#this is me grasping for straws cause i like lydia | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writingsbychlo · 4 years

Text

fakers | alpha!void

word count; 13,813

summary; you just need someone. topretend to be your alpha until you can graduate, and unfortunately, the only applicate candidate is Eli, your best friends void twin.

notes; stick with me, okay? Void’s name is Noah in this, but he goes by ‘E’ or ‘Eli’ for his reputation. He’s Noah Eli Stilinski III, named after his dad’s grandfather since Stiles was named after their mom’s grandfather, just roll with it.

warnings; smut, a/b/o themes throughout, mating, marking, blood play, reference to harassment, reference to cheating.

The minute you took your seat at the lunch table, Scott’s nose was twitching, his eyes flicking to you as he politely tried to ignore the scent but it was hard, and you gave him a small smile in thanks. Your eighteenth birthday had been a curse, in your opinion. Only two months prior had you hit the big number, and you once reasonably diluted omega scent had shot up to incredibly potent, even betas being able to smell it.

By eighteen, most omegas had found an alpha, a relationship to be in and the scent of their mate would cover their own, their body reacting to the affection even if they hadn't been given a mark yet, but not you.

It wasn’t unheard of for omegas to still be single and unmarked at eighteen, it was becoming more and more common as the modern-day evolved, but it still sucked to be a high school senior and have almost every alpha within your vicinity leering at you constantly because their own pheromones decreed that upon sniffling out an omega who was ready for a heat that they should immediately jump on that.

Stiles slung an arm over your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your temple and doing his best to spread his own scent all over you, not that it would help much, he too was an omega, but unlike you, he’d found an alpha. Four weeks before Stiles’ eighteenth birthday, alpha and deputy-in-training Derek Hale had shocked everyone by stepping up and asking Stiles on a date, the two still happily together

He did his best to spread his own scent on you as often as he could, but since your birthday the act had practically become irrelevant. Your friends did the best they could to protect you, shield you from the alphas that often tracked you through the corridors and attempted to convince you to go out with them, but you didn’t want any of them. What you wanted was to graduate, and go to college, and find someone who liked you for you, not because their genetic chemistry told them they did.

“You should get a fake alpha.” Isaac joked, your eyes snapping up to shoot him a false glare but Stiles shrugged beside you, squeezing your shoulder lightly.

“I hate to agree with the person who wears scarves in August, but it’s not a bad idea. Find someone who you can trust, and ask them to scent you until graduation.” Your gaze flicked to your best friend, eyes widening as you looked at him and he sipped at the straw fixed through his drink, his own stare unwavering as you studied him for any sense of a joke, your shoulders deflating under his arm.

“Yeah? And which alpha am I supposed to ask? Jackass Whittemore? Or perhaps that one guy over there who’s been undressing me with his eyes since I sat down?” Stiles followed your gaze, flipping off the boy with a protective scowl, a sigh sounding from him. The same sigh bounced all around the table, and Allison snickered, Scott shooting you a pitiful look as his girlfriend opened her mouth to speak:

“Isn’t Stiles’ brother an unbonded alpha?”

Stiles’ jaw clenched at the mention of his brother, and Lydia’s jaw clenched at the mention of her rival for highest GPA and grades. She worked her ass off every day for those grades, she studied and she showed up to every class, even when she was sick. Noah ‘Eli’ Stilinski skipped half of the days, was often put in detention for being caught smoking behind the gym, and got into regular fights.

Lydia hated that he so effortlessly managed to keep up with her and Stiles’ top averages.

Chatter then picked up once again as Lydia made a crude comment about the aforementioned boy, Stiles jumping in to defend his ‘evil twin’ - as Lydia so eloquently called him - and yet even Stiles couldn't help but cringe in the onslaught of bad deeds and acts voiced all around the table. Your mind drifted from the conversations though, a huff on your lips as you balanced your chin on your hand, the chatter becoming background noise as you got lost in your thoughts.

You watched as the blue jeep pulled up, silently cheering to yourself as you noticed two passengers int he vehicle instead of one, and you bounced over to the car, Stiles waving at you spastically with a wide grin as he yanked the key from the ignition, hopping from the car in unison with his brother. Your eyes locked with that of the second Stilinski boy, and he sent you a lopsided smirk, his eyes scanning over you slowly as he rounded the vehicle, slinging his bag up onto his shoulder.

“You smell fuckin’ fantastic today, sweetheart.” He shot you a wink, licking his lips as he walked past you and Stiles elbowed him in the ribs, a scowl on your face as the boy commented on your evident and alluring scent, but you took a deep breath, Stiles asking if you were ready to head inside, but you shook your head.

“I need to talk to your brother for a moment.” The pair stilled, your best friend looking at your cautiously and Noah glanced back over his shoulder, raising a brow at you and his usual cocky smirk was back as you shot him a pleading look, Stiles gasping beside you as he clicked in.

“No! You can’t ask him!”

“I have to!” You hissed, your fingers locking around the other boy’s wrist as you dragged him away, and he let himself be pulled along with a cocky look on his face as he followed after you, and you eventually released him, rubbing your hands together nervously as you avoided his gaze.

When you looked back up, he was watching you carefully, a coy glint in his eyes, and you swallowed thickly. “I don’t like when people talk about how good I smell. I don’t like being looked at all the time, I don’t like the attention.” His gaze moved over your face, his brows furrowing a little, and your eyes left his as heat rose to your cheeks. “I need someone to scent me and pretend to be my alpha, just until graduation. I trust you, I’ve known you since we were five, and who else understands the struggle more than someone who’s brother is an omega, y’know?”

You punctuated your words with a little laugh, shaking your head as you tried to steady your racing heart, your body feeling like it was on fire as you stood before the taller boy.

“I mean, it’s not like you want to settle down any time soon anyway, so y-” You cut your words off as you watched his fingers jiggle, his eyes directed over your shoulder, and as you turned to look, you noticed a beta from your English class gigging as she pouted at him, as though you weren’t even there, and your breathless laugh of disappointment was mixed with a scoff as you cleared your throat. “Yeah, never mind. This was a bad idea.”

His eyes snapped back to you as you spoke, his lips parted as you moved your bag back up your shoulder, one of his hands reaching out to grasp at your elbow but you jerked out of his reach. “Wait, what? I’m listening, I swear.”

“You can’t even give me your attention two minutes to have a conversation, Noah, h-”

“Don’t call me that here, someone might hear you.” He mumbled, and you rolled your eyes at his aversion of his first name. He dubbed it too old-fashioned and biblical for his tastes, choosing to go by his middle name ever since he started high school and you’d never bothered to get into the habit.

“Sorry, Eli.” The word was practically spat from your tongue as you held your hands up, taking another step away from him. “No other alpha would believe you were in a relationship anyway, it was stupid. I’ll find someone else.” You didn’t give him a chance to reply, choosing instead to walk away, looping your arm through Stiles’ as you walked into the school alongside him, never once bothering to look back.

The idea only festered in your mind, your embarrassment bubbling over as you thought about the conversation and the failure of the plan lingered in your mind all throughout your first to classes. It wasn’t long until Lydia had pried the information on your dull mood out of you, exactly halfway through first period English to be exact, and she’d given you a glare for bothering to talk to her academic archnemesis for a good five minutes before she caved and comforted you.

The rest of your classes were spent trying to decide between other alphas you could go for. Jackson Whittemore was ruled out immediately, he was a jackass and wouldn’t do anything to help you, and neither would any of the other goons on the lacrosse team. Other than the boys in your friendship group, they were all a bunch of sweaty assholes, and the alphas were the worst of them. The alphas you knew that were nice enough to want to be with were all with a beta and in happy relationships, and Stiles was the only other omega you knew of.

The search seemed to be entirely pointless, your options dwindling back down to none, and despite her attempts to cheer you up as she reapplied a layer of pastel-pink lipgloss in the mirror hung up on the inside of her locker, you were still in a dismal mood, and desperately trying to ignore the burning gaze of the blond boy down the corridor from you. As she closed her locker, she opened her mouth to give you yet another pep talk to help you get through the day, her freshly plumped lips sealing into a thin line as she glowered at an unknown source over your shoulder, and you turned in time to see the boy who had caused your morbid embarrassment of the day coming stalking down the corridors toward you.

His eyes locked with yours, his feet carrying him directly toward you without a sign of dodging or stopping, and your eyes widened as he got closer and closer to you. With heavy hands on your hips, he pushed you backwards and into the metal of the lockers, your body colliding with the cool surface as a surprised squeak left your lips, his nose running along the underside of your jaw, tipping your head to the side as you went pliant under his hold and the front of his body was almost pressed against yours, a wet kiss being placed to your jaw as he nuzzled into your neck.

“What the hell are you doing?” Your voice was practically squeaked out, and his hand squeezed your hips, before sliding around to sit on your back as he pulled your body flush up to rest against his, his arms snaking around your waist and his cheek rested against the top of your head. You were limp in his arms, shocking filling your body and he chuckled, the sounds rumbling in his chest and you could feel it pressed to your own as he dipped down, lips brushing the shell of your ear and hot breath fanning over your skin. “I said, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m scenting you, sweetheart. You’re not going to find anyone else to play alpha for you until graduation. Might as well be me.” You sighed, your eyes connected with Lydia’s as she wore an equally wide look of shock, and you lifted your arms, your hands holding onto his forearms carefully as you relaxed a little bit, and he rubbed his face into your neck one more time, before pulling back enough to look at you. “Lydia, you are burning holes into the side of my fucking head. Stop staring at me.”

His words were growled out, his eyes locked on yours and you swallowed thickly under his intense gaze, your lips sealed shut but your red-headed friend scoffed, the toes of her heels clicking on the ground in agitation, her retort being shot back without hesitation. “Stop leeching on my best friend and I will.”

He finally turned to look at her, the usual stormy expression he wore was plastered on his face and he rose a solitary brow at her, and she stared him down, unwilling to be the first to cower. “Why don’t you go on ahead, we have things to discuss. I’ll walk (Y/N) here over to the table when we’re finished, she won’t be alone. I swear it.”

Her eyes flicked to you, and you sent her a small nod, which she accepted, snarling at the boy still holding you tightly before she was walking away, her heels clicking on the floors as she left and the Stilinski twin turned back to you with a gleeful grin.

“I’ll make you a deal, hm?” You narrowed your eyes at him, but gave him a lone nod in signal for him to continue with his words, and he nibbled on his lower lip, before jutting his chin out toward you a little as he held his head high. “I’ll act like your alpha until graduation.”

“You will?”

“You’re awfully surprised by my reaction. You did ask me, and you know how hard it is for me to say no to you.” He dipped his head down, taking a low sniff and humming happily under his breath, when you frowned.

“I don’t want you to say yes to this just because I’m an omega and it’s all instinctual for you to want to help me. I want you to say yes because you want to help me.” You mumbled, and he pulled back to look at you, his eyes studying yours carefully.

“I’m not doing it because an omega asked, I’m doing it because you asked. I do want something in return, though.” Your face crumpled as you blushed, pulling away from him a little as you stiffened in his hold, and he shook his head profusely as your mind spun. “No, not what you’re thinking. I’m a little offended at your reaction, but it’s not that.”

“Then what do you want?”

Your voice was cautious and unsure, and his grin dimmed into a small smile, his fingers reaching up to tuck loose hairs behind your ear. “I have a lot of college applications and interview letters. You have to help me apply, and proofread them all.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Your jaw dropped, before a wide smile took over your features and you searched his face for any signs of deceit, his features reading true and you dropped your forehead forwards to rest on his shoulder, a relieved laugh leaving you and you felt his hands smooth along your back reassuringly in slow circles. “I can’t believe that’s all you want. You’ve totally got a deal.”

He chuckled in your ear, slinging an arm over your shoulder as he pulled away, guiding you toward the lunch hall as you both thought over the bargain you had just made.

On your side, you had never felt safer than you did in this moment. Your best friend’s brother had his arm wrapped around you, his scent already lathered over you and for the first time in months, you didn’t have the piercing gaze of desperate alpha’s watching your every move. Unconsciously, you curled into his side a little more, the familiar smell of the boy you’d known ever since going for your first playdate at the house of the boy whose name a five-year-old you couldn't pronounce brought you a much-needed comfort. Noah Stilinski Jr had never treated you as a possession, or belittled you for your omega state. Perhaps it had been because his mother wouldn't allow it, or perhaps it was simply due to having a twin who was the only other omega in your year group, but he treated you with respect, even if he was a player, and it was only three months until graduation; you could survive until then.

On his side, he was holding you protectively close, the long-buried crush he’d held on you since he’d turned twelve and watched you bounce into the joint birthday party he and Stiles had while wearing a pretty and sparkly dress was beginning to poke its head up once again, and he brushed the tip of his nose against your temple, no idea what he was getting himself into, but he wasn’t willing to let any other alphas near you, whether the relationship was real or fake.

The next morning, you were anxiously waiting outside of the school building, Allison on one side of you and Lydia on the other as they chatted between themselves, the nail of your thumb caught anxiously between your teeth as you tried desperately not to bite it off, simply holding it there for reassurance. The scenting you had been given yesterday was superficial and had worn off the second you had changed your clothes and slept overnight, and you knew from experience with Stiles that it was a while before an alphas scent would start to really cling to an omega.

Eyes were back on you, watching you with steely gazes as both boys and girls alike around you watched don carefully, your heart racing as you waited for the blue jeep to pull up. When it finally did, minutes before the bell rang to signal homeroom, the dirt-smeared vehicle pulled up and haphazardly into a parking space. Your anxiety only seemed to spike as you watched both of the identical boys’ exit and make their way toward you. Stiles had a wide grin on his face. Practically bouncing along as his hands grasped onto the straps of his bag, and his brother walked along beside him, face pulled in a neutral expression, his hands clutching a small bundle of material as his own bag hung from one shoulder.

Your eyes were sealed on him, and he allowed the edges of his lips to flicker up in a barely present smile as he approached, his features softening just enough to ease your worries, and Stiles reached your first, his arms wrapping around you in a hug as he greeted you, before quickly moving on to chat to Lydia and Allison, shepherding the girls inside without even a glance over his shoulder as he allowed his brother to talk to you.

He stood closer to you than he ever had before, bar the previous day’s locker encounter, and he still for a moment, his eyes scanning over you, before he was making some form of grunting noise in the back of his throat, his free hand reaching up to take your bag in his hand as he slipped it from your shoulder, offering you the bundle of grey material he was clutching. “Put this on, and wear it until it doesn’t smell like me anymore, and then I’ll give you a new one.”

You took it from him, shaking it out and looking at the pale grey hoodie before you, and his brows raised as he watched you pause, before you were tugging the baggy material over your head, smoothing it down over your shirt, the oversized jumper hanging slightly loose on you, sleeves falling to the middles of your hands and you ran your palms over the front of it, smoothing it down and admiring the softness of it under your hand. Reaching over, your head snapped up when you felt his fingers brush along the back of your neck, scooping your hair out from under the collar so that it could fall freely down your back once again.

He checked his watch, fishing into his back pocket as he deemed the time to be appropriate, before producing a small and battered cardboard packet. Popping a single neatly wrapped roll from within, he balanced it between his lips, the lighter from within the box clicking a few times as he shielded the flame from the breeze before the end took up an orange ember and immediately began to burn down to ashes, glowing brightly when he inhaled. His hand dropped or yours once he had folded the packet back away, lacing your fingers together and pulling you closer to his side, the other hand with two fingers holding the cigarette on either side.

Letting out the deep breath he was holding, smoke curled into the air as he released it slowly, angling his head upwards as not to blow a mouthful of smoke straight into your face, and you were grateful for it, despite how much you may despise it. Instead of complaining, you chose to twist into him, burying your face into his shoulder and scrunching up your nose as the smell that clung to his clothes, knowing he must’ve smoked in the car on the way over here too, but his arm looped around your waist, holding you to him tightly and letting his fingers draw patterns on your back as you stood in silence.

It was odd, being so comfortable with him. You were well aware of his reputation, of all the bad habits he kept up, and perhaps it was just the fact that you were finally getting the physical attention from an alpha that your body screamed at you to get, but you were happy, and it didn’t feel wrong to let your own arms come up to wrap around his waist as you tried to cover yourself with his scent as much as you could.

You were grateful for the bell ringing, and you hadn't realised you were holding your breath as much as you were until you took a deep breath, watching as he dropped the nearly-finished cig to the floor and stomped it out, guiding you toward the building with slow steps. He could almost feel your hesitancy and nerves, choosing to squeeze your side in comfort to let you know that it was okay, and the action let a surprising amount of calm wash over you.

He walked you all the way to your first class, as he peered inside the classroom, glaring daggers at every pair of eyes hat scanned along your body lustful from within. “I’ll see you at lunch, okay?”

“You will?”

He chuckled at your surprise, nodding down at you and shuffling to the side to allow other students to shuffle into the classroom and past the pair of you in the doorway. “I hate cafeteria food, but it’s curly fry day, so it’s not so bad.” He shrugged, dipping his head to press a kiss to your cheek before he was walking away, and you rubbed at the spot with the sleeve of his jumper on your body the moment he was out of sight, and you slipped inside to talk to sit in your usual seat beside Stiles, who offered you a pensive look, your thumbs up reassuring him that the plan was going well.

“I can’t smell you as much, the alphas probably still can but at least it’s not quite as..”

“Strong? Overwhelming? Irritating?” You offered, and he chuckled, leaning back in his seat as Coach Fistock walked into the room, scowling and setting up at the front, a coffee mug all but slammed down onto the desk as he mumbled to himself.

“I wouldn’t say irritating. You smell good, it’s just.. powerful.” He gave you a dazzling grin as you rolled your eyes at him, choosing instead to focus on Coach as he began to command attention with a range of vague insults and shouts into the room. Each of your classes had been a little easier, you’d found, as even when the alpha wasn’t with you, the jumper on your body offered you a little protection as he dulled your natural scent and mixed it with his own. Lunch was rolling around before you knew it, and you were adding an extra portion of curly fries to your tray as you lined up with your best friend, listening to his chatter about movie night and how last night him and his brother had told his dad all about the deal that had been made, so it wouldn’t be weird if anything happened between the two of you when you came over.

“You remember that this is just for the public eye, right?”

Stiles glanced over at you as he paid for his food, nodding at you with an expression on his face that read as ‘duh’, but he shrugged anyway, moving out of the way to let you pay for your own food.

“Yeah, but Dad said it might be a good opportunity to scent, you know? My dad also said he was proud of my brother - I know, I was shocked, too - he said my mum would be proud of him for helping you out, and I swear I heard him sniffle for a second. I called him out on it and he punched me.” That made you laugh, your friend glaring at you as the two of you walked back over to the table where your friends were waiting, and the second twin had stuck to his word, his face appearing in the doorway as he looked around for you, quickly weaving between the tables.

The seat beside you had purposefully been saved empty, and he sunk down into it with a slouch, a cheeky smirk on his lips as he glanced at your meal. “Hungry, sweetheart?” You rolled your eyes at him, pushing a tray of curly fries over to him as you shook your head, snapping the seal on your water bottle and lifting it to your lips, his brows furrowing as he looked at them. “You bought me fries?”

“It’s the least I could do.”

“We already have a deal. You don’t have to butter me up.” He mumbled, but didn’t hesitate in digging into the potato treat, and you followed suit, shaking your head at his words.

“I’m not, I just wanted to buy you some fries.”

He stared at you for a minute, his eyes narrowed on you before his shoulder sagged and his lips flicked up at the corners. “Thank you.” He paused, before leaning in, rubbing his nose along your jaw and running a hand along your back, making sure to be obvious for any onlookers that might see you. He sat quietly as you chatted with your friends, busying himself with his phone, texting and playing games, slipping outside for a while and coming back smelling of fresh smoke and burnt tobacco, before sitting with you for the rest of the lunch break.

Your days rapidly fell into a new routine that involved him, the days turning to weeks and the little things all became easier. Conversations came without effort to the pair of you, and he even made the effort to reach out to some of the others. Around week two, he started to talk and join in with the conversations at lunchtimes, and his number had become one of the most frequented in your texts list. The physical affection had become more natural, and despite how much he scowled about it, he no longer complained when you called him by his real name in public. It came to being after a very snappy “I have known you since we were five, I’m not calling you ‘E’ when your name is Noah!” to which he merely huffed, dropping his shoulders from their defensive position before allowing a small smile to break through.

To almost everyone's surprise, he’d managed to reign in his flirting to a few small comments that were let slip while aimed at you, and as far as you were aware, he hadn't been with anyone else since your agreement had begun. He was showing up to school more, and actually attending his classes, and the stress you had felt had been deeply relieved.

You no longer felt like you were being watched when you walked through the halls, or worried when you walked alone that a particularly brass alpha might make a move. Even when they did, as much as you hated it, Noah would step in at every opportunity he had, leaving you to frown at him and patch him up after he threw the first punch and started a fight, getting himself battered and bruised in your name.

His hand in yours, kisses being pressed to your cheek or forehead, became a staple in your life, and you quickly found yourself missing the touch, seeking it out as soon as you could, in every free moment. His efforts to scent you had become almost instinctual, even when the two of you were alone. You often found yourself with his hands on your shoulders when you sat at the Stilinski dinner table doing your homework with Stiles, or his body pressed up close to yours when he joined you to study.

When your month marker had rolled around, you’d had a hiccup in the fifth week of your agreement, one that had panicked you greatly for the future of your deal. You’d been waiting at your locker today, Stiles bouncing up to you with pure excitement as Noah fidgetted and stood stiff, a moody expression on his face. His hand had found yours and you’d leaned into his side, his body stiff and he didn’t look at you as you did, never returned the attention or made an effort to acknowledge them.

He had walked you to your class, but was still of a bad temper, his response short and gruff, growing in increasing frustration as he merely grunted and gave you one-word answers, and eventually, you had given up. Lunch was almost over when he excused himself from the table, going to swap out his books at his locker and you turned to Stiles, your eyebrows raised. “What did you do?”

“What?”

“He’s in an awful mood! What did you do?” You pressed, and Stiles pouted, sipping at his chocolate milk and frowning at you.

“It wasn’t me! Actually, it sort of was.” Your brows furrowed, and you pinched his arm as you encouraged him to keep speaking, a yelp leaving him as he rubbed at the patch, scowling at you. “I may have let it slip that you hate the smell of his cigarette smoke the other day, and he’s been on the patch since last night.”

Your eyes widened, and Stiles covered himself for the assault he thought to be coming, but your body slumped, eyes wide as you thought about it. Reaching idly for your bag, you swung it up onto your shoulder, abandoning your half-eaten meal as you jogged quickly from the lunch hall. When you found him, he was glaring into his locker, white-knuckled grip on the door making you think it may actually dent.

Placing your hand over his, he jumped in surprise, looking over you once before closing the locker door, leaning back against it and crossing his arms. “What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be having your lunch?”

“You gave up smoking for me?”

His body went rigid and tense, his lips pursed before he let out something between a sigh and a groan, shaking his head. “Fucking alpha instincts to look after you.” He was irritated by the action, and rubbed at his arm, your eyes closing in on the space as he lifted up his sleeve to show you the white patch stuck to his pale skin, and a smile found its way onto your face.

“You gave up smoking for me.”

He didn’t get a chance to respond, before you were standing up on the tips of your toes and pressing your lips to his cheek, your forehead bumping against his temple and he hummed, his arms wrapping around your middle to hold you as close to him as he could possibly get you. Your face ended up pressed into his neck, your giggle muffled by his skin as he squeezed at you, his hands holding you so you couldn't get away for him.

After that, the weeks rapidly flowed into months, the connection between the two of you only growing. Along the way, the lines between what you were and what you could be had become blurred, the affections you shared had spread to when the two of you were alone, even if you didn’t need to be scented. More and more of your trips to the Stilinski household had been to visit your alpha, as well as your omega best friend, and Stiles was still hanging the time he’d come home from Derek’s to find the two of you curled up together in a nap over your head as blackmail.

His kisses were now placed regularly on your face, his softer side coming out and only showing for you as he peppered you with affections whenever he could. At some point, you had shifted from your usual place between Stiles and the Sheriff on the couch to squeezed onto the lounge chair beside Noah, his arm wrapped around your waist. Stiles had smirked at you each time, until the week that Star Wars had been selected thanks to it being Stiles’ week to choose, and Noah had spent the entire movie mumbling jokes and comments into your ear, which you couldn't help but laugh at. Stiles told you to take the movie seriously, but you just couldn't.

An ever-revolving collection of his hoodies had begun to build up in your bedroom at home, and you regularly found yourself wearing them, just to feel comforted and closer to him. On the rare occasion, he would place a small kiss to your lips. Those times were rare, and the first time you hadn't even realised it had happened until a while later.

You had spent the day helping him write out all his application letters, one by one until they had all been sent off, the darkness having rolled in as the early hours of the morning ticked by, Stiles snoring loudly beside the two of you as he was surrounded by print outs and forms for GWU, the Sheriff walking through the door and staring at the three of you in your hurricane of sleepy yawns and envelopes, papers spread out around you.

He had offered you a lift home, choosing to wait out by the cruiser as you gathered your things and his son walked you to the door. It had been a simple gesture at the time, and neither of you had thought too much about it when his hand had cupped your cheek, his eyes dropping tiredly as he pressed his mouth to yours in a small peck, and you had eagerly returned the action, your body melting into his for only a moment.

At first, it had only happened again when you were alone. When you had been hanging out at his place, the two of you sitting on his bed and watching a movie on his laptop, or when he’d meet you at your lockers between classes when no one else was around. Scott and Allison were the first two to actually see you kiss, you hadn't even realised they were in the area when you had run up to him, waving a letter of invitation to an open day at one of your n his face before wrapping your arms around his neck, your lips meeting his for a split second before you’d caught Allison’s squealing near you.

Isaac had been next, and he was where the truth had really slipped out, because he had spilled the news to Stiles and Lydia, the former of whom had called you as he had dinner with his boyfriend and demanded you tell him whether Isaac was lying or not, and the latter of whom had simply started smirking at you each time it happened. Everyone else finding out had been a slippery slope, the two of you eventually having given up hiding on the occasional times you wanted to kiss the boy protecting you, or when he wanted to kiss you.

Some of the colleges you had helped him apply for had matched your own, and only two months after you had sent off all your applications, the time for open days and stay-overs at your colleges' choices had rolled around. You were nervous, to say the least. You had gone to elementary school, middle school and high school with Stiles, your best friend and your only omega support. The open days had been exciting, the parties thrilling and the people welcoming, and you’d found that even when you were alone, you weren’t looked on as an omega outsider. The fact that you were unmarked seemed to slip by without bother, and it only built up your excitement to go to college, to join the real world and find your place.

Your last college was the one you were looking forward to the most, and you were practically bouncing with joy as you held onto the hand of the alpha Stilinski, both of you having been invited down to this college for the look-around weekend celebration. Stiles had lent you the keys to the jeep, very reluctantly, and you’d driven down together, matching hotel keys tucked into each of your pockets to the room you were sharing, his fingers flexing around yours as he held you tight.

The activities fair was bright and colourful and loud, and you had already gathered a handful of coloured leaflets, most for you and a few for the man beside you, and he simply pressed himself up to you and stood protectively by your side as you socialised and talked to the owners of each booth, letting him place kisses to your temple and the sides of your head as he waited each time.

You had seen almost every stand as you made your way to the end of the rows, your eyes flicking over the last cluster to see if there was anything you were interested in, when you were suddenly jumping in excitement. “That one says ‘omegas’ on it, I want to know what it is!” You left his side, dashing through the crowds quickly and leaving him to follow, his chuckle barely reaching your ears as you disappeared into the swarms of people.

‘Single Omegas & Omega Support Group’

You swiped up a leaflet, flicking through the pages with a wide smile, immediately writing your name down on the ‘interested’ sheet and filling out your details. When you spun around to find your man, he was standing only a few feet behind you, his eyes narrowed on the sign as his hands stuck in his pockets, his once playful expression now twisted and sour, and he didn’t lighten up as you jumped back into his view with a wide grin.

“What’s up with you, grumpy?”

You leaned up to peck his lips, his head turning to the side as your lips met his cheek and you frowned, pulling away and looking at him. “Single omegas support group?”

“No, single omegas and support group.”

“Same thing.” He growled, and you stepped back, your eyes wide as you looked at him and you rose your brows, lifting a hand to rest on his arm but he jerked away from your touch. You couldn't understand his anger, and you swallowed thickly, tucking your collections of brightly coloured pamphlets into your bag, glancing around the two of you as you felt the tension between you build.

“I just figured it would be good for m-”

“Because you’re single?” Your jaw gaped, opening and closing as you tried to find words. You had never put a label on what you were exactly, but it hurt to hear him so quickly jump to that conclusion. In your mind, you were a couple, you had long since passed the time of dancing around your idle affections, choosing to indulge in them together, but apparently, your answer didn’t come fast enough for him as he scoffed, and he stepped away from you. “Right, I see how you feel then. It’s fine, ‘bout time I got my sexual freedom back anyway. Just in time for college.”

With that, he was storming away from you, your eyes watching him go as he slipped into the crowds, not looking back, and you merely shook your head, knowing he’d get over whatever he was hung up on eventually, and you could explain to him why you had actually been interested in the group. Instead, you pulled your itinerary from your pocket, unfolding the piece of paper and checking your schedule, choosing to give him time to cool down as you went about your day and continued with your activities. You figured he’d just catch up with you at some point.

Next up was taking a tour of campus living and sorority houses, and you had loved every second of it. You weren’t overly interested in joining a sorority, but it was nice to meet all the girls there anyway, and it was especially nice to get a real chance to look around the dorms you might be staying in. They were roomy, both the individual, pairs and group ones had a lot of space. Each building had large communal kitchens and dining rooms that were fully decked out, and they weren’t the well-worn and dirty places, but instead clean and stylish, they weren’t destroyed or gross but the sparsely furnished places were somewhere you could actually see yourself living in, and you were sad that the alpha you felt so deeply for wasn’t here with you to look around them.

A sweet girl in a green shirt with the university insignia was standing outside of the building when you left, handing out leaflets and chatting about a welcome party being held at one of the sorority houses, and you took one, smiling politely and stepping aside to check the time on your phone. Your notifications were empty, and you lifted the device to your ear after clicking on his name in your call logs, and it rang for a few beats before being cut off and sent to voicemail, telling you that he was ignoring your calls.

If he wanted to play that game, then fine.

Instead of lingering on the thought, you chose to check the address on the paper, making your way through the large campus and eventually finding where you were supposed to be, music pumping through the air loudly before you’d even finished walking up the front garden of the large house. You had sent him a text a while ago informing that you were going to a party, and where it was, hoping that he would come and meet you. Hours passed by, many drinks being consumed and many conversations being had but you never caught onto his familiar face. The lingering sadness of your argument faded away as you found yourself slightly tipsy, giggling with two omega girls you had found, before piling yourself into a taxi and slurring the address of your hotel to the driver.

The drive was short, or perhaps that was just what your drunken mind had left you believe, but you were soon leaning against the walls of the elevator and watching excitedly as the floors clicked up to your level, joy buzzing through you at the thought of crawling into the large double bed with the man you cared so deeply for, and putting this stupid disagreement behind you.

Your card swiped across the reader beside the frame, the door clicking open for you and the dopey smile soon fell from your face as you took in the sight before you. Naked, hot and sweaty was your alpha, buried deep within another woman, her legs wrapped tightly around her waist and his lips locked on hers as he pounded into her. The door slammed against the wall as you lost your grip on it while stumbling, and his eyes widened as he saw you there, but you were soon enough just backing out of the room, far too tipsy and tired to actually deal with what you were seeing.

So, that’s where your ‘relationship’ stood with him.

The door slammed shut behind you as tears welled in your eyes, and you blinked them away, not bothering to look back as you made your way back down to the lobby to request a second room for yourself. The morning brought a hangover and regret, sadness welling within you and the bed you were sleeping in alone felt cold and unwelcoming, when you should have been in the arms of the boy you had come with, but he’d been fucking another girl in your shared bed.

Eventually, you had dragged yourself from between the sheets, working yourself up to going to the original room to collect your things, and you thanked whatever higher power there was that he was still passed out in the sheets with his latest whore when you arrived, leaving you free to gather your belongings and sneak back to your new room in peace.

A hot shower had barely cleared your thoughts, and your eyes still stung from tears, but at least you were fresh-faced and ready for breakfast. You ate alone, in silence, choosing to text him and tell him in the simplest terms you could muster that you would meet him at the car at eleven for the journey home. Halfway through your food, Stiles had texted you, asking how it went, and you felt nauseated, abandoning your food in favour of calling him, breaking down in tears the second you heard your best friend’s voice over the phone as you spilt everything that had happened to him.

At ten forty-five, you returned to your room, gathering your suitcase and returning the keycard to the desk, thanking the attendee and making your way out to the car. The source of your emotional turmoil was already sitting in the vehicle, radio turned on with low volume as his fingers tapped on the steering wheel, and he made no effort to get out and help you when you loaded your bags into the back. He didn’t greet you when you climbed into the passenger seat, he didn’t even look at you, his jaw clenched as he kept his eyes on the road and turned the key in the ignition, silence filling the car.

His neck and jaw were littered with dark purple hickies, his hair still messy and he was wearing the same clothes he had been yesterday, the smell of cheap perfume still clinging to him, and you turned away, your body facing the window as your head rested on the door, and you chose to put your earphones in and crank up the music to drown out your feelings, not a single word being spoken between the two of you on the drive home.

Barely two weeks had passed since you had spoken to him, and your heart was aching for him, your body screaming at you to return to your alpha, but he was avoiding you at all costs. He was missing school again, getting plenty of detentions when he did show up, and the smell of him was wearing away.

It was clear that he was no longer your alpha, and others were beginning to approach you again, the freedom and security you had found when you were by his side was slipping away as you once again became timid and scared, nervous about the people surrounding you. Stiles was struggling to keep an eye on you more than ever as graduation closed in and more and more alphas began to desperately proposition you before you went to college, wanting to claim you and make you theirs, their natural instinct being to do so.

He was elated when his letter from GWU had arrived, and you had a small bundle of letters to open, including one to the college that you so desperately dreamed of attending, and he was busily setting up two glasses on the coffee table, takeout menus ready and a stack of movies loaded up for the two of you as he buzzed around, awaiting your arrival.

“What are you moving about so quickly for?”

“I forgot to set up!” Stiles snapped, glancing up at his brother who was dawdling on the stairs, and one lone eyebrow raised as the other stayed solitary.

“Date with Derek?”

“No, (Y/N) is coming over.” He stiffened at that, his glare fixed on his hyperactive brother as he scoffed, and Stiles looked up at him hands on his hips as he paused, an angry expression on his usually joyful face, and he tutted. “I’m not going to stop hanging out with my best friend in my home, just because you fucked up and fucked someone else.”

“Can’t fuck up something that never was!” He retorted, walking the rest of the way down the stairs and taking a handful of popcorn from the bowl Stiles had set out, and the former twin huffed, hands twitching by his side.

“You’re so fucking stupid, Noah.”

“No, I’m not, Mieczysław.” Stiles scowled at the use of his real name, watching his brother retreat back to the stairs, and though he knew it wasn’t his place to step in, he couldn't help but open his mouth, the words pouring out before he could stop them.

“She didn’t like the group because she thinks of herself as single.” His brother paused his ascent of the stairs when he was only two from the stop, and Stiles stood at the base of the stairwell, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m the only omega she’s known for her entire life, and when I went to GWU to check it out, I met this guy from an omega support group who was really nice, and it was an easy way to meet other omegas. She didn’t want advice on being single, she just wanted a chance to meet other omegas. I encouraged her to look for one of those groups too, because she’s going to need new omega friends when I can’t be with her, and you didn’t even give her a chance to explain that before you were hopping into the sheets with someone else.”

The news hit him like a ton of bricks and he felt as though he’d been winded, his body twisting to sit on the tops step as he looked at Stiles, not getting a chance to say anything when the door was suddenly being knocked upon, loud and frantic and Stiles disappeared from his sights to open the door.

“Hey, you made it a-” He paused, the door quickly slamming shut and he leaned down, peaking between the bannisters of the railing to see you clinging onto Stiles, his brother holding a hand to the back of your head as the other wound around your waist. “What the fuck happened? Are you okay?”

When you pulled back you were shaking, and you didn’t notice the other twin lurking at the top of the stairs, too busy blinking back the tears that lined your eyes as you let out a nervous and relieved laugh.

“You smell like cheap beer, weed, and random alphas?” His nose scrunched up as he held you at arm’s length, and the hidden twin could smell it all the way from the top of the stairs, rage twisting in his gut as the word ‘mine’ played on a loop within his mind, unable to stop it from happening as biology took over.

“I was walking over and there was this group of alpha guys, they were sort of drunk and some of them were smoking pot and they just got a little confident, because my scent has been coming back stronger. They made a bunch of comments and came over to me, and they wouldn't leave me alone, so I ran the rest of the way here.” Your words were spoken through deep breaths as you tried to calm both your nerves and your racing heart, and both twins frowned, one filled with concern while the other filled with guilt.

“I should have come and collected you, instead of letting you walk.”

“Hey, what can you do? That’s just the life of an unmarked omega, right?” You joked about it, brushing off the incident as though it was nothing and it only made him feel worse, because he had abandoned you over his own impatience, jumping to conclusions and leaving you to fend for yourself. He watched as Stiles guided you to the living room, letting you put down your belongings as he spoke to you about getting a bath, and you never even noticed when Noah slipped from the house, boiling with rage and practically seething as he walked along, but Stiles did.

Your best friend ran you a bath, making sure to tip far too much scented bubble mix into it to ensure the smell would leave your skin, and he’d left a small pile of clothes out for you on the counter for when you finished as he threw yours into the wash to get them clean for you once again. You were feeling better, you felt fresh and rejuvenated and pure joy was flooding through your veins as the two of you poured over takeout menu options as Indiana Jones played in the background on the tv screen, the door opening and slamming closed shocking you so much you almost fell from the couch.

“You’re wearing my sweater.” You pinche the fabric between your fingers, having grown so accustomed to borrowing clothes from either of the Stilinski boys that you had lost track of which item of clothing belonged to whom, and your eyes flicked up to meet his for only a second, widening as you took in his bloodied knuckles, grazed cheek and a bruised jaw.

“My clothes will be done soon. I’ll give it back in a minute. I didn’t know.” Your voice was scratchy and full of emotion as you spoke, your gaze leaving him when he could only muster a nod in response, before he was taking the stairs two at a time and disappearing upstairs. Your jaw dropped as you turned or his brother, a smirk on his face and you slapped him on the arm for giving you the wrong hoodie, but your eyebrow raised too. “What happened to him?”

“Well, I think - I think - he got in a fight.”

Your face dropped at his sarcasm, and you scowled at him, flicking him on the tip of his adorably sweet nose and his face scrunched up at the action, his tongue flicking out to prod at the tingling tip of his nose, his eyes crossing as he pulled a face at you and the action prompted a giggle from you, but you whined at him as you encouraged him to tell you what happened.

“Fine! Fine. If I’m taking a wild guess here, I’d say that he wasn’t too happy about the fact that you got borderline assaulted by some random alphas on your way over here, and so he headed out and got himself in yet another punch up for your honour.” Stiles paused, glancing at you carefully, before continuing on; “He’s miserable without you, he misses you.”

“Oh.”

Silence sat between the two of you, and you picked at your nails, choosing to snuggle into the couch and watch the movie, ignoring Stiles’ burning gaze on the side of your head, before he snapped, pausing the movie and groaning loudly when five minutes of silence, bar the tv noise, had passed by and you still hadn't budged. “Oh, my God. This is killing me, please just go and talk to him?”

You looked over at him, your jaw hung slack and he fixed you with a stern glare, both of you knowing you wanted to, and eventually you were heaving yourself up from the couch, climbing the stairs slowly as you made your way to the bathroom. He was rifling through a first aid kit when you approached, and you clicked the door shut behind you, leaning back against it, and he swallowed thickly when he glanced up and saw you, pausing his search through the small medkit as he cleared his throat.

“Hey.”

He winced at the sound of his own voice, and you simply nodded, moving toward him and plucking items for the box, well experienced in patching him up after fights by now, and he simply allowed you, choosing to lean back on the counter until he was the same height as you.

“What are you and Stiles doing?”

When he eventually spoke again, you were in the middle of dabbing a fresh ball of disinfectant soaked cotton along his grazed cheek and cleaning it up, your movements pausing, and you dropped your hand to look at him. “We were opening college letters together. He got his from GWU and I got my top choice, y’know, the college we went to look at together.” He frowned at your words, but licked over his lips, nodding and putting on a fake smile as you went back to work.

“And how did it go?”

“We both got in.” You got caught up in your thoughts as you discarded the cotton wool ball, squeezing bruise cream out onto your fingers and holding his face, tilting it to the side so you could smooth the paste across the skin and rub it in gently. “It’s great, actually, it means I’m only a two-hour drive from Stiles, so I won’t be quiet as alone as I would have been at any others, y’know? He’s there if I need someone.”

“You never would have been alone.” His words were whispered, and you paused, silence falling over the two of you as you rubbed healing gel onto the cuts and scrapes on his skin, and you packed away the kit, putting it back in the cupboard once the box was sealed shut and the anticipation was killing him, his mind spinning as he tried to find words to get you to talk to him, to talk about what happened, anything. “You didn’t tell me why you wanted those leaflets.”

Your eyes narrowed on him as his eyes widened, your eyebrows pulled together as your jaw ticked in anger. “You didn’t exactly give me a chance to explain.”

“That’s not what I meant. I mean, well, you didn’t come back to the room for hours an-”

“Oh, so it’s my fault that you slept with someone else in our bed? I’m so sorry you were forced to have sex with the hottest whore you could find because I was trying to give you space after you stormed off and ignored my calls and texts.” You were growling at him, his alpha instincts kicking up in both rage and lust at your feisty attitude, and yet he hated the way it was making him feel, because he was further fucking up what he had already fucked up, just because he couldn't find the right words to say. “You couldn’t even wait one night during an argument before needing to get your dick wet again?”

“I thought we were breaking up, or breaking off whatever we were..”

“Couples don't just break up after one fight! No relationship would ever last if they did!” His breath felt punched from his lungs as he stared at you, eyes wide as you huffed, cheeks flushed from your shouting and you ran a hand through your hair, because you had confirmed it for him, and he couldn’t help the smile that was forming on his face.

“We’re a real couple?”

“Well, I thought we were, but then I came back to find you in bed with another chick, so..” You prodded at his chest, and he couldn't find it within himself to be angry because his hands were finding your hips and he was pulling you closer to him, even if your hands did flatten against his chest in a very weak and rapidly abandoned effort to push him away. Your arms ended up crushed between the two of you as he pulled you in close, raising a hand to tuck some hair behind your ear, the tip of his nose bumping against your own.

“I want that for us. I want that to be us. I want us to be a real couple.”

You sighed, your anger slipping away as you looked up at him, shaking your head fondly, the word ‘dumbass’ slipping out under your breath, as you leaned in, resting your forehead on his shoulder and laughing under your breath. A muffled voice came through the door, smug even through his warm tone, as he told you he was going to go over to Derek’s for a few hours, and congratulating you for working it out.

Once the front door clicked shut, the sound of the jeep starting up, his fingers found yours, lacing your fingers together, he pulled you from the bathroom, guiding you along the familiar route to his bedroom. Kicking the door shut behind him, he picked up a torn open envelope from the desk and waved it at you, your eyes taking in the logo, flicking back up to him, filled with hope. “I got in, too.”

You jumped into his arms, his arms wrapping around your waist as you squealed, his arms wrapping around your waist as he laughed into your ear, spinning you in a circle before placing you back on the ground, ideas and thoughts already spilling from your mouth. You still had all the brochures for clubs you’d thought he might like, and you were waving excitedly as you told him all about the tours he’d missed, that there were joint dorm rooms, and how maybe the two of you could get one together.

Slipping a hand into your hair and one on your hip, he silenced you, his mouth closed over yours mid-sentence and cutting you off as he pressed a loving and passionate kiss toy our lips, his finger straightening in your hair and on your hip when your lips pressed back to his with just as much vigour. Your arms wrapped around his neck, stabilising you as the depth of the kiss made your legs shake, his tongue tracing the seam of your own and you happily parted them for you, his head tipping to the side to allow himself deeper access to your mouth.

“You’ve never kissed me like that before.” Your words were spoken breathlessly, your eyes still closed, his too, his lips barely brushing against yours as he took a deep breath, and he hummed lowly, the sound rumbling from his chest as he squeezed at your hips. He licked over his lower lip, catching against yours too, and you chased his lips a little, a chuckle on his lips as he gave you a sweet but short kiss, indulging you just enough to gain a little sigh from your lips as you rocked back from standing on your tiptoes to on the flats of your feet. “Why have you never kissed me like that before?”

“It’s not for a lack of wanting to.” He teased, and your hands slipped down from his shoulders to grip at his waist, tugging needily on the edge of his shirt to pull him closer to you, a needy whine on your lips as he indulged you, pressing the front of his body up to yours. “People who are faking it don’t kiss like that.”

“I really wouldn’t have complained.”

“Good to know.” He smirked, dipping back down to once again kiss you, his tongue slipping straight between your lips to toy with your own, your body going pliant in his hold as the slow kiss took your breath away. Your feet were moving beneath you in stumbling steps, until the backs of your legs met the silky fabric of his bedsheets, and you tore your lips away from his, taking a deep breath as you did, lips wet and slightly swollen as you looked between him and the mattress. You’d been on his bed before, laying across it with books and laptops spread out around the two of you. You’d been in his bed before, his arm looped around your waist and your back pressed up to his front as you took a peaceful nap, and yet this context was entirely different.

His hands slipped to your jaw, guiding your face back to his, and his thumbs smoothed over your cheeks as dark eyes stared into yours lovingly. “Tell me what’s going on in that little head of yours.”

You licked your lips, looking down and nodding as you tried to clear your thoughts, your hands tugging the ends of his t-shirt and lifting it up, your hands slipping under the thin fabric to brush over his skin, his muscles tensing under your touch, rippling as your trailed your fingertips from his sides to the happy trail covering the loosely defined abs under his shirt. “First of all, I really want you to take your shirt off.”

He grinned cheekily, his head tipping to the side and he let you push the material up his sides, before he was reaching behind his neck and peeling the top from his body, dropping it to the floor and letting you smooth your hands over the hard planes of his chest. He flexed the muscles under your touch, your lips clamped between your teeth, and his hands found the edges of the jumper that belonged to him, hanging around your mid-thighs and he tugged it up to your waist, catching your eye as he looked for confirmation from you. Lifting your arms up above your head, he dragged the material away from your body, a growl sounding from him as your body lay bare beneath the fabric, his eyes darkening and he skimmed his hands over your sides, a short pant leaving him as he watched your nipples pearl in the cold air, standing taut for him and just begging to be licked at. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

“What I want.. like, really want, is to not go to college as an unmarked omega.”

A sound you had never heard him make before rumbled from him, the vibrations of it practically carrying in the air as the deep sound shot straight to your core and your whole body shivered as his face flicked with a range of emotions. It was borderline pornographic; the possessive, aroused and purely desperate noise he had made and your knees buckled under you in submission, his arm catching you around your waist and pulling you in close to him as he used his other hand to tilt your head to the side, allowing him to nip and bite along the flesh of your jaw.

Licking a wet stripe along the skin at the base of your neck, goosebumps coated your skin at the feeling and he took a deep breath, holding your gaze on his once he pulled back. Placing a sloppy and frantic kiss to your lips, he pushed you back onto the bed, crawling over you quickly and caging you in on the mattress, the tip of his nose bumping yours. “You’re my omega.”

Everything possessive in him made everything instinctual in you needy, your hips rolling up into his, your breath punched from your lungs and he met your rolls thrust for thrust, his cock hardening in his jeans, a hand on one of your thighs, lifting your leg up so he could slot himself between your legs. “Going to mark you up, make you mine so everyone knows. My pretty little omega, all mine.”

“All yours, alpha. Make me yours.”

Some kind of cross between a whimper and a groan from him was muffled by his lips on yours, and he trailed his kisses along your jaw, sucking and lapping at your skin as he went, ensuring that he was leaving hickies dotted along your flesh as he went, taking his time and holding you softly. Closing his lips around one of your nipples, your back arched up into his mouth, the rough pad of his tongue swirling over it, pleasure jolting through your body at the stimulation, one hand coming up to lace into his hair, tugging a handful into a fist.

Giving the other the same stimulation, his fingers danced over your ribs and sides as he moved down to slip his fingers under the elastic of the large sweatpants on your hips, wet kisses moving along your navel before he paused, blowing cool air streams over the shining trails left on your skin.

“You’re not wearing any panties are you?” He grumbled deep in his throat when you shook your head. “I can fucking smell you, baby, I bet you’re just dripping for me.” Placing a light at the outside of your thighs, your hips lifted for him, feet planted flat on the mattress as he peeled the fabric away, dropping them to the carpet to join your top and his already there. With a hand on each knee, he parted your thigh, inhaling deeply and kissing at the inside of each thigh, fingers massaging your flesh as he worked his way up to your dripping core. “You want my mouth, baby?”

“Yes, please.”

“Anything for you.” With that, he dragged the tip of his tongue from your entrance to your clit, sealing his lips around the bud and sucking harshly, a squeal leaving you as your back arched. He repeated the action, twice, before he was settling more comfortable on the bed, his arms wrapping around the backs of your thighs to hold you still as he lapped at the delectable taste of your juices sliding from you.

He was taking his time, teasing your entrance and occasionally dipping his tongue into you, his teeth scraping over your clit and your toes curled as he slurped and sucked, your walls squeezing around him as his fingers dug into your skin. Slipping one hand up, he pushed the pad of his tongue down on your clit, rubbing slow and delicate circles into the bud and you tugged at his hair, moans spilling from your lips as the languid stroked of his tongue sparked a fire to start curling on your stomach, a climax slowly beginning to build as your muscles began to tighten.

With a particularly harsh suck, your toes curled, a whimper leaving you, your hips rolling into his face and he picked up his speed and force, your thighs clamping around his head, his hair tickling against the skin and you could feel his sharp jaw moving quickly, before he pried your legs back open as far as he could get them, growling into your pussy as the vibrations shot along your nerves.

Raising one of your own hands to paw at your tits, you tugged on your nipples, groping at the mounds as you dragged yourself into a climax, your back leaving the bed as you rolled your hips into his face, his name leaving your lips in a mantra, body shaking and tensed as your eyes squeezed shut. He continued his ministrations, dragging your orgasm out for as long as he could, until he was pulling back with shiny marks on his chin and a filthy smirk, wiping his chin on the back of his hand before leaning over you and planting a hot and open-mouthed kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself briefly on his tongue.

“You taste fucking delicious.” He whispered the words to you, bumping your noses together and running his hands gently over your body, your own finger catching around his wrists to still his movements and he looked at you curiously, a brow raised. Leaning up, you caught his lips with your own, nibbling on his lower one and he growled, pulling back to give you a mock glare as he took your hands, pinning them to the bed above your head and chasing your mouth, your lips meeting in a rough collision. “Such a pretty girl for me, all flushed and fucked out.”

“I’m not fucked out yet, you’re taking too long.” You retorted, and he huffed, pinching at your side as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, wrapping with your own as they visible played between your quick and needy kisses, your body already building back up as he slipped a hand up to swipe at your core, chuckling at the wetness that was already building.

“I’m trying to be a good alpha and look after my beautiful omega.”

“Well, could you look after your omega by fucking me senseless until I’m screaming?” His jaw dropped, a loud and unashamed moan leaving him at your words, his eyes only getting darker as he gaped at you. Lifting a hand from where it supported him above you, he cupped your cheek, his thumb tugging down your lower lip from a second as he licked at his own and thought about his actions.

“Since when did you have such a filthy fucking mouth on you, sweetheart?” You grinned, shifting just enough to suck the digit between your lips, a breathy sigh leaving him as you swirled your tongue around the pad, sucking lightly and grazing his finger with your teeth, winking at him and his eyes glazed over and went half-lidded as your actions. “I thought you were cute and innocent, huh?”

“I could be dirty just for you.”

“You have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart.” He mumbled, and you raised a brow, taking one of your hands from the spot he pinned them too and dragging your nails across his torso lightly, before cupping at the prominent bulge in his jeans and squeezing tightly, his hips bucking down onto your palm.

“I think I have a pretty good idea.” You teased, and he grinned, kissing you quickly before rocking back to kneel between your legs, popping the button on his jeans and tearing the zipper down.

“Tell me how you want it, baby. Tell me what you want from your alpha.” Standing up, he dropped the denim, palming at himself through the black cotton of his boxer-briefs and kicking the restraining material from around his ankles.

“I want it hard, and rough. I want you to fuck me so good that I’m seeing stars, and so I know nobody will ever be as good as you. I want you to mark me, make me yours.” He bit on his lower lip, dropping his boxers and stroking at his length, wandering across the room to snatch a condom from the top drawer of his desk. Tearing the top of the packet open with his teeth, he rolled the rubber along his impressive shaft, his cock bouncing in its stiff position as he made his way over to you.

“Nobody will ever get to know, because you’re all mine, for the rest of your life. You’re mine, baby, my omega.” Rolling his body back over yours, your arms looped around his neck, a quick peck being pressed to your lips before he lined himself up, sinking into you quickly and his jaw dropped as your wet warmth encased him, his thick cock stretching you out deliciously. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

“I think that’s just the fact that you have a massive cock.”

His arms shook at your words, a loud laugh leaving him and he fixed you with a loving look as he settled still, the environment around you being somewhere between playful and intense, hot and still relaxed, and you’d never felt more loved. Pulling his mouth down to yours, you kissed him deeply, your walls fluttering around him as you conveyed everything you felt, a sweet noise of approval sounding on his mouth. He returned the gesture enthusiastically, before easing his hips out of you, his mouth open against yours as he gasped at the feeling of your walls trying to pull him back in.

Leaning away, he smirked at you, pushing a hand up over your body as he pressed you back into the mattress, his fingers sealing around your throat just tight enough to excite you, flexing against the column of your throat, the edges of your lips tipping up in a grin, flashing your teeth to him as he rocked his hips back into yours, joint moans leaving the two of you. The pace picked up rapidly, the fingers of his other hand clenching in the sheets as he rammed his cock into you, the breath forced from your lungs with each slam he made into you.

Your walls squeezed around him, cursed hissed out between his teeth as his jaw clenched, a whimper falling from you as you watched the man above you pound you into oblivion. His eyes were locked on yours, a thin sheen of sweat on your skin as your name fell from his lips on repeat, your back arching up and chest rubbing against his as he fucked you.

Hiking a leg up higher onto his waist, he sunk into you further, quickly dropping himself down from his palm to his forearm, his nose bumping against yours, hot breath from his pants washing over your skin and you dipped your tongue from your mouth, licking at his lips teasing and he growled, his mouth slanting over yours as he slowed his pace.

Scooping you up under your shoulder blades, he pulled you back, until he was sitting back on his heels and you were perched in his lap, his pulsing cock buried within you deeper than ever as you sat on his thighs and your hands tightening in his hair, pulling on fistfuls. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, your chests pressed together tightly as slick skin slid against slick skin, and his hands gripped your hips in a bruising hold as he bounced you on his cock, your eyes rolling back. “Oh, you feel so fucking good, sweetheart. Tight and wet for me.”

Once the pace was set, your legs tightened around him, and you did your best to meet his movements, one of his hands slipping down to palm at your ass, short nails scraping over your skin. Pulling his hand back, he slapped down on your skin roughly, your hips jumping into his and you whimpered, pushing his palm smoothing over the stinging flesh and you pushed back into his hand, a breathless chuckle released against your mouth as he groped at the flesh, repeating the action as your skin burned and flushed red, the sweet sound of his name in a cry leaving you, and he moved across, kissing down your jaw.

Tipping your head back, your hair fell away from your shoulder as you exposed your neck to him, your stomach twisting when he licked over the slightly sweaty patch, scraping his teeth over the place he would mark you. The high inside of you was building, your hips rocking down into his as he assisted you. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been so sure of anything.”

He swallowed thickly, slamming you down onto his cock and holding you there tightly as he bit down onto your skin, your body flashing with heat and pure bliss as you exploded around him, shaking in his arms as you came, your eyes rolling back in your head and the dull and throbbing pain of the bite mark he gave you was overruled by the feeling of pure love coursing through your body. He dropped your bed back to the mattress, an animalistic sound leaving him as he hiked your leg up onto his shoulder, loud shots and grunts spilling from him as he fucked himself into you so quickly that your eyes were rolling back and you were seeing stars.

Licking the pads of two fingers, he dropped them to your swollen clit and rubbed harshly, screams tearing from your lips as you trembled in his hold, your eyes rolled back as you came from a second time, your core flooding his cock with arousal, ecstasy flooding your veins and walls clamping around him. His body dropped down onto yours as he came, thrusting weakly into you to prolong your peaks as much as he could, your body quivering under him as you caught your breath.

Your arms wrapped around him tightly, holding his body to you despite the fact that his weight was crushing you and he made a happy sound, nuzzling into your neck and kissing over the mark on your neck, a deep sigh being let out before he pulled out of you, a groan on his lips as he got up from the bed, tying the condom off and dropping it into the bin before grabbing a handful of tissues, kneeling beside you as he wiped the stray blood from the bite mark on your shoulder.

He trailed a finger around it, a smile on his lips as he looked at you. “You have my mark.”

“Yeah, I do.” He chuckled at your words, and tipped your neck to the side so he could admire his work, and you shuffled backwards up the bed, his body following you, your head finding the pillow as you snuggled into the plush cushions happily.

“You’re perfect, absolutely perfect.” Dropping down beside you, his fingers brushed through your hair, smoothing it away behind your ears and you grinned at him, letting him adjust you carefully as he tucked the covers around you, a giggle on your lips as he fussed over you. “What are you laughing at?”

“You’re in alpha-overdrive.”

“Shut up.” He grumbled, scowling at the smile on your lips as you let him fuss over you. “I’ve been suppressing my urge to go ‘alpha-overdrive’ on you for fucking months.” He settled himself under the covers beside you, his arms wrapped tightly around you, a yawn on your lips as you nuzzled into his body.

“I wasn’t complaining, I like it.”

“Good, because I’m going to be looking after you for the rest of our goddamn lives, little omega. I’ll be the best alpha the world has ever fucking seen.” He kissed at your cheek, arm tightening around you more as the two of you laid back, bodies aching and tired but thoroughly satisfied. “So, why don’t you tell me all about those college dorms, hm?”

“You’re going to absolutely love them.”

766 notes · View notes

subukunojess · 4 years

Text

Your New Best Friend

Finally, a new fic! I have always wanted to write for the Beetlejuice fandom and with the whole chaotic life going on, I got some time to write it. It has taken me months, but I finally finished this. I’ve always wanted to write a one-shot about what happened between acts of the musical and really delve into Lydia and Beetlejuice’s friendship. I hope you guys enjoy under the cut!

Your New Best Friend

Fandom: Beetlejuice the Musical

Major Characters: Beetlejuice and Lydia Deetz

Word Count: 6,018

Links: Archive of Our Own, Deviantart, Fanfiction

Summary: What happens to Lydia after she summons a demon at Dinner Night and kicks out all the adults? A sleepover filled with vandalism, pizza, and beheadings, that's what. Oh and friendship too!

When Lydia Deetz summoned Beetlejuice in anger, she didn't know what to expect. Her entire plan turned out wrong that night. Everyone seemed to enjoy getting possessed by actual ghosts, treating it as if it were a joke. A money-making joke to dance and celebrate about. It made her sick. She had her doubts when she stood on the dining table and called out his name, sensing him materialize right by her side. She hesitated until she saw her own father kiss Delia, a woman he dared to replace her dead mother with. At that point, the third call rumbled out of her mouth in a natural scream that didn't hold back.

"BEETLEJUICE!"

Then all hell broke loose.

Food and furniture went flying in different directions. Chandeliers caught on fire. A murderous roast pig went on a rampage. It wasn't until the ghost summoned a giant version of himself, complete with massive hands and an even bigger head, that everyone decided to run for their lives out of the house. Lydia sat down on one of the chairs, watching all the chaos happen before her. She got a glimpse of Charles reaching out to her by the door and for a moment, she raised her hand slightly towards him, only for her to drop it and turned her head away while closing her eyes tight. She heard the front doors slam shut with a loud bang, then silence. She opened her eyes and she was met with an empty house. No family. No humans. No ghosts. Just her and the demon she summoned.

"You did it." Lydia said in a quiet voice, still in awe and shock that what transpired was real. She stood up from the chair and went up to the demon. "He's really gone?"

"Oh yeah," Beetlejuice nodded with a wicked grin on his face, "It's our house now, kid!" He snapped his fingers and a burst of energy surged through Lydia and the entire house, sending a shiver to the girl's spine. Then the walls popped with black and white stripes as the furniture and decorations warped into twisted contortions of themselves. Both the human and demon slowly turned into a circle, watching this change happen right before their eyes.

"Whoa." Was all Lydia could mutter at the moment once the initial changes were complete.

"Looks like we're not invisible anymore!" Beetlejuice crooned, his voice even more gravely as he wrapped his arm around Lydia's shoulders with a triumphant laugh and pulled her close, proud of his handiwork and excited for the chaos to come. For a moment, the lights flickered a couple of minutes as the two stood at the center of the living room, taking it all in. Then Beetlejuice dropped his arm and glanced at Lydia to see her reaction.

There was a spark in her eyes that the demon hadn't seen before. It wasn't like her resting mourning face or her mischievous grin. It was a genuine sparkle of awe and happiness. At least, he guessed it was. He wasn't sure with breather emotions.

Then Lydia did something that took him aback; she closed her eyes and let out a snarling roar that rolled into howling laughter. She twirled and hopped in place, flapping her hands as fast as she could while chirping and squealing. When she heard herself doing that, she opened her eyes and stopped immediately.

"I'm sorry." Lydia said, looking away out of embarrassment. "I-"

"What are ya saying sorry for?" Beetlejuice asked with a scoff before he grinned and bounced on his heels in excitement, waving his hands in circles. "No one has ever reacted like that to my work before. I like it! Gimme more of that! Gimme, gimme, gimme!"

Lydia blinked, flabbergasted at the response. Then again, this was a demonic spirit thing that was probably invisible since forever she was talking to. Although she had to keep on her toes, she decided to throw caution to the wind on embarrassment by pushing herself forward with a smile, waving her hands around as well.

"That was cool and scary at the same time!" Lydia exclaimed with a laugh as she and Beetlejuice bounced together. "The way they screamed and ran as your arms were like WOOSH! Now that's what I call a dinner party!" After a minute of laughter, she steadied her breathing and stopped in thought. She didn't think she'd get this far into her plan if she were being honest with herself. Lydia expected something to backfire and her father to punish her in some way. Now that she was alone with the demon, she didn't know what came next.

"... So what now?" She asked with a tilt of her head. Beetlejuice grinned.

"Anything you want, kid; we're free! No boring breathers or newly-deads tying us down! It's time to go wild and have some real fun!" He floated up a few feet in the air, streamers popping out of his hands before he landed back down on his feet. "Remember: no holding back on me, Lyds. Tonight's your night, so you get to call the shots! Think of all the things ya wanted to do without Chuck and adults around and do 'em!"

"Okay...?" Lydia quirked an eyebrow, hesitant. After thinking for a moment, she went and picked up an oddly-shaped vase from a stand nearby. Strange how Delia's 'art work' didn't change with the rest of the house. She jutted her hip to the side and mocked, "As my guru Otho always says..." She then threw the vase hard on the ground, shattering it into pieces as she exclaimed, "Shut up, Delia!"

"Yeah, shut up, Debra!" Beetlejuice cheered in agreement as he stuck a striped tongue out towards the broken pieces. "Serves her right trying to tell you what to do!"

Lydia nodded. She reached for another piece of artwork when she stopped herself. She didn't want to make too much of a mess and most of the other pieces were heavy anyway. It wasn't because she felt sorry for the woman trying so hard to get her to like her. To change. Not at all! She recovered by rolling her head back to stretch it out. She probably looked ridiculous, but this was her night after all. It wouldn't hurt to act like a demon.

"As much as I want to break more things, I got a better idea. Let's trash Daddy's office!" Lydia suggested.

The demon clapped and rubbed his hands together with a sinister smile. "Oooooh, let's!"

"Last one there's a rotten egg!" With a sly grin, the girl poked at Beetlejuice's nose, tagged him, then ran off with a laugh. It took the demon a minute what had just happened.

"Hey, that's not fair!" He protested, but laughed as well as he dashed up the stairs after her.

On the second floor, Lydia ran down the hallway and skidded until she arrived at her destination at the end of the hallway. She got inside the room first, surveying her father's office of what potential damage to cause. The office wasn't too elaborate, consisting of a file cabinet, book shelf, desk, and laptop. Charles didn't get to set up the desktop yet. From the corner of her eye, Lydia saw a picture frame lying face down on the desk. She carefully picked it up and gasped.

It was a family portrait with her dead mom. Emily Deetz was a foot or two shorter than her father, but she easily dominated the photograph with her smile. Lydia would best describe her mother as a chocolate cake decorated with black icing laced into spider web designs, cookies that looked like gravestones, and whipped frosting that were shaped to be ghosts. On the day of the photo, Emily wore a straw sunhat, a nice lilac blouse with a pair of jeans, a pair of rose-gold eyeglasses, and her bat necklace which was really a large rubber, red-eyed bat with a string attached to each wing. Her mom would say that on a full moon, she would turn into a giant bat demon that preyed on vampires, monsters under the bed, and tangerines. It made the young girl smile each time she said it.

Lydia placed a hand over her mouth and choked a silent sob. She didn't think her dad would keep the picture let alone have it framed on his desk. Before she could process it further, she heard the demon coming from down the hall. Alarmed, she unfastened the back of the frame and pulled the picture out, placing it in a pocket of her dress before she threw the empty frame to the ground.

"Hey, don't start without me, Lyds!" She heard Beetlejuice exclaim outside the room.

Lydia turned towards Beetlejuice, only to shriek when she saw a huge rotting egg slanted against the wall instead. She covered her mouth as she watched the thing sprout golden eyes.

"Guess I'm the rotten egg." The egg spoke in Beetlejuice's voice.

"Couldn't you just teleport or go through walls or something?!"

"Whoops! Kinda got lost in the moment there." With a puff of green smoke, Beetlejuice shifted back to normal, dusting his suit a bit. He then cracked his knuckles as he went inside the office. "So how should we wreck this place? You take the first swing." He then gasped and snapped his fingers before he suddenly pulled out a baseball bat from behind his back and handed it to Lydia with a smile. She smirked and rolled her eyes in response, but her face fell when she grasped the bat in her hands and surveyed the room. It was different thinking of all the things she could do out of anger versus actually doing them. The bat trembled in her grasp for a minute, but she thought about her father and steeled her resolve as she raised the bat.

"This is for ignoring me." Lydia said, then whacked the desk in front of her as hard as she could.

"Yes." Beetlejuice nodded with a wide grin, taking a step back as Lydia swung at the walls and furniture.

"This is for moving out of our house!"

"Yeah! Keep it going, kid!"

"This is for treating me like I'm invisible!" Lydia roared as she threw the bat down on the chair.

"There ya go! That's what I'm talkin' about! Lemme do something! Lemme do something! I can do anything ya want-" Beetlejuice stopped himself when Lydia opened her mouth to speak and he cut her to it. "Except setting the room on fire. Am I right? You breathers usually don't like rooms on fire. I can even eat anything!"

Lydia raised an eyebrow. "Anything?"

"Anything."

Upon hearing that, the teen looked around until she spotted something in a hidden shelf: her father's laptop. Grinning, she grabbed it along with its plug and shook it right in front of the demon. "How about this then?"

Beetlejuice nodded, excited. "I never had that before! Throw it here!" The ghost smiled as he floated backwards and opened his mouth in order to catch the object like a snack.

Lydia immediately closed her eyes when she saw him open his mouth. Jaws should not bend that way. Ever. She counted to three and threw the laptop in Beetlejuice's direction. She heard a couple of chews and swallows before she opened her eyes to see Beetlejuice slurp up the charger cable like spaghetti. Once it was swallowed, he hiccuped and licked his teeth clean of keyboard letters. Lydia took a wary step back.

"Do you eat teens by any chance?" She asked out of curiosity, hoping that he didn't. The prospect didn't seem to look good as the demon floated in her direction and poked at her arm in thought. She sighed in relief when he shook his head.

"Nah, it depends. Yer kinda scrawny lookin' to me and ya probably taste salty. Besides, adults got more meat on 'em!"

"Oh... good to know. If we have any cranky neighbors, I'll feed them to you!" Lydia smiled nervously as she held a thumbs up, not knowing whether he was serious or not. Or both. Once she saw that the damage was enough in the room, she led the demon out to the hall.

"Before we do anything else, I got to change out of this dress. It's too... bright and cheerful." Lydia almost gagged, then she smirked at the ghost. "Meet me downstairs?"

"You know it." Beetlejuice pointed finger guns at the teenager before he teleported himself back downstairs, sitting on a chair covered in spikes. He stared off in thought.

"... can you believe it?" Beetlejuice addressed his audience as he pointed a thumb upwards. "A breather who actually sees me and she said my name. And we got an entire haunted house to ourselves! This is going to be- oh my gosh, I know this fanfiction trope!" In an instant, the demon took out a printed packet from his back and skimmed through it, squinting a little. "This is the part where the writer goes in between scenes from the original source material in order to show character development, relationships, and something called 'fluff'."

Beetlejuice paused with a neutral expression on his face until he suddenly burst out guffawing and slapping his knee, throwing the packet over his shoulder and causing it to burst into flames and disappear.

"Like that'll ever happen!" He exclaimed after his fit of laughter, standing back up. His face lit up when he heard footsteps from above and he turned his head to see Lydia at the top of the steps. Instead of a normal nightgown or whatever young breathers wore to sleep, she seemed to wear a red poncho that looked just like a spider web over a black shirt and leggings. She also wore fake claws in both her hands, a makeshift wolf tail tied around her waist like a belt, and one of those headband things with animal ears on her head. Around her neck was one of those traditional cameras he had seen breather tourist with whenever he got the chance to explore. With her pale face and eye shadow, she looked spooky.

Lydia let out a loud roar as she laughed, stomping down the stairs, "Grrr! I am Lydia Deetz, the Werewolf Demon! I've come to scare the breathers, kiss all the cool girls, and eat everybody else!"

"Oh no! Connecticut is doomed!" Beetlejuice laughed along with her. He floated right behind her and suddenly grabbed her, lifting her off the ground. Lydia was about to protest when she looked down and saw how high off the ground she was.

"I'm... floating? I'm floating!" She smiled and let the demon lift her up higher to the ceiling. She outstretched her arms and wiggled her claws, pretending she was a flying witch or a real ghost. She then snarled to the air.

"Ya need fangs ta be a werewolf demon!" Beetlejuice concluded after taking Lydia's new costume into consideration. With a blink of his eyes, a couple of Lydia's teeth sharpened into fangs, making the girl's grin grow. He chuckled and levitated back down to the floor. "What's with the red spiderweb get-up anyway?"

"My mom made it herself because I liked spiders. When I was little, I pretended to be a spider witch and I begged to be one when I got older. I wear it to bed every night ever since." Lydia said as she fiddled with one of the poncho's edges and she was placed down. "My favorite Halloween costume was this full body werewolf suit my parents got me when I was nine or ten. It doesn't fit me anymore, so I had to improvise."

"Huh. Even some breathers have good tastes." The demon commented, his face unreadable, but he gave her a thumbs up. Lydia poked her new fangs with the tip of her own tongue before her face lit up.

"I gotta get a picture of this. To celebrate our new house!" She went up to Beetlejuice and grabbed her camera, turning it around towards them and pressing on a button as the camera flashed and the demon winced, shutting his eyes tight.

"Sorry! Didn't think making an old time selfie would be weird." Lydia apologized. While he adjusted his eyes and the photograph started to develop, Lydia also took out her cell phone from one of her pockets. Although she had a phone and she appreciated the modern advances of cameras in her generation, there was something about using a traditional camera that her parents used and a physical photograph instantly appeared that appealed to her. Nonetheless, the occasion called for both types of pictures. When Beetlejuice was ready, Lydia opened up the camera on her phone and took a picture of herself and Beetlejuice with playful, snarling faces and no flash that time. She then went to her gallery and to her surprise, there was Beetlejuice clear as night on her screen.

Beetlejuice gasped, grabbing the phone from the teenager's hands as he examined the handiwork, "I'm visible in photos and technology now! I wish I could say the same thing about the other one." A third arm of his seemed to pop out from the ground, holding a photograph of Lydia and a blurry shadow creature with two yellow lights in the background.

Lydia rolled her eyes and giggled as she reached for her phone. "Glad to make your night, then. Let me just post the digital one on my tumblr and twitter."

The demon almost dropped the cell phone in shock, but Lydia caught it just in time.

"You got a tumblr too? We really are BFFFF's!" Beetlejuice grinned and bounced on his heels.

"How did you get a- oh, wait. Let me guess: it's a hell site, so demons automatically get accounts?" Both she and Beetlejuice smirked and shot finger guns at each other.

"Exactly. You're catching on to the whole being a demon thing!"

"Good to know." The teenager typed and started posting as she continued, "I'm not an online person myself, but sometimes I post some good shots and see what's strange and unusual out in the world. What's your username so I could follow you?"

"3xthecharmguide: Shameless plug-in is shameless!" He announced in an almost mocking monotone as he looked out towards what she guessed was space.

"What?"

"What?" Lydia snorted and shook her head. Once she had finished with her post, she searched for the username until she found his blog. "Huh.... just some pictures for now. I could help tune it out for you if you want. And wait till I show you Tik Tok!"

"You breathers are into clocks now?" Now it was Beetlejuice's turn to raise an eyebrow in confusion. The teenager chuckled and rolled her eyes.

"I'll explain it later." She was about to say something else when she felt her stomach growl and she winced. She didn't eat anything for the whole day and she was too busy organizing the dinner party with the Maitlands to care. Beetlejuice seemed to hear the growl and raised an eyebrow.

"Hungry? All that food from that fancy party is probably gone by now. And I think I saw that roast pig almost ate a man. It. Was. Awesome!"

It then occurred to Lydia: now that everyone living left, there was no one who would make dinner or drive to the grocery store anymore. Sure, she could cook simple things on the stove and use a microwave, but even with that, the fridge and pantry wasn't really filled up ever since she, her father, and Delia moved into the house. Curious, she turned to the demon.

"Can you cook?"

"Do you like stale popcorn and roasted rats?" Beetlejuice grinned as a large flame formed at the palm of his hand. Lydia stared at him in disgust, then pulled his hand down by the wrist without batting an eye.

"No, put the fire down. I'm good." She said, then shrugged. "We could order pizza? And I have a stash of snacks hidden in my room. If we're lucky, maybe there's a monster movie marathon tonight."

"Monster movie marathon?!" The demon exclaimed with a big smile on his face as he bounced on his heels. "Yes, yes, yes! That's a thousand times better! Let's do it!"

With a smile and a nod, Lydia strolled into the kitchen and dialed on her cell phone, calling the nearest pizza place in the area to order delivery as she opened the cupboards and got out two blenders. Luckily, the blenders didn't change with the kitchen and other appliances either.

“Hey, can I have two large pepperoni, one mushroom, and one Meat Lovers all with extra cheese please?” She asked as she placed the blenders down onto the counter and plugged them in. Beetlejuice hovered over her like a child wanting attention and Lydia gently pushed him away. When he kept insisting, she went to the freezer and got an ice cube out, placing it on the edge of the counter without any thought to it. In response, the spirit focused on the cube and hovered over it instead. As Lydia listened to the person on the phone and gave them the address, she couldn’t help but feel like a mother. She suppressed a gulp and hung up the phone once the order was placed, trying to dismiss that thought from her head.

"Lydia, the ice cube is shrinking!" Beetlejuice cried out as he pointed to the melting ice cube, poking at it with a finger.

Lydia stared at disbelief, blinking a few times. "It's melting."

"'Oh... okay." The demon shrugged and seemed to accept this as he picked up the ice cube and placed it in his mouth. A few seconds later, he stuck a black and purple striped tongue out from his mouth, exclaiming, "All gone!"

With a chuckle, Lydia opened the fridge and got the milk, ice cream, and syrups, placing them onto the counter. She then got a big spoon, what was left of the cereals from the cupboards, and any other condiments she could find since something told her the demon had strange tastes.

"Unfortunately, we only got neo- neopol- Napoleon? Uhhhh... the chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla ice cream!" Lydia stuck her tongue out from stumbling on the word. "We're so gonna get new flavors for next time. Like Rocky Road! Or black cherry chocolate chip!"

"Or maggot chili chocolate and horse flesh!" Beetlejuice added with a smile.

"Ewwww? I'm not going to ask." Lydia scooped up half a tub of ice cream for her blender and the rest for Beetlejuice's. She squirted strawberry syrup while the demon chose chocolate. As for toppings, they used sprinkles, different cereals, and mustard for some reason. For a last finishing touch, Beetlejuice added squirming earthworms and beetles in his blender. To make it fair, Lydia put two big helpings of gummy worms in hers. Once every ingredient was in, they blended their concoctions at the same time as some sort of race to see which one was done first. Beetlejuice won by default. Before they could prepare the other snacks,

Ding-Dong!

"Pizza's here!" Beetlejuice cheered at the doorbell and clasped his hands together with a wicked grin on his face. "Let's scare 'em."

Lydia rolled her eyes and shrugged with her own grin. "Why not?" With a snap of the demon's fingers, the two disappeared in darkness and the front door opened to reveal a young adult male carrying a large insulated bag of pizza.

"Uh... pizza delivery?" The man called out to the house, noticing no one at first. He then gasped when Lydia popped up from the ground in front of him, her arms behind her back.

"To be...." She moved her arm forward to hold out Beetlejuice's head in her claws as she dramatically posed, "Or not to be!"

"Is that really the question?" The head replied with a crazed look in his eyes as he stared at the delivery boy, a fanged grin on his face.

The delivery person dropped the bag and screamed at the top of his lungs in response before he charged out of the house and into the streets.

"I love that sound!" Lydia and Beetlejuice sighed in unison. Lydia then turned Beetlejuice's head to face her as she lifted it up and they both laughed with the demon's body jumping in joy from the background.

Monster Movie Marathon night was underway without a hitch. Lydia got all the chips, candy, cookies, and juice boxes she had in her bedroom while Beetlejuice set up a brand new television decorated in stripes and spikes because aesthetic. Along with their pizza, snacks, and drinks, Beetlejuice also conjured up some popcorn, soda, and a pair of 3-D glasses for himself. When they had gathered up everything, the two of them hopped onto the sofa, blender glasses in hand, and Beetlejuice turned on the TV with a snap to his fingers.

"Good evening, Spooks and Ghouls." An announcer greeted from the television in an eerie echo that sent nostalgic chills to Lydia's spine. "We welcome you to our weekend monster movie marathon starting with that classic cult film 'The Boogeyman straight from Hell!'"

Beetlejuice and Lydia smirked as they grabbed a slice of pepperoni pizza each. Pizza, monster films, and no crummy adults? What more could they need? They clinked their blenders together before taking a swig of their respective milkshakes in unison. The two then proceeded to watch the film, occasionally commenting on how cheesy or inaccurate it looked with the demon explaining what would really happen. At one point, Beetlejuice had swallowed his blender in one gulp, glass and machine included.

Lydia still couldn't believe that this striped man lying down on the floor and staring at the screen with a grin on his face, the same man who had begged on his hands and knees for her to say his name earlier yesterday, was an actual demon from Hell. She knew demons took on many forms, but a chubby dead guy who looked like a dumpster-diving raccoon didn't cross her mind. Even though she had her doubts, she was enjoying his company. He was funny, gross, scary, and goofy once she observed him. Back in New York, her only friend was her mother. She didn't really have a best friend until now.

Time passed and another movie played. A vampire flick. Lydia slouched forward, her head resting on the palms of her hands as she watched the film with an eager smile, engrossed by its tone and horror. Beetlejuice took up the rest of the unusual couch with his legs hanging off of the armchair that looked more like a tentacle as he laid on his back, crossing both his arms and legs, and stared at the ceiling in thought. He couldn't believe his luck or what happened either. He found a breather that could actually see him. At first, he planned on ditching the kid and the dreadful house somehow, but that changed within the last few hours. Lydia was much more fun than the stiffs he knew both in the Netherworld and the breathers residing in the house. She was creative, spooky, funny, dark, and one of the few beings that could keep up with his antics. Who knew there were breathers like this out in the world and he hadn't met them yet! He wished he had someone like Lydia in his younger centuries.

Beetlejuice glanced to the side, watching as Lydia's grin grew at the sight of a breather's face contorting in horror with a shadow overwhelming them. The demon then smirked. Lydia Deetz was officially his new best friend and he was determined to keep it that way as long as possible. Forever even.

Before Lydia knew it, it was midnight. The movie marathon had ended and the TV shut off by itself. As she rubbed her eyes that seemed to buzz from focusing too much on the screen, she surveyed the damage of the living room. Or the after-living room now. Empty pizza boxes, chip bags, soda cans, and candy wrappers scattered across the floor. Crumbs were everywhere. Although Beetlejuice ate the most, Lydia felt stuffed from all that pizza and junk food she ate. She slowly stood up from the sofa and took a step forward, only to sway to the side.

"Whoa there, Scarecrow!" Beetlejuice caught the girl in his arms just in time and pushed her back standing. "Ya look like you're about to pass out in a grave."

"Me? Pass out? Not for Lydia Chrysanthemum Deetz! I'm full of energy!" Lydia protested while holding back a yawn as she stood up straight and put her hands to her hips... only to fall back onto the sofa.

Lydia took a few minutes to rest. When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a tiny window near her eye. Upon seeing it, she jolted awake and sat up. It seemed that she was outside and someone put a replica model of the house and the hill it sat on near her while she was sleeping. She was going to dismiss it as such when she examined the detail of the model and some movement caught her eye. She squinted to find two familiar people waving their arms from one of the windows.

"Adam? Barbara?" Lydia blinked. Sure enough, a tiny Adam and Barbara were waving at her, looking quite shocked to see the now giant teenager. Lydia waved back only for her to let out a scream as something scooped her up in the air by her arms and hugged her tight.

"Lyds, yer just the right size to take over this town!" A familiar gravely voice boomed with a cheer. Lydia struggled against the giant demon's grip, feeling like her bones would pop if he got any tighter.

"I still need to breathe!" She wheezed out. With a sheepish "Oops!", Beetlejuice let go of her and placed her down next to him.

"Would you look at us? Two scary demons ruling Connecticut together and having our kind of fun. First order of business, we make stripes, black, and nail polish the top fashion statement. We're going places, kid!" Beetlejuice pulled Lydia close to him and started walking off, throwing his ideas out there. Lydia shook her head with a smile and was about to listen when she glanced up and caught something at the corner of her eye coming from his striped shirt. In a shirt pocket that seemed filled with who knows what, Lydia swore she saw tiny arms trying to climb out and a woman's head popping out.

"I can breathe! Freedom!" A tiny feminine voice squeaked. The teen's eyes widened.

"Um... Beej? What is that?" Lydia asked, pointing to his pocket.

"What is what?" The demon stopped, causing the obvious human in his pocket to scream and fall back down. He looked down and nodded. "Oh right, that! While you were napping, I decided ta get myself a random breather to play with. Don't worry, she's a big fan and my pocket's not that bad."

Lydia's face fell. "Beetlejuice, no. If we're gonna haunt anything together, we're not kidnapping people!"

Beetlejuice rolled his eyes and groaned. "Ugh! First, it's no killing. Now, it's no kidnapping! What's next? No floating? And it's not even a kid!"

"Oh, thank-"

"It's the writer."

"Dude!" Lydia threw her hands in the air, resisting the urge to strangle the giant demon. "You can't just go into a writer's house and steal them away!"

"Why not? There's no rule saying that I can't and she doesn't seem to mind. Right, babe?"

In response to the question, a tiny tan hand poked out from the pocket and formed a shaky thumbs up.

"See? She has a way with words!" The ghost chuckled, using one of his fingers to gently push the hand back into his pocket. When he saw Lydia give him a disapproving frown along with her arms crossed, he sighed.

"Alright, alright! I'll take her back to her house. But first, I'm takin' you ta bed. Ya gotta have a lot of energy if yer gonna be scary at your own haunted house tomorrow!"

"Wait, what?" Before Lydia could question or protest, she was scooped up by the waist and hung to the demon's side as he carried her off somewhere. Then it became blurry for her. She couldn't tell how much time had passed or where she was. As she let out a yawn, she started to see things. Memories of her when she was seven or nine. Nights when her father would stay overnight on a business meeting and she and her mother would pretend to be giant monsters parading in their home while eating and doing whatever they wanted. At the end of their play, Emily would pick her up, carry her upstairs to bed, and tell her a story as she tucked her in.

Lydia then remembered. She was at a haunted house in Connecticut with two ghosts in the attic and a demon who was taking her upstairs to bed. She groaned sleepily. No wonder grown-ups warned children about eating late at night. As she hung to the demon's side, she couldn't help but reminisce about the good times that she would never have again for a long time.

"Once upon a time... there was a girl who wanted to be... a werewolf...." She mumbled to herself with a soft yawn as the demon trudged through the hallway. "Her daddy wanted his daughter... to be a perfect little girl... but her dead mom wanted her happy... so the girl ran away to the woods... so she could become a werewolf. She... she... she-"

"She came across a demon deep in the forest." Beetlejuice continued with a sigh. "Very powerful, looks great in stripes, and had lots of cool powers and dance moves, but he was lonely because nobody could see him and nobody else was like him. When he saw that she could see him, he got really happy. So he offered her a deal. 'If ya summon me and gimme all the bugs I can eat, I can make ya a werewolf and we could be friends'.

The demon reached the bedroom and went inside, noticing that it was bare of anything interesting save for the dark curtains and spider sheets on the bed. He placed her on top of the bed as he continued, "So she tried to get all the bugs she could get. Mostly earthworms, ants, and some ladybugs ta add a little luck. Sure, she got mud and leaves all over her, but she did it. She said his name three times and poof! He was summoned just like that. He made her a werewolf without the bite thing and they hung out together in the woods, scarin' all the breathers they wanted."

Lydia grumbled in a daze, maneuvering herself so a blanket was covering her up. She smiled and snuggled against the bed, finally asleep. The demon was about to leave when he saw something fall from under her pillow and landed onto the floor with a silent flutter. Beetlejuice bent down and picked it up, examining it. It was a photograph of Lydia and her dad that he immediately recognized, but it was the woman that threw him off. He never saw her in the house or of the recently deceased around the area.

Then it hit him.

He said nothing, some of his hair strands turning purple as he pinched the corner of the photo and tore off Charles's head. He grabbed hold of the other corner, but let go after a long second. He opened the bedside drawer, placed the photo in, then closed it shut. Beetlejuice glanced over, watching Lydia turning to her side, out like a light. Before he disappeared, there was a hint of a smile as he patted the side of the bed.

"Sweet nightmares, kid."

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bitch-banshee · 5 years

Text

I can’t save you anymore

Prompt: Reader looses their voice, yelling at theo b/c hes bad

Word Count: 1589

Characters: Theo x Y/N, later Siles x Y/N

Warnings: its sad man. i tried whump and it turned into this angsty mess.

A/N: im sorry...Feel free to send me something you wanna read, and ill write about it :)

You were done. This was the last straw. You’d absolutely had it with Theo always ending up being the bad guy. He’d killed your brother, kidnapped innocent children, and now he shot Malia and Brayden. “Please Y/N, i’m sorry” his pleas fell on tired ears. “No! I’m done Theo, i can not protect you anymore! You wanted to get rid of me so bad, you've done it!” your scream was loud and exhausted. It was so tiring to always defend him to the others. They couldn't understand what you saw in him, why you’d always offered him redemption. “He’s pretty evil” they’d say. “How can you trust him after everything”, or your personal favorite “he’s just going to disappoint you, you should just let him burn” You'd started to believe it, believe them.

Theo gripped your arm, his eyes shining the gold of an innocent when he was anything but. “Please, don't give up on me, please” his grip was bruising, the tone of his voice menacing through clenched teeth, it stung. It was a threat. “ You SHOT my best friend Theo! Do you not understand. Malia was laying there, bleeding on the ground! You put your claws inside of Scott,my brother to steal his power, he DIED for like 10 minutes! Or did you forget that. Just because your eyes are yellow does not mean you're still innocent.” your throat burned, your heart burned. “You kidnapped innocent children, and brought them to the dread doctors. Do you know how much blood is on your hands! Not to mention your SISTER, you murdered her in cold blood and haven't felt remorse about it since” tears fueled by anger gripped your voice, a low blow you knew, but you needed him to understand. You couldn't bring him back from this. “‘Leave Theo, leave now or i'll let Kira send you to the skinwalkers. This is your chance to save yourself. Im done saving you” your voice sounded foreign, hoarse, and the burning didn't stop.

Retching your arm from his grasp you left him in the tunnels. “Y/N.” he called tensely, but you continued, your hand reached to rub at your throat and chest. You’d just made it out when you ran into stiles and Scott running in. “Y/N?” Stiles called your attention. “What happened, are you okay?” his soft hands fell onto your shoulders as Scott went ahead inside. “I-” you started but the noise died in your throat. “...umm” you tried again, the burn in the back of your throat intensifying, causing you to wince. Stiles made a confused face. “Can you speak, what happened?” he tried again, urging you to tell him what was going on. Your mouth hung open, nothing but air escaping. You felt the tears resurface, frustration written all over your face. “Here, here, type it here” he frantically pulled his phone out and handed it to you, a note opened.

You typed out that you think you lost it screaming at Theo. Stiles involuntarily rolled his eyes while reading. “I honestly don’t know why you even bother with him, I can try to help, let me drive you home, and we can try tea?”you made a sound much like a snort as Stiles’s hand rested softly on your back, rubbing slowly. It eased your coiled up muscles, thinking about what he said, he was right, all this time you had been trying to save Theo from himself, determined to prove that he could be good, trusted, saved. Only now did you realize how wrong you were. You tried to will your voice to thank him, to tell him how right he was. But only a rough scratchy noise fell from your lips. “No, no the more you try, the longer your voice will be gone,” he threw a half smile on his face and opened the car door. You rolled your eyes and silently groaned.

At home stiles stayed with you. He made you sit at the counter while he tried to make you tea for your burning throat. Anytime you tried to make even a semblance of a noise, the burn and pain nearly knocked your breath out. “You know, having you this quiet I can finally tell you something without an interruption” he set the mug down in front of you. The steam floating up to your nose. Smells of lemon and honey wrapped around you as you looked intently at one of your best friends. “Y/N I...well i umm, i have these uhh” he fumbled gently over his words, his cheeks blooming a lovely pink. You leaned your head to the left, a small smile spreading across your face. You removed your hand from the mug and placed it on stiles’s hand, urging him on. “I like you...well no, i- i love you” he stuttered out.

There was no doubt that is not what you thought he’d say. You felt your eyebrows shoot up, and your eyes go wide. He took in your expression and stood abruptly. “I-im sorry, im- i shouldn't have said that. That- I mean- i” you shut him up with your lips. You’d loved stiles, always, but his love for Lydia and infatuation with Malia had always stopped you from making a move. The kiss was gentle, calm, a reflection of how you felt in his arms. When he pulled away his eyes fluttered a little before opening. It melted your heart. “So does that mean you feel the same” his large hand drifted over your cheek and you nodded, a large goofy smile on your face. “Good, good” he smiled back at you.

Stiles stayed all night, you’d finished your tea shortly after he insisted upon a movie. He was laid across the couch a blanket hanging off his hips, the credits playing. His mouth was wide open, soft snores escaping. You couldn’t help but shake your head and smile. The pain of your voice had died down, but stiles was right, talking would prolong it being gone. You tried to think of a way to let him know there was no way you were sleeping on this couch, when Theo burst through the door. Stiles started and jumped up “trouble, where, whos dead?” he looked directly at Theo who was drenched in water from the pounding rain outside. Cuts and blood littered his body and I felt my blood run cold. “This seriously Y/N, you thought you could just walk away, to him” Theo’s eyes blazed, his voice something between a growl and actual words, as stiles pushed you behind him. You tried to scream, to say anything to tell stiles to move, to tell Theo not to do this. Nothing came out.

Theo pulled stiles away by his shirt, then sent a quick and sickening crack to the humans jaw. I watched in horror as it seemed like time slowed when stiles was falling already unconscious. I was frozen in place, shock and sheer fear stilling me.

“You don't get to walk away sweetheart, you don't get the last word.” he took slow steps toward me, he was a predator, a killer, and his sights were on me.

I felt my heart drop into my stomach when he reeled his arm back. A smooth landing right on the edge of my chin. The pain bloomed,searing across my face and down my back, making my scalp prickle, the air caught in my lungs, “nothing to say now?” he taunted as i tried to block his punches and claws, while i also trying to throw my own. It was useless, Theo clawed at my shoulder and my mouth hung open in silent pain. “SAY SOMETHING” he screamed into my face, punching once, twice and then a third time to my gut. I felt my chest burn in the scream trapped in my throat as i fell to my hands and knees trying to breathe correctly. Hot tears spilled from my eyes, my vision blurred by the water and the soft tinges of red. He brought up his boot covered foot and kicked me onto my back “You're useless, i don't even know why i ever wasted my time with you, you're weak” he leaned over me, his face twisted up in disgust, then he brought his claws up and slashed me across my face. I couldn't move, I didn't want to, I was in so much pain, blood oozing down covering my shirt when Kira, Scott, Liam, and Malia came in. Liam ran across the floor tackling Theo and Kira wasted no time stabbing her ketana in the ground opening it up.

I watched through tears that wouldn't stop, Liam’s arms wrapped around me as Theo’s sister came out and dragged him into the hole in my living room. Theo screamed and it echoed through the room, his eyes locked on mine. The hole closed up seconds later like it was never there.

I blinked slowly, listening to Scott call for stiles, the far away sound almost soothing. My eyelids were so heavy, my body felt like I was being weighed down. I could hear Liam asking me things I couldn't possibly answer, and the darkness was so kind, tranquil.

I fell into the embrace,floating on a sea of peacefulness, there was no flash of light, or a replay of my life. Just cool darkness, the only thought in my mind was, “I never said it back, I never told stiles how much I loved him as well” before my heart stopped.

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whispersafterdusk · 5 years

Text

In Your Hands - ch 11

He could see the gradual change in the man's face; Isran had seemed at first relieved to see them, if a little confused about their meeting place. When he'd gotten a good look at Ralsten however that relief and confusion gave way to suspicion, anger, and an undisguised disgust. He started to stomp toward them when the wood elf held up his hands.

"Stop," Ralsten said quietly. He made no move toward his weapons or the man, though Isran drew his warhammer. "I know you know what I am now. I know you want to destroy me...out of hate, out of pity, whatever your reasoning might be. This...this wasn't intended. I didn't ask for this, Isran. I got captured, and...and turned."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't cut you down where you stand." ((Continued below cut))

Ralsten stared evenly at the man. "I have two reasons, actually." He gestured at the handles of the Scrolls sticking up over his and Serana's shoulders. "Three reasons if you'd stop and think. I'm betting that Harkon is expecting you to do exactly what you're wanting to, right now -- turning me sows distrust, and killing me robs the Dawnguard of another member as well as the knowledge I carry about the prophecy and how to stop it. I can only imagine how amused he'll be if you actually do it."

Serana's eyes flicked to him at the lie but she remained silent and soon turned her attention back to Isran.

The man grit his teeth, staring them down, then returned his weapon to his back. "What happened?"

"We were looking for the Scrolls -- we found one with the help of a scholar near Winterhold. It was down inside a dwemer ruin, hidden away in one of their contraptions. The other was held by Serana's mother, in the Soul Cairn. -- I'll explain what that is later," he added, seeing Isran's brows knit together in confusion again. "While we were trying to find her mother, Harkon attacked us... We were both captured, and..." Ralsten trailed off, running his tongue over his teeth.

Isran's attention moved to Serana. "And I'm guessing you couldn't stop them?"

"I-" she started.

"-don't you dare try to blame her. She was outnumbered, WE were outnumbered. I was turned -- I don't know if he intended to force me to join him or to cause chaos in your ranks. I do know that I -- Harkon needs to be stopped before he can do this to anyone else. Tell me there's a cure for this."

"And if I said there IS no cure?"

Quietly Ralsten glanced to Serana; her expression was calm, unreadable, and he gave her a tiny smile before looking back to Isran. "I guess if anyone would know, it would be you and your Dawnguard."

"Flattery will get you nowhere with me, vampire."

Ralsten frowned at him. "It's not flattery if it's the truth. I was trusted by you until the fangs appeared -- now I'm not worthy enough for your help? After everything I've done and suffered for the Dawnguard?"

Isran's eyes narrowed. "If you were turned by them then you are suspect."

"Then cure me, damn it!" the elf growled. "What's happened to me won't change the fact I intend to stop him and his prophecy, but if you won't help...then I guess we're doing this on our own." He looked to Serana at that and she gave him the barest of nods but her expression remained unreadable. "At least let Dexion read these Scrolls so we-"

"He can't," Isran interrupted. "He can't read anything at the moment."

"What?" Serana asked, eyes widening. "What do you mean? We need him."

"He's gone blind. Something about not having properly prepared himself."

Ralsten groaned. "Of course... Now what?"

"We don't know. We weren't even sure you'd return."

The three stood in silence for a moment; Ralsten could feel a dampness seeping into his collar and there was water beginning to bead on Serana's shoulders -- if it weren't for the fact he barely felt cold anymore, remaining this close to the falls in this chill...

"Can we speak to Dexion anyway?" Serana asked finally. "Surely he'd have an idea on what to do, or where we could go or who to speak to. We can't just...leave this undone. We have to stop my father."

Isran studied them both wordlessly, a sour expression on his face; after some time he turned to climb back into his horse's saddle. "I will bring Dexion to you. The fort is protected with- it's protected against vampires, and I will not lower the defenses for your sake and put us all at risk."

Serana nodded. "Then we'll wait here."

Isran turned the horse's head up the pass and made it a few steps before Ralsten called after him.

"Isran, wait-"

The man turned to him with a look of annoyance.

"Hidden within the straw of the cot I was using is a small bag," Ralsten said. "I would be indebted to you further if you could bring it with you, when you bring Dexion back."

He stared Ralsten down for several moments. "Fine." Turning back to the path Isran kicked the horse into a gallop, leaving Ralsten and Serana standing together in the road.

Ralsten watched him go until he was out of sight, then blew out a frustrated sigh. "I guess we should plan on traveling to Cyrodiil, if Dexion can't help us."

Serana sighed through her nose, nodding. "You're probably right. But I hope that's not the case." She turned to look up at him. "...you lied to him for me."

"Of course I did. I won't let him or anyone else blame or harm you over this mess. Telling him the truth and the whole story wouldn't have changed that either."

"Is..." she started, then trailed off and moved to go back to where they'd been sitting.

"Is...?" he repeated.

"Is a cure what you really want? Or was that just to shut Isran up?"

Ralsten came over and dropped to the grass beside her, thinking. "...a bit of both, I guess. It's just...I think of my childhood, and I recognize that it's possible I could exist like this without hurting anyone if there's no choice. But I must also remember what they did to my mother when they learned what she was. I have my daughter to think of-" he bit off the words, glancing at her.

A sort of wistful smile crossed her face. "I envy her...having a father that truly cares." When she looked up to him again her smile was kinder. "I believe she has father that will raise her well, no matter what afflicts him. And I truly hope she never has to witness you dying in front of her."

Ralsten chuckled. "That's truly my main fear - what this would mean for her, regardless if I died or not. If I absolutely had to I suppose I could empty that home...have my grandfather's farm rebuilt. Live close enough to Solitude for Lucia to go to the Bard's college but far enough from there that I would stand a chance at hiding what I am."

"Rebuilt? What happened to it?"

"When they learned my adopted mother was a vampire, after they threw me into that cell to keep watch over me and make sure I wasn't corrupted, they burned the farm to the ground. I still hold the deed to the land but nothing remains there."

"Oh," Serana said, brow furrowing. "That's terrible...to lose your family and your home in such a short time. Where did you go?"

"The Breton couple that my father had hired to run the storefront, Feraan and Eveline, took me in until I was old enough to be fully on my own... I'm trusting Lucia to them, and to Lydia, if anything should happen to me -- they're getting on a bit in age but they have a very shrewd daughter they're teaching to take their place, and I know they'll take care of Lucia without question and would raise her well."

Serana nodded at that and a comfortable silence fell between them. It slowly crept towards evening and when she'd offered him one of the blood potions he'd declined and instead took his crossbow and disappeared into the forest. He was gone for nearly an hour before he came back with a dead wild goat slung over his shoulders.

He set about shaving off a strip of the coarse fur from around the goat's neck, then cleaned that spot with a rag soaked in the river.

"What are you doing?"

"I can't speak for you but I'm hungry, and I'd rather keep those potions for a time when we've nothing else around."

"You're hungry because you're newly changed," she said quietly. She got up and came to stand over his shoulder as he dried off the shaved areas with a another rag he'd pulled from inside his shirt. "Those who have recently turned take some time to adjust and will feel the hunger more...keenly, I guess. And more often."

"How long before it all...ah, settles?"

Serana shrugged. "I don't really know...I'm sorry. You're the first I've ever sired, and my parents took care of growing our clan on their own terms. Since it didn't involve me they weren't all that forthcoming with information."

Ralsten nodded and stood, getting away from the muddy shoreline and back to the place they'd sat together in earlier. The goat had a crossbow bolt sticking out of its chest, closer to its left shoulder but it had sunk in deeply enough to kill it in one shot; as he sat down Ralsten braced it against the cliff's base -- sort of balancing it on its hooves in his grasp.

"Well," he sighed, not looking especially eager, "I guess we'll find out of this IS how my adopted mother survived all those years."

He bent his head to the shaved neck of the goat and after a few false starts finally shut his eyes and bit down. Serana watched him silently; after a few swallows he straightened and looked to her.

"It's like drinking water...it's nothing compared to...to..." He grimaced, not really wanting to complete that thought.

Serana looked thoughtful at that - almost curious - and Ralsten shuffled away on his knees to offer her a chance to try it. She bent to drink from his bite and fed briefly, then leaned up to nod to him in agreement.

"Go on," she said as she wiped her mouth clean. "I don't need to feed just yet."

Ralsten fed until he felt sated, then butchered the goat properly and wrapped the cut meats in its own skin -- when Isran came back he would offer it to him to take back to the fort's larder in the hopes that the goat wouldn't be left mostly wasted; he kicked the guts and bones out into the pool for the fish and scavengers to find then returned to his spot beside Serana, leaned his head back against the cliff wall, and closed his eyes.

-------------------------------------------------

"Wow. Look at this place. No one's been here in centuries. I doubt there's any other place like it in Skyrim. It's beautiful."

Ralsten wholeheartedly agreed with Serana's sentiment; the Ancestor Glade stretched out beneath them -- they'd entered through a dark and gloomy tunnel cut through the mountainside and had emerged at the top of a ridge overlooking the glade, with old and worn stairs carved into the ground leading down to where springs bubbled and stonehenges dotted the pools.

The air here was hot and humid and as they descended the stairs clusters of moths the size of songbirds fluttered out of their path to swarm above the flowers and reeds along the pool's shore.

In the very center of the glade was an area of pools that had been built up higher than the ones around it, and there was a large stone there with a circular opening carved into it that had something hanging from a pair of hooks within it. Ralsten went to examine the stone and its hanging object while Serana carefully waded over to rest her hand on the trunk of one of the slender, pink-flowering trees that had taken root in the pools.

Ralsten reached up into the hole of the large stone and pulled free what looked like a curved, double-handled blade; near him, strangely, was a pillar of light that came from the sky -- he could see no source for it nor could he see the "top" of the pillar, and it was as wide as the pool it ended in.

"I've never seen anything like this...have you?" He examined the blade briefly, then looked into the brightly lit waters under the pillar - nothing seemed out of the ordinary about it, and there was no sound here save for the bubbling of water and the rustling of the grass in the gentle breeze.

"No. I've not even heard of any place like this, not even in a book," Serana answered. She glanced curiously at the blade he held, then reached up to pull a branch of the tree down and smelled it. "Odd. The flowers don't have a scent."

"Maybe not to us," Ralsten said after a pause. He looked toward the northern shore where a swarm of the moths fluttered. "Those things wouldn't be here if there wasn't something luring them."

"I guess that's true," Serana replied.

He stepped over beside her and looked at the tree; there were squarish spots where it seemed the bark had been stripped away and then regrown. Looking between the blade in his hand and the size of markings on the trunk he knew this had to be one of the canticle trees Dexion had mentioned, and that he held the knife needed to remove the bark.

"All right...draw knife, and tree, and bark..." Ralsten murmured to himself as he set the edge of the blade in place and gave it an experimental tug downward.

The knife bit into the bark but he only managed to move a tiny bit - maybe the width of his smallest finger, if that - and with a grunt he began to pull and tug, working it down through the bark until he held a strip of it that was the width of the knife and about as long as his hand from fingertips to his wrist. A smell somewhat familiar, something like fresh cut pine, filled the air around them...and then so did a few of the moths that were fluttering nearby.

Serana smiled at the sudden attraction then looked around to spot other swarms nearby. "It looks like Dexion was right. I wonder how many you need..."

With a shrug Ralsten stuck the blade into his belt and waded away from the central pool toward the nearest cluster of moths on the nearby shore; they joined the others in flying around him -- there were already enough that he could feel the breeze of their wings as they circled him.

"Unless my vision's playing tricks..." he heard Serana say from somewhere behind him, "there's some kind of magical effect around you already."

"Is there?" Ralsten asked, looking around. He could only see flapping wings; it wasn't until he moved toward the steps they'd come down and then circled around the shoreline toward a thin waterfall that he caught a glimpse of his reflection and saw a sort of shimmering halo around him - faint, but it was there.

He walked halfway around the shore of the bubbling pools, gaining an ever growing group of moths swirling around him.

"Woah -- I think that might have been what we're waiting for," Serana called from where she'd remained at the central pool. "You're surrounded with this...glow."

The elf moved back to the center and stepped into the central pillar of light (he could think of no other reason for it to be here) and took the first Scroll Serana handed to him.

She studied him, looking worried for a moment. "Are you...ready to try this?"

"I'm either ready or about to go blind, or mad, or both," Ralsten answered, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile even though his stomach was knotting up with anxiety.

He took in a breath and held it, and then slid the scroll open. Images flashed through his mind, as did words and sounds; it all seemed to hit him at once but he knew within the perceived chaotic mess was a certain order, if he focused...so he did, and was hardly aware of himself handing the scroll back to Serana and taking up the second one.

And then, as suddenly as it had hit him, the rush of sound and images were gone, as were the moths; he didn't think he'd passed out but he "came to" to find Serana kneeling with him in the pillar of light, worry in her face and with her hands on her shoulders being the only thing keeping him upright.

"Are you okay? Almost thought I'd..." she trailed off a moment, searching his face. "...that I'd lost you there. You went as white as the snow."

"That," he started, his words feeling strange and so quiet compared to what he'd seen. "-that felt strange," he managed after a pause to pull his thoughts back into order.

"I could see it in your eyes...you looked about a thousand leagues away." After a few breaths she pulled her hands away and settled them on her knees, leaning toward him. "What did you see? Did you see Auriel's Bow? Do you know where we can find it?"

Ralsten licked his lips, mouth feeling dry. "It's in a place called Darkfall cave. The scrolls gave me its exact location."

She smiled, looking excited and relieved. "Then let's get going. I want to get there before my father has a chance to track us down."

Nodding, Ralsten stood with her and began to wade to the shore and the steps that were their path out of here...then, from the direction of the tunnel that led to the glade came the familiar howl of a death hound.

"Of course," Ralsten sighed, pulling his weapons from his belt.

----------------------------------------------

Things had taken such a strange turn.

In the Darkfall caverns (as beautiful as Blackreach had been, full of glowing plants and creatures) they had met Gelebor who, in return for telling them their way forward to obtain Auriel's Bow, had asked that they kill his brother, Arch-Curate Vyrthur.

At first they'd refused and questioned why he would ask such a thing; Gelebor had solemnly told them of the true history of the Falmer and their disappearance, and called the twisted and ugly Falmer that now populated the darkest reaches of Skyrim "The Betrayed" and explained how they had swept into this chantry and had killed all but himself and his brother...whom he believed was now corrupted by them, and needed to be destroyed.

With no other way to obtain the bow they'd had no choice but to agree; Gelebor had thanked them, given them an ewer and instructions on how to get from wayshrine to wayshrine, and sent them on their way. They'd gone through the first wayshrine and kept moving forward until they'd emerged in a hidden valley that was...wet, and cold, and gloomy. A persistent wind blew and with it carried the peculiar, crisp scent of snow and somewhere distant but near enough to hear came the sound of rushing water.

"I think I prefer the caves to this, and I thought I was tired of caves," Serana said somewhere behind him, just barely audible over the wind.

For a time Ralsten and Serana stood at the entrance of the cavern system, eying the dreary landscape; there were crumbling roads and broken arches and pillars that they could see amidst the scrub grasses and felled trees. Gelebor had given them only a general idea of where the wayshrines were inside the vale so it was up to them to actually locate them -- the only ones they knew would be fairly easy to find would be the first one that was along a road just outside of this cave, and then one that overlooked a large, frozen lake: finding both would be simple (especially the lake) but for the rest of them they would have to explore until they'd located them all.

They followed the barren path until they reached a split then had followed the northern path until they spotted an ethereal figure through the skeletal trees -- their first wayshrine. Prelate Athring had greeted them and proven to be just as incapable of answering questions as Gelebor had warned them he'd be; Ralsten had stumbled through the correct means to communicate with the spirit (which seemed to be simple yes or no answers) and then the Prelate had allowed him to step into the wayshrine to dip the ewer into the basin at its center. With that completed they'd gone back the way they had come and followed the path in the other direction, passing beneath a relatively intact archway and traveling through a roughly hewed pass cut into the mountain.

The pass was clogged with webbing and several frostbite spiders they'd had to quickly dispatch as they'd dropped down on them from above but soon Ralsten and Serana found themselves in a whole other valley...and this one was snowy and full of ridges, waterfalls both frozen and flowing, and a river that was only partly frozen over.

Ralsten groaned -- once again he was thankful he couldn't feel the cold as the snow pelted him. Behind him Serana pulled her hood up, then crunched a few steps ahead to try and peer through the swirling white.

"Any direction look better to you than any other?" he asked.

She was silent for a moment, then pointed to the south. "I think I see something that way but it's hard to tell from here."

He looked again to the waterfalls, to the river, and up and down the shore and saw nothing to give them direction. "It's as good a choice as any."

Her eyes were sharper than his; the further south they went, sticking to the river's edge, the more apparent another shimmering, ghostly figure became, and soon Ralsten was standing before Prelate Celegriath. After another bumbling yes-or-no conversation he was dipping more water into his ewer, and the Prelate ignored him afterward just as Athring had after he'd taken water from that basin earlier.

They could see no way to cross the river safely from this end of it; they went back the way they'd come and he wasn't certain how long they walked as the snow made it difficult to see more than a few feet ahead of them -- he assumed they'd long since walked by the pass they'd come through to get to this valley.

"There has to be a way across this river," Serana muttered as they stomped along. "Even if time has broken it by now."

Ralsten nodded; the further up the river they went the closer the treeline and cliffs came to the shore until they were winding their way among the pines and able to see even less through the low-hanging branches and the snowstorm. At last he heard a sigh of relief from Serana, and stepped out from underneath a pine to stand at her back, staring ahead to what she'd spotted.

Finally (though it wasn't a mortal-made structure or anything of the like) they'd come to where the river began -- a large waterfall pounded down into a pool that then flowed outward, and here there was a bridge of thick ice over the pool furthest from the fall's base as well as the shore that curved around the pool's edge. Ralsten, even though he wasn't in his heaviest plate, didn't want to risk the ice and they picked their way along the pool's shore and crossed over to the other side, finding themselves staring up a rather treacherous looking stone staircase carved into the rocks.

The climb up was tense with several slips and an overall slow going but soon they were crossing through another pass (this one seemed like a natural gap, unlike the one they'd come through earlier) and found themselves in yet another valley, but at least here the wind and the snow weren't such an annoyance.

The river here was free flowing and not iced over but to their north was another stone pathway along a ridge that led to a natural stone bridge; on the other side of the valley from where they stood was another wayshrine, with its ghostly guardian standing out against the snow like a beacon.

They headed toward the bridge and in the distance they could still hear the waterfalls that fed into the wide river. The top of the mountains that surrounded them were shrouded in clouds and barely more than shadows through the cover but overall it was a...strangely peaceful, amazing view.

"It's beautiful here."

Ralsten nodded. "It is. I'm getting rather tired of the snow though," he added after a moment, shooting her a grin.

Serana laughed quietly. "So am I. But it could be worse."

"It could, but I'd rather not press my luck."

Halfway across the bridge Serana sighed. "That's not promising."

Ralsten turned to her and saw her looking into the distance; following her line of sight he could see another stone bridge, and it was lined with a fence made of the strange, sinewy building material the Falmer used.

"I was hoping they would have left after wiping out the chantry's people," he grunted. He supposed it was stupid to have hoped there wouldn't be any here.

The fencing on that bridge was the first sign of the Falmer that they'd seen but it gave them little comfort to know to expect them somewhere else in this valley. Ralsten quickly collected the water from the wayshrine and as he stepped out of the shrine he noted what seemed like pillars and another path leading down behind it; cautiously he walked around to the back of the shrine and there could spy stairs and a path down -- was there another shrine in that direction? There was only one way to really find out...

Standing at the top of the stairs gave them a surprisingly wide view of a great frozen lake that stretched out from the stairs's base, and that out in its center was...it was mostly a cluster of stones atop a small hill jutting from the ice's surface, with stairs that led up to a large stone that wasn't of the same type as the rest around it. It was strangely familiar to Ralsten and at the lake's edge he'd weighed the risk and reward of trying to reach that stone without truly understanding why he felt drawn to it; Serana hadn't seemed to understand why he'd care either but had agreed to follow him regardless and together the two of them very carefully slipped and skated out toward the large standing stone.

The closer they got the more it became apparent that the cluster of stones were built on top of the other rocks that formed the lake's edge and that it was here that the water fell from the lake into the river below.

"What is this thing, exactly?"

"A...well," Ralsten started. The hard ice under his feet gave way to slightly softer, powdery stuff as they reached the base of the steps that led up to the enormous stone that was oddly out of place. "If I'm right..."

As they climbed the steps a part of that stone began to glow; ancient glyphs awakened and as Ralsten reached the top he recognized the language of the dragons carved there -- a singular word that burned brightly in his eyes as well as his mind.

Gaan, it seemed to whisper to him -- he knew it was 'stamina,' or at least that was as close a word as he had to explain its meaning.

"What's this?" Serana asked, gently reaching up to touch the stone carved with the word. The stone itself was covered with snow and ice, but the word had burned outward and was most visible. "It seems so out of place."

Ralsten shook his head, gathering his thoughts (learning a new word always made his mind a bit fuzzy as it sank in). "It's another Thu'um - usually they've been carved into these giant walls with...with dragon statues and decorated pillars and history carved in with it. I've never seen just a plain rock out in the middle of nowhere."

Serana trailed her fingers across the stone's surface, then began to brush and pick ice out of other carvings near the Thu'um. Ralsten stood at her shoulder and was able to pick out the words she uncovered, but he only knew the words of power because they MADE themselves known -- he could read but not understand what was written here.

"Het...nok kopraak...d-do...svolo..." he murmured quietly, then shook his head. "I only understand this one here, gaan -- some are powerful, some aren't."

"And this is some kind of history?"

He nodded. "From what little I've learned from the Greybeards. I don't know the language and at best I can only sound out what I see...only the words that're actually words of power are the ones I just...learn, because I'm Dragonborn." The elf eyed the stone as Serana continued to uncover more of the words there - no more jumped out at him as powerful and he was left looking at words he could repeat back to her but not translate.

"I guess we should keep moving," she said then, dusting her hands of snow. "Though it would be interesting to come back and try to translate this someday."

"Assuming we can find a book or one of us learns the tongue," he chuckled.

Together they went, side by side, down the stairs, then Ralsten came to a stop as he felt the ground under his boots...pulse. It brought to mind the feeling of dropping something heavy to the floor near his own feet and he looked around warily; Serana had much the same careful look on her face - it was clear she'd felt it too - and her attention was roaming around their surroundings.

Then, with a pair of earsplitting cracks, two large...things...burst out of the ice out near the center of the lake. At first Ralsten had only the impression of bright colors but then he heard a familiar roar; eyes narrowing he glared up at two oddly colored dragons that were circling overhead and clearly eying them.

"Stay on the stairs here if you can," Ralsten ordered quietly, gaze briefly flicking to Serana. "I'd rather not risk us both getting knocked into this lake and trapped under the ice."

One of the dragons dove and a line of flame spewed from its mouth; Ralsten dove one way and Serana the other, landing in the snow as the dragon's breath melted the ice they'd been standing on - it refroze just as quickly as it had melted, taking on a sheen not unlike a mirror's surface.

He had gotten a better look as the dragon flew by -- this one was different than any he'd seen before. Its belly scales and the webbing of its wings were a pale yellow that blended into a muted orange, and what were normally spikes on the other dragons were flat, armored scales that extended down its spine - these were a bright blue, and its tail was flattened and wide like a beaver's.

The second dragon came down close on the tail of the first; Ralsten saw the maw opening to spew fire directly at him and sucked in a breath.

"FUS RO DAH-" the shout exploded out of him; the dragon had the sense to try and dip out of the way but the shout's power clipped the tip of a wing and sent the beast in a spiral to crash into the ice.

Ralsten stood, then immediately slipped on the ice and dropped to one knee; of all places to be fighting not one but two fire-breathing dragons, on top of a frozen lake had to be the absolute dumbest place he could think of.

Hoping that Serana would find ample cover near the rock wall (the dragons wouldn't be able to directly dive on her if she kept ducking around the sides) Ralsten began to slide and scramble for the far shore in the hopes he could lure both dragons that direction and fight them on solid ground.

One dragon certainly fell for the ruse and dove to lace his back painfully with another tongue of flame but the dragon's path forward had it swooping over the shore and beyond; hissing in pain and feeling blisters already forming Ralsten managed to get his feet onto the lake's shore and began to sprint up the stairs as best as he could. An approaching roar alerted him to the fact that the second dragon was also close behind him; he spun and then dove to avoid another breath of flames, then dragged himself upright and pulled his crossbow off his back.

He fired twice at what he believed was the first dragon that had attacked (there wasn't any way to tell them apart) and noted with some satisfaction that the belly scales weren't as impenetrable as the ones on their brethren; the two bolts sunk in and the dragon roared in response, dipping its wing to turn on a wingtip and dart higher and out of his range. It would take far more bolts than he had to actually kill one of them like this unless he somehow managed to hit one in...an eye, or sever an artery, or...or something else immensely, stupidly lucky.

He let the crossbow swing to his back on its strap and pulled his mace and sword (he no longer had his paired set of maces, thanks to Harkon) off his belt and readied himself to try and strike if one dove again.

The dragons didn't leave him waiting for long; one came in low and skimming the ground, its strange, beak-like mouth snapping for him as the other swooped in perpendicular to its sibling, spewing fire. To avoid the flames Ralsten found himself diving at the dragon who was attempting to snap him up in its mouth; at this awkward angle he bounced off the scales with his sword but managed to crack a mace into the joint of the jaw as the dragon skidded by -- the dragon roared and caught him in the side with one of its wings, sending Ralsten flying back several feet to land on his side and roll, but the blow to the head had clearly hurt the beast.

The one that was flying quickly turned however and sent a shower of fire at him where he lay in the snow; feeling his skin blistering again he let go of his sword and in desperation threw out his hand and cast the only spell he knew.

The swirling, wispy red energy hit the dragon breathing the fire and began to tear its health and strength from its body; he felt some relief as the stolen energies returned health to him and began to mend his burns and blisters. The dragon seemed to figure out something was wrong and went to fly away and out of his reach; without knowing what it'd truly do Ralsten lifted his head and let loose with the Thu'um he'd only just learned.

"GAAN!"

The dragon attempting to fly away began to falter, then dropped to the ground to hop a ways away and turn to fix Ralsten with a brilliant blue eye, its chest heaving as it panted; gritting his teeth (not ALL of the burns had been mended by...whatever that spell was and had done) Ralsten stood and brandished his weapons again. This dragon, along with the one he'd struck in the jaw, spread out to flank him.

The one to his left opened its mouth and roared and then the roar was abruptly cut off as a spike of ice was incredibly, precisely shot into the exposed roof of its mouth; Ralsten charged in to take advantage of Serana's amazing strike, bringing his mace around to smash into the joint of the nearest wing while plunging his sword through the webbing, gouging a long and jagged tear through it. He ducked the next blast of fire as the dragon retaliated then was sent rolling across the ground again as the other dragon slammed its head into his hip; Serana continued to harass the dragon with the injured wing with ice but Ralsten could also see the glowing red of the draining spell striking it too.

When he came to a stop he hooked his mace back to his belt and took up his sword with both hands; it felt odd to be holding just one weapon but he knew he could put more strength behind the swing if he held it in a two-handed grip. Darting forward he threw himself in a skid on his knees as the other flanking dragon let loose with another gout of flame -- it mostly struck the other dragon who didn't seem too fazed by the attack but the flames blinded it enough that it did not see Ralsten rising to his feet and coming forward to jam his sword into the side of its neck, scrabbling in the snow to drive the blade in deeper.

Its roar was more of a pained shriek and Ralsten threw himself to the side to avoid the flailing head and wings; at a perfect moment it turned toward Serana and she threw ice down its throat, with the flattened armored scales along its spine bending outward strangely to suggest the ice had penetrated deeply and had been stopped from blowing out the back of its neck by the scales.

The strange, fire-like effect was already eating away at its form as it collapsed to the snow and as Ralsten stood he felt the almost invigorating effect of the dragon's soul entering his body; he was breathing heavily and sweating just as badly - he couldn't truly feel the cold but he could feel the crackle of ice beneath his armor as his sweat froze and stuck armor to skin.

The other dragon was charging at him from across the snow; Ralsten extended a hand out to the beast and sent that draining spell reaching for it. It nimbly dodged to the side and leaped into the air, its beak-shaped mouth open and arching down for him.

The shout Ralsten loosed blew the dragon's head to the side but didn't halt its forward motion; his sword carved a strip of meat and scale from its neck and shoulder but the dragon's momentum sent them both tumbling to the ground with all of the weight of the huge beast falling on top of him. He felt all sorts of unsettling pops across his body and a blinding pain from being crushed beneath the damned thing; moments later the dragon crawled off him and crawled along the ground, leaving a thick trail of blood staining the snow behind it. Serana ran forward, both hands out toward the beast and channeling that red-tinted spell.

The dragon shuddered, snapped at her weakly, then slumped to the ground and bled and died. Ralsten was only faintly aware of the dragon's soul entering him as he gingerly pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, panting and hurting in ways he'd never felt before.

Snow wafted up as Serana threw herself down beside him. "Are you all right?"

"I don't think...I broke anything...but that really hurt," he panted. He couldn't lift his head to look at her and had to stay there hunched over the snow for some time before he felt like he could move. Everything ached but his ribs especially so; very carefully he moved to retrieve his sword from the dragon's remains then Serana helped him to slowly make his way back up the stairs to the wayshrine.

The Prelate there did not acknowledge them; on the inside of the shrine the walls seemed to be portals to other areas - probably the shrines they're already been to - but it still blocked the wind and acted as a fully sheltered structure. Serana helped him lower himself down against one of the walls that wasn't a shimmering portal, then sat beside him anxiously.

"I'll...I'll be fine," he managed weakly, smiling at her. "I just need to sit here a bit."

"You're just saying that to make me worry less."

"Did it work?" he asked with a tired chuckle.

Serana just shook her head and stayed at his side, staring out into the blowing snow as he rested.

#In Your Hands #iyh #In Your Hands ch 11 #serana #dragonborn #bosmer #dawnguard #vampires #Ralsten #Gelebor #AU #Skyrim

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takaraphoenix · 7 years

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Shadowhunters?

I feel like that show is like nearly unfair to ask because I feel like I already put all the thoughts into the A/Ns of my Shadowhunters fics. Like, if you’d go through them chronologically, you’d probably get the answer. But sure, I got a couple hours to spare to do it in one go :D

And sorry for the long wait, but I knew from the moment I got this ask that this one was going to be the longest. Gotta find the time to write that down too.

I, quite obviously, love the show. But it might also be one of the most flawed shows I’m currently watching.

The thing is, when I started watching it, I binged the first season after it first aired and then turned my back on it because it was just Not Good. Like, at that point I was 100% convinced I would not tune in for season 2.

About nine months later, my parents were interested in watching it - we have those family TV nights, it’s a tradition - and I figured, oh well, won’t kill me. And what can I say? I actually liked it more.

That is a hundred and fifty percent thanks to Amelie Plaas-Link.

Amelie lends her voice to Clary in the German dub - and she completely saved that show for me. Like, there’s a lot of plot that bothers me a lot about this show - and I will get into that in a moment - but my rule of thumb is “If I can’t stand the main character, I’m not gonna force it” (that rule was established when I finally managed to give up on Grey’s Anatomy after too many wasted years of trying to watch it for the sake of everything else).

Now, in the German dub I realized, she’s not that bad, it’s Katherine McNamara. Like, yeah, she’s a cutie and she looks good in the role. But she does not act well in that role. At least not in season 1. Season 2, she’s gradually getting better at acting, but oh dear, her performances in season 1 are downright painful. Her constant flat whining and the line-deliveries were so nerve-grading that not even the gloriousness that is Dominic Sherwood could have saved season 1 for me.

But Amelie Plaas-Link gives Clary a more grown-up feeling. She delivers the same dialogue, but with more conviction, more feeling and definitely less childishly high-pitched whining.

Where Katherine’s line-delivery makes Clary feel like a whiny, entitled brat, Amelie gives Clary the feeling of a traumatized, scared girl, which she should be.

So that rewatch in German? That was what ultimately got me hooked and made me watch season 2 in English - and yes, Katherine does get better in this season, thankfully enough.

Now let’s talk plot.

Season 1 forced the “Love at first sight” trope way too hard. Between Clary and Jace, as well as Magnus and Alec and even to an extend Simon and Isabelle gave the same vibe for like the first half of season 1. It’s like the writers instantly decided that to write a plotline that includes characters falling in love would be too exhausting to write?

I’m very grateful - but also confused - about the turn Simon and Izzy took. Where the first half really made it look as though he was instantly hooked on her and she was interested in him, they didn’t push that. I think they could have, you know, still let the two have screentime with each other in 2A because completely dropping all interactions between them was also not the best move, but I appreciate that they took 2B and have the two now slowly inching closer together again. To make this one love-story maybe an actual falling in love slowly thing instead of the love at first sight.

I don’t have the malice to get into why I dislike Clary and Jace as a couple. I just do. And that Jace instantly was so obsessed with her that he basically threw everything else over board for the sake of helping her just made the “hook” for that couple really awful for me. Like, you do not treat your family and friends like shit just because you’re busy mooning over a chick you literally just met. And yes, Jace is my favorite character, but his behavior in the first half of season 1 in particular was just not good.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, I do love the show and I had my “hook”. My hook being Jalec. That’s also the reason I started watching this show. If I’m going to repeat everything I said in A/Ns before, I’ll also repeat that part.

I watched the movie, back when it came out, and instantly adored Jalec and was hyped about it. Then there was no second movie. By the time the show rolled around, I only have vague recollection of two things - there was a female lead who seemed badass and there were a dark-haired grump who was canonically in love with a very cute blonde twink.

Show!Jalec are just such an improvement to movie!Jalec, to be honest. And yeah, every single parabatai-magic scene in season one had me at the edge of my seat squealing with OTP feels. When even Clary commented that that looked awfully intimate, I wildly agreed. They were just so precious, I loved it.

And then there was Malec. I was aware of its existence - after watching the movie, I went to the fandom sure that it must be flooded with Jalec, but instead there was only Alec with this guy who had like five minutes screen-time in the movie and wait what? So yeah, bit disappointed when I read online that Jalec was not endgame. And thus I also knew what to expect in the movie.

But it was, again, this love at first sight thing. At least on Magnus’ end. I do like how it took Alec some convincing, but generally their plotline was what I disliked the most about season 1 - not due to my personal feelings about the ship but due to how badly it was written.

It was the cheapest rom-com plot of all rom-com plots. “Let’s invent a female OC just for the sake of drama! And oh, let’s squeeze a wedding in here even though we are waaay too busy with actually important stuff!” and that Magnus literally came in the “Speak now or forever hold your piece” moment and Alec dashed over to him to kiss him.

I’m pretty sure this fandom would have at least a 100 better Malec fanfiction of how they could have gotten together, but the show just turned it into such an overused rom-com trope that was also so poorly executed.

Let’s be real, the “Malec” episode was a giant Malec fangirl using her old fic plot. It was so over the top, they should have gotten together on a private level and not in public literally in front of the whole Institute. It was way too rom-com… as Simon even points out afterward and yes, Simon’s reaction was exactly what I picture the writer must have squealed like when pitching the plot.

I really wish they had given the ship a more dignified way to set sails instead of such an over-the-top squeaky fangirl fanfiction way. And yes, I’m aware I’m hitting a stone-wall with the shippers there because they’re just happy their ship sailed, but what I’m saying is there could have and should have been a better written way to make them sail.

Not to mention the reactions. I’m sorry, but… Robert and Maryse took that shit like fucking saints! Like. Seriously. This isn’t even about Alec being gay, this is about Alec being the one to propose to someone, Alec being the one to try and better their family’s image by doing so and then Alec kissing someone else in the middle of the wedding with everyone watching.

As a parent, I would have been furious. It was Alec’s idea to rush this proposal. Yes, a political marriage was the idea of his parents, but Alec chose Lydia and Alec was the one who decided to rush this whole thing.

And then they have this glorious wedding where I’m assuming everyone with a name and who is important was present because the whole purpose of the wedding was to better the Lightwood name and to do so you gotta show off. And then Alec just rans off into the arms of not just someone else but a male Downworlder.

And even without that “male Downworlder” part, this would have already been a publicity nightmare for the Lightwood family, but considering their society and what we heard and learned of Shadowhunters to that point, the “male” alone would have been an outrage but the “Downworlder” part on top of it should have like… caused at least some outrace? A little bit? But it was all totally polite. And yes, the Lightwood parents expressed their distain but let’s be real for a second, that was justified.

If my kid came out to me like that and then introduced a centuries old guy to me with the word “No, no, we’re not dating, it’s love” - because it wasn’t at that point, it wasn’t about the true love get together but about Alec admitting to his own sexuality and I do like that addition and that they acknowledged it instead of looking at it through pink-tinted glasses, but honestly that must have been such an additional blow? Like, “Okay, you just ruined our reputation. For a guy. Who’s a Downworlder. But at least it’s True Love, right?”, grasping for straws but then to have your son essentially laugh in your face?

Holy shit, during that whole scene, Robert and Maryse were saints, in my eyes. I mean, this could have gone down way different. On a homophobic level, on a racist against Downworlders level, on a ruined reputation level. There were a lot of angles that could have been used to have either or both Lightwoods lash out and for Alec to face serious reprecussions, but instead he just got a mild warning about how he should watch out because the guy he chose had quite the reputation. And like? Wow, you had more luck than brains there, Alec.

So yes, as someone who loathes rom-com movies because they’re brainless and have the most ridiculous excuses for loads of drama that could be avoided if people talked to each other, the way they handled Malec’s getting together was just not satisfying to watch.

On that note, I want to talk about Magnus for a moment. I love the guy! Magnus was literally my biggest surprise in this show, because going in, I was semi determined and sure Magnus would end up being a character I wouldn’t like because he gets in the way of my OTP and I get very protective over my OTPs. Instead, he became my second favorite character within the first season.

His flourish, his charms, his wit, his smirks, his outfits, his magic, his personality - literally everything about him. Magnus Bane is amazing and I love him - and Harry Shum Jr only makes him all the better. He plays him so brilliantly, I was baffled. I only knew Harry from Glee and he didn’t get a lot of chances to really act there because he was such a background character, but oh boy, that guy can act.

And thus my OT3 for this show was born, because is Jalec is OTP and Malec is canon, let’s just throw them all together and see how Magnus and Jace work (spoiler: they work so well and Jagnus fast rose up to become my second favorite pairing for this franchise).

So, as you might have noticed at this point, this particular review is a bit of a mess and all over the place, but let’s stay with the characters for a while.

Simon didn’t really do enough to get me interested in him until season 2. Like, he was just… there. Like in the movie (I legit do not remember a single thing about him in the movie). And while the same could be said about movie!Izzy, she did really get me hooked in season 1 already.

I love it when the gorgeous, sexy girls are also smart and can kick ass. It’s normally either only one of those three very amplified or a “You can have two out of three”-kind of deal. Very rarely *cough* Buffy *cough* do you get all three of them. And boy, is that woman gorgeous and deadly.

Let’s circle back to Lydia for a second. I know she’s a show OC and she was really literally only created for the above mentioned rom-com drama, but she shot up to become my third favorite Shadowhunters character. Particularly due to the “Malec” episode, because she took that was so much grace and kindness.

I would have slapped Alec in the face? Like? No matter that it’s a political marriage and neither of them are in for the fuzzy feels. If I get a wedding dress and got important people watching me… and then my groom-to-be runs off with the High Warlock? Wow. That woman definitely has more understanding than imaginable. The way she handled and took that made me admire her for her strength and kindness and it really made me headcanon very hard that Alec and Lydia would become the best of friends (Lydia needs to return to the show).

Since we’re circling through characters here; Luke. Luke was the first thing that really got my attention in the show, because Oh my gosh, it’s the Old Spice Guy! I love that guy! And his voice! *squeal*. Which, yes, that was exactly my reaction when Luke first showed up. I really like Luke and I love the change they did from the book, that he’s a cop here. It just… fits really well, to get them involved with those cases, to have an in into all the supernatural attacks through the cop investigating them.

I just wish that, down the road, that would have been a bit more fleshed out. With Luke and Alaric being partners, both being wolves, I kind of assumed that the precinct was crawling with Downworlders and that they were… organized. Which would just make so much sense, world-building wise. You infiltrate police, hospitals and fire departments with Downworlders, you have a network of them to control Downworlder business leaking into the mortal world. But if they’re not aware of each other, or end up partnered with a mundane, that’s just… chaos. And aren‘t Downworlders really around long enough to actually organize this?

I would have expected the captain to be a Downworlder, who keeps track on the Downworlders on his force and specifically asigns them the Downworld-related cases and keeps the mundies busy with mundie stuff. That is what would make sense, to me. And that is what’s lacking. They started the police-thing with a good idea behind it, but they didn’t flesh it out in a way that would have made more sense in the context of this world.

Now, the last character I want to get into is Camille. Camille doesn’t make sense to me. She’s the powerful leader of the vampires of New York, which sounds like a good deal. She’s been around for a long time so she must know how to survive.

But… still she just randomly decides to turn a totally random mundane into a vampire, even though she must have known the price it’d cost her? Why would she risk that, aside from “We need it for plot because we need vampire!Simon”? That was one of those writing decisions again that just happened for the sake of plot.

Other things about season 1 that bother me and were poorly put together/written out (to wrap season 1 up and move on to season 2):

Circle members frolicking outside of cells. This is a point that will be proven by season 2 again and again too, but we already encounter it in season one with not just Hodge but also the Lightwood parents. They’re essentially the Shadowhunters equivalent to Nazis and terrorists, Circle members I mean, but… they get off with a slap of the wrist? Because they… changed? Imagine real life news about someone involved in the Third Reich and who pleads he got better. Yeah, no, you going to jail for crimes against humanity, man. That those three not just didn’t get thrown into the City of Bones, but also get to walk around freely and that, on top of that, the Lightwoods seriously are the heads of the Institute? Like? Imagine that. I mean, really truly imagine that, former terrorists get to basically work in the White House. Something just doesn’t feel right there. And yes, the Lightwoods did change… but Hodge didn’t. And if they had fucking thrown their former terrorists into cells to rot in, then the entire thing about the Mortal Cup wouldn’t have happened. It’s just, and we’ll get back to this for season 2A, the juridical system of the Shadowhunters is juridiculous.

The fact that no one questions anything in this show, if being oblivious fits the plot. Like, when Clary and Jace went to that parallel world where they were dating and then moments later, learn that they’re siblings. And neither of them pause and think “Mh, how utterly strange that Valentine was a good guy and good dad to Clary in that alternate reality, but that Jace wasn’t raised as her brother then? And that they were dating and neither Jocelyn nor Valentine had any problem with that? Mh. Maybe that is worth investigating. Maybe we should like make a blood-test to see if the sociopathic manipulator really told us the truth.”. I mean, science exists in this world. How does no one make a test but instead just take the words of the genocidal maniac at face value? How is that a thing? Aside for the purpose of plot and tension.

Same goes for the reveal of Michael Wayland being alive slash not alive. Like. “Oh, wow, we found a guy in a closet in Chernobyl where we were brought to find Valentine and changing faces is A Thing Shadowhunters Can Do Easily, but we won’t question it at all” - even without the thought that Valentine could have been Michael Wayland all along.

Which brings me to the first time I legit was impressed by Clary. Because she actually didn’t buy it and she didn’t let Valentine fool her into giving him the Mortal Cup and I was Very Relieved by that because at that point, the story-telling was just too many convenient closed-eyes and turned-aways to allow plot to continue. It wasn’t clever writing, it was forced writing - and I’m not a fan of that.

If you have to force your characters to do Stupid Shit that doesn’t make sense if one were to use at least half their brain, just for the sake of creating obstacles and making the plot last longer, then I got some bad news about your writing abilities. They are not good. Because a good writer would be able to achieve those things in a natural flow and create tensions that fit the plotline instead of forcing a square through a hole, so to speak.

So yes, all the things I just mentioned as badly written character and plot decisions in season 1 were the reason I decided that I wouldn’t put up with season 2, topped off by my dislike for how Clary being played.

Then I rewatched season 1 with a superior dub for Clary and that improved the show a lot - seriously, the main character is a very important key-figure and it’s supposed to hold the show together if that falls flat, then the whole show might come apart by the seams. I also really fell even more in love with Jace when rewatching it and by the end of season one, when he sacrifices himself to keep his friends safe, I was left thinking “Okay, I really wanna know what happens to the puppy and if he’ll be safe”.

So I watched season 2.

I genuinely feel like they switched writers for that season, because season 2 has an entirely different feeling than season 1.

Where season 1 had a lot of awkward writing, it at least did have better pacing. Season 2 had more evened-out writing, but awful pacing (particularly in season 2B).

Season 2. Let me start off by what I said earlier I’d get back into; the juridiculous system of the Shadowhunters. The above mentioned unpunished terrorists aside, they throw Jace in jail. Like. He got abducted and tortured - and you see the torture on him when he arrives, he was not having a fun trip with daddy dearest. But they just… torture him even more and then throw him in jail? A society that fails to punish its own terrorists throws a victim into jail? And something just really went very wrong there.

And let me stay on the note on how ridiculous the Shadowhunters’ society and particularly their politics really are.

They change leaders more often than some people change their socks, for fuck’s sake. We started season 1 out with Robert and Maryse in charge. By 1x08, Lydia Branwell arrives and takes over. By 2x01, Victor Aldertree is the leader. But that changes when in 2x11 Imogen Herondale takes over, but no worries she passes on the mantel to Jace in 2x13, who instantly passes it on to Alec.

They have a total of seven leaders of the New York Institute within two season. Seven. That’s pathetically ridiculous. Whenever one thing goes wrong, their immediate solution is “put a new boss in charge” and their preferred method of doing so is “get someone who has no idea about the NY Institute”, like Lydia or Victor or Imogen. I mean, holy shit, how is that a thing? They’re in the middle of a war and instead of reinforcing their troops and helping out, they just change the leader to confuse everyone and make their own troops even more unstable? Wow.

Not to mention that, while personally I think Alec is a very good leader, he should have never gotten the position? I mean, Jace was more of a stand-in appointed by Imogen and how did neither she nor the Clave have any protests when Jace appointed Alec Lightwood, after the entire point of this game of musical chairs was to remove the Lightwoods from their position in power? Within two episodes of him being head, the Clave should have come knocking at their doors and, considering their track-record so far, put a new envoy to the Clave as the head instead of Lightwood Junior.

Moving on. Let’s get back into characters, because another major player is introduced this season. Maia Roberts.

I’m inclined to say that I don’t like Maia’s character, but then I feel like I can’t really say that because she doesn’t have a character. She is the single best example of this show’s inconsistent writing. It baffles me. I want to like her and I like the idea of her and I like how fanfiction interprets her, but her show version?

It’s ridiculous. She is introduces as “I don’t give a fuck about laws, I will downright murder you even though I have no proof at all that you’re actually the killer of my friend and even after it’s revealed you’re innocent, all you get is a lot of shit from me”. Then she changes into this cool character as a friend of Simon’s, who’s understanding and sweet. And then she flips the switch back on as she goes onto “I don’t give a fuck about laws, I will downright murder you because you could potentially active that Soul Sword and I don’t care that you’re my Alpha’s daughter, essentially, and that we could look for a better solution”. And then she switches right back to Simon’s friend who is cool. But then she goes back to being a total bitch toward Jace once again and acts like she really hates him - which, okay, I could live with because not everyone has to be friends with everyone - but then she sleeps with him.

Most of the time, show!Maia feels like they should have invented a second character and split her plotline up into the homicidal maniac bitch OFC and Maia, the good friend of Simon and loyal pack-member of Luke’s. Because those two characters squeezed into one? They clash. Trying to murder Clary clashes with being absolutely devoted to Luke, as she has been at literally every other instance of this show. Sometimes, I’m convinced show!Maia might be bipolar or schizophrenic, because those manic phases and mood swings kind of remind me of that.

Let’s talk about Victor Aldertree. While not being a Circle member, he’s is not a good guy either and he should have never become head of the Institute to begin with.

From his questionable methods of torturing one of his own soldiers who got abducted by the enemy, to randomly torturing Raphael a little later and best of all, getting one of his soldiers addicted to drugs.

I mean. There is? No fucking way? That Victor didn’t know how addictive Yin Fen is? He literally warns Isabelle about it, but he warns her in a “This stuff is addictive, watch out. Here, have the entire jar of it, I totally trust you not to get addicted and use it moderately even though it would have been ethically correct to order you to come to me or the infirmary once a day to have it applied”-kind of way that’s just really not right? And I have literally no idea why. If he were a Circle member and if this was a method to sabotage the good guys - getting her not just hooked on drugs but preventing her from entering the citadele - that would have made sense. But Aldertree isn’t a Circle member, so what exactly was his motivation behind this…?

And while we’re at it, let’s talk about Jocelyn.

I do not like Jocelyn. I mean, that woman is a walking Bad Decision after the other. From the moment she decided that having her daughter’s memories wiped instead of telling her truth would be a good idea? Even if she never introduced Clary to the Shadowhunters, she could have at least taught her that it was real and that Clary needed to watch out. Particularly as a child, Clary was vulnerable to attacks and she would have been safer if she too knew what to look out for. Not to mention the incredibly invasive decision to wipe Clary’s memories.

But hey, at least she’s a bad mom to all her kids, so there’s that. I mean, in that brief time she thought Jace to be her son, she shot him with the intention to kill him. Not based on anything Jace - or Jonathan - did recently, but solemnly based on the fact that baby!Jonathan had the ability to kill plants.

Based on something a toddler who couldn’t even talk or walk or use the potty did, she decided that her son was irredeemable. That he never learned how to control his powers - just like he never learned how to talk or walk or use the toilet, right? Because we have completely reached our full potential as toddlers and can not be taught anything anymore, right? Especially not control, of course.

Even if Jace had been Jonathan, there was a huge chance that he could have learned to control his powers over the past eighteen years. Because I actually believe that if Jonathan hadn’t been raised by the cruel, soulless and heartless Valentine, he too would have had a chance to learn how to control his urges and powers.

Not to mention, killing a couple plants is not exactly evil incarnated. If he had used his powers and accidentally killed like… the neighbors. Oh yeah. Heck, even just the neighbor’s cat would have already been more justified. But it were just a couple flowers that a baby who could not even control his bladder yet had killed.

Holy shit, you’re the worst mother on this planet. A good mom would have tried talking to her son first, would have clung to the smallest chance of hope that her son wasn’t the Antichrist. Instead, she doesn’t take any of the very valid doubts that sprung to my mind instantly even remotely into consideration and immediately decides to kill her own son.

Yeah no, I’m not sad that they killed her character off.

Let’s move on to happier topics, because I’m already getting a headache here.

Jace moving in with Magnus will forever be the best decision this show made and I will always cherish it and to my dying day, Jace is living with Magnus at the loft in all my fics and no one will ever take that away from me.

Ithuriel looked pathetic when we first met him. Like, I get that he was run down and exhausted, but his wings were the cheapest props I’ve ever seen. You can literally go to any convention ever and you’d find at least two cosplayers who made more convincing and realistic wings than that cheap shit and I am quite frankly embarrassed by what the show pulled there.

Not to mention, those angelic powers are Really Plot Convenient. Once again.

Clary and Jace share the same angelic blood. But the angel only calls out to Clary. Because if he’d also call out to Jace, then we might get suspicious that he doesn’t have demon blood, so conveniently that only works on one. And conveniently, Jace’s angelic blood powers only kick in after he is told that he even has them - and never-ever before in his entire life. Sure.

I do not support the show’s decision on making Raphael feed on Isabelle. He is old and experienced and asexual enough to deny her. And yes, that last one also plays into this, because if Raph was just a straight horn-dog, then I would have bought the old and experienced vampire being tempted by young, gorgeous, sexy Isabelle into feeding her and then also having sex with her. But since that angle falls flat, I really don’t see why that old and experienced vampire would have been weak enough to be tempted into that.

Robert and Maryse. Oh gods, I’m so angry about this, I don’t know if I have the energy to type it out.

I hate Maryse Lightwood and fuck you, show, for attempting the cheapest, flatest, dumbest redemption-arc in the history of redemption-arcs! Just fuck you!

Maryse Lightwood is Not A Good Mom and Not A Good Person.

She made Isabelle’s life a hell so far by emotionally abusing her. And yes, I see the way Maryse treated Isabelle as abuse. She has hugs and warm smiles for her sons while she treats Isabelle like… Cinderella, essentially. She has nothing but coldness and disappointment for her daughter and I’m sure that emotionally crippled her.

Maryse told Alec, when Jace was still on board of the Morning Star, that he should abandon his parabatai. Not just his adopted brother and best friend, but his parabatai. She, who she adopted Jace and should view him as her son, tells her biological son to cut all ties. She also can’t make the time to be at her son’s bedside when he is literally dying because he’s trying to use the parabatai-bond to find Jace.

Maryse repeatedly tells Max that Jace isn’t his brother, because a child that age doesn’t pick shit like that up after only once. She said it often enough to warp Max’s mind to the point that Max flat-out tells Jace to his face that he isn’t his brother.

And after Jace’s fears manifested thanks to that demon at Magnus’ loft during the runeing party, and he actually apologizes as though he has done something wrong, she needs to be arrogant about with that high-and-mighty “No, stop. I don’t want to hear your apologies”, visibly deflating Jace just to continue as though it’s a grand gesture “I’m the one who should apologize to you”. Fuck yes, you should? You gave up on him when he was abducted and tortured, you didn’t stand at his side when he was thrown in jail and you told both his brothers that he’s not their brother like he’s not even part of your family.

And then the show puts the weakest excuse ever up as a reasoning? A sob-story on how Robert cheated on her? Oh, if you know me a little you know where I stand on cheating - cheats are the scum of the Earth. But being cheated on does not justify that kind of behavior. Fuck, it doesn’t justify any of it and even though cheating should not have been the solution - a fucking divorce would have been - I completely understand why Robert sought out love from someone who, I don’t know, doesn’t have a heart of ice? Yes, he should have gotten divorced from her and cheating is Not Okay, but just because your husband cheated on you, that doesn’t make you as The Victim all of a sudden a good person? The whole “Something bad happens to character and suddenly everyone coddles character and everything is forgiven”-plotline is the most pathetic cop-out imaginable and neither of her four children should have that easily forgiven her past wrong-doings just because she sobs a little.

It is not a justification for child neglect or child abuse when your husband cheats on you. It is not.

Robert, I don’t give a flying fuck about. Like, in season 1 he was set up to be the better parent of the Lightwoods, but now he’s sorted into the category of scum of the Earth, so yeah. I vote for Luke to adopt the Lightwood kids and be done with it.

The reveal that Jace is not Clary’s brother was, again, so forced and awkward. Like, touching the sword makes you say the truth but only if you’re actually asked something and Valentine essentially blurts out all the things even though he doesn’t have to? Just for the sake of reassuring Clary and Jace shippers that their ship would still be able to sail? Really?

The entire eleventh episode of season 2 is just one giant fucking mess, if I’m being honest. Like, if you’d ask me to point out the most flawed episode of the show? This would be it. “Mea Maxima Culpa” even beats “Malec”, because that episode was only messy due to an overdose of forced rom-com elements. This episode however is a total mess.

First we got Isabelle, who’s trying to get over her addiction but still Alec leaves her unsupervised in a fit of Very Bad Withdrawl, which was already Bad Decision 1.

Then Isabelle goes out to find vemon, is attacked by the demon and decides to go home with total stranger Sebastian Verlac, Bad Decision 2. For all she knows, he could have been a Circle member, for heaven’s sake. His story was so shady and that odd coincident of “Hey, I was addicted to Yin Fen too!”.

Sebastian offers her a wonder-drug that’s supposed to help her overcome her addiction faster, but she never heard of it - and she still takes it. She takes a drug from a total stranger that’s supposed to speed up recovery. That is literally how her Yin Fen addiction started, for fuck’s sake. Bad Decision 3.

Isabelle stays with Sebastian instad of immediately returning, or at the very least instantly calling her brothers to let them know that she was alive and safe. After all, she was attacked by that greater demon so she knows there’s something dangerous going on and she should have known that Alec would notice she left. Bad Decision 4.

They don’t track her fucking cellphone. She disappears and they don’t track her cellphone - which regular mundanes can do, for heaven’s sake - and we see her having her phone at Sebastian’s. Bad Decision 5.

They don’t track her runes. In a later episode, we learn that the Clave can track all their Shadowhunters via their runes. So how do they not use her runes to track her? Bad Decision 6.

No, instead of any those things, they of course decide to go and as Valentine for help. That sounds like it should be more than just Bad Decision 7, really.

But it’s instantly followed by Bad Decisions 8 and 9 - because both Clary and Jace, out of everyone, think that listening to Valentine of all people is in any way or shape a good idea. Out of all the characters in this show, those two should really know best not to trust the manipulative asshole, who also happens to be locked into a cell so why should he know anything about what is going on outside.

Bad Decision 10 goes to Magnus for actually helping the idiot Shadowhunters in summoning a Greater Demon. That in itself sounds like such a bad idea, but considering that idea was suggested by Valentine, how in the world does the High Warlock not nope out of that and whack them upside the heads?!

So, yeah, I consider season 2 episode 11 to be the lowest point of the show, because its writing has more plot-holes than is justifyable for an entire season of a show, much less for one episode. It comes off as so forced due to the bad writing and they should have worked through this in a way that would have made at least a little sense.

How exactly is ‘Sebastian Verlac’ not instantly thrown into the City of Bones? He literally abandoned his Institute. Isn’t that high treason? Like, the exact same thing Jace got thrown into jail for? At the very least they should have questioned him? A lot? About why he abandoned his Institute and why he came to New York. And if not the Clave, at the very least our Shadowhunters should have been so much more suspicious.

But what I legit hate is how they reveal from the first episode on that he’s not a good guy. I haven’t read the books so when this new character came dashing in, saving Isabelle, he could have been a good guy. But they had to ruin it - in episode 11 already - by showing how Sebastian burns his own hand over the stove and you instantly know “This guy ain’t sane or good. Something’s seriously wrong with him” and that just… it completely ruins the reveal of him being not a good guy. Sure, the show caters to the book-readers, but couldn’t we like pretend that a lot of people actually have their first contact with this story through the show? And it would have been an amazing reveal later on, if we had Sebastian introduced as just this random new good guy, in the same way Lydia had entered the show later in season 1, to just join the cast. If we came to trust him like Isabelle did.

But instead, they instantly ruin the surprise and then they just… don’t really use Sebastian? I mean, he really doesn’t do a lot in the whole infiltration thing? They could have really used him better, made him actually a part of the team, have him properly befriend - or more - Isabelle, have him properly try to get to know Clary and Jace. But he just… awkardly stands in the background and then pushes himself onto the missions. The entire Sebastian-Jonathan plotline could have been written so much better so it’d have been an actual huge surprise.

I really don’t wanna get into the racism debate of 2x13, to be honest. It was handled and written so poorly. The message was clear, but… it felt so entirely out of place and forced. If those killings of Shadowhunters would have started a couple episodes before then already and we’d have build-up to this, but to squeeze it all into one episode and have the Shadowhunters instantly snap from “We’re supposed to protect mundanes and Downworlders” to “Let’s racially profile all the Downworlders and also right away start chipping them like dogs” was just… too much. It would have come off as a slightly more… believable reaction if the panic about the attacks had been looming for a little longer, but this way it was just far too forced and came off as a very strong over-reaction from them and not as something those characters would believably do.

I dislike how Aline was treated like such a throw-away character. They introduce this new Shadowhunter and have her barely be in any scenes before she leaves again. The lack of recognizable non-main character Shadowhunters on the show is one of my big problems with it, actually.

I mean, Isabelle, Alec and Jace grew up in that Institute. But aside from Raj… there’s kind of no Shadowhunter who actually gets a speaking role? Did they never make any friends? Like? I want to see casual interactions between them and other Shadowhunters, I want reoccuring faces with names. I want Alec to send not just the main characters on missions, but like have nine people on the meeting and Alec assigning teams and us seeing other Shadowhunters being sent out there too. Because the show mainly feels and comes off as “We have Alec, Jace, Isabelle and Clary. They handle All The Missions, while all other Shadowhunters just aimlessly walk around in the background”.

And when they introduced Aline, I thought we’d get another reoccuring Shadowhunter who is friends with them and who has, even if just brief, interactions with them. Instead, she’s right away sent off again.

The Seelie Court was also painful to watch. That Clary was doe-eyed enough to let Simon tag along, I’ll buy. But that Jace can’t stand his ground was just ridiculous. And that Simon was actually dumb enough to think that being vice-class-president in middle school qualifies him to meet a millennia old supernatural queen is pathetic. That episode would have been more believable if they hadn’t written in that clause about how only Jace and Clary were supposed to go on a mission. If they had just set it up as a regular mission and Simon as part of the team would have made this feel so much less forced.

Also, that episode and what followed was what officially made me dislike Clary. In season 1, she just annoyed me due to the actress’ shortcomings. In the German dub of it and then in season 2A, I actually grew very fond of Clary.

But Clary dating Simon, who has been pathetically in love with her for so many years, just to try and get over her feelings for Jace, but then failing and still being hung up on Jace, but not enough to actually give him a chance, was just… a sign of bad character, really. And I mean “personality”-character here, not “fictional character”-character.

How she had to tell Jace that it meant nothing and then just… avoided him from there on out was so childish and annoying. And the return of season 1′s whiny, entitled Clary when she kept bothering Simon and trying to cling onto Simon and force herself back into his life was just so not appreciated by me. Like. You just broke his heart? And you expect him to right away be okay again and be there for you? Holy shit, you really are an entitled, self-centered brat, no, stop it, I had grown fond of you, damn it, keep it together, Fray.

I feel like I should also mention Dot before I get closer to the end of this. Her character doesn’t make much sense too. Like, to me, she already died like four times. Every single time she appears, I am literally surprised because I thought she died the last time we saw her. But still, she always returns and it confuses me so much? Because if she keeps living, how is Clary not more determined to save her from Valentine?

And then she finally is freed and suddenly, she’s… Magnus’ ex-girlfriend? Whut? That was a really weird moment to me, personally. Because the two of them felt more like old acquaintances, certainly not like friends and especially not like former lovers, back when we saw them first interact in season 1. When she nearly kissed Magnus, knowing he had a boyfriend, she completely fell through for me. As before mentioned, cheats are the scum of the Earth - and that goes for both parties. If you tempt someone who’s in a relationship and you know that other person is in a relationship, you’re a fucking asshole who’s deliberately hurting the person the cheater is actually dating so fuck you too. I’m really glad that Magnus pulled back before kissing her, that his integrity was preserved there.

I hate that it even got that far - because Magnus can’t talk to Alec at all. Like. Malec is an unhealthy relationship in the sense that they completely lack communication and that is the key element to a healthy relationship. They don’t talk about anything. Ever. It takes Alec far too long to push Magnus about the body-switch trauma. Magnus never voices when something is bother him - like how Alec was seriously rude and unfair to Magnus when he learned about Isabelle’s drug addiction, or how Magnus was obviously not a fan of separating their work and romantic relationships. But instead of talking to Alec about these things, because Alec has never been in a relationship before so a few guidance pointers would be appreciated and communication is key to a healthy relationship, he just swallows everything Alec says and does with a sharp not of the head, until it all becomes too much and he explodes and breaks up with Alec. Which, yeah, everything considered and topped off by the lie about the Soul Sword, totally reasonable conclusion to be honest.

It was obvious they’d get back together because they’re canon’s endgame, but I don’t think they should have gotten together before the end of the season already. That should have been one of the hooks for season 3. “Stay tuned to see them get back together again!”, because you can not tell me that any Malec fan watching was seriously heartbroken in the sense that they believed this to be the end of their ship. Of course will they get together again, but I’d have preffered for it to be a slower process of actually talking about their feelings and mending that they broke in the course of season 2B, because both of them made mistakes. Instead, it’s again a rushed mess of “And they’re back on track! No worries!”, even though there really was never anything to worry about, because everyone knew they were going to get back together.

And on the note of rushed things toward the finale, let’s talk about the Mortal Mirror.

This show and its characters have an amazing track-record of missing the obvious. It took them decidedly too long to figure out where the Mortal Cup was, it took them way too long to realize the Soul Sword was not “in the citadel for cleaning purposes” (what the fuck kind of bad lie was that anyway? Like? How did not everyone instantly know that while Valentine had been captured, the Soul Sword had been stolen by a third party?”.

But Clary instantly knows that not only was the pocket-mirror a ruse, she also right away realizes that the real Mortal Mirror is a lake - and she even instantly figures out it’s Lake Lyn?! Particularly that last one was downright unrealistic for her to already realize. That was, really, an act of “We’re on episoe 18 of 20 so we need to make something happen that moves plot forward because we don’t have the time for them to slowly and realistically figure out where the Mortal Mirror is”.

Personally, I think the entire second season had the potential to be two seasons, if you had stretched it to twice the size and for that, slowed down the pacing and had the twists and turns more realistically. It’d also have given for more character interactions and sub-plots, like for example on Luke because until the last fourth of the season, him being pack Alpha and having wolf-problems really fell flat.

Okay, three more things and I’m done.

First of all, the Seelie Queen. Her obsession with Simon is just creepy. And Simon is a total moron for not just provoking her and thus leading to Maia’s abduction, but for then striking a deal with her to free Maia instad of consulting Magnus and Luke and literally anyone else for help first.

The main characters believing that Sebastian|Jonathan died when he was stabbed and pushed off the bridge was just embarrassing. I mean, not to sound like Simon, but do Shadowhunters not watch movies? At all? The bad guy never dies when pushed off a bridge, they always manage to crawl on land. Not just did the show use such an overused trope here, but they also didn’t have scouts out to find said body? Really? Really?

And the very last thing is Jace’s death. The death itself was good. I liked how he was literally stabbed in the heart by his father-figure. All the angst. Love that.

Clary has a serious problem with letting people stay dead though. Let’s turn Simon into a vampire. Let’s owe a shady warlock some kind of unknown favor so she brings back mom. Let’s ask the angel to bring back Jace.

Not to mention that I find it nearly baffling that, considering unlike in the books, the show killed Jocelyn first, Clary wouldn’t wish for her mother to be back. Or, at least phrase the wish differently “I wish those I love would be back”, or something along those lines.

Way too fast. Jace’s death, just like Malec’s reuinion, should have been left hanging for season 3. It should have ended with a cliffhanger as Jace lays dead and we see Alec’s reaction to that death.

Because - and say it with me, children - it was obvious that he wouldn’t stay dead. As obvious as the fact that Magnus and Alec would get back together. He’s literally the male lead of this show and that kinda status keeps you safe from permanent death. Especially with a franchise taking place in a supernatural world where virtually everything is possible.

Instead, Jace is brought back like three minutes after dying. And it’s such a let-down. Those would have been two huge hooks for viewers to keep them on their toes for season 3, without being risky hooks, aka hooks that run the risk of chasing viewers away and making them stop watching out of protest. Because everyone who seriously thought Jace would stay dead or Magnus and Alec wouldn’t get back together, well, I marvel at their ability to completely turn off their brains while watching a TV show. Safe but suspenseful hooks for the next season.

And that, to sum it all up briefly, is one of the show’s biggest problems. It doesn’t know how to handle suspense. Every time something happens that is potentially suspenseful, they ruin it somehow - by the instant reveal of Sebastian being not a normal guy, by instantly bringing Jace back, by rushing all of their big reveals all the time.

I am praying so hard for the pacing of this show to be better in season 3. For them to take things slower and stop rushing them, keep suspense to give it the chance to properly build up.

Don’t get me wrong, I love this show. I truly do. Among all the shows I watched, it easily climbed up to my number 5 spot of favorite TV shows. But I don’t believe in the concept of blindly loving anything. I need to be able to see its flaws even if I love it. And this show is very flawed.

#ask me a show and I shall rant #TV Rants #Fandom Rants #Shadowhunters #I love it but it's flawed #it's so flawed #comet13

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stilinskiimagines · 7 years

Text

Delusional//Teen Wolf x Riverdale

WARNING: THIS CONTAINS RIVERDALE SPOILERS

Characters: Derek Hale, Scott McCall, Lydia Martin, Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Veronica Lodge, Archie Andrews, Betty Cooper, Jughead Jones, Kevin Keller, Cheryl Blossom, Reader.

“We have to go.” Stiles raises an eyebrow.

“No. Just because Derek called does not mean we have to go.” Scott shakes his head.

Everyone exchanges looks, “We’re going.” You stand up.

“Where are we going?” Lydia walks into the room.

“Riverdale.” You reply.

She stands in the doorway, a confused look on her face before shrugging. “Let’s go.”

You all pack up and go, not sure where to stay.

“Hotel?” Stiles suggests.

“Why not?” Derek shrugs and sighs before going to check everyone in.

“Where should we start?” Isaac asks.

“Pop’s Chock'lit Shoppe.” Scott looks up from his phone.

“Do I wanna know?” Stiles looks confused.

“Probably not.” You sigh.

Derek hands out key cards to everyone before you all take off to Pop’s. You walk in the door, everyone turning to look at you.

You spot a dark haired boy with a grey beanie on. “That’s him.” You whisper to Scott.

Scott nods and walks towards him and the blonde he sat with. You and Stiles follow closely, hoping to listen.

“Are you Jughead Jones?” Scott asks.

Jughead looks up at Scott, an unreadable look on his face. “Are you here to ask about my dad? You a reporter or something?” Betty grabs his wrist, looking at the three of you.

“No..I just..you’re Betty Cooper, right?” Scott shifts his gaze to Betty and she nods.

“Scott stop being so incredibly sketchy.” Stiles shakes his head. “We need to talk to you. Outside preferably.” He moves in front of Scott.

“Who are you..?” Jughead tilts his head.

“Stiles Stilinski. Now, can we go..outside?” Stiles points toward the door.

“Your name is Stiles Stilinski?” Jughead starts to stand.

“Your name is Jughead Jones.” Stiles deadpans.

“Fair enough,” Jughead exits the diner, Betty following him closely.

Isaac raises an eyebrow as he spots Jughead, “Is this him?” He’s leaning up against the Jeep.

You nod, everyone moving forward.

“This is going to sound…more than insane.” Scott starts to explain.

“Okay…?” Jughead looks at him.

“We know who killed Jason Blossom.”

“Is this some kind of sick joke?” Jughead crosses his arms.

“Hear him out.” Betty nods at him.

“Who killed Jason Blossom then?” He looks skeptical.

“Clifford Blossom.” Scott nods.

Betty covers her mouth with her hand, “What?”

“He was…” Scott looks to Derek, unsure of how to continue.

Derek steps forward, “He was possessed.”

“Who are you?” Jughead steps back. “Who sent you?”

“Let us explain.” You look to Betty, hoping she’d give in. She nods and you step closer to the pair. “Do you believe in the supernatural?”

“Yeah. I guess so.” Jughead nods.

“That’s what this is..he was possessed by a..a Nogitsune. Stiles here was possessed about a month ago.” You turn to Stiles who purses his lips and give a quick wave. “We obviously got it out of Stiles, but it seems the Nogitsune has body jumped.”

“I’m going to..need a minute.”

“I’m going to call Archie and Veronica.” Betty pulls her phone out and walks away.

“Is there somewhere more private we could go to talk?” Scott asks.

Jughead shakes his head, “Parents are too nosey. We could go out by the river…as long as we don’t get caught.”

“Archie and Veronica said to meet at Veronica’s. Her mom is with Archie’s dad.” Betty returns.

“We can take you there.” Jughead nods.

You arrive and walk into a huge apartment, you and Stiles exchange a glance as you walk inside.

“Who’s this?” Archie breathes out.

“Oh, uh..I’m Scott, that’s Derek, Isaac, Stiles, Y/N, and Lydia.” You all wave.

Scott explains the situation and the four of them sit in silence.

“You said supernatural?” Archie asks.

Scott nods, “Yeah. I know it sounds crazy, but you have to trust us.”

“Can we talk more about this tomorrow? I have to go talk to my dad.” Archie stands up from his spot on the couch.

“Yeah. That sounds good.” Scott nods. Everyone goes back home, you and the pack returning to the hotel. You’d given Betty your number in case anything happens.

You were glad you did, you received a phone call from her telling you to meet her and Jughead. The pack headed out, and you all fell in step behind them once you found them.

“Whatever it is we’re looking for, Joaquin didn’t know if it would help your dad, or make things worse.” Kevin says to Jughead.

“Um, I guess we’re about to find out.” Betty replies. You and the pack stay a ways back, listening closely. “And why did he wait so long to tell us?” She adds.

“FP called him from jail.” Kevin starts. “Told him to forget about their plan, some contingency plan. He said it was too dangerous.”

“Deja vu.” Jughead mutters as he approaches a large sign. Everyone stops as they watch Jughead.

“Hey! Right here!” He reaches down through some branches, pulling out a backpack. He unzips his, revealing Jason’s varsity jacket.

Betty calls Archie and you all meet in his garage. You’re all huddled around the jacket.

“This was meant to help FP?” Archie asks as he motions toward the piece of clothing.

“I don’t know. Looks like incriminating evidence to me.” Kevin looks at Archie and shrugs.

“Yeah.” Jughead’s gripping a chair, bent over slightly. “This just confirms that my dad torched Jason’s getaway car.”

“And that his confession was true.” Kevin mutters to Betty.

“Why would FP say that Jason’s varsity jacket is dangerous? What could that mean?” Betty shakes her head.

Veronica walks in the door, “I can ask my father..he would know, considering we found concrete proof that he hired the Serpents to kill Jason.”

No one from the pack says a word, this was information Derek had already collected.

Veronica turns to Jughead, “Which probably means that your dad pulled the trigger, Jughead. I’m sorry.”

Jughead stares at the jacket in silence, sadness spread across his face. Betty watches her boyfriend, “No. No! No, I’m not giving up yet.” She shakes her head. She picks the jacket up and holds it up to Archie. “Put it on.”

He looks concerned, “What?”

“Put it on.” She insists.

“Betty..this is weird.” Archie says as she puts the jacket on him. He widens his arms and she slides her hands into her pockets to explore.

“There’s a hole in the pocket.” She nods.

“Okay, now we’re just grasping at straws..” Kevin steps forward.

“Okay, no.” Betty interrupts. “I don’t know about you guys, but whenever I have a hole in my jacket pocket, I always lose my Chapstick in the lining.” She feels around in the hole.

“Or my Montblanc.” Veronica adds.

“Hold on.” Betty pulls out a small silver flash drive.

“What the hell?” Veronica leans forward.

Kevin scoffs and shakes his head, “Nancy Drew strikes again.”

They put the flash drive in the computer and you and the pack stand up, giving them some space. You talk amongst yourselves. You watch them watch the computer, all five of them jumping at one time. Veronica begins to cry and Betty gets up to make a phone call after closing the laptop.

Archie calls you over and you view the video.

“You see that? Right there?” Derek pauses the video. “His eyes changed. It’s the Nogitsune.”

“Can you explain the whole thing again?” Jughead asks.

Derek explains the origins. “You’d probably get a better description from Stiles. Probably a very short and sarcastic description, but it’s still a description.” Derek looks to Stiles.

“Basically, you have no control. You…black out, you wake up not knowing what you did during the period when you were out. It gets to the point where you’d do anything to get the Nogitsune out. He feeds off of chaos, which is why he was willing to kill his host’s child. It would cause the whole town to panic.” Stiles explains.

“Supernatural things…exist?” Archie asks.

“I’m a werewolf.” Scott shrugs. “So is he, and so is he.” He points at Isaac and Derek.

“I’m a banshee.” Lydia shrugs.

“And you?” Kevin points at Stiles.

“I was just possessed that’s all.”

“What about you?” Jughead asks you.

“Me? Just a human. I somehow got dragged into this.” You exchange a knowing look with Scott.

“So what do we do about it?” Veronica asks, wiping her eyes.

“We could speak with Cheryl.”

“I already told her to get out.” Betty nods.

“How do you know so much?” Jughead looks at you and the pack.

“I’ve been collecting information. I had a feeling it was supernatural.” Derek responds.

Cheryl walks in the door, her eyes falling onto Derek. “Who’s tall dark and handsome?” She smirks at him. “I’m Cheryl Blossom. You are?” She extends her hand to him.

He shakes it, raising an eyebrow as she flirts. “About ten years too old for you.” He shakes his head.

“Too bad.” She spins on her heel. “What’s going on?”

Scott explains everything. She stares at you with a disgusted look on her face.

“Is this a joke?”

“Trust them. It’s not.” Betty reassures.

“I want proof.” She sits up straight.

“Proof?” Stiles squints at her. He clearly doesn’t like her.

“Yes, proof.” She gives him a once over. “Are you too stupid to understand what I’m saying?” She quickly flicks her eyes to meet his.

“Hey!” Lydia defends Stiles, stepping in front of him.

Cheryl stands up to face her, crossing her arms. “What’re you going to do?”

“What should I do? Maybe I could rip out your fake red hair.” Lydia smirks and stares at Cheryl’s long hair.

Cheryl’s jaw drops, “This is Blossom hair! This is not fake!”

“From what Polly told me about her dad’s wig collection…” Betty mumbles to Veronica.

“Huh.” Lydia scoffs. “Could’ve fooled me.” She turns away, moving back to her spot behind Stiles.

Kevin’s jaw is dropped, he leans over to Veronica, “I like her. We may have to keep that one.”

“Fighting isn’t proof.” Jughead raises an eyebrow.

“What proof do you want?” Isaac stands up.

“We could start with the whole…y'know, werewolf thing.”

“What, you don’t believe us?” Isaac seems upset.

“No, I don’t.” Jughead states.

“Are we kidding with this kid, Scott? Look at his hat.”

Jughead sits up and looks at Isaac, “Look at your scarf!”

“I like him.” Stiles nods at Jughead and smiles.

“Guys! We won’t get anything done this way.” Betty shouts.

“Here’s proof.” Scott tries to deflect the situation, flashing his eyes at the six in front of you.

“Woah…” Kevin raises an eyebrow.

“Believe us now?” He asks.

Cheryl looks unimpressed. “Yes.”

You go back to the hotel, planning on going to speak to the whole Blossom family in the morning.

You’re woken by a call from Betty. “He hung himself?”

“What?” You sit up and look at the clock.

“Clifford. He hung himself last night. Cheryl told him she knew he did something bad and he hung himself.”

“The Nogitsune did it.” You sigh. “He’s fled.” You climb of the bed.

“And he’s going to be looking for another body.”

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redbrickisaac · 7 years

Note

I know you have a lot of requests, so don't worry if you don't want to add it to the list right now or anything, but I was wondering if I could put in a request for an Isaac one shot with the song 'Little Talks' by Of Monsters and Men as the inspiration? The lyrics are beautiful and it's one of my favourite songs! It's okay if you don't want to though. I just think your writing is so so brilliant!

Anonymous said to redbrickisaac:Can I request a one shot with Isaac based on a song? It’s called ‘Little Talks’ by Of Monsters and Men, I love it and especially find myself relating to the girl part in it. It’s ok if you don’t want to write it though!x

Musical Inspiration:“Little Talks” – Of Monsters and Men

A/n: I’m so sorry if you had to ask for this twice, anon.EDIT: I thought I had this scheduled to post yesterday!! Sorry it’s late!

Pairing: Isaac xreader (A/n: It was really difficult to keep this one gender neutral, let meknow if you notice any slip ups, please.)

Wordcount: 1.7k

Warnings: Mentalillness, angst, lying, break up, desperation, this is kinda dark, not givingup, sticking by someone’s side, love is not a cure, but it can make thingsbearable

“Some days I can’teven trust myself.

– It’skilling me to see you this way.”

You’ve started having memory lapses. A few minutesdisappearing here and there, sometimes an hour. And it terrifies you becauseyou know what this is. This is something that runs in your family, somethingyou were always afraid of, knowing you probably wouldn’t escape it. You justdidn’t expect it to hit you this soon.

You don’t know what to do. This kind of disease is a slow,debilitating descent into death. You don’t want to tell anyone, don’t want themto see you differently, don’t want the claustrophobia that occurs when theircloying sympathy crushes in on you. But the person you hate the prospect ofhaving to tell the most is Isaac. Because you know he loves you, he’ll try tostick it out with you, stay by your side. And it he does, he’ll end up seeingthe truly ugly side of the disease. He’ll see the fear, the paranoia. He’ll seethe days when you can’t remember who he is. The last thing you want is to causehim that type of pain.

So, you do the only thing you can. You lie to him and breakup. You cause him a different kind of pain that will hurt less in the long run.

“No, you didn’t,” he says, words brittle, eyes wide as hestares at you. He doesn’t want to believe you but you’ve managed to catch himwhen he wasn’t listening to the beat of your heart. He missed the jump thatannounced your lie for what it was. So he’s scrambling for a reason to notbelieve. “You don’t smell like anyone else.”

“I’ve been covering the scent with that soap Scott discoveredto keep Derek from realizing he was seeing Allison back before they were pack.”This part is true, you do use that soap, more to protect yourself from otherwolves than for anything nefarious. There is no lie for Isaac to detect nowthat he’s listening. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to do this but I thinkit’s best for everyone if we just break up.”

“No,” Isaac stands in the doorway to block your exit fromhis apartment, eyes already shiny with tears. “First, I want you to tell me whoit is. Who are you leaving me for?”

“Isaac,” you sigh, “you don’t want to know.” Another truth.A clever one. Because there in no one else, but he really doesn’t want ananswer because he wants to believe it’s not true.

“Why are you doing this, (Y/n)?” Isaac asks, one lastscramble for something to grasp onto. One last chance to change the outcome ofthe conversation. But you can already tell that Isaac doesn’t expect a change,he’s already broken.

“Because it’s time,” you say, pushing past him to open thedoor. You pause once it’s open, tilt your head like you’re going to turn to himbut don’t let yourself because you don’t think you can take that shattered lookon his face again. “I’m sorry.”

When you walk out, you wonder if he could hear the cracksforming in your heart along with its damning beats.

Everyone notices when you aren’t at the next pack meeting.

“Where’s (Y/n)?” Someone asks and Isaac wants to throw thetable across the room.

“Gone,” he answers, hoping that will be the end of it.

“Wait, what do you mean?” Scott asks, eyes filled withworry. “(Y/n)’s okay, right?”

Isaac has to fight to hold in a roar. “(Y/n) left me forsomeone else.”

“Who?”

“What???”

Isaac can’t really make out what everyone else says aboutit, their words all blurring together and leaving him blissfully ignorant ofthe conversation. Until Lydia scoffs, loud and clear over the din.

“Bullshit,” she says.

When Isaac looks up at her, she’s standing at the doorlooking ready for an argument. He might just have to give her one. “I’m notlying,” he grounds out.

“I never said you were,” Lydia states calmly, “Have youconsidered that (Y/n) might be?”

Isaac lets his gaze fall back to the floor. “I’d hoped. Icouldn’t sense a lie.”

“Then you weren’t listening hard enough,” Lydia tells himbluntly, moving further into the room. “I saw the way (Y/n) looked at you.There is no fucking way there was someone else. Wouldn’t you have smelled it, ifthere was?”

Isaac shakes his head, not wanting to go into it. He doesn’teven want to think about it anymore. It’s all he’s been doing since you left.

“Now that I think about it,” Scott pipes up, “(Y/n) didsmell different lately. But I don’t think it was the scent of another person.”

Isaac whirls on him. “What do you mean?” Why is he doingthis? Why is grasping at straws??? Oh, yeah. Love. He can’t let you go that easily.

“It was like, it was almost…”

“A sickness,” Derek finishes for him from the armchair healways uses at meetings. His eyes don’t meet anyone else’s. He just stares athis hands where he has them clasped in front of him.

“Yeah,” Scott agrees slowly. The implications of thatsinking in quickly.

“A mysterious illness and a sudden break-up,” Lydia murmurs,watching Isaac. “That makes a little more sense, doesn’t it?”

Could it be true? You didn’t leave Isaac because you didn’tlove him? You left because… what? You were scared? Ashamed? He doesn’t care. Ifyou still love him, he’s going to getyou back.

Isaac stands suddenly, eyes blazing gold as he stalks overto Derek. “You knew.”

“I knew,” Derek agrees, still not looking at him.

“What the fuck, Derek?” Isaac yells, yanking his alpha up byhis stupid leather jacket. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it wasn’t my secret to tell,” Derek bites out, eyesflaring red when he does meet Isaac’s stare. “I thought (Y/n) would tell youeventually.”

“Could it be cured? Whatever it is, will the bite cure it?”Isaac asks, fearing the answer if Derek never saw fit to say anything even toyou.

“I don’t know,” Derek answers sullenly. “It’s not like (Y/n)actually told me anything. I just smelled it. I don’t know what we’re upagainst.”

“I’ll find out,” Isaac promises, walking out of the meeting,out of the loft. He’ll leave Beacon Hills if that what it takes to find you. He’llleave California. He’s actually not sure how far he’s willing to go but it’spretty damn far.

Isaac finds you in the psychiatric clinic you’d checkedyourself into after you’d left. He has exceptionally bad timing and yourreunion is not pretty. You don’t remember him and you scream when he reachesout to you, crying hysterically because you think he’s trying to hurt you. Hebacks away, heart breaking all over again when he realizes that he’s helplessto do anything for the moment as orderlies come running in to deal with you.

It takes nearly three hours for you to calm down, a littlelonger before your gaze clears of confusion and you recognize him.

“Isaac?” You ask, horrified at what he might have seen, whathe’s definitely seen, you realize as he looks at you with a haunted expression.“What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

Isaac doesn’t answer, instead walking to you slowly, like he’safraid you’ll freak out if he gets too close. He reaches out just as deliberatelyuntil his hand is cupping your cheek. You wrap your hand around his wrist andlean into it. You didn’t think you’d get to feel his warmth again.

“You could have told me,” he says.

“I didn’t want you to have to see me like this,” you tellhim.

“Maybe we can stop it,” he whispers. It’s almost like he’safraid of saying it aloud in case he’s wrong. “Maybe if Derek gives you thebite-“

“We don’t know that it’ll help,” You interject with a shakeof your head, removing Isaac’s hand from your face but keeping it held in yourown. “If it doesn’t cure me, I’ll be a liability. I could have an… an episode,”you pause. You hate calling it that. Episodes. Like it’s only an inconvenience foran hour a week. “I could hurt someone.”

“We have to do something,” Isaac pleads with you.

Your lip quivers just thinking about it. “I don’t think wecan.”

Isaac closes his eyes, pulling you in and wrapping his armsaround you, holding you tightly while you leak silent tears onto hisshirt. “I’m not leaving you,” he saysinto your hair.

You know he won’t. There’s nothing you can say now that willmake him walk away.

“This isn’t going to be easy to watch,” you tell him,leaning back so you’re able to look into his eyes. “I went through it with mymom and it hurt like hell.”

“I don’t care,” he answers. “It’d hurt worse to be withoutyou.”

You rest your head on his chest. “So, what do we do now?”

“We sit. And we talk. And when the bad times come, we’lldeal,” he says, pulling you with him to sit down in a chair. “I’m going to callStiles and have him do some research. Maybe we still have a chance of healingyou. But it we don’t,” he adds before you can argue, “if there’s nothing we cando, then I just want to be with you for as long as humanly possible.”

“Okay,” you agree. You didn’t want to end up here – didn’twant Isaac to end up here — but if you can’t escape it, then at least you don’thave to face it alone.

#isaac lahey #isaac lahey imagine #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #scott mccall #derek hale #lydia martin #tw: mental illness #Anonymous

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deathbyvalentine · 7 years

Text

Slayers Drabbles - Do Not Go Gentle

Untitled

One thought Just keeps cycling. ’I want to go home.’ Once, at a party. Once, in a dream. I do not know where I belong or where I’m running back to.

Waking Up

He was falling, falling, falling, until he was not.

The world was quiet here. There were no distant sounds of screams. There were no noises of sobbing breaking through his slumber. Only the soft sound of electronic beeping, and the murmur of a populated building.

Slowly, slowly, Thomas Madding woke up.

Reality is not gentle, but nor is it dramatic. It is a tsunami of mundanity, an earthquake of the expected. Panic caused by things being as they should be is more painful than panic of the unusual. Tommy saw the colours of the hospital walls, and began to panic. Hands pressed his shoulders back down, the heart monitor jumping erratically. He remembered everything, everything from the past few years. He remembered Lydia’s fire, David’s peace, Jones’s determination. He remembered a hand grazing his cheek, words murmured into his ear over endless hours. He remembered bleeding, so much blood. He remembered someone singing as bombs fell miles away, of failing over and over again, of a locket clutched in his hand. He remembered the beginnings of a life in which things happened, not just happened to him.

He wept at the loss, and his mother held his hand. This couldn’t be what he was left with - but it made too much sense to be false. Of course he was dreaming. In what world were vampires and time travel and demons real? And of course, his lover and friends weren’t real - why would a God even look at him twice? Who would want to be around him for longer than a routine check up? He was nothing. Small, boring, dying.

He shivered, and she stroked his hair. He didn’t understand, he was confused, bewildered, none of his questions got any answers, and when he called for A, he did not come. That was what convinced him. If he really needed A, and he called him him with his voice breaking and his heart cracking, he would have come. Which meant, here, now, he wasn’t real. He was falling, falling, falling, and he fell back asleep. When he fell back into his dream, he was relieved and terrified. He was going to wake up again, and when he did, he would lose everything. And if he didn’t, he was breaking his parents’ heart.

A Comforting Little Puppy

The small plushie was going to have to prove it’s worth to match the last one. Tommy very almost resented it at first, for not being Caramel, but then he realised that wasn’t fair, and hugged it as an apology. He named it Sooty, and it many stressful moments, realised he was squeezing him to sooth his anxiety. So that was a good start.

After the last weekend, he was a little closer to living up the legend. Becca had clutched it tight after she had realised the world was much more frightening that she ever could have imagined. And Dionysus had clung to it as though it was a liferaft in a sea of confusion. He had looked so small, so frightened, so painfully human, Tommy’s heart broke for him a thousand times over. By the end of the night, the puppy had found it’s way back into his pocket, and Tommy was grateful for it. And as he went to sleep that night, he held it in his own hand. There was comfort in the smallest things, once you allowed yourself to stop feeling silly for it.

Gauntlet

He didn’t want to hurt anybody, but by the time he had managed to stumble outside, dodging all the hands grasping at him and calling for him to stop, all attempts at diplomacy had dissolved. He called a few times, but they did not stop, this small sentry of angels with flames and swords. They were cutting down his friends, spilling blood into the garden of the hostel. Michael had pointed at his gauntlet, raised an eyebrow, and Tommy had realised. The first time he dashed forward, he was slashed in the side, blood immediately pouring down his ribs, staining his jumper and dripping into the waistband of his jeans. No problem. He’d had worse pain than this hundreds of times before. Next time though, Julie in place as his shield, he slammed his hand into the shoulder of one, and down they went, stumbling as the creature tried to find their feet again. Another sword strike later, they were gone. And then he heard one, the leader perhaps, calling for him to be taken care of. It was this one he approached next, in the midst of those carrying offensive weapons. He clasped her shoulder as though offering her a comfort, and she fell. He went with her, as the others stood above. “Why are you doing this? We’re trying to help you...” Her voice gasped and grated, and as Tommy moved forward to cradle her, her form flickered and disappeared, leaving him kneeling in the cold, wondering what exactly he had just done.

Too Perfect To Imagine I have a lover Who walks softly. I have a lover who talks gently. He isn’t sunlight he does not blind. He is not moonlight he illuminates. He is every moment where you realised you were good enough. He is every comfortable silence where words didn’t have to be enough. He is the ‘Happily Ever After’ at the end of the story.

“I Think He Said He Loved Me.”

There was stunned silence for a variety of reasons. First, the gaping wound that was the absence of Jones. Second, the fact that Asclepius had shouted, had very almost done some physical harm. Third, the reason why Tommy’s mind had settled into a quiet - what he had said as he had left. “Be strong. Be good. I love you.”

He had shown it in a thousand ways before now. Tiny gestures that added up to a relationship. Moments unspoken, the fizzing electricity between them. But he had never said it, not once, even when Tommy had let it spill out of him in the shadow of the hotel. And now, there it was.

And of course, Tommy thought that it wasn’t romantic. It couldn’t be. This fell into his usual philosophy of expecting nothing from Asclepius, because it was incredibly selfish to wish for anything more from the man who saved your life. Because then when you did get given something, it was a gift.

Loki was watching him, and they smiled. He smiled back, the three words echoing, making him feel a little braver, a little better. He’d make him proud. He would.

“We Thought You Were Never Coming Back and We Panicked.” + When A Took Jones Away Jones often felt like the center of their group. The soul, the one that could bring them all together, keep them from getting lost inside their own heads and worries and wants. And then she was gone, somewhere safe, sure, but gone nevertheless. Someone had to try to keep them together. To do her job until she came back and reprised her role. In addition to his own role, Tommy thought he should step up, and others seemed to too. Tommy tried to de-escalate every damn argument that Tori caused. People called him over to look at injuries, as though he had any experience whatsoever as he tried desperately to recall his first aid. He told others what to do, even as anxiety surged through him and every decision seemed wrong. He cared for Lydia, as best as he could with his clumsy hands.

It was too much.

The Greater Good/ You’ll Still Like Me When I’m Angry - Hypothetical Roleplaying Effect Exploration

Anger flickered into his mind, hot and irrational, unable to be swallowed down easily. His words came out sharp and unkind. Because truly? People’s feelings were always so irrelevant. They couldn’t see the forest for all the trees, the world for all their personal drama. He wanted to scream, who the fuck cares? Stop for two seconds and realise what is at stake.

And then there was the way they treated him. Like he was nothing. Like he was invisible. Though half the time he was the only one who knew what was going on, and had the sense to make plans about it. Or they treated him like he was only worth the information he had, and he would just keep working until he collapsed. These people didn’t understand what a burden he carried on his aching shoulders. And then there was Asclepius. The one he loved more than his pathetic body could take, the one he was obsessed with, the one he would kill or die for. The one who preferred Jones to him. He bristled at the thought, and such sudden violence crashed into him. If Jones touched him, even in passing, even in accident, he would hurt her. She couldn’t have his patron just because her’s was nothing but an unrepentant murderer.

Save the world, love his lover. Those were the two things he wanted more than anything. Everything else was merely white noise and distraction. And God help who ever got in his way.

“They’re not OK.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried like this. Maybe when Freddy died. Maybe when Orelin died. He cried as though his chest had been ripped open. He literally couldn’t stop, even when he knew he needed to claw it back, needed to get it back together. Every moment he thought he had caught his breath, gained control, the full force of grief, and tragedy, and loss would hit him all over again.

He was being selfish, he knew. He shouldn’t cry from other’s pain, even if at times he felt it deeper than his own. But this was the straw that broke the camel’s back. The back already loaded with the fate of Heywater and the four, with Freddy and Orelin, with his coma, with his curse, with a hundred different fucking things, and of course, with love. He wasn’t coming back today. Because he didn’t want to. It was as simple as that. It may be for his own good, it may be for the good of many things, but if Asclepius wanted to be here, he would be here. He couldn’t be in this room anymore, watching Jones weep, watching Lydia stand helpless, blood still sticky on his face. He walked from the room, shaking and shivering, and burst outside to see Avalon, who immediately asked him what was wrong, her voice soft and kind. The words spilled out in a blur but ended in:

“I just want my friends to be okay and. And they’re not okay. And they’re never going to be okay. And he’s not here. And he’s never here when I need him.” He was selfish beyond all measure, but his heart wanted and wanted. Like The Fool, his heart was a careless creature, it guided him, and it pained him.

Life On Mars - AU The final check up was over. The drip had been removed from his arm, all the appropriate brain scans done, charts ticked and signed. There were still things like muscle weakness and stomach strain to get used to. And of course, them not knowing if the illness was going to come back in a week or so, as it usually did. But right now, it was clear, and he was going home. His father fussed over him as he carried him into the car, still wrapped in a blanket, the cold January air biting at him. His mother seemed unable to stop glancing at him in the rear view mirror, obvious anxious at his silence. He had frightened them all with his rambling. He had frightened himself. They went home, and he had soup and pills for dinner. They sat on the couch and watched documentaries until he got tired. Rain splattered against the windows, and the sky got dark, and nothing happened. When he went to bed, there was no small altar. When he slept, he didn’t dream. When he whispered his name, he didn’t come.

The days blurred, and Tommy barely spoke. He barely did anything but curl up on the couch, eyes unfocused on the screen. His parents had hushed discussions in the kitchen about how depression was well documented after such a traumatic coma, even if he’d never displayed those symptoms before.

Tommy was deciding something. Something along the lines of, if this was reality, he didn’t want it. Something along the lines of he wanted his dreams back. True was not the same as important. He was going to get his world back. By any means necessary.

Lap And Letters It was embarrassing how much comfort this was bringing him. This moment of peace. His head rested in her lap, her fingers brushing through his hair, an arm slung over her legs as he knelt at her feet. The lights weren’t yet back on, a few candles providing the light. She had love letters, she told him. Saved from the library of Alexandria before it burnt. There had been more important things, maps and information, but Lydia had taken the letters. In Tommy’s view, they were the most important things. She began to read, translating as she went. The first was Hephaestion to Alexander, a simple thing of memories and fondness and a golden summer. He laughed as he imagined two boys pushing each other into a river, the sun shining, nothing but love and adoration. The next letter was different. It was desperation and fear, someone running from a horizon drawing ever closer. It was Cassandra, visions of the end crashing into her head, and desperate for somebody, anybody to listen. All because of the hate of a child who called himself a god. Fear gripped him, as he remembered his own blood, his own fever, his own visions. If Apollo ever remembered him, who knows what he could, no, would do. He was not at Troy. He didn’t remember it. But something in his bones shivered and cringed at the thought, as it did with so many of the ancient stories. Something in him belonged to that era, for better or worse, and it resounded in him. They were all tragedies waiting to happen. And he wept too, because what was it about humans that made them make the same mistakes over and over, in a hundred different contexts. When would they learn? When would they know better? Or, more importantly, when would the gods?

Telling Stories

He could hear the thunder, and see the giants, the way she told it. It was like she was painting a picture, drawing them into a world so very far from here. He longed to reach out and take her hand, but he didn’t. This was hers, her story to tell, and it had gone untold for too long. He loved her more than ever in that moment, watching her, listening to her. He did what he thought she would have wanted, and if he was being honest, what he wanted to do too. Dionysus was beside him, and sometimes, there were tears dripping down his cheeks. He was different, like this. Listening to his history, watching his cousin. Tommy wrapped an arm around him, providing what comfort he could. A day ago, he almost hated him. Now, his heart ached for him. The urge to protect, to care for, was almost overwhelming.

Everyone could be redeemed. Everyone. This was his chance, and Thomas hoped beyond all hope that he took it.

Napping

He half expected them to say no. It was barely even eleven o’clock and he was exhausted. The magic had faded from him, and the lack of sleep was hitting him like a brick. A nap was needed, but of course, he needed to be easily to hand for when things inevitably went wrong. He hated the thought of not being there if he was needed.

But they didn’t say no. They sat on the couch, Lydia tossing him a coat as a blanket, his head on a bag as a pillow. He wrapped his arms around the staff, not wanting to risk it being taken from him. There were too many thieves around, too much chaos. As he lay down, he could still see David and Lydia, sitting, not going anywhere, and for the first time in a long while, he felt somewhat safe.

How to Be a Shield

The first stage is to realise your life is less important than everybody else’s. If somebody has to die, it should be you. You’re living far longer than you expected anyway. Realise there’s things worth dying for. The second stage is to be reckless. Move quickly, move cleverly, but if you see someone else about to get hit, dive there first. If you can prevent more harm by protecting yourself until you can down the enemy though, follow this course. Least harm, to the least amount of people. This is in a fighting situation of course. If it’s quieter, if it’s more insidious then.... The third part is to wait for the ideal moment. Slide into position, bit by bit, don’t make too big a scene of it, or the other will form a plan around it. It may also warn off the violence, it may not. Either way, prepare to take a hit. Prepare to bleed. Prepare to die, if you need to.

“None of Us Get To Choose Who We Love.”

Oh darling boy, how he loves you. Look at the way he melts into your arms, how he arches into every touch, wishing it to last a little longer. Look at how he gathers the bravery to press a chaste kiss to your neck, and hides his face afterwards. Look at his blood splattering your shirt and tell me that is not love. “I love you so much I think it’s breaking me.” Tommy feels like his heart isn’t built to love something this deeply. It overwhelms him, it blinds him to all but Asclepius. As he sobs into the arms holding him, the rain still gently falling around them, he lets himself be selfish. He won’t have the conversations he needs to have, he won’t ask for favours on the behalf of others. He will take this for himself - after all, there will be countless more days and hours.

“I am so, so in love with you.”

He cannot remember what he was like before he loved him. He doesn’t want to. Just like he doesn’t give a damn if this world isn’t real, as long as it means he gets to stay with his god. It will be like this, for as long as he will let it. He will break his own humanity if it meant he got a little longer. He will chase the divine. Eternity would seem like too short a time with Asclepius.

“And I, you.”

#slayers #prose #drabbles #prompts #larp

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