here just after five tomorrow, alright? I've got work, but I'll be here, and I'll bring some stuff you can look at. Please try to get some clothes or this is going to be awkward and I am really out of awkward for the day.

"You're really not," the alpha says. Stiles sputters.

"Hey!"

"Hey, family man," she says, referring to his Polish of earlier. "I'm Laura. Who are you?"

"I'm Stiles Stilinski."

The other wolf looks at him and hruffs, almost laughing.

Cripes, these siblings are already annoying him.

"Hey, asshole, it's my name. You'd break yourself trying to pronounce my first name, so be thankful for my gracious manner."

Stiles leaves slowly, trying to go faster, but it takes a while to get his body to let go of the anxiety enough to punish his legs on the pedals and fly as fast as he can without crashing.

Kind of a tall order, some days.

"I cannot believe I just promised I'd come back to chat with those man-eaters!" He gripes at himself. "Do they eat people? How do you even ask someone if they eat people? Especially if they can change shapes and have fangs and sharp pointy parts?" He listens to his intuition. Of course they're not cannibals. Or maybe they are if they're not considered humans. "UGH! They are gonna answer so many questions tomorrow or else!"

Derek has followed him silently for maybe half a mile, listening to the bewildering blitz of self-talk ranging from werewolves to garlic naan bread and Derek just gives up and heads toward the house, where Laura is waiting for him.

Chapter 3 - The Interposing

The sun is low now, shining bright fingers through the shattered window frames and vacant doorways of the shell of this old house. By coincidence of timing and place, Laura stands in a sunny shape on the decrepit porch. Derek listens to her adjusting her stance and watches as her fingers push through a beam of sunlight and trace the crackled texture of the carbonized door frame.

"You didn't stop him and make him tell us where Peter is."

She catches his meaning immediately. "Yeah, there's something at work here keeping me from chasing him away."

"You failed," he says, gesturing broadly at her exposed form. "He can't handle this much woman."

"Well, Derek, I've got the supernatural hookup. We all do. He's going to have to get used to all this." She looks at the smudges on her fingers. "But why didn't you stop him?"

"I don't know. And I only just realized it when I said it." Now Derek looks as confused as she had been. He wasn't even feeling hostile toward the Stiles, and that is the most irritating thing about this.

She shifts her hand through beta shift and to full wolf, then back again. It's a difficult transition, but since she could just focus and do it, Derek just observed as she shifted from human form through partial beta and partial full forms, and then back to full human.

Derek was curious what she was doing, and noticed her smile as he held her fingers up.

Every finger still had dirt.

"I've never thought about how we take dirt and things with us through the shift, but not our clothes."

"Are you suggesting that he can teach us to take clothing or tools into our shift?"

She shrugged her shoulders and grinned. The pack bond resonated with satisfaction, and he rolled his eyes.

"We don't know anything about him."

"I know, but if you could feel it, you'd know that this place needs us, Derek." She looks into the house from across the threshold. "And gardener Stiles is part of whatever is going on here." They were all called here. It's magic that bound them, brought them together, and seems to be managing their introduction.

"Is he the magic user?"

"There is ample potential. Surely you could feel that by the time he left."

"I hate magic," Derek grumbles as he thinks about it. Yes, he could tell Stiles was ignorant of his own potential and that worried Derek more than the fact that this stranger happened to suddenly be part of their lives in a way that captivates his alpha.

Laura snaps her fingers. "Yo, how could you not have heard me?"

Derek raises an eyebrow in defiance. Not his best move, but now it's her turn to roll her eyes and she repeats herself.

"Let's go find Deaton. If he's around, maybe he can help us figure out who this is and what kind of magic is being worked here."

"Can we pass the hospital, too? I'd like to see if we might find uncle Peter."

She nods. That matters a lot to both of them, too. She resolves that before 5pm tomorrow, they'll have gotten at least one answer to the question of what's going on. She leans into a full shift and Derek follows, chasing her as they race into the forest for the long route to the vet's office.

"My dad is going to kill me when he finds out I was talking with werewolves at the Hale house." He nearly skids to a stop and releases his clenched brake. He isn't a Hollywood stunts expert and he would not have recovered well from a solo crash on the pavement. His ego would be only one of his many bruised parts.

He considers 14 different stories that seem plausible enough, dismissed half of them outright as abominations, and spend the next minutes thinking up some 40 more before settling on the best candidate.

He parked his bike along the side of the house and walked quickly to the front, nearly crashing into his patient and curious father on the porch.

"Hello Stiles. You didn't say why you'd be late, but—"

"I was watching the sunset!" he interjected. Dad glances toward the sun now, indicating that the sunset isn't done yet.

"Nope, you weren't. Do you want to tell me what really happened?"

"Yes!" he squeaks, and then rushes his dad inside with a glance over his shoulder that lacks any essence of subtlety. He's checking the few houses in view to see if anyone in a homes or yard or car or suspicious van might be spying on them. He closes the door quietly and pointedly locks it.

"Are you sure this is necessary, Stiles?"

"Dad, my world has been supernaturally rocked tonight, and what I'm about to tell you will do the same for you."

#leninille #stereksanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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whitelotus-ffxiv · 3 years

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lessons learned.

There are plenty of reasons to dislike Claudia fae Caelius.

She’s loud, she’s rude, she gossips, she looks down on the servants within the palace and does little to hide it, she practically pimps out her middle daughter while ignoring the existence of her youngest...

But her most unforgivable sin is that she makes me feel bad for her eldest.

No wonder Laelia is a godsdamned control freak that needs to have her finger on the pulse of everything and everyone around her. It was probably the only way to survive her basket case of a mother.

I watch as this savage invader with her yellow hair walks the halls of the palace, clearly uncomfortable in the clothes that have been gifted to her to wear. I watch as she pinches the silks and satins between her fingers to judge their value, watch as her dark blue eyes narrow and assess the price, and I know what she thinks as she looks over the finery that exists within the Jade Palace.

How could Domans have so much wealth? How could any Domans exist that hadn’t had everything stolen? Didn’t her people take all of the palaces, all of the gold and the jade and the silks? She watches Jun, and she watches the Jade Lord, and I know. I know that she is confused that these royals still exist, that they weren’t exterminated or overpowered.

I wonder just how much it would curl her hair to know what the Jade royals did at the behest of her people to maintain their power and wealth and autonomy.

Just as the little one with the scar begged her mother to leave us be, I hear how the middle Caelius girl pleads with her own mother to not wander the halls too much. They’ve heard the stories from the servants, and I’m sure that they’ve heard the intermittent screaming throughout the nights - either from the dungeons filled with mad women longing for lost children or whatever poor bastard is enduring the Jade Lord and Jun.

The girls are right. No one should be wandering these halls unattended. It’s not safe for those who aren’t careful, who don’t know what they’re doing.

It’s not safe, especially, for those with third eyes around servants and trained guards who feel twitchy at the sight of Garleans, who are triggered by the sound of their language or the way that they carry themselves. It’s not safe for loud-mouthed people who don’t know their place in this world anymore to try to carve out a new space for themselves and their kin.

It’s not safe for Caudia fae Benes to try to be gathering information about the martial status of the Jade Prince. It’s not safe for her to be trying to find out if I am a concubine, a wife, a mistress - but never have I heard that I might be a princess from the servants’ reports. That doesn’t cross Claudia fae Benes’ mind that I might be the next bitch in charge, lounging on a dais. It doesn’t cross her mind that I have much influence at all, that it was Jun who permits me the power that I have, or that I’m much more than a whore for the prince and a bodyguard for Princess Aoi.

It’s not safe for a woman who practically spits at one of the younger servant girls for accidentally spilling a bit of tea on her shoes - shoes that she doesn’t actually own, but belong to the palace - and demand that the quaking girl speak Garlean, because she knows it, doesn’t she?

And it’s especially not safe for a woman who wants to pimp her middle daughter, after ruining the first, and propose that my Jade Prince marry Julia Caelius so that her mother can try to regain some footing in a social hierarchy, to regain some wealth, and try to regain some influence.

The servants tell me that Claudia fae Caelius wants to be granted a private audience with the Jade Lord. They rushed to me as soon as they overheard it coming from the Garleans’ chambers, with the redheaded one arguing that it was an absolutely moronic idea, and didn’t Claudia know when to stop--...

I tell them to find Claudia fae Caelius and tell them that she’s been granted an audience - though not to specify with who, exactly - after ensuring that the Jade Lord would be busy for the day. I ensure that the only servants coming in or out are ones that I can trust, that Kai is in charge of the guards that attend to the throne room that I choose...

The water room.

---------

The servants keep the lights low in the room, but the reflections from the water bounce off of the walls. There’s no tables, like there usually are when we come in here. The room is empty. It feels strange for me to sit upon a dais, but there needs to be some order regained. Things need setting straight.

I know how angry I am, but... I also know that my song is still calm. Maybe it’s still taut and tight like leather rather than silk, but that’s alright. I’m still in control of myself and my emotions. This is something that I know I have the upperhand in it when it comes to the Caelius woman. This is something that Laelia and I had in common, I suppose - the ability to remain composed.

Fingers drum slowly against the hilt of the katana I have drawn, watching the doorway as light reflects off of the steel. I sit like a man might, dressed in the same black uniform that I’d once worn to sneak into Jun’s quarters. I appear as no more than a shadow, my hair pulled into a ponytail, the veil across my lips still except for when I exhale once I hear approaching footsteps.

“Don’t turn your back,” I hear a servant murmuring, and the reminder makes the corners of my lips twitch. One was never to turn their back on the Jade royals, but that isn’t why Claudia is receiving the same instructions I received on my first day. After all, she’s right. I’m no princess. Not really. This isn’t my throne room. This isn’t my palace.

But you don’t turn your back on a dog ready to attack, either.

My eyes are better adjusted to dark rooms than the average person’s, and so I see the Caelius woman very clearly as she walks slowly into the throne room. It’s odd, seeing her move with such care and reverence after watching her paw at vases and tapestries like she already owned them. The disrespect makes my mouth feel like it might fill with blood. When she looks at my prince, she sees status. She sees price tags. She sees power and opportunity.

“Your Majesty,” the woman begins in broken Doman, lowering herself to her knees. Maybe the trousers I wear have thrown her off, or the way that I’m sitting, and maybe it’s hard to see just how much smaller my silhouette is than the Jade Lord’s in the darkness. “I thank you--...”

“Is that who you were told you’d be meeting with today?” I cut her off, my voice low, well-aware of how well the Garlean language falls off my lips and tongue. “Rise, woman. There is no one for you to bow to here.”

I can see the way that she bristles, and it makes me want to laugh. There’s hesitation before she sits back up, and then stumbles to her feet, the unfamiliar clothes hindering her ability to move with grace.

“I beg your... pardon, but I was told that I had been granted an audience--...”

“An audience.” I cut her off again. “You have. No one specified with whom exactly the audience would be with, did they?”

I wait. I wait for her to answer and try to argue with me, eyebrows raised. But she doesn’t. She looks around the room, and I’m willing to bet she doesn’t think she looks nervous. She does, though. I can smell it on her. I can see it in the way she pivots her toes, in the direction her waist turns initially before she turns to look at me head-on through the dim room.

“Did the Jade Lord sign off on this, young woman?” she sniffs, taking a step closer to the dais, and I lift a hand. She freezes in place, like she was expecting guards to melt out of the walls, and then I watch her glare up at me as I smile down at her.

“No, but the Jade Prince did. He has power here, but you know that already, don’t you? The way you flinch - the way that you believe that I could easily have you handled by hands that aren’t my own - tells me that you know that I have whatever power I want in this place. So, pray tell, Lady Caelius...”

Slowly, I rise to my feet and make my way down the small set of stairs that take me off of the dais and onto the floor where she stands. To her credit - or her foolishness - the woman stays exactly where she is. She doesn’t budge this time. She doesn’t flinch, and I can’t tell if I admire it or find it annoying.

“Tell me why you’ve been feeling bold enough to walk around my prince’s palace, touching things as you please, talking to servants however you see fit, and acting as if you already own the place?”

My voice doesn’t raise. It’s so very soft, in a way that I’ve learned from Jun’s siren song. It doesn’t have the same magical properties. It never could, but... If nothing else, it’s taught me a little bit about how to croon in a way that is both peaceful and unsettling all at once. And, as I speak, I walk until I stop just mere ilms from Claudia fae Caelius’ face, my eyes drilling into hers through the darkness as shards of light bounce across our faces.

She sniffs. She stiffens. She has the audacity and lack of self preservation to narrow her eyes and lean her head back from me. She takes a step back, and I simply take a step forward, quietly reaching around to set my sword at her hamstrings - still sheathed - so that she knows she isn’t permitted to step away from me another fulm.

“The Jade Lord will be displeased to receive a report about your behavior,” Claudia whispers, her voice practically trembling with indignation, and I can’t help but to smile.

“He would. I’m sure he would, if anyone in this room other than you would be willing to vouch for that story. But as the story stands... You’re resting in your quarters. Do you think it would be difficult to get your companions to agree to tell that lie? And if they disagreed... Well. Have you heard all of the singing in the palace, my lady? It’s very beautiful, isn’t it? It can set one so very much at ease, and yet...”

Lightly, I tap the sword against the back of her legs.

“And yet, it makes your mind feel like it isn’t quite yours, right? The prince or the beautiful women that roam the halls could tell anyone anything and they would believe it. They have such a way about them. So... While my lady is correct in assuming that the Jade Lord wouldn’t approve of this, she is desperately incorrect about him receiving a report about it to begin with. You were a senator, weren’t you? And you still couldn’t politician your way into an actual meeting with him, and... for what? What were your intentions?”

I take a step back and move my sword from the back of her legs, and though she tries to hide it, I can see the way Claudia exhales - at least a little bit - in clear relief, as she lets go of a breath she wasn’t aware that she was holding.

“My intentions are not the concern of a bodyguard, Line Hwa. Let us cease this silly little meeting and allow us to both go back about our business.”

The corners of my lips twitch again at her tone and the butchering of my pseudonym. Slowly, I reach up and unclasp the mask hanging in front of my mouth so that she can see my face a bit more clearly.

“You have been rude to the servants in the palace. You demand they speak a language that incites fear because you haven’t bothered to learn ours, despite you being permitted into this palace out of an act of kindness. It’s gotten back to me - as a bodyguard, in charge of many of the servants that graciously agreed to help you and the rest of your party - that you’ve even gone far enough to call a girl hardly more than a child a savage. So...”

The words make her shrink. All at once, I see the pride that Claudia fae Caelius was trying to cling onto start to fade, because no one was supposed to know about that slip of the tongue. Even her own party would rip her apart for such foul language, and she knows it.

She is a proud, foolish woman, but I believe that she even knows that one wrong step would throw her into the wilds to fend for herself.

“I would suggest you change your tune, quickly. I hear everything that happens in this palace, but even I know far less of how a person truly is compared to those who truly own this palace. They know you to your core, Claudia fae Caelius. They can see the rot that lives in you with far more ease than I can. Your song - your inner song, you understand? - has no beauty. It grates on them. You grate on everyone around you, even your own children...”

Clicking my tongue, I clasp my hands behind my back, and I circle her like a vulture about to descend on its prey. I watch her stiffen. I watch her hold her wrist with one hand, and then repeat the motion as she wrings her hands before forcing herself to stop. I come to a halt behind her, my voice still low, still almost a croon, but I can’t stop the bite that seeps into my tone.

“No wonder your eldest decided that she would rather die, in a burning Castrum, than ever see your face again, Claudia.”

Claudia moves this time. Sure, it was a low blow. Of course it was. But it wasn’t really a lie, was it? It’s enough to make Claudia dare raise a hand to me as she swivels on a heel, her eyes burning like ceruleum, and I don’t even move to grab her wrist. I stay still. I wait, and I watch, eyebrows raised.

“Keep pushing your middle girl and she might experience a similar fate. One child has already proved they’ll do anything to get away from your control and your incessant nagging. At least your husband isn’t here, but he only beat Laelia, didn’t he? Cassia wasn’t important enough to hit, and Julia is the only one that actually belongs to him. I can see you balling your hand into fist, so I’m right, aren’t I? Laelia was just another bastard?”

“Shut your mouth,” Claudia hisses, and I grin.

“Or what? You’ll call me a savage? You’ll strike me? You don’t have any power here, Claudia. You can hit me, and then you’ll lose your hands. I’ll feed them to the creatures in the lagoon and force you to watch,” I murmur, and she bristles again. So much bristling, so little action.

“Tread lightly around the ponds. I think it bears reminding,” I continue, looking down and adjusting my gloves as she continues to glare, with her hand still raised in the air, before I glance back up at her face. “And do lower your arm. It would be a shame for everyone to see how you’ve stained those beautiful silks with your sweat from trembling like an angry little dog.”

“You’re a sick little girl,” Claudia snarls. “Who do you think you are? You are a lowly guard that could easily be replaced. Just because the prince likes to call you to his quarters doesn’t mean you have the right to speak to me like this. I doubt the prince would approve of you calling away servants and guards just for this! Who is looking after the princess?”

“I am well within my rights and the capacity of my authority. I promise you. And the safety of the princess is none of your concern. The biggest threat to her right now is that she might be wondering where her lunch is. Keep running your mouth and questioning me, and see how quickly I have your head covered in a bag and you left alone in the middle of the jungle, Caelius.”

Taking a step back, I step around the woman - who smells like sweat and anger and fear - and towards the exit of the throne room, my footsteps silent. But she isn’t silent. She isn’t still. She whips around, and she reaches for my arm, and I feel no remorse for the way I grab her wrist and throw her onto the floor. It’s simply a knee-jerk reaction, and I hear her gasp in absolute shock - and pain, because I’m sure that it didn’t tickle. I turn on my heel, staring down at her, as I pull my sword from its sheath.

“Apologize,” she demands in a shaky voice, glaring up at me. “Apologize for threatening me! And then you put hands on me? How dare you!”

Rolling my eyes, I crouch down, resting my arm on the pommel of my sword as I peer down at the woman’s face. Her makeup is creasing from sweat. I supposed the silks might be a bit stifling for her, that the weather in Doma might be a bit balmy compared to what she’s used to.

“You put hands on me first,” I remind her softly. “I would be well within my rights to hurt you far worse than that. No one would mourn you. You know that, don’t you? Your daughters might feel a passing sadness, and then it would be relief... And I think that will be your punishment.”

Clearing my throat, I smile before reaching out and grabbing Claudia’s face between my hands, despite the way that she tries to pull away - and the way that she fails to do so.

"No one would mourn your death,” I whisper to her. “Not your daughters. Not your husband. And it’s more than likely that any friends you have now are dead, in the same gutters that people like you forced the Populares into. Now... A few parting reminders...”

I tighten my leather-clad grip on Claudia’s face as she sputters and tries to speak, her eyes wild and furious.

“You may continue to try to sell your daughter like a pig at the market to the Jade Prince, but he won’t bite. He won’t be interested. Insult one more servant and you will be removed from the palace - or, at best, put into solitary confinement until it’s time for you to leave. And... stay in your fucking quarters. This palace is not and will never belong to you. It is ancient. It is sacred. And it screams each time you touch it with your filthy, war-mongering feet. I only see one savage in this room, and I assure you that it is not me.”

“How dare you--” Claudia sputters again once I let go of her face and straighten back up. “The Jade Lord will hear of this! Mark my words! You terrible girl! Come back here, we are not--- gaaaaaaaaaah!”

“Close the doors,” I tell the guards flanking either side of them, even as they glance nervously into the throne room. “Allow her out in five minutes.”

“Why is she screaming?” one of them asks, and I shrug as I walk past.

It definitely had nothing to do with yokai taking the shape of thirty snakes surrounding her and nipping at her skin. Certainly not.

Dumb bitch.

#LONG #cw death mention #ffxiv rp #ff14 rp #writing

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bottleofspilledink · 4 years

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God's Watching, Put on a Show || Chapter I

September 10, 1993, St. Agnes School For Girls

Eve stared at the bible she was so desperately clutching, her nails creating indents on it's fine, leather cover.

"Hail, holy queen,

Mother or mercy,

Hail, our life, our sweetness, and our hope..."

Her stomach twisted as she switched from one prayer to another in her head.

"Glory be to the Father,

And to the Son,

And to the Holy Spirit..."

She wasn't even sure if she'd finished before beginning a different one, thoughts continually straying, focus nearly non-existent.

"Our Father,

Who art in Heaven,

Hallowed be thy name..."

If she was more aware of herself, she would have thought it miraculous that the book didn't simply slip from her grasp.

They had just finished the first gym class of their senior year and she could still picture it so vividly.

Airy sighs of relief echoed through the showers, mixing with the sound of running water and murmured complaints of aching limbs.

Warm water cascaded down them all as her chestnut eyes wandered, gaze flitting from the floor, to the nude girl next to her, to the faucet knobs, then to the floor once more.

She couldn't help but envy Claudia's soap, the lilac bar sliding over the soft, supple skin of her thighs, gliding over the gentle swell of her breasts, leaving sweet smelling suds and translucent bubbles in their wake.

It hardly got better when she towelled off. Girls roamed around the room in various states of undress.

When the prayers didn't work, she brought her sweaty hands up to palm at the rosary that, despite dangling at her neck, had always felt too tight.

Just a bit.

Her face flushed as even more of earlier's memories surfaced.

She recalled how her classmate, Tabitha, leant down to ask for a turn with her brush, entirely bare save for a towel that, instead of covering her body, had been used to wrap her wet hair.

She recalled how Naomi had slipped on the wet tile, bumping into her in an attempt to stay standing, wet hair dripping onto Eve as she was pressed into the locker, body hot against her back even with the towel between them.

And once that failed to purge the thoughts from her head, she shifted her gaze to the crucifix above the whiteboard, exchanging prayers for pleas so desperate that would make anyone who heard it cave and help her.

Though unfortunately for Eve, no one was listening.

She wanted to stop the thoughts.

She needed to stop the thoughts, the frantic beating of her heart, the pulsing heat that came from between her legs, lest she risk losing everything in this life and the next.

"Please," she thought, eyes clenched shut, her ivory hands were slick and shaking as she brought them together, fingertips growing red with each pleading squeeze, "help me."

"I know you wouldn't put me through this if you thought I couldn't handle it, but I'm begging you, help me." The words were now a mantra, repeating over and over til it lost all meaning, words meshing together in her mind in a senseless fashion, fading into the background of her thoughts all together.

Her amber eyes brimmed with tears at what could happen to her, to her soul, if she wasn't able to stop, if this wanton depravity escaped her mind, if she decided to go forth and search for ways to fulfill this sick fantasy of hers.

And through some miracle or curse, her prayers had been realized in the form of the shrill shriek of the fire alarm. Her heart beat in panic instead of longing and arousal receded, replaced by fear.

"Get in line, girls. Remember our drills," Sister Jane said, calmly rising from her seat, somehow immune to the fear and worry that now permeated the air.

At the order, lines were formed, rushed and frantic and the complete opposite of their usually pristine formation as they speed walked through the cloisters.

The place was bustling with life, tiny heels clicking and voices buzzing as the already crooked lines dissipated completely as people shoved and bumped into each other.

Eve could barely move, her right side pressed firmly into the walls. She shuffled along as best she could, making way for one of the nuns fighting against the crowd trying to reach the telephone to call the fire department.

They arrived at the courtyard quickly and despite the attempts to settle them, some girls were running all over the grass, shouting names, looking for friends and ensuring their safety.

Though the source of the fire was still a mystery, it was clear that calming the students would take a good while.

Eve was shivering in the crisp autumn air, a crunchy leaf smacking her in the face as she rubbed her hands together. In all the commotion, she had left her coat behind, the thick wool remaining draped over the back of her chair and utterly useless to her now.

Just when the sisters were at their wits end, one of the more elderly nuns and girls in aprons rushed out of the west wing door with their hands and handkerchiefs covering their mouths.

They donned flour stains on their school-mandated black aprons and reeked of smoke. Most were violently coughing, one of them dry heaving onto the grass because of the force of it.

The girls were far too distracted to notice one of their fellow classmates slipping away from them.

"Sister Agnes!" The women rushed over to her as she fell to the ground, habit nearly slipping off when her frail body collided into the damp grass.

"What happened? Did all the girls make it out?" Mother Cecilia asked, nearly hysterical as she knelt by her fallen friend.

"Thank the Lord, I believe so, yes." Sister Agnes pushed herself up and hid the bit of hair that escaped her hood. "Oh, I don't know what happened! We were just baking, and- and I- That girl! She put it in the oven! That wretched girl! She must have started the fire!" The woman marched over to her students, face distorted in rage.

"Where is she?! Where's Lilith?!"

Eve, being so far from the commotion, hardly noticed it all as she sat alone on one of the wooden benches. She was far too occupied with warming herself. A violent shiver went through her as her leg brushed against the cold metal nail of the seat.

"Feeling chilly?" A girl with striking red hair asked her, taking off her oven mitts and waving them at Eve.

"Oh! Uhm, no, I'm fine. Thank you, though." She said, straightening herself. A gust of wind had blown past them, allowing Eve to catch a faint whiff of the smoky scent emanating from the girl.

The other merely smirked, "Shy? There's no need to be. Besides, I can see you shivering."

The blonde gave an awkward laugh, feeling her face flush as she was caught lying.

"You got me there! But really, I'm fine, it's nothing I can't handle," Eve tried reassuring the girl, who only raised a brow at her.

"Sure about that? I don't mind letting you borrow them, it's not like I'm using them or anything." The girl practically insisted on taking the oven mitts, holding them out to Eve.

Even from afar, she could feel it's warmth, her hand gave a tiny twitch, completely revealing how much she wanted it.

"If you're sure..." She reached out and took the mittens from her, their fingers briefly brushing together.

And for a second, a single, fleeting moment, the overwhelming desire to hold the other girl's hand overtook her, and she froze, head spinning at the other's heat.

She wanted to feel her smooth skin, her warmth, and have her soft hands encompass her own.

But no such thing happened and Eve pushed the thought aside to slip the oven mitts on.

"Thank you. I honestly don't think I could have taken it much longer, I have more goosebumps than an actual goose at this point."

The girl laughed at this, hearty and loud and absolutely stunning as her frame shook with the force of it all. The autumn sun made her hair shine like a ruby, it's tips grazing her apron as she moved about.

"My name's Eve, by the way." She clumsily brushed her own hair from her face, oven mitts making the task more difficult than it should have been, then stuck out her hand for the other to shake.

"That's pretty. It suits you," the girl said nonchalantly. Eve would have thought it to be sarcasm if it weren't for the seemingly genuine smile still on her face.

"I'm-"

"There you are!" Mother Cecilia pushed through the crowd of students and grabbed the dark haired girl's outstretched hand, preventing it from reaching Eve's and pulling her up. "Come with me! Now!"

And so, the girl was gone before Eve could make a sound. She could do nothing but watch as people around them parted to let the two pass, not wanting the wrath of Mother Cecilia to befall them too.

They stayed out there for another fifteen minutes before the fire department arrived.

The girls were craning their necks as they crammed themselves at the windows to get a glimpse of the firemen as the ran through the halls, hose trailing behind them. Whispers of excitement ran through them as one of the men actually entered the courtyard to talk to the nuns.

After an hour long role call, they were ushered back to their classes, chatter untamable due to all of the events that had transpired.

There was only one girl who stayed silent through it all.

Eve was still staring at the red oven mitts when she reached her seat, wondering how on earth she would return them, til the answer presented themselves through the tag that slipped out when she took them off.

On that tag, scrawled messily in a thick black marker was the name Lilith Damien.

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aguagua · 3 years

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haha fuuuuuc I wrote a novel of headcanon for possible backstory for Donna B from re 8. I don’t really wanna share it in the tags. I just wanted a place to put it bc she is my beloved. Read it under the cut if you want 👊🤪

content warning : suicide and a lot of death

Donna Beneviento :

Born - 1947?

1950s - Sister passes, parents commit suicide

1986 - Claudia born

97 - Claudia passes

Approx. 97/98 - Joins M. Miranda

—-

Family / History / Backstory :

Benegario - Family ancestors branch off from Village and migrate to Italy —> Alps regions // Lombardy, Capo Di Ponte, Val Camomica

Leonardo Beneviento - Father

Andrea Fioralba - Mother

Leonardo was a puppet and mask maker, as well as a costume designer for operas staged at La Scala in Milan, and other more local theaters. His work was commissioned by many. He would also travel to Venice to sell and make masks for Carnevale. Eventually, he would begin to make toys, for his children, and sell them when they’d move to Village.

Bernadette Beneviento - Sister, b. 1942. Sickly child on and off.

Donna, b. 1947. Leonardo + Donna are close. He mentors her in making puppets + masks, she has an affinity for puppets. Spent many times in the backs of theaters, helping her father fit masks, alter costuming, and repair puppets. She loves opera. She’s gone to Carnevale w/ her father as well to make masks.

Possibility of move?? Bernadette is very sick?? M.M. Constantly reaching out to Benevientos anyway to get them to return to village. Possibly convinces them to move by saying she will help their daughter.

Father eases Donna’s nerves and tries comforting Donna about the move (leaving her friends and life behind) by crafting her Angie, a friend she will always have wherever they go. Donna is six.

Bernadette obviously does not survive MM’s experiments. Late 1957. Parents are both in hysterics. Andrea commits suicide in the following weeks, Donna witnesses this. Leonardo finds them both and is beside himself. Donna picks up the knife that Andrea used to end her life. Father tries to take it from her bc he doesn’t want her hurting herself. She freezes up and it’s like wrestling to get it out of her hands and accidentally, Leonardo severely wounds Donna. In immediate response, Leonardo in a state of pure lunacy, losing his eldest daughter, his wife and now assuming he had killed his youngest, ends his own life in front of her. Donna witnesses this too. This all happens extremely fast. It’s really volatile // reactive.

Donna just barely survives but her face is scarred and partially blind in her right eye. Clearly traumatized horrifically by the incident, she’s taken care of by the staff of the estate and Mother Miranda checks in often ((keeping her influence there))

Donna cannot communicate anymore herself, she’s latched onto her puppet, Angie and uses her to speak. Has bouts of isolation and has difficulty growing up w/o a family and navigating a very intense injury.

Inspired by MM’s “tireless work” to help save Bernadette and her being a sort of constant in her life now, she delved into studies of medicine and plants. Wanting to help other people who are sick.

Doll making, though, is a very sacred and special hobby to her and a craft she continues to hone privately. She’s extremely attached to Angie, treats her as her own sister. It’s all she has left.

Extremely sensitive about her facial scar + right eye, hides the right side of her face as much as possible.

Becomes a sort of medic to the Village. She sells salves, ointments, and medicines through Duke. Gives him toys and dolls she’s made to also sell, occasionally.

Beneviento staff raised her and helped her to slowly come out of her shell. Still very awkward, socially, and reclusive though. But, in becoming more social, she began to take patients in-house. Helped plenty, most of the time free of charge. This is how she had come to meet her eventual boyfriend, which was a very clumsy relationship that ended with her being pregnant, him leaving her and her trust broken.

Though, that resulted in Claudia being born! 1986. Donna is 39. Motherhood is what pulled Donna out of the dark. Even bringing her to much better communicate without Angie, though she still uses her. She’s a loving and very giving mother to Claudia who is very talkative and curious. Donna doesn’t mind all the chatter, she loved to listen to Claudia speak. There was a liveliness in the Estate and in Donna that hadn’t existed in a long long time. Claudia also adored Angie, Donna was at first hesitant and protective of Angie, but eventually permitted Claudia to take Angie and play with her however she wanted. Because of Claudias love for Angie, Donna began to make dolls for Claudia, often. Brilliant and beautiful toys with elegant and carefully detailed features + clothing. They’d even, a few times, gone down to the Village. Socialized some. Donna felt very Secure and in control for once.

But, like her sister Bernadette, Claudia was also sickly. Donna was just more equipped at giving Claudia the care and medicine she needed to live life happily. But, it came to a point in late 96, when no medicines or health care seemed to work anymore and Claudia was always bedridden and weak. Seemed only way to help Claudia at this point was to make her dolls that comforted her, But did not help her. In an act of desperation, being at a loss at what to do to save Claudia anymore, Donna turned to her idol, her new mentor of sorts, Mother Miranda. She pleaded for her to help Claudia and save her.

And MM did what she does best (lol).

** I think also MM might have been interested in using Claudia as a vessel for Eva so that doesn’t help either.

Donna snapped and snapped hard. Completely regresses to the way she was before. Is an Intense Agoraphobe. MM used the situation to her advantage. Manipulated her way further into Donnas heart empathizing w her Loss w her own and got her to join the family.

——

Post Cadou :

97 - Receiving the Cadou did not help her mental state. Actually became frightened of her own face At first because of the Cadou overtaking her scar and eye. reliving many traumas. this is an especially bad year.

Highly anxious, a manic depressive, still wont leave home unless it’s to see MM.

Attempts in some way to still cope with Claudias death by making and perfecting her dolls, has filled the whole house. She eventually learned of her ability to spread her Cadou amongst her dolls. Immediately does this with Angie + Angie very quickly became her own entity, Donna’s guardian, and lifelong companion.

Begins to experiment with what also she can use her Cadou for. She futzed with various plants and medicines, Angie once suggested she try reanimating the dead (that didn’t work) but Donna did end up accidentally making herself hallucinate, inhaling some pollen of an affected plant and she briefly saw Claudia. Began carefully studying this yellow flower and experimenting with it to see Claudia again. Tested it with her gardener, who then saw his late wife. Finding it worked, Donna, she tells the Gardener to come back again and she will show him the rest of his family. Before then she used the pollen to see Claudia again, but when she did it left her thinking :

“This is not Claudia, she will never be Claudia. I will never get her, my parents or sister back ever again. Why not just join them?”

—> in this hysteric state, she has a nervous breakdown, and when the gardener arrives, she doesnt end her own life. Instead, she took his. Donna still shows him his lost loved ones one last time, controlling the hallucinations to lure him around and out of the house and fall off of the cliff, crashing with the waterfalls.

She gave him the Gift of joining them. After taking the Gardener’s life, she fashioned a doll in his likeness and strung it up in a tree as if reaching toward the heavens.

She began to do this to any villager, who fell prey to Angie, who would come down to the Village, convincing them to experience Donna’s Gift, seeing their lost loved ones and subsequently tossing them to their own demise to be with them.

“None of her playmates have ever come back from that dank old estate.”

*** Donna really believes she’s doing these people a favor, “giving them a gift,” by luring them to the estate and killing them. It’s ultimately what she wants herself but won’t bring herself to act upon. ***

Okay woof holy shit that was a lot. I’m done for now. 😚

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