a project of some sorts

How do the signs spend their weekend

Aries: either hangs out with their friends or stays at home and watches their favorite TV show. actually gets things done if they have to though

Taurus: does everything they told themselves they would do and then just spends time online. sometimes also goes out with their friends 

Gemini: literally does either nothing or just something they love, like art, internet or sports

Cancer: usually with friends, maybe trying something new, because they get bored when they have to just sit at home the entire weekend

Leo: sometimes hangs out with their friends and roam around their town but also spends a lot of time doing their hobbies

Virgo: does something they like doing like drawing, spending time with animals, writing… doesn’t really hang out with many people

Libra: chats with their friends or hangs out with them, other than that they stalk people online or watch videos on Youtube

Scorpio: either party hard the entire weekend or they don’t even leave their bed

Sagittarius: hangs out with friends or chats with them, other than that they watch films or listens to music

Capricorn: finishing everything they didn’t manage to do through out the week or watches something anime

Aquarius: usually working on some sort of project or doing something they’re passionate about. doesn’t usually talk to many people

Pisces: spends time with their family, usually crafts or does something they love. also sleeps a lot

Textile Majors

Theres a special magic in hand made fabric items. Handmade items in general, yes, but specifically fabric items.

There are two aspects to this. One is the level of relationship between the artist and the recipient. The knitted beanie purchased off Etsy is going to be nowhere near as powerful as the Fair Isle sweater your grandmother made specifically for you.

The other is the level of involvement of the artist. The more involved the artist is in the creation, the more powerful it is. That quilt made from store bought fabric, pieced together and quilted with protection symbols, it will keep you safe. The gloves whose yarn came from sheep you raised, whose dye came from berries picked from plants you tended and nourished, sheared and cleaned and dyed and spun and knitted by your hands, those will save your life.

Textile art majors come to the school knowing the basics of their craft. They can knit a sweater, or sew a dress, or started with those little bracelet looms and now are never found without some sort of weaving project. They come, because they want more. The history of the art, the depth and fullness of it. They come because they want to be fashion designers, or because they want to be conservators at museums. They come, with their portable sewing machines and card tables to stand them on, with their knitting needles and crochet hooks, their looms and embroidery hoops and infinite boxes of fabric, fiber, yarn, threads and notions, pins and sewing needles, measuring tapes and rulers. Their bags are full of pattern books and their rooms are cluttered with their projects.

They’ll go on, those that succeed, to be the top of their fields, whatever they choose to do. They’ll credit their blessings on their time at Elsewhere, the lessons they learned and the influences they found.

Items made at Elsewhere have a special power. While all handmade items absorb some of the emotion and intentions the artist has while creating it, items made at Elsewhere take those feelings and make them magical. This can be a blessing, or a curse. There is a tradition of burning projects that frustrate too much. Every Freshman is shocked and appalled when, at the new moon, all the older textile majors gather together to burn any project that is causing them problems or resulting in negative feelings. They learn, after their first or second frustrating project causes them such discomfort after they make it that they can’t actually use the thing.

The professors prioritize quality over quantity for a reason. New projects are always assigned at the start of the waxing moon, and due before the new moon. They have a special form for projects that have to be redone because they were burned. They will provide the materials and time to make up the projects, but only three times. Some will offer deals for a fourth.

Gifts are a mixed blessing.

That one sophmore that knits six pairs of socks every weekend? She’s avoiding calls from her parents and they’re full of her anxiety. The one person that wore them ended up running like the hunt was after them until they collapsed sobbing in the quad. Now, we accept her gifts, and put them away. They’re be useful for trade with the Folk.

The boy from the equatorial country who weaves those lovely blankets? Only use them in the depths of winter, or you’ll roast. Take the blanket with you if you have to go out in the deep snowy areas for ANY reason. They’ll keep you warm and dry. It may look as light as your sheets, but he started making them in his first winter here, when he thought he’d freeze to death for sure. Now he jokes that they’re a brilliant ice breaker.

The person that ignored the proverbial ‘boyfriend curse,’ made xir boyfriend a sweater, then begged him to wear it. Nobody knows exactly what happened to him, but xe is so much happier now, since he disappeared.

There are legacy students here, whose tools came down from their parents and grandparents, you’ll know them by their iron needles and hooks, and the runes carved in their old looking looms and hoops. The items they make are often high quality, even as freshmen, and they know the ways of trading. We’ve all learned to look for them when having an issue with a project, they have a way of getting to the heart of it and guiding us through. Trades with them will be dear, but what you get will be worth it.

The senior project is a group affair. Every senior contributes something they’ve made. The fabric is made by students talented with the loom, the lace by the best crocheter in the class. Every piece is made by students, from the earliest bud of cotton or flax, the hand raised lambs, goats, rabbits or alpacas, to the final glass bead. Each year the product is different, but the ritual is the same. At the final full moon before graduation, the product is displayed on the quad, surrounded with flowers and hand made accessories. Nobody knows what happens to it after that. It disappears before dawn, and the artists go out in the world to make their fortunes. Only once has the project met the light of the morning sun, and that class never saw any success.

x

I’m writing this now so I don’t forget to post it lolo also this is extremely unedited take this however you want!!! It could be romantic Latte or platonic//bromance Latte!!!


So everyone’s talking about how Shiro coming back and bringing Matt with him will make Lance feel like he’s going to get replaced as the blue paladin and/or how Lance feels like Matt would be a better blue paladin

What if Matt actually brings Lance’s confidence down a tad bit when he first arrives, but quickly picks Lance up again after they actually start talking// get to know each other?

Also in my head Matt is like the leader of the rebellion group// is in second command (like a deputy of some sort)

When he first arrives with Shiro, Pidge is the first one to just run up to them and squeeze the living shit out of Matt, and they just have this long ass bro hug (even though Matt is basically getting suffocated). After, Matt meets everyone else on the team (except Lance) and gets along with literally everyone (Slav included).

Both Matt and Keith constantly look after Shiro, and literally baby him 24/7. Matt even teaches// practices hand to hand combat with Keith. They also are sometimes lone wolves and follow their instincts most times during a mission (but Matt knows how to back down// knows when to listen to his team most times) Also they both have fuzzy hair

Apparently Matt was once an engineer of some kind back at the Garrison, and loves eating anything Hunk gives him. Matt joins Hunk and Pidge’s group, helping them out with mechanics and stuff, (since he was most likely a higher rank then both of them at the Garrison), sometimes even correcting Pidge when they’re doing a separate project of some sort.

Allura talks to Matt about plans of sorts, and loves his ideas// adjustments to some of her original plans for a mission, and Matt started studying Altean with the help of Coran when he tries pronouncing the words and when he has problems understanding the rules of the language

The only person he hasn’t really talked to// met yet is Lance. The main reason why is because Lance doesn’t want to ruin his relationship with Matt the same way he thinks he messed up with Allura when they got to know each other.

Everyone just adores Matt and constantly puts the spotlight on him. He’s even better then Keith with most things, which is astonishing to Lance, but it hurts more knowing that he has spent his whole Garrison year trying to beat Keith at basically everything, and impress both Keith and Shiro but never gets a praise out of anything.

He has a hard time thinking what his special talent// what he contributes to the team. In his mind, his only talent right now is being extremely annoying.

Lance doesn’t hate himself. He has his insecurities sure, but he doesn’t hate himself. He just hasn’t found what he’s good at yet. It used to be taking care of his family and comforting them when they had a bad day, but that doesn’t seem to end the case anymore. Sure he was there for everyone else when Shiro went missing (I’ll probably write another post about it later)

Also, Hunk doesn’t upright ignore//forget about him. He still talks to Lance and he kind of knows about Lance’s attention needs, but with all the missions and projects with Pidge, it’s hard being one person. They’re still friends, but they just aren’t as close as they used to be.

Lance is the kind of person that doesn’t tell anyone anything unless you confront him about it because he thinks he’s just being a burden to everyone. He knows that he has to stop bottling his feelings, but it’s hard when the people you consider to be your family is busy dealing with they’re own problems .

He would talk to Coran, but he’s trying to be there for Allura whenever she needs him, since they’re still mourning over Altea

There’s Shiro, but they aren’t exactly ‘close’. At all. Shiro is still trying to recover from his one year as a Galran prisoner. It’s harder for him to move on since one of his arms was removed and replaced with a metal one after being experimented on.

Pidge is still looking for her father, and Keith is still adjusting to the fact that he has Galra blood inside of him, and is also looking for his family.

Slav isn’t exactly helpful with emotional stuff, and Kolivan is a rebellion leader leading a large group of followers

Lance can’t just break down in his room. People would hear him, and he’d probably get scolded for not telling anyone about all his problems and his attention needs .

That’s where Matt comes in. So let’s say that Lance is hanging out at the front of the ship one night when everyone else is sleeping, just watching the stars and thinking about his family, maybe even messing with the star map

Matt couldn’t exactly sleep that night because he was wondering where his dad was, or/ and how his mother was coping with the loss of her family. He gets out of bed and makes his way to the training deck (something he picked up from Keith), only to be stopped when he sees the glow of the star map in the front of the ship. Thinking its Pidge for the hundredth time that week, he walks in ready to scold the fuck out of her.

When he sees Lance just sitting on the floor of the ship, a blanket over his shoulders, and still wearing his usual outfit instead of his pajamas, Matt gets a little worried. He actually scares the fuck out of Lance when he asks him what he was doing, and Lance starts cursing in Spanish, since he was born in Cuba. Matt apologizes for startling him, then asks if Lance is alright.

Lance just gives him a shrug, before zooming back into one of the planets in the star map. Curious, as to what the paladin was looking at, Matt takes a peak over Lance’s shoulder. It’s Earth that Lance is looking at. The sudden realization that Lance is homesick is enough for Matt to sit down besides the paladin and put an arm around his back in support.

Matt let’s Lance vent on and on about his family and how fucking much he misses them and how much he just wants to tell them that he’s okay and that he’s coming back as soon as he can, and how much he’s kept his feelings in because he never had a chance to talk to anyone about it. Matt just listens to him, not even interrupting him once throughout the whole thing, and rubs his back often when Lance looks like he’s about to cry.

When Lance is done, Matt admits that he’s homesick as well, but only because his mother has basically been abandoned by her family, and once in a while he feels guilty for not trying to get back home and instead is joined a rebellion group, but he knows he’s doing it for his mom’s sake, and for the Earth and all the other planets are safe.

And they just talk, except it’s extremely awkward because this is the first time they’ve actually TALKED to each other since Matt arrived, and in the Earth calendar Pidge has, it’s been months.

But they do talk (finally), and most of the things they talk about is either about Pidge being a dork or how they miss their families, maybe even some weird/goofy stuff, like how Slav actually does calculations stuff or how many planets there actually was using some mathematical bullshit methods, and by messing around with the star map.

Then Lance accidentally brings up how awesome Matt is and how he should be the Blue paladin and not him because to his team Lance is just an annoying try hard// joker

So Matt quickly throws that thought out the fucking window, and tells Lance how much the team cares about him and how much Pidge has said about him and how brotherly// awesome he is and how he’s an amazing sharp shooter, while Matt is just some dude that used to be a coward most of the time

So they just talk about how amazing the other is and they keep talking throughout the night (until they fall asleep on one another)

This is extremely lame lol I’m sorry

  • me: wants to write something / draw something / start on some sort of creative project
  • my brain: wait for it
  • me: ok but...wait for what?
  • my brain: wait for /it./

anonymous asked:

leela that liveshow was. a lot. so cute. Dan talking about love made me 👀

it was definitely a lot oh my god. one of my favorites in a long time and a real treasure trove of open stories, asides, opinions, and general insights into his mind, his opinions on work, his life, and of course, yes, his thoughts on love. i almost wondered if he was a little bit tipsy from the sushi dinner he mentioned going on since he’s always sort of told us that he’s pretty sensitive to wine (he was tipsy while editing that sims video when he left the flipside christmas party in december and he’d only had one glass of wine?) because honestly there was so much rambling and vulnerability in this that i wasn’t prepared for. uhhh, brace yourselves bc this is like,, the longest shit i’ve written about them in ages. i can always count on a dan live show to bring out my inner desires to write an actual novel haha

INSIGHTS ABOUT HIMSELF

the meditation bit. that was so lovely on so many levels. to know that he’s tried meditating is one thing. to watch him try to walk us through some of the fundamental tenets of a meditative mindset was another. it was so fascinating to me to hear him confirm the way in which he feels plagued by the onslaught of noise in his life, and crucially, for him, that’s all online noise—he kept talking about imaginary conversations, how all of our communication is text on the internet, and that he ingests so many of those voices constantly and always feels their presence. even though that is a generalizable thing that all of us suffer from, to an extent, in a world where we’re so digitally connected, it’s staggering to think about the scale on which he has to deal with all of the white noise and that all of it is both distressing to him and also inescapable in that it’s the foundation of his career. i just see dan as being someone who is so internally conflicted about so many things and that includes, most centrally, the role of the internet and his presence on it, and it doesn’t take much reaching to understand why he must love and hate it in equal measure.

the hydration campaign. y’all i’ve been trying to track every stay hydrated mention since the one in pinof 8 when they literally made like a psa, with no explanation or context, about the importance of water and staying hydrated and just stuck it in the middle of that vid. i’ve lost track though bc they’ve worked it into nearly every video they’ve made since then and i WANT TO KNOW WHAT ITS ABOUT. i am adamant that it’s an inside joke of some sort. i don’t think they actually give a fuck how much water we drink lol. so today when dan was like “i need to find a way to work that into the next video .. .might already be in it,” and then at the end when he said he needs to leave to go “get hydrated,” i was living bc it was the most open confirmation yet that this is something they’re so intentionally doing and working into their vids. idk if it’s just a funny thing but … my instinct is that it has some sort of deeper meaning that only they know and i’m ANNOYED THEYRE ALLOWED TO RUB THESE JOKES RIGHT IN OUR FACES UGH. jk they can carry on w their married behavior but. i want it all to lead to some sort of announcement that they’re starting a joint bottled water business at the very least. or maybe its just a euphemism for sex. who knows. ugh

dan acknowledging his pretentiousness about music is all i’ve ever wanted. it’s so funny to me how just his self-awareness that he is very pretentious and particular about his tastes is all i needed to forgive him for all of it because what pissed me off more than anything ever about dan’s approach to talking about music were his flimsy attempts at trying to act like he was so accepting and tolerant of all people’s music tastes and that he’s some sort of diplomatic saint who respects and celebrates everyone’s preferences bc … literally no he fucking doesn’t he has never even tried to make it convincing hahah. so him just outright apologizing for it today in his usual self-deprecating fashion was like the funniest, best thing to me bc god at least he knows and realizes and like maybe now he can actually work on talking about music in the deeper and complex ways that he so clearly wants to. also as a music snob in my own right i feel him on this and i’ve always just found it way easier to preface every conversation w the clear statement that these r just my own standards and i’m a douche and i’m never actually trying to disrespect anyone who might like different things than me. anyway, i love dan

INSIGHTS ABOUT WORK & LIFE

i suspected and even posted about the fact that unexpected things might have happened this week that caused phil to be delayed in posting his video and dan to be all but silent on twitter for several days. i speculated dan may not have been in a good place this week based on his silence and also the way he seemed to teeter on the brink of quite overt negativity during last week’s live show. to me, today’s live show seemed fully in the throes of that negative headspace. there was a resurgence of bleak little comments about how he’s tired (of living), how he looks like a rat and doesn’t want to be reminded about the reality of his existence, how his life is a joke, how he can’t comprehend that anyone could draw inspiration from his videos or that his stories could brighten people’s days, etc. etc. all said as casual asides and mostly followed by little laughs as is his norm, but it was very reminiscent to me of the time in early january around his 2016 memes video and his first couple live shows of the year where he talked so frequently about craving death and feeling anxious and judging his own work output too harshly, and the constant pressure of scrutiny from his audience. i don’t think this live show was as bad as all of that but it’s clear that things might be a bit difficult right now and dan confirmed that himself when he stated that it’s been a challenging week in ways he can’t talk about with us yet. i was so interested to hear him say we could ask him about it in like five months though. literally,,, i put it in my calendar for august because i’m just so curious. we have almost no hints to go off of in terms of speculating about what it could be, but to me the fact that we would be able to ask him five months from now seems to suggest that it’s not personal (i jokingly wrote in tags that he and phil had gotten in a tiff this week lol) bc if it was he wouldn’t mention it at all i don’t think and definitely at the very least wouldn’t have given us such a specific timeframe about when we could ask about it. it’s likely work-related bc of that timeframe: a new project of some sort that will be out later this year, for which perhaps several planning meetings or deadlines had to happen/be met this week? it’s hard to say why that would put dan in such a negative headspace but he’s said before that he gets that way when he’s sleep deprived and he did just seem very very tired beneath everything. … also possible it could be about moving? maybe house hunting was very stressful and didn’t go to plan. late summer (five months from now) would be a fitting time for them to have made their move, and really it’s the only other possible thing i can think of with a timeframe that dan would specifically tell us. in any case,,, mark your cals for august y’all bc i actually can’t wait to hear more insights about this week even if we have to wait months for them.

that being said, the new dinof video is coming tmrw or the day after and he was still pretty vague about what it will be about. as i spelled out in completely unnecessary detail after last week’s live show i believe he was going to make the video about dropping the dinof user name but then changed his mind (this is the video he referenced today when he said “i was going to make a video but then decided it should be the next one” before going on like a 3-min rant about how sometimes he just feels the timing isn’t right to post a particular video.) so that leaves the field wide open for what this next vid could be. the only other hint we got was that it could be kink-related because the premium he opened that said “kinkshame me daddy” prompted him to say “well you’ll like my next vid,” but then he quickly walked it back as though to dispel anyone’s expectations that it would be kink-related? it was all a bit confusing. on that subject he did note down the idea of doing a video about going to the dentist back in a february live show, so there’s a high possibility to me that it could be about that since it’s like sort of (maybe jokingly) a kink for him, but he wouldn’t want to tease something that’s mostly NOT about kinks by saying it’s kink-related, hence his rapid back-tracking. but like. tbh who knows … dan is confusing and could pull something totally out of left field behind all of this quibbling. i mostly ardently agree with the way he told us to feel about it, which is to have literally no expectations or theories about what it could be hahah … best advice he’s ever given tbh

confirmation that he and phil will attend playlist this year, and a sort of allusion to the traditional lester clan april holiday in florida. probably means that he will join them again this year. it was kind of nice to hear him basically walk us through how all of their decisions about conventions and travel are made jointly, even months and months into the future, and to have no qualms with sharing that. he also just kept reiterating vaguely that they might have plans at various points of the year and idk about y’all but i feel like he’s trying his hardest to let us know that those plans involve each other and probs always will. could be work things (the same project that may have caused them stress this week), could, as he said in his own words back in january, be “life things.” could be both. but regardless, the plans are always danandphil things, both of them together, and i’m not sure how there is still a strain of people that insists on arguing that a moving apart or separation is on the horizon for this year. all of that is summed up in this one amazing exchange for me, when someone in the chat asks, “are you excited for australia again?” and he answers, “yeah, we are.”

i also really dug the insight about how he likes to structure his work in such a way that he’s working for three weeks straight with no days off and then takes a whole week to lose himself in a game. it’s very dan to be so all or nothing about the way that he works and to become consumed so completely by whatever’s at hand (whether it’s work or leisure) and although i might’ve suspected that that’s how he operates i don’t think we’ve ever heard him lay it out that clearly

INSIGHTS ABOUT PHIL & LOVE

that he opened this live stream with such an earnest celebration of phil (thanking him, literally, for existing and making videos even though it was technically a misspeak) was so lovely and not what i expected but it set a nice tone for the start of this stream. the bants-y way in which he acknowledge the subscriber gap was also a tiny bit noteworthy to me, especially in light of that ask i answered recently about how they must approach the subscriber gap. i argued it def isn’t something they are sensitive about and probs isn’t something they joke about either, but dan sort of showed that he might approach it w humor if the situation calls for it rather than ignore it altogether. interesting. he’s clearly so proud of phil and was a little flustered in talking about how exciting the milestone was. and then, relatedly, so so animated and excited about “promo-ing (awkward pause and sidelong glance) his pal” and the gym video. i fucking loved hearing his version of the story and how surprisingly soft and tender he sounded when he was describing phil on the phone asking for an exercise plan (like, his tone was verging on adoring there) and then the way he looked when he got back. the way that dan says “what happened?” when he’s recounting how he talked to phil after he got home literally set my heart aflutter bc it was sooooooooo concerned-sounding even in a re-enactment, even in front of thousands of people, so i can’t even imagine how worried he must have genuinely been in that moment. the thing w videos is that they allow these real-life stories that happen to dnp to take on a sort of surreal almost fictional feel bc of the storytelling dnp employ—videos have like a real narrative arc and they’re packaged to be entertaining so in some ways it’s easy to forget that this is actually a true thing that happened. phil lester went to the gym and threw up twice from over-exertion and came home in half the time he was supposed to be gone and dan, the worried partner, was there to receive him when he did. and then, of course, to get super angry on his behalf and tell us about it later. i was literally rejoicing to hear dan be so honest about his emotional reaction to this happening to phil bc it might be something he would have usually phrased another way (‘can u believe phil asked for this one thing and got this other thing instead what is wrong with people this is why we don’t go outside’) instead of literally just stating his emotion so bluntly (‘i was actually like really mad … like honestly i was so angry when he told me.’) that difference in communicating how he feels is so hugely important to me and it’s what gave the story so much dimension,, i could literally picture dan and his instinct towards protectiveness that we’ve seen time and time and time again when it comes to phil, just full of irritation, disbelief, and actual anger in that moment and he had no problem with telling us that was what happened. i nearly thought that when he said he couldn’t go to that gym bc he didn’t want to see kyle/leon, that he was saying any real-life encounter with him would end in dan giving kyle/leon an angry speech about his lack of professionalism and total ineptitude at his job. i totally believe that it would.

the other part of dan’s reaction that i feel is worth noting is the way that he immediately said to phil that he needs to learn to be more assertive in a knowing tone as though it’s something they discuss often and, to be honest, it IS something that has come up before over and over in the way that dan portrays phil. that he’s too “polite” to call people out if they’re abusing him online, that he believes in things like etiquette and courtesy, that his personality is adorable and, in not so many words, soft. we even have seen him describe it in certain specific real life scenarios. an example that comes to mind is when they were doing the joint live show in november last year and dan wanted to talk about the sound guy who fucked up his mic at dapgoose LA, subsequently causing him to loose his voice for the boncas. dan clearly wanted to go off about how incapable the sound guy had been but asks phil for permission basically, and phil tempers dan’s response a lot and recounts the situation diplomatically. a random example that also comes to mind from ages ago is in dan’s what not to do at the cinema video from 2012 where he talks about a scenario when he and phil go out to see a movie and he, dan, is assertive enough to both 1. ask for people to completely get up and move if they’re sitting in his and phil’s seats, and, 2. shush them if they’re being too loud. he even acts out phil saying “oh my god you did not just do that, i don’t know you,” and trying to hide. i feel like this is a difference between them that’s sometimes under-discussed  or noticed because the main focus is always on their anxieties and insecurities and general distaste for human interaction. people also focus on phil making small talk with people in social settings and take that to mean that he is more confident and calm. but i earnestly believe that he is more reserved than dan in many ways and that includes in facing negative or stressful situations and dan, despite his own set of anxieties, has always been much more able and willing to demand and ask for what he feels he (or phil) deserves.

obvi the thing everyone wants to talk about (and i’m right there with y’all) is dan’s truly surprising decision to entertain a question about love and then give a definition of it. after a bit of waffling and dithering about whether it is or isn’t a social construct he seems to insist that it is a real feeling and defines it as “the fear of that person not being there mixed with sexual attraction.” super interesting to me because he seems to totally approach this question from his own perspective and experience which is why in the moment he seems to suggest that you need to experience sexual attraction in order to love people (and where does that leave people on the ace spectrum?) and, moreover, that love is definitely a feeling people feel (and where does that leave aromantic people?) he definitely interprets the question to be about romantic love rather than talking about something perhaps “safer” for his usual topics such as platonic love or familial love and it’s for that reason that i definitely think he was trying to say that this is what love means to him and in his own experience because i don’t think he would be so cavalier about conflating romantic and sexual attraction and implying that asexuality and romantic attraction cannot coexist in one person if he had had time to think about this answer rather than spontaneously deciding to answer it on the spot.

but that he’s speaking from his own experience obviously makes his answer profoundly interesting because he settles on, coincidentally or perhaps not, one of the only ways of expressing affection for phil by proxy that he’s ever been okay with sharing with us, which is that he needs phil around bc he can’t bear to be alone. this combined with the protectiveness/defensiveness he exhibits for phil pretty consistently, as well as the occasional recognition of phil’s creativity, are pretty much the full spectrum of ways in which dan ever talks about what he feels for phil in a public setting. it was so strangely emotional for me to hear him confirm that his fear of being alone and being without this hypothetical “love” is so fundamental to the experience of love for him that it becomes a big part of the way he defines it. i mean people make fun of dan’s neediness all the time in so many ways but he straight out confirms here that the feeling of needing your partner near you at all times and staving off the genuinely frightening prospect of the anxiety of being alone are so central to what he takes the experience of love to mean. and that’s true for both of them i feel because as “needy” as dan is, phil is just as attached, chooses to spend all of these moments with dan, chooses to call dan up on stage when he wins solo awards, chooses to travel and socialize and create and live with dan next to him always. the concerning degrees of codependency they exhibit are such common topics of conversation amongst us as outside observers that it’s very nearly startling to hear dan basically say that, yes, this dependency on this other person, this feeling of paralysis when they’re not there, that’s what love is to him, fundamentally. it’s the awareness that your life would be empty without them around. that is … concerning honestly, and as always i have some burning questions about how they make such an unhealthy level of codependency work but like. they do. they so clearly do. they have for so long and they show signs every day of only growing stronger and happier in their partnership, if that’s even possible.

then there’s the sexual attraction bit which like, sure. obvi.

i also thought it was immensely noteworthy that when he read out “some people never find love” from one of the chat comments he didn’t even try a little bit to make it relatable and crack some joke about being forever alone or even just a cheeky little “same.” like just, generally speaking, he approached this whole topic very much with the tone of 1. someone who has definitely experienced the emotion of love, 2. someone who is then trying to articulate the emotion of love as he experiences it, and 3. someone who still feels that emotion and is in proximity to that person to whom it is directed. there were no attempts at trying to say he can’t relate or that he doesn’t know (or to apply it to FOOD which he has said on countless occasions is the number one love of his life,) and if anything he got quite flustered and even red around his ears and cheeks by the end of the whole ramble. flustered but not actually uncomfortable, at least in my assessment. it was really so, so lovely and incredibly insightful. not a topic i ever ever thought i’d hear him venture into and certainly not in a live stream and certainly not in that much depth. to me the whole topic played out almost as though he couldn’t let some overly analytical smartass in the chat reduce this emotion that clearly means so much to him into a mere social construct or even a release of hormones (oxytocin). he needed to push back and play devil’s advocate, but instead of doing that in a contemplative philosophical way he somewhat accidentally got super personal with it and this ramble and completely rare look into dan’s experience w this particularly touchy emotion is what we got. it reminds me a lot of the vyou he answered back in 2012 about whether he believes in love, in which he is quite literally upset and completely rude to the person who asked it, saying “no offense to you but what kind of a stupid question is that?” as though he has never even entertained the possibility that people could not believe that love is a true feeling and emotion. it’s incredible to see that 6 years later dan has evolved in so many ways and is calmer and more thoughtful about so many things, but on this subject little has changed: love is so important to him and there’s no way for him to talk about it without immediately demonstrating that :( :( :(

“hydrate, meditate, contemplate, get a mate.” such a fitting closing line because is there any set of four directives that better encompass who dan is lol? overall such a good live show with so many moments of vulnerability and emotional openness. however dan really is in this moment i hope things only get better and better for him and that he can get over whatever hurdles have been holding him back from dinof and that he can edit/post this video and then let himself take that week off that he mentioned wanting, in order to play games and chill or at least get to a calmer place. love him lots :(((

(live show: meditation and hydration with your new life coach - 2017.03.14)

On Thoughtforms

-Ciie from Ophidian by Rydre Dusks/Little Lu


I’ve been getting a lot of messages about what thoughtforms are as of late. These are, in short, some sort of sentient or non-sentient construct that has been created and given energy by its creator. Thoughtforms are your imaginary friends, your story characters, your comic art, your personas. These beings may not be classified as spirits or astral entities, but in a sense they are beings all the same.

What makes a thoughtform?

Artists, writers, children, everybody makes thoughtforms often without realizing it. When a person projects their thoughts, they are slowly forming an interesting being up there in the astral with all those traits. Thoughtforms can take on the appearance of anything in particular. I made thoughtforms a lot as a kid, but at the same time I also interacted with spirits on a regular basis. They are not weaker than spirits or entities, unless they are created that way. A great example would be one of my pride and joy thoughtforms Ciie. A concept of heinous experiments gone awry. Ciie is part human, part snake, but not in the sense that makes this hybrid appealing to the eye. Ciie was kidnapped and fused to a snake-like lower half, forced into this manner by several psychotic religious scientists intent on recreating the concept of their ophidian god.

Oh how cruel! I’m hearing you all say. You did this to him against his will and now he’s stuck like this?! You’re horrible!

Well, that leads into my next part I want to talk about. I didn’t realize, at the time that I made Ciie, that he would be a thoughtform. Ciie was originally the main protagonist of my book Ophidian. But what set Ciie apart from other characters of mine is that I put a lot of intent into him. I wanted to talk to him on a personal level. Ciie was my first accidental thoughtform during my writing years. It wasn’t until he spoke back to me one day that I realized what I had done. Ciie was then living, and in a tremendous amount of pain. I felt horrible. I wanted to change him again… back to being human or something much less cruel. But he refused.

“You created me, and you created my story. Finish the story so I can find some peace.”

So despite his harrowing appearance, Ciie wanted to stay the way he was. He and I didn’t talk much after that. He went through a lot of different feelings toward me, and really wasn’t sure how to feel in the end, but I slowly created him friends and family to comfort him and keep him safe while I wrote out his story. I created a world for him to inhabit. I created the antagonists so he could have battles against them and actually feel like he was getting somewhere. I did all of this as I wrote.

Ciie isn’t the only thoughtform in my family group whom I have close interactions with. I have many. Hyperstar–who is literally a galactic rainbow-puking alien with stars for ears, Jim–a friendly black and greenish headcrab from the Half-Life universe, P–a deep speaking, story-telling dragon who hails from the land of Skyrim, T–a multi-armed human ghost who flirts with me, and Dr. Roosevelt–an insane doctor from the 1800s who prefers bone saws and syringes over orthodox treatments.

-T, the multi-armed ghost

So how do you differentiate a thoughtform from a spirit?

This is actually an intriguing question that is a little difficult to answer. In some cases, you can’t. But if the thoughtfrm is yours, it’s much easier to tell. Thoughtforms tend to do exactly as you want them to. If ever you are face to face with an entity that you cannot differentiate, try using your mind to change their appearance. Imagine them with a beard if they are female, or imagine them sprouting wings, or something else bizarre or unlike them. If it happens without any repercussions, chances are you’ve got a thoughtform. If the being gets miffed at you for projecting your energies onto them, or they make some sort of reaction you were not expecting, it’s pretty easy to assume they are a spirit or astral entity.

“I don’t like thoughtforms. They just don’t exactly cut it for me.”

I read this a lot, and it honestly saddens me. Like I stated before, thoughtforms can be powerful, and in fact some of my closest friends are thoughtforms, and there is nothing wrong with that. I don’t know where I would be if I didn’t have my once-imaginary friends with me, whether or not they were created with purpose.

So tell me about servitors.

Okay, so servitors are a bit different. Servitors are thoughtforms, but they are thoughtforms created for a specific purpose. Some of them are created to be sexual with their companions, and some are created to fill their companions with happiness, like Hyperstar does for me. Others might be created to help boost memory, keep a designated area protected, or even eat up negative energies.

What about pop culture spirits?

This is just my UPG, so take it for what it’s worth. But pop culture spirits are, without a doubt, thoughtforms. Unless the creator comes forward and outright says, “This character is actually a spirit/entity I met,” chances are it’s a thoughtform who has gained popularity through TV shows, games, books, urban legends, creepypastas, etc. So yeah… If you believe in thoughtforms but don’t believe in pop culture spirits, you’re kinda missing some facts, in my opinion. Yes, there can be multiples of the same kind of pop culture spirit. I’ve met The Doctor in my dreams before. I’ve also met a Bonnie from FNAF, and have created a variation of Freddy Kruger for a client.

But whether or not your being you interact with on a daily or routine basis is a thoughtform really shouldn’t matter. As another opinion of mine, it’s perfectly fine to have imaginary friends. I’ve even had some thoughtforms perform poltergeist-like activity in our household in the past, so there is strength in intent.

So what’s the deal with Western Tulpas?

Now I’m still in the process of learning about the creation of Tulpas, so my views on them might be a little skewed. Western variations of Tulpas are also types of thoughtforms, but created in a unique fashion that sets them apart from said thoughtforms. Many Tulpas have the capacity to learn and grow like any regular being would, and many of them don’t even have a concept of their creation and firmly believe they are living beings. This is just what I have discovered, anyway. YOUR INTERPRETATION IS PROBABLY DIFFERENT SO DON’T HARP ON ME.

There’re a lot of details I’m probably missing, but like I said, I’m not as familiar with the concept of Tulpas as I am with thoughtforms in general. I know there are some people who actually use those two words interchangeably, so it might all just be a matter of opinion in the end.

This is Zenith. He is a ball-jointed doll (Originally a Little Kliff from Little Monica) that I turned into my magick vessel for a very real and very powerful divining thoughtform. In some groups you might call a doll like this a magick child. In others it is a Tulpa’s vessel. Zenith’s sentience was created as a protective ward, a divination enhancer, and a fronter for my personality. Not only does he have the ability to leave his vessel whenever he wishes, he also has the ability to communicate with my friends and family whenever he wants.

And yes… he sees through a lot of bullshit I may not catch. He’s also moved on his own a couple times, so I like to tell people to be careful around him. ;) But he’s my little buddy, and we are practically inseparable.

There’s my bit on thoughtforms. I’m hoping my post will clear up any questions others might have about my views on what I believe they are. I have a lot of respect for people who devote time and energy into making best friends for themselves, and I know my thoughtform friends are all very content to exist.

anonymous asked:

I've gone through your entire voltron meta tag and oh my God I just cant even...I'm turning into a conspiracy theorist. Also the biggest mystery in the entire series for me would still have to be Shiro. First of all I feel like he knows more about the empire than he lets on, secondly I feel like haggar did more than just give him an arm and a scar (druid shiro/robeast shiro) because why else is would he be their greatest weapon when VOLTRON. Mostly: WHO IS SHIRO REALLY? we know almost nothing.

lmao I’m so sorry anon,, but I just can’t get enough of Conspiracies 

Listen,, I love Shiro. Like, I love him so much. But you’re right, he’s a mystery. There’s still a lot about him that just doesn’t add up. For one thing, he has no backstory at all. None. Out of all the paladins, Shiro is the only one who never expresses any interest to return to Earth or his family. Even towards the end of season 2, when everyone’s saying what they’ll do after Voltron–go home, find their families, ect? Shiro says nothing. And I think it’s especially strange he’s so indifferent to homesickness, considering how he was already away from Earth for a year. His family thinks he’s dead, probably had a funeral–and that just?? Doesn’t concern him?? It’s kinda weird. 

Also his amnesia is very?? Plot convenient? Like, we already know that the galra are capable of altering memories and fabricating fakes ones so, I think it’s very likely they have something to do with Shiro’s missing memories. Especially when the druids are known for mind tricks, and Haggar took such a personal interest in him. 

And again there are other strange things about Shiro’s capture–like, why were he and the red lion held on the same ship?? Why was the garrison so adamant about covering up his disappearance, and how much do they really know? What is it about Shiro’s arm that makes him their “greatest weapon”??? What really happened that whole time Shiro was “Champion?” 

And I mean, I think Shiro’s observation here is a very good point

Because, before he escapes, he’s strapped down to the examining table again. It looks pretty obvious that this is where they removed his arm–I mean, you do see a giant blade in the background there. So if they already made him Haggar’s “greatest weapon” then?? why is he back on the surgical table again?? They must be trying to add more modifications right? Whatever they had planned for Shiro, I don’t think they were quite finished yet. 

But even if they weren’t done with his “transformation,” I’m certain they’ve altered Shiro more than they’ve let on. Like, when Shiro’s in the astral plane, and he starts dying. You see the stars all blink out one by one, and then Shiro’s body itself reacts–starts to glow like that 

You know what all those geometric lines crisscrossing up and down his body look like, especially when they glow that pink/purple galra quintessence color? Yeah, it’s just like when Shiro activates his arm. 

Except, instead of just being on the arm, you see those lines go all the way up into his head, which seems really…suspicious…and makes me wonder if he’s maybe more of a robeast than he appears. I think nearly dying probably triggered some kind of reaction with whatever quintessence and modifications the galra added. Maybe a last resort safety measure or something 

And I really hate to say it but, there’s certainly a lot of foreshadow with Shiro and the galra empire that seems to be coming to a head. Even the parallels with him and Zarkon aside, Sendak still plants this idea that he’s a broken soldier, tells him that they’re “both part of the galra empire.” Shiro is constantly grappling with this notion that he’s exactly the kind of monster the galra tried to make him. And while that obviously isn’t true, overcoming that has certainly been a big part of his character arc. And again, if Shiro does need to leave the team and go rogue for some reason, I definitely think Keith being torn between siding with him or Allura/everyone else has already been foreshadowed. 

There’s also just the fact that “Kuro” is a thing that exists. And whether he manifests as Shiro’s response to druid mind control or a clone as some sort of “back up project” well–I’m thinking we might see more of him 

Shiro is undoubtably a good person. But he’s also such a terribly unfortunate person, and even after all the galra did to him, I don’t think he’s quite out of the woods yet 

8

I’ve gotten a lot of stereotypical Latin roles. Whether they be gangsters, or thugs or this and that. I’ve purposefully made the choice, even when it’s a cool project or a great director or a part, that will give me some sort of notoriety, to stay away from those kinds of things. One, because for me, as an actor, it’s just not interesting; but two, I don’t want to kind of perpetuate that stereotype.

I’m sure you’ve noticed how by the end of the show, but before the finale, Evan starts to dress like Connor? He starts wearing s grey hoodie and by the end it’s zipped up and his collar is outside of that, identical to Connors ghost (who in the scene in thinking specifically, is right next to him). I have a theory that this is because Evan is started to adapt to become connor. Everyone has some sort of outlet to project their emotions and feelings, right? Some draw or write depressing things when they feel depressed. Well, I think the Connor Project and emails were that for Evan, so when Evan starts showing everyone the Connor he created, it’s really just exactly like him, a lonely kid who tried to/did kill himself. I think then Evan takes it upon himself to dress more like Connor, not intentionally, but just because he’s made Connor so much like him that now he subconsciously dresses like Connor because of how alike he sees the two of them.

anonymous asked:

Hi, I love the theorizing of hypothetical scenarios that goes on in world building! This blog is a very fun read:) My question is, what would be the effects of extreme age/immortality? From books and other media, immortals from species such as elves/vampires tend to be either inscrutable/wise/world-weary/disdainful of "young" because of experience, but immortals in fiction tends to be in the 4 digit age range. How would an immortal that have lived a million years behave and act and be motivated?

Mirintala: Immortals would be tired. Very tired. They need a second (third, fourth..) wind of interest in the world. They’ve seen it all so what’s left for them to find? Something really needs to grab their interest.

Synth: Cracked.com had an article about that topic a few years ago: http://www.cracked.com/article_18708_5-reasons-immortality-would-be-worse-than-death.html Could be a good jumping-off point.

MareeB:  This is one of those things that you as Author God get to decide for yourself. It’s a pretty common trope to portray immortals as jaded and depressed, but you could take it in another direction, and make them fascinated by the way normal humans live their short lives, or having a benevolent attitude and be interested in improving the world in a sweeping sense, without interest in individual humans. They could be still curious and learning in a sort of Dr Who type way, or be engaged in some sort of long ranging project that they’ve been waiting for the technology to be invented for. You can take it in so many directions. The vampire riddled with ennui is just one (rather lazy I think) trope.

Mirintala: Doctor Who is a very good suggestion, covering the range of “I’ve lived too long” to pure childlike glee.

Bina:  I’d like to see immortals who devote centuries of their time into extremely niche topics and fields and becoming absolute experts. Someone who spent their time from 1800-2007 mastering abstract mathematics or the biology of mollusks, being at the cutting edge of the field and seeing new discoveries be made or even making most leaps of discovery themselves. Fields that are constantly changing or very new might interest an immortal, like computer science (new programming languages are always being made, and new practices always come about), or marine biology (still so much at the bottom of the sea we know nothing about!) or emerging technologies that didn’t exist even five years ago. I’d say there’s lots to keep an immortal’s mind sharp in this day and age. 

 Immortals used to repetitiveness and mastering new skills (especially if they’re the type that doesn’t need to sleep or eat) might be at the top charts for every e-sport in the nation. In fact, the video game industry could keep an immortal occupied for a good while, especially competitive games where they’d be put on their toes. 

 Ones who are benevolent with their skills could take on an endless stream of apprentices and interns to share their knowledge, turning out masters of the craft who regularly make history while they remain in the shadows spreading their knowledge. Imagine if an immortal secretly taught DaVinci how to draw! Or divulged secrets that were burned down in the Library of Alexandria. 

 Like MareeB said, you can take it however you want. For an immortal who’s lived millennia, I can see them clicking their tongue or being pissed/disappointed every time they walk into a museum or watch a documentary. “That’s not what those dinosaurs LOOKED like! They’re getting closer with the feathers, but come ON, people…”

Constablewrites:  They’d definitely have a different sense of timescale. They might not even register the presence of individual humans because their lives are so comparatively short. If they feel like exploring something and get engrossed in it, it would be easy for them to spend centuries or even millennia thus occupied. Like, going into a cave under a tiny village to explore an interesting formation and emerging to find the ruins of a massive city.

Mute Part 10

Part 9

Genre: Angst
Words: 2,554
Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Rape mentions, :( (pls don’t read if this will trigger anything & also i’m here to listen if anyone needs to talk)
Summary: Bucky doesn’t know what to do when traumatizing events result in your witty remarks dying down to nothing.


You were so used to your hands shaking. The past few weeks had caused you to become constantly anxious, but the alcohol running throughout your body had an effect that made your limbs relax. For once in the last month or two, you had been able to drown your sorrows in quiet. There was no one to bring down with the problem, including yourself. If you drank until your mind forgot what the problem was, you could avoid the pain it caused for you, as well.

You hadn’t talked to Bucky since he had arrived that morning. He didn’t follow you once you had left him to think over his words, and you hadn’t expected him to. He was right. It was different now, and it would never be normal again. Once you had finally accepted that, you had sought out the bottle of tequila in front of you.

Thoughts were swirling in your self-deprecating mind, but you sent each one away with a swig of liquor. It helped, honestly. The ache that had been pounding inside of your chest earlier was now a hollow thumping. You could barely feel it underneath your hazy state. You could barely feel anything.

Except your love for Bucky.

Keep reading

I kinda feel sad about bday buses/bday projects now because fans are turning it into a competition of some sort and the real meaning of these projects are lost in the process. :/ always be grateful for these things no matter how small you think it is. the fansites/fans are always doing their best, these things costs a lot of money and effort and time.

Human Coloring Book

Notes: This is a fic in which I combine my love for Dad!Killian with my love for tattooed Killian. I refuse to believe that man only has one tattoo on his person. He’s probably not as tatted as I made him in this, but whatever. As always, I have to thank my good friend @welllpthisishappening (if you’re not following her, there is something wrong with you because she is fantastic and she makes ridiculously long but amazing fics that will make you forget that the outside world exists and when they end, you weep because it was so good and you want more.) for listening and giving me feedback on my work. She’s the best. All mistakes are mine because I don’t have a beta and I am trash. You can also read it here on AO3: [LINK]
Summary: Killian Jones is covered in tattoos, including an impressive outline of a full sleeve on his blunted arm. Emma thinks he should get it colored. Killian gets it colored in a rather unconventional way.
Rating: T
Word Count: 3,500+


Emma nearly gasped the first time she stripped him bare and saw what was underneath all the leather. Nothing had prepared her for the magnificent artwork that lay undiscovered, hidden under numerous layers of black clothing. Killian Jones was covered from head to toe in ink. She had always assumed that he had a few tattoos aside from the heart and dagger that bore another woman’s name, but what she discovered was an entirely different level.

There wasn’t much work on his torso, but there was a tiny, tiny black swan on the far end of his collarbone and it became Emma’s favorite thing to kiss. It was a tribute to her, something that he had gotten while Emma and Henry were in New York. He had taken his vow to remember her everyday seriously and had marred his skin with his promise.

A pair of coordinates with an old fashion looking sextant took up the majority of the space on his left ribcage. It was one of the older looking tattoos on his body, the ink starting to blur a bit with age. Emma knew the moment she saw it that it was another memorial wrought on skin. It was for Liam and Emma sometimes caught him tracing it with a pensive look on his face in the dark quiet moments of the night, particularly on the hard days where one of them almost didn’t make it home.

Keep reading

Huntress- Part 18: Legacy

Sam x Daughter!Reader, takes place in S12 E18 so warning: SPOILERS

Part one
Part two
Part three
Part four
Part five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten
Part Eleven
Part Twelve
Part Thirteen
Part Fourteen
Part Fifteen
Part Sixteen

Part Seventeen


You watched as Uncle Dean walked into the room, he’d called Cas about fifteen times this week and still nothing. Dad walked in from the other entrance, holding a load of papers and articles. You all sat at the table, “Still no word from Cas?” Dad stated the obvious,
“Nothing.” Uncle Dean huffed. He picked up his guns and began to clean them. You noticed he did this when he was worried.
“He’s Cas. This isn’t the first time he’s just dropped off the map. He’ll be fine.” Dad tried to reassure his brother, who hummed a “Yeah…” in response. 

“Well, I’ve been researching demons. Turns out we have a lot of books on demons.” 
You chuckled.
“But nothing useful for Daegon.”

“Helpful.” You stated sarcastically. You glanced up when a notification appeared on your Dad’s laptop screen. “Huh,” He grabbed Uncle Dean’s attention “I just got an email from Mick…It’s a case.”
“Good.” Uncle Dean replied before wiping the barrel of his pistol.

“Why didn’t he call?” You wondered aloud.

“Some guy called Jarrod Hayes went missing last week in Tomahawk, Wisconsin….Mick say’s this place has a history.

“Meaning…?”

“Well someone went missing every year for some time until it stopped twenty years ago…well, until now.” Dad paraphrased.

“What so it’s like a cycle or something?” You suggested.

“Something like that.”

As everyone was throwing some bags into the back of Baby your Dad stopped you. “You sure you’re okay to come?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.” You nodded. You were far too determined to quit.
His eyebrows furrowed sympathetically. “If you want to stop at any point just say.” He paused before adding “Promise?”
“Promise.” You smiled.


The three of you raised an eyebrow at the Sheriff. He was adding the finishing touches to some sort of taxidermy project. It was a little creepy to say the least. You’d taken on Claire’s advice and after managing to convince your Dad to let you tag along as they posed as FBI agents. It was amazing what a little makeup and smart-wear could do.

“You know what I don’t get…” the Sheriff began “Why the fed’s are so interested?” He didn’t look away from his work.
“Just following orders.” Uncle Dean answered in a way that said it wasn’t up for question.
“What can you tell us about the case?” Dad asked after clearing his throat.
“Not much to tell,” the Sheriff picked up some sort of tweezers and began fixing any hair that looked out of place to him “Some kids were hanging out, Jarrod went home and never made it.”
“You don’t seem very worried.” You noticed his casual demeanor.
“If you ask me he bailed. He had it tough you know…real tough.” The Sheriff started to sew something up on the creature.
“Tough?” Uncle Dean raised an eyebrow.
“His Mom left years ago and his Dad…well…lets just say Jarrod fell down the stairs a lot.”

“You knew he was being abused?” You tried not to sound angry.

“We tried to help him, but taking a child away from his parents, even if they’re the evilest people in the world, its hard.” 
You couldn’t argue with him, but you didn’t fully agree either.

Uncle Dean went back to the issue at hand “You said Jarrod was with friends the night he went missing, did any of them say anything?”
“Nothin’ worth repeating….there, ain’t he precious?” The Sheriff sat back from his completed work and did a sort of ‘voila’ pose. You smiled awkwardly, trying to look impressed. 
“Any idea where we can find any of these friends?” Dad wondered.


“Darren Boston? Agents Stark, Martel and Pond.” You held up your badges briefly.
“Ah no…” Darren whispered to himself, tossing his joint to the floor. You picked it back up and handed to his confused face “That stuff’s expensive.” 
Thanks?” He mumbled.
“We uh, we wanted to ask you a few quick questions about the night your friend Jarrod Hayes went missing?” Dad explained.
“What about it?” He huffed.
“The Sheriff said you were with him.” Dad continued.
“Yeah well the Sheriff can suck it. He thinks Jarrod just upped and left this town.”
“And you don’t?” You said curiously.
“I know he didn’t. But the cops aren’t gonna believe me, not if the Sheriff doesn’t. He’s got it in for me.” Darren complained.
“Why?” 
He held up his fag in an obvious manor “Why do you think?”

“So what did happen?” You encouraged him, if he hadn’t told anyone else, which by the sounds of it he hadn’t, he’d be more likely to tell you.
“I tried to save him…” Darren took a deep breath “But the monster got him: Black Bill.”


“Black Bill is a local urban legend…” Your Dad began to explain, but paused when neither you nor Dean were paying much attention. One, you already had the wiki page up on your phone and two, you were starving so food was the priority. The waitress finally cam over with your orders, spending extra long giving your Uncle his so she made sure he saw “the look”. You hid behind your milkshake in embarrassment for him as he winked.
“Focus.” Dad managed through gritted teeth, nudging his brother.
“I am focused! Black Bill, urban legends blah blah what’ve you got?” Uncle Dean clearly wasn’t “focused” but you were too busy reading your own phone to bother saying anything.
Dad coninued “Apparently he has the head of a goat-”
“A goat?” Uncle Dean stopped him “Like mehh a goat?”
“No. The black and white type that goes Moo.” You remarked, earning a bitchface from your Uncle and a smile from your Dad.

“So where are we going with this?” Uncle Dean tried his best to stay on board as he followed the waitress round with his eyes.
“You’re an actual creep.” You looked at him with a disgusted face and he swatted you on the back of the head “What would you know, you’re what, twelve?”
“Old man.” You hissed.
“Baby.” He snapped back.
You stuck your tongue out at him “Fight me.”
“I’d beat your ass.”
“Guys!” Dad drew your attentions back to the case “Focus.”

“Why don’t you two uh, focus on the case.” Uncle Dean didn’t take his eyes off the waitress, who was glancing at him whenever she had the chance.
“Don’t wait up.” He mumbled, slowly getting up from the table “We can just use the colt. Dusts anything.”
“Still, if it fails it’s nice to have a plan B.” You shrugged.
“I’m done with you two and your..logic.” With that he got up and made a beeline for the lady. 
“Oh don’t do the hot coffee thing.” Dad winced in preparation for whatever awful pickup line he was about to attempt.

Uncle Dean whistled a little before smirking “This coffee is hot, almost as hot as-” He then gestured towards her.
You sunk into your chair “Oh please no that was so painful to watch.” 
Cringing you faced away from the pair of them, making Dad chuckle. “Wanna go?” He said, clearly feeling the same.
Definitely.”


After an all-nighter of researching and endless energy drinks, or coffee for your Dad, you were back in the same cafe. Hopefully, Uncle Dean would arrive soon so you could carry on with the case.
You glanced up when the little bell went at the door where he whispered something to her before grinning and heading in your direction. 
He sat down, looking way too proud with himself. “Good night?” Dad asked.
“Why would you even ask that?” You mumbled.
“Awesome. So awesome.” Uncle Dean smiled widely as he looked back over to her taking her jacket off.

“So uh, any idea what we’re dealing with?”
“A satyr.” You said- keen to change the topic.
“A what?” Uncle Dean raised his eyebrows, stuffing his face full of your Dad’s order. 
“Half man-half goat thing, like Mr Tumnus from Narnia.”
“You are such a nerd.” He commented.
“Nerd life is best life.”You shrugged, taking your phone back from him.

“They lead people to the woods for massive orgys and then the Satyr would, quote, “feast on the flesh of his victims until his belly was full to bursting with their moist slippery meat””. 
Uncle Dean slowed his chewing and pushed his plate away “Oh, so now what?”
“We were gonna question Darren…”
“Were going to?” Uncle Dean didn’t like where this was going. 
“Yeah,” Dad nodded “His Mom called to say he never made it home from work last night.”


“Excuse me, Sir. Hi, Agents Stark, Martell and Pond. We’re looking for Darren Boston?”
“Darren?” The man looked puzzled “Is he in trouble?”
“No we uh, spoke to him last night. We just wanted to ask a few follow up questions.”
“No he didn’t actually show up for work today. Sorry I can’t help you any more than that…The last time I saw him was yesterday. Big day today, though. It’s a shame he couldn’t have pulled his load.”
“How come it’s a big day?” You asked.
“See that man over there, he’s the health inspector. They’re trying to shut us down. We can’t afford to upgrade to better equipment.”
“And the owner?” Dad pressed.
“He’d rather play Sheriff.”
“Wait,” Uncle Dean stopped him from saying anything else “You’re telling me Sheriff Bishop owns this plant?”
“Yeah-“ He paused, noticing a man waving for his attention “Excuse me.”

“So…” You sighed, watching him walk away “We talk to the Sheriff.”
Uncle Dean continued “Find our witness who later goes missing.”
Dad finished “Last seen somewhere owned by the Sheriff. Coincidence?”

The three of you walked behind a curtain to reveal racks of meat. It stank and it took any drop of hunger you had out of you. Ew.
“Sheriff.” Uncle Dean cleared his throat. The Sheriff turned round on his heels with his hands half in his pockets “What are you doing here? Still trying to track down Jarrod?”
“And Darren Boston. He went missing yesterday.” You added.
“Geez, first I’ve heard.”
“Sheriff, what do you know about Black Bill?” Uncle Dean went straight to the local legend.
The Sheriff sighed “Parents tell it to their kids so they don’t stay out so late or play somewhere they shouldn’t. He’s like the boogeyman, you know? Ain’t real.”
“You sure about that, a lot of people in this town go missing.” You questioned him furhter.
“Yeah, they work at the plant, get bored and move on.”
“And what about Darren?” Dad tilted his head.
“The kid was drunk, high or both. He’s not exactly a trustworthy witness.”

“Okay, thank you for your time.” Dad thanked him before turning and leaving with you both. Once you’d made it out of the main area you began to discuss the case. “He’s not acting suspicious at all.” Uncle Dean scoffed.
“But how’s he connected to the satyr?” Dad couldn’t get his head round it and neither could.


You stole a few of Uncle Dean’s chips as he grabbed ketchup from the other table, throwing you a suspicious glare as you munched on them. “Did you take some of my fries?” He raised an eyebrow. You shrugged, swallowing. You were about to act all innocent when Dad came into the diner. “Seriously? You can eat after what we just saw?” He looked disgusted at his brother.
He shrugged, taking a bite of his burger. “This is heaven, Sammy.”
You took another chip when he closed his eyes, having a moment with his burger. He then opened one and glanced at you, swallowing before saying “Will you stop.”
“I’ll stop when you run out of chips.” You smiled sweetly.
Anyway,” Dad ignored you both “Did we find anything out?”
“Yeah, all the past victims worked at the factory.” You said after taking a sip of your hot chocolate.
“All of them?”
“Yep. So they must be connected.”

“Must be. What I found is that in the past if you lived here you worked at the plant. The Bishops owned everything. From the factory to the housing. Only, recently they’ve been having to sell things off. Everything except for the factory and their housing estate.” Dad placed a photo in front of you both.
“Damn.” You looked at how posh and defined it was “Now that’s a house.”
Dad’s phone buzzed and he checked the screen “It’s from Mick, he’s wondering how the case is going.”
You didn’t mention anything, but Mick had been acting a little out of character recently. “Tell him it’s going just fine.” Uncle Dean managed between bites.


You flicked your torch on and stayed close to your Dad and Uncle, treading carefully through the estate. As they turned to go different ways, exploring the place, you did so too, walking into the huge kitchen-diner with a door at the other side.
“Dean, Y/N!” Your Dad called, turning your attention away from the backdoor “I’d say we just got lucky.”

You and Uncle Dean came face to face with a huge wooden door- at leas 8 different locks bolting it shut. “I’d say he’s hiding something.” You said, watching as your Dad began to pick the locks.
After a few minutes of fiddling about with them the door swung open to reveal a gloomy looking staircase leading into the dark basement. You descended down in silence, one hand with a torch and the other with a gun.

It was a large-ish room littered with torture devices and blades. You noticed the definite smell of blood and cringed as you shined your torch over the bloody table. The door from upstairs sounded and you froze. The three of you shared a worried look as the footsteps grew loud from the floor above. It must have been the Sheriff.
He crept down the steps, straight towards the three of you. Immediately, you stepped off to the side as not to be the ones at gunpoint. Dean cocked the colt and held it against the Sheriff’s head. “Hey.” He grumbled.

You took the gun from the Sheriff’s grip and held it away from his reaching distance, Uncle Dean hit him against the wall and demanded “Talk.”

“You won’t believe me…” He looked down. You could tell he wasn’t exactly a keen killer. “We’ve got a pretty open mind.” Dad countered.

The Sheriff sighed “My family…we’ve got a secret..Black Bill is us. When we were kids Dad told us about how a monster came to our house and made us rich in return for food.”
“Food?” You narrowed your eyebrows in question.
“Human blood. We made Black Bill up…”
“So who’s the monster?” Uncle Dean questioned.
“Moluch.”

You nodded slowly before saying “The God of sacrifice.”
“That’s right.” The Sheriff nodded sadly. “We starve him until he’ll give us anything we want. In return for some poor son of a bitch’s blood we get rich. But after my Dad died I put a stop to it. I didn’t want to kill anyone, I just wanted to put right what we’d done wrong.”
“So uh, where’s Moluch now?” You asked, peering into the hatch you presumed he’d been in.
“He’s still there. Locked up, hoped he’d starved to death.”
You looked between him and the hatch in confusion “He’s definitely not in here.” You knelt down next to it and shined your torch “Empty.”
“What?” The Sheriff stood up straight and snatched the torch from you, making you sigh. He took a look for himself in fright “No no no…no-” He was cut short by a booming sound from upstairs. 

“Stay down here, I’m going up.” Uncle Dean spoke quietly, holding his gun up more than before. “Dean, there could be a God up there.” Dad scoffed at his brother. “I’m cool.” Uncle Dean held the colt up. You couldn’t help but worry about how much he relied on it.

After a few minutes of silence you left the room and crept up to the top of the stairs, perring round the corners- nothing. “Y/N?” Dad called from the bottom “What are you doing? You don’t have the cult! You don’t even have your gun!”
“I don’t need it.” You said, catching a glimpse of the man following Uncle Dean. You left the steps heading up to the first floor so you were following someone following Uncle Dean. 
Your Dad watched as you turned the corner, glancing back and forth between the Sheriff and following you. “Y/N!” He hissed, well aware you probably couldn’t hear him.

You ducked behind a wall when the man lunged at Uncle Dean, not sure whether to announce to them you were there or stay hidden. The fought until Uncle Dean parried the wrong way, allowing the man room to flip him over the edge of the stairs. He quickly locked the basement door before your Dad could run out. You stayed hidden, watching as he dragged Uncle Dean out of the building, now wishing you had your gun. When you were certain the coast was clear you headed down and unlocked the door. A very disappointed Dad awaited the other side.
You didn’t know what to do. “Next time, bring a gun.” He scolded, heading out of the building before pausing “Where’s Dean?”
“Taken.” You said, taking your gun back from him and holding your mobile up “Or being taken.”
Dad watched your screen, a small blip appearing as it tracked his phone. He sighed “Okay let’s go.”


“Dean?!” Dad called out. You all crept through the factory, weapons at the ready. “I’ve lost the signal but he’s somewhere around here.” You said, looking about for any niches. 
A loud growl echoed throughout the hallways and crates. You all turned, aiming your guns towards the sound, which was a iron door that looked like it could only be opened from this side. You crept towards it, but your eyes averted to the side for a second, noticing a shadowy figure in the corner of your vision. “Right.” You whispered, stepping to the left.
Your Dad glanced at you in confusion before looking past you and noticing what you meant. It was a man with a mask of a satyr- reflecting the fake legend of Black Bill. He lunged at the pair of you, both stepping away from his attack. He then attacked the Sheriff, both of which fell to the floor, wrestling and fighting. The Sheriff tore his mask off and shouted at him “Pete! You’ve got to stop!”
“Don’t act like you care! My whole life I’ve got shit all! The crap!” He kicked the Sheriff away from him and rose, aiming his gun at him “Not anymore. I’m going to be a hero, saving this town,” You watched as your Dad held his gun up “And you’re dea-”
He pulled the trigger, sending Pete to the floor with blood oozing from his wound. You grabbed the colt from him, tossing it at Dad who’d shot the lock. He caught it and swung the door open. You watched as Moluch stared, as if aware of his fate. The gunshot boomed through the metallic structures, ringing off the walls as Moluch’s whole body lit up like lightening coursing through him before he fell away to nothing.

“Colt…” Dad breathed “Dusts anything.”

“You guys should head off.” The Sheriff looked away from his half-brother. 
“Sheriff,” Dad sighed “We can hep clean up and-”
“No this I can do…It’s my legacy.”


“Hey, I’ve been thinking,” Uncle Dean said, putting beers down on the table. He glanced at you before handing you one, making you smile “What’s our legacy? Do you think people are gonna remember us in years to come?”
“No.” Dad stated bluntly, making you chuckle. “Well I mean we’re not exactly the type of people to be written about in the History books. But the people we’ve saved. They’ll remember us and then they’ll eventually fade away too. But that’s okay. Because we left the world better than we found it.”
“Wonder what’s gonna happen to this place,” Uncle Dean asked another “After we’re gone.”
“That’s up to this one.” Dad ruffled your hair “There’s gonna be a next generation of Hunters. We’ve already seen glimpses of it: Y/N and Claire.”

Nodding slowly, as if taking in Dad’s words, Uncle Dean flicked his blade out an began carving something into the table. You leaned to the side slightly in order to read it. “What are you doing?”
“Making our mark.” 
When he’d finished scratching away at the wood you could read it: ‘DW’. You smiled, watching your Dad take his own blade out and do the same. Then, to your surprise Uncle Dean held the blade out to you and smirked. You looked at it, not sure what to say. He took your hand and placed the blade in it for you “Those initial’s aren’t gonna write themselves.”


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Stiles- I’ll Stay

Requests-  Heyy, could you do an imagine where y/n is a young werewolf (like 15) and she moves to beacon Hillis, but before she can even go to school or something, she get cought by hunter and they torture her for information (she doesnt heal though). And by the time she’s saved by the sheriff, she completere shuts down, and doesnt talk to anyone, but when Stiles sneaks in to talk to her, she talks back, because she feels like she can trust him. Btw you’re very talented😊💕  /  Liam/Stiles request: Where the reader is friends with the pack and has a crush on (Liam/stiles) and there is a powerful thunderstorm one night and she is afraid. However,(stiles/Liam) knows she is scared of them. Reader would call them but doesn’t want to, she is lonely but then (stiles/Liam) end up comforting reader and fluff!! (Pick whichever) :) thank you!!!

A/N- So I picked Stiles for the last one, and I think I did a good job of tying these two requests together. I’ve got one more request in the inbox to write.

“What’s up, Parrish?” Stiles asked, giving the front desk a friendly slap as he sauntered past it.
“Stiles, your dad’s in the middle of something right now,” Parrish greeted him. “He said you could wait out here and not to go in his office.”
Stiles paused and pivoted on his heel, looking back at Parrish. The Deputy was typing away at his computer, his green eyes no longer focused on the younger boy, and he frowned.
He leaned down and grabbed the screen, causing Parrish to raise his eyebrows at him. “Stiles, can I help you?”
“What kind of something?”
Parrish fixed him with a look that told Stiles he knew exactly what he was trying to do. “Something.”
Stiles tilted his head and feigned a wounded look. “So this is how it’s gonna be.”
“You know you don’t actually work here, right?”
“Oh, that’s funny,” Stiles told him, scratching his chin. “That’s funny, considering me and Scott solve most of the cases that come through here.”
Parrish stared at him, obviously unimpressed. “Stiles, sit down.”
Stiles sighed, dramatic and loud, and stalked over to sit in one of the chairs across from the front desk. “Fine.”
No sooner had he dropped down than the door to his dad’s office opened, and he jumped up from his seat.
“Dad!”
The Sheriff, who had been rubbing his head in his hands a second before, looked up. “Hey kid, I’m sorry about dinner. We’ve just got a lot going on right now.”
“Anything I can help with?” Stiles asked him.
Stilinski hesitated like he was considering it, but then said, “No.”
It was a split second of hesitation, but Stiles still caught it.
“Dad, come on,” he pleaded. “Is it something supernatural?”
“Keep your voice down,” his father hissed, pulling him closer. “Stiles, this doesn’t involve you.”
“But if I can help-”
His dad brought a hand to the back of his head, causing him to yelp. “Stiles, I said no.”
Stiles huffed. “Fine. Will you at least tell me if Scott can help?”
Stilinski pursed his lips. “Possibly. But she’s not talking right now, alright?”
“She?” Stiles asked, his interest piquing even more.
His dad glared at him, and looked toward the closed office door, but then he sighed.
“Clark responded to a call Downtown about an hour ago. A woman walking her dog heard a girl screaming from an abandoned house. Clark called out, heard someone running away, and when she finally got inside, she found a girl, lying on the ground. She was bloodied up and hurt, but when Clark tried to help her, she started to heal, and her eyes turned yellow.”
Stiles swallowed. “Is she okay?”
“She’s mostly healed,” the Sheriff told him quietly. “But she won’t say a word.”
“What?” Stiles asked. “Let me talk to her.”
“No,” his father told him firmly. “Absolutely not.”
“Then at least let me call Scott!”
“I’ll call Scott,” the Sheriff said. “For now, for the love of God, Stiles, just sit down.”
Stiles bit the inside of his cheek, glancing back at the office. “Fine. Fine, just call Scott.”
His father shot one last warning look at him before turning down the hall, and walking into an empty office to make the call. The minute he disappeared, Stiles glanced around the station carefully.
Parrish was still at his computer, typing away, and Clark was writing up a statement in the corner. The station was buzzing with officers refilling coffee or filling out paperwork, and no one seemed to take much notice of Stiles.
He slowly headed toward his dad’s office, shot one glance behind him to make sure no one was looking, and then slipped open the door.
He ducked inside, quickly shutting the door and nearly tripping on his own feet. He let out a relieved breath, and he heard a soft, weak laugh from behind him.
You probably wouldn’t have made a sound, if it hadn’t been for the way the boy had stumbled into the room. He was tall, brown-haired and seemed to have no grace or balance whatsoever.
Despite the terrible past couple of weeks and everything you had endured, you were relieved that you were still able to laugh about something. Then the guy whirled around at the sound, and you flinched back in your chair.
The Sheriff had left you there a few minutes ago, after he had given up trying to coax anything out of you. He seemed nice, but all anyone had done for weeks was press you for information, and even though you were safe now, you weren’t too keen on opening your mouth.
“Uh, hey,” the guy said. “Are you feeling okay?”
You didn’t answer, eyeing him carefully. He was wearing jeans and a tshirt, and from that display earlier, you knew he definitely wasn’t a cop.
“Okay,” he said slowly. “Well, uh, I just wanted to let you know that you don’t have to be afraid or anything. My dad-he’s the guy who just left-is just trying to help. He knows about everything. You know, the werewolves, and the hunters and stuff. So you don’t need to be scared.”
You were still just staring at him, and he scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve also got this friend. His name’s Scott, and he’s an alpha-”
“No!” you yelled suddenly, tensing up.
“Wh-what?” Stiles choked, glancing over his shoulder in case anyone had heard you.
“No alpha!” you commanded. “I don’t want an alpha!”
“Okay, okay!” he whispered loudly. “Relax, I’ll just tell him to leave when he gets here.”
You eyed him suspiciously. “You will?”
“I will,” he told you. “I promise. But everyone out there…they’re really worried about you.”
You looked at him like you didn’t believe him, but Stiles kept talking. “The deputy who found you, Clark, she’s really concerned. She was hellbent on taking you to the hospital.”
“I don’t need a hospital,” you whispered, looking down at the wounds that had disappeared ages ago.
You picked at your blood-stained jeans and tried to avoid his eyes. They were sharp and curious, and you didn’t have the urge to be questioned and dissected like you were some sort of science project.
“I know that,” he continued. “And so does my dad. That’s why he told her no when she radioed in, but she’s still really worried.”
“She was nice,” you told him softly. “Tell her thank you?”
“You can tell her yourself if you want to,” Stiles told you gently.
Your frown deepened, and you shook your head. Stiles’ brow furrowed. “Is there a reason you’re not really talking? Are you afraid of someone?”
You shrugged, and he sighed and sat down on the couch across from you. He patted the spot next to him, and you raised your eyebrows at him.
“What?” he asked. “It’s more comfortable over here, just FYI. I can even switch with you if you want.”
You shook your head, and the boy simply shrugged and leaned back into the cushions.“I’m Stiles by the way.”
“Stiles?” you questioned.
He nodded. “Weird name, I know. But this is a pretty weird town.”
You nodded in agreement, and wrapped your arms around your knees. You were content to sit in silence, but Stiles let out a heavy breath. “God, I’m starving. Are you hungry?”
You shook your head again, but just as you did, your stomach growled in contradiction. Stiles raised his eyebrows. “I can get you something to eat if you want.”
You shook your head vigorously this time. You didn’t want him going out of his way for you. You didn’t even know him.
“What’s your name then?” he asked.
You glanced up, and he pursed his lips. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
You swallowed. “It’s Y/n. My name is Y/n.”
Stiles smiled, his lips twitching at the corners, and it occurred to you that you wouldn’t mind seeing it more often. “Pretty. Your name, I mean, not you. I mean, it’s not that you’re not pretty or anything. That’s not what I meant. You’re definitely pretty. Gorgeous, really, but, uh-”
You cut him off with another soft laugh. Your voice was hoarse and weak from screaming, but he could detect a hint of happiness in it. “I knew what you meant.”
“Oh,” Stiles said, his cheeks going red. “Right.”
“Your friend,” you whispered cautiously. “The alpha…what’s he like?”
“Pssh,” Stiles remarked. “He’s a dork, but he’s a good guy. Sometimes too good of a guy, but he’s strong too. He’s been through a lot. He’s done a lot for me…for this town.”
“Is he like you?”
“Do you mean ruggedly good-looking and charming?”
“No,” you told him plainly.
“You know, I think I liked you better when you didn’t talk,” he told you playfully.
You laughed and Stiles smiled. “You have a nice laugh.”
You blushed and leaned back in your chair, curling in on yourself. “I was just kidding before, you know. I like it when you talk.”
“I think you talk enough for the both of us,” you told him.
Stiles laughed once more. He had an infectious laugh, and soon you were giggling too. For the first time, it occurred to you that there was too much space between you and Stiles. You wanted to be close to him, to this boy who made you feel safe, even when a room full of police officers couldn’t.
That was when the door opened, and you flinched back as you saw the Sheriff walk in. He took one look at Stiles, and he swore he saw smoke coming out of his dad’s ears.
“Stiles,” he growled, grabbing him by his shirt and hauling him up.
“Wait, no dad-” he protested, but he was already being shoved out the door.
His dad slammed it in his face, and he was left standing there in the hall, with the eyes of the whole station on him. He sniffed, shifting at the pressure of the stares. “What are you looking at?”

Back in the office, you looked down at the floor.
“I’m sorry about that,” the Sheriff apologized to you. “My son is harmless, but he likes to stick his nose in things.”
You shook your head, not meeting his eyes. “He’s a good person.”
The Sheriff blinked, wide-eyed, and nearly dropped the mug of coffee he was holding. These were the first words he had heard you speak.
“He is,” he told you, his voice softening. “Did he talk to you?”
You smiled. “A lot.”
The Sheriff smiled, and slid down onto the sofa that Stiles had vacated. “He does that. Can’t get him to stop sometimes.”
You nodded, and the Sheriff sighed. “So, you wouldn’t happen to have anything to say to me would you?”
You shifted in your seat. “Stiles.”
The Sheriff blinked. “Sorry?”
“Stiles,” you repeated. “Please?”
His brow furrowed, fixing you with that same inquisitive look that Stiles had. He looks like his dad, you thought.
“Let me get this straight,” the Sheriff began. “You want my son in here? Are you sure?”
He was met with a vigorous nod, and then he slowly stood up and set his mug of coffee on his desk. “All right, but you asked for it.”
He walked over to the door of his office and pulled it open, only to have Stiles flop through the doorway and right onto his feet. The Sheriff glared at his son, who had obviously just had his ear pressed up against the door.
“H-hey, dad. Hey, Y/n. You two have a good talk?”
The Sheriff frowned. “Sometimes I think you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”
“I’m cute though, right?” He asked hopefully. “Dad? Right?”
The Sheriff shot him a look. “Sit down, Stiles. If Y/n’s more comfortable with you in here, you can stay, but you’re going to be quiet.”
“Got it,” he told him, nodding rapidly.
He flopped down onto the couch and shot you a wink, as if the two of you were sharing some sort of inside joke. His father looked between the two of you, his brows furrowing, and then he held out his hand.
“You can sit on the couch if you want. It’s probably more comfortable than that chair.”
You nodded and looked over at Stiles, searching for confirmation. He shrugged and patted the seat beside him, and you quickly unwrapped your arms from around your knees.
Stiles smiled encouragingly as you sat down beside him, and the Sheriff took the chair you had abandoned. He pulled it a little closer, causing the legs to scrape against the floor, and you flinched.
“Alright,” he told you, sliding behind his desk. “Y/n, do you have a last name?”
You swallowed nervously and remained silent.
“You look pretty young,” he continued. “Is there anyone we can call? Parents, family maybe?”
You shook your head softly. They wouldn’t come if he called, so you didn’t see a point.
“Do you have a pack?” He asked. “Maybe an alpha who’s missing you?”
“No,” you told him firmly, your eye wild and terrified. “Not my alpha. He wasn’t…he wasn’t like Stiles’ friend.”
Stiles blinked, suddenly realizing why you had reacted the way you did when he brought it up earlier. Not every alpha was like Scott. Peter had been a prime example of that, and whatever you were running from, Stiles guessed your alpha was a part of it.
“I understand,” the Sheriff told you. “Are you sure there’s no one we can call?”
You thought for a moment, and felt tears pricking at your eyes. “No. I don’t…I don’t really have anyone.”
The Sheriff gave you a single, firm nod. “ Is there someone you were staying with? Someone in Beacon Hills?”
“No,” you whispered. “I…I ran from Sacramento. I don’t know anyone here.”
“You ran?” Stiles questioned, his eyes going wide. “Like, literally ran?”
“Stiles,” the Sheriff chided, shooting a sharp glare at his son. “Is that true, Y/n?
You came here on foot?”
You nodded. “Mostly. I took a bus when I got to Redding. I ended up here.”
“Why Beacon Hills?”
You shrugged. “I don’t know. I…I couldn’t go on foot anymore, so I spent what I had left on a bus ticket. I didn’t have a lot of time, though, so I just picked the first place I saw on the board.”
“Beacon Hills.”
“Yeah,” you said softly. “But they found me anyway.”
“Who?”
“Hunters. Two of them. I don’t know how they found me, but I think they were
watching my alpha. And when I tried to run from him…I guess they saw me as an easy target.”
“You were running from your alpha?” the Sheriff asked.
You closed your eyes and nodded, trying to fight the nausea building in your stomach at the thought of him. You remembered the blood, and the pain of the bite, and the things he had done to you that were much worse.
Your family hadn’t understood. They screamed when you tried to show them what was happening, and after that, you knew there was no way you could go to anyone else you knew. After they tossed you out on the street, you hadn’t seen paying a visit to your alpha as an option, and it dawned on you that you didn’t really have any other choice.
Going to him had been a mistake, not only because he tried to hurt you, but when you ran, you caught the attention of someone just as deadly. You managed to escape the hunter and his buddy on foot, and you were running for a week before you finally hopped on that bus to Beacon Hills.
What you didn’t realize was that you hadn’t totally lost them, and the minute you stepped off the bus, they were waiting for you at the station.
“Is he still after you?” Stiles’ father asked, pulling you from your thoughts.
“No,” you said, thinking back to your alpha. “I don’t think he cares enough.”
“And these hunters?”
“I’m not sure,” you admitted. “They looked young, and they seemed like they didn’t really know what they were doing.”
Stiles scoffed. “They knew enough to torture you.”
Stilinski shot a glare at his son, and you cast your eyes to the floor. When you looked back up, Stiles was staring at you with a grimace on his face. ‘Sorry,’ he mouthed.
“I don’t know if they’re coming back,” you whispered softly. “If they do…”
“We’ll be right here,” Stiles swore, and for once, his father didn’t scold him. “My friend Scott…he’s not going to let anything happen to you. And neither will I.”
You looked over at the Sheriff questioningly, but he flashed you an encouraging smile. “He’s right, Y/n.”
“But you don’t even know me,” you pointed out softly.
The Sheriff shook his head. “Doesn’t mean a thing. We’re here to protect you. If these men come back for you, they’ll have to go through us.”
You stared at them in disbelief, unable to comprehend how a pair of strangers who had known you for less than an hour were prepared to protect you, even when your own family had tossed you out. The words came out broken and thick, but you felt the need to say them anyway, and you just barely managed to get out the “Thank you.” without bursting into tears.
You put your head in your hands as they started to stream down your face, and Stiles reached out to place a comforting hand on your back.
“Don’t worry, Y/n,” you heard the Sheriff say. “We’ll find an officer for you to stay with tonight. Maybe Parrish-”
“She can stay with us.”
You picked your head up, glancing over at Stiles in surprise.
“What?” he asked, his gaze moving from your shocked face, to his dad’s. “It’s not like we don’t have a couch, and she’s already comfortable around us…you’re comfortable, right?”
You nodded slowly, carefully peeking over at the Sheriff’s face. It was scrunched in thought, but he didn’t seem to be shooting the idea down right away.
“See?” Stiles continued. “If she wants to stay, can she?”
“Stiles-”
“Do you want to?” he blurted. “You wouldn’t have your own room, but the couch is soft. Or you could take my bed, and Scott could come over and meet you if you’re okay with it, and you wouldn’t have to worry about-”
“Yes,” you blurted, cutting off his rambling. “If…if it’s okay…”
The Sheriff sighed. “Well, we’ve had much worse in that house, and I can’t think of a reason not to…but it might only be temporary. I don’t want to disappoint you, Y/n.”
You shook your head, a soft, sad smile curling at your lips. “It’ll take a lot more than that to disappoint me, Sheriff.”
He nodded. “Well, guess I can’t say no to that.”
You let out a shocked breath, because there was still some part of you that wasn’t able to believe a complete stranger would ever show you this much kindness. “Thank you.”
Your voice was tight and thick, and you sounded a bit like you had swallowed a bug, but you still wanted to tell them. The Sheriff and Stiles had no idea how your own family had thrown you out when they realized what you were. They had only heard bits and pieces of your story, and they didn’t even know who you were, yet they were offering to take you in.
“You might as well grab your things,” he told you, gesturing to your backpack on the floor. “I’ve got some paperwork to fill out here, but Stiles can take you home.”
Home. The word resonated through you, making your chest ache. You took a breath to steady yourself and walked over to grab your bag, which was resting close to Stiles’ feet. As you reached down to grab it, he held out a hand to stop you.
“I got it,” he assured you, scooping it up with one arm.
“I can carry it,” you said quietly, but he only waved you off.
“It’s one bag. Besides, I’m not that much of a wimp. All this running for my life has really gotten me into shape.”
You bit your lip to keep from smiling, and clasped your hands together.
“You ready to go?” Stiles asked.
You nodded, and took a few steps closer to the Sheriff. “Thank you for this. Thank
you so much.”
He blinked in shock as you wound your arms around his middle, but he quickly recovered and gave you a tight squeeze back. “Don’t worry, Y/n. You’re safe with Stiles.”
You nodded and pulled away, and followed Stiles toward the door of the office. Your stomach rumbled just Stiles opened it up, and just as Stilinski called out to him.
“Make up the couch for her, alright?”
“Got it, dad!”
“And Stiles?”
“Yeah?”
“Please get this girl something to eat.”
“Of course,” he told him, turning around to shoot a look at his father. “I’m not a
heathen.”
You laughed to yourself as Stiles led you out, and several officers looked up from what they were doing and stared. You froze at the pressure of their eyes on you, and wished more than anything they would go back to their paperwork.
Your clothes were still ripped and covered in blood, and you must have looked like hell with your lack of sleep and wild eyes. At first, your only sense of comfort was the smile Officer Clark offered you. She was the only one not staring at you like you were some kind of headcase, at least until you felt someone slip their hand into yours.
You glanced over to find Stiles smiling down at you, encouragement on his face. He was looking at you like he thought you might bolt, but he had no reason to be worried. With his hand in yours, you never would have thought of running.
You squeezed his fingers, set your shoulders, and started to walk toward the door again. A proud grin crossed Stiles’ face, and to your surprise, he didn’t let go of your hand.
“So,” he said simply. “You up for some chicken nuggets?”

Stiles rolled over in the darkness, listening to the soft drumming of rain against the roof. Every so often, lightning would flash through the room, illuminating the greyish-blue walls, and shortly after, thunder would rumble throughout the house.
The skies seemed to be going to war outside, and no matter how deep he burrowed into his covers, Stiles couldn’t seem to drown out the noise enough to sleep. He knew you must have been having trouble too, considering you had the hearing of a bat, and he finally gave up on tuning out the storm and shoved his covers off.
He hopped out of bed and headed down the hall to your room, which had been converted from the Sheriff’s home office a couple weeks ago. Originally his dad had only promised your stay to be a temporary thing, but as you got to know each other, he had a change of heart.
You started going to school with Stiles and his friends only a few weeks ago, but you had already grown to love Scott and Lydia, and Malia seemed to be permanently attached to your side. You were still shy, and Malia had no problem with promising to break the legs of anyone who even considered messing with you.
She was brash and wild, and everything you weren’t, but she was quickly turning into your best friend.
Stiles was proud that you were already fitting in so well, even though you were still dealing with a lot. The nightmares had started the first night you were there, and you often woke Stiles and the Sheriff (when he was home) in the middle of the night.
You apologized profusely, and you were usually glad for the Sheriff’s frequent night shifts, because that was one less person you were bothering. Stiles told you all the time they didn’t see it like that, but it was still hard not to feel insecure.
Stiles was doing everything he could to make you feel welcome, but as he headed down the hall he worried that it might not be enough. Another wave of thunder cracked through the sky, but underneath the rumbling, he could hear something else.
They were quiet and soft, but Stiles recognized the sound of sobs coming from your room. His heart sped up and he immediately darted forward, yanking open your door just as thunder crashed again.
As he entered your room, you jumped, and he couldn’t tell if it was him or the thunder that had startled you. He looked closer and realized you were shaking, and huddled next to your bed on the floor.
Your arms were wrapped around your sides, and when Stiles met your eyes you had the same look that he had seen in them when he first met you; wild and terrified.
He breathed your name, and the sound of it coming off of his lips washed over you like a wave. You reached for him in the darkness, your outstretched fingers illuminated by the lightning.
Stiles instantly dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest.
“Shh,” he murmured, over and over in your ear.
“It’s so loud,” you whispered, still trembling against him. “I-I can practically feel it.”
You had only been a werewolf for a little over a month, and you were still struggling with all the physical changes. Loud noises particularly bothered you, and Stiles could have kicked himself for not coming to check on you sooner.
“We can call Scott,” he offered softly.
“No,” you whispered hoarsely. “Please just-just stay?”
“I’ll stay,” he promised, running his hand over your hair. “I’ll stay.”
You burrowed into him, knowing that your tears were staining his t-shirt, but he didn’t seem to care. He simply held you there and murmured to you through the storm, promising you that everything would work out.
When it was finally over, it was well into the early morning, and Stiles’ shirt was soaked through with your tears. You peeled yourself away from him, and wiped your wet cheeks.
“You alright?” He asked softly
You nodded, but your face was red from tears and shame. Stiles noticed you weren’t meeting his eyes, and he eventually crawled across the carpet to rest by your side.
“You know I totally get this, right?”
You frowned, and wrapped your arms around your knees. “I can’t even make it through a storm without breaking down into a sobbing mess, Stiles.”
Stiles shrugged, his shoulder bumping against yours. “It’s a werewolf thing. I’ve seen worse.”
“Oh yeah?” You challenged. “Like what?”
“Well, Scott almost put a hole in his wall with my face once on a full moon. And then I had to handcuff him to a radiator…”
“Handcuff him?” You asked. “Did that even work?”
“Nope,” he told you. “He got out, so trust me, this isn’t that bad.”
“Huh. I guess not.”
“You must be exhausted,” he noticed. “Did you get any sleep at all?”
You shook your head, and he sighed, rising to his feet. You followed him and sat down on your bed, but instead of leaving, he just stood there.
“Stiles?”
“Yeah?”
“Is there something else you wanted to say?”
“What? Oh, uh…no. No, I guess not.”
He scratched his neck and looked toward the door, and then back to you. You tilted your head.
“Stiles…do you wanna sleep in here tonight?”
“It’d make me feel better if I did.”
“Why?” You asked quietly.
“Just in case you need me.”
You felt a warm, cozy feeling spread over you, and your lips turned up ever so slightly.
“It’d make me feel better too.”
Stiles nodded eagerly, and as you shimmied under your covers, he followed you into bed. He stayed respectively on his side, but he rolled over to look at you as you settled in.
Eventually, you decided you didn’t like the space between the two of you, and you scooted closer. Stiles didn’t like it anymore than you did, and he followed suit until he was only a few inches away.
“Stiles?” You whispered. “Can you hold me again?”
A weak noise came from the back of his throat, but he quickly reached out to wrap his arms around you once more. You snuggled into him and closed your eyes, soaking in his warmth.
He reached out tentatively to stroke your hair, and you sighed against his chest. His eyes closed soon after yours, but he remained awake for a few extra moments, listening to your breathing slow down.
When he finally fell asleep, he did it with you still nestled in his arms, and a smile on his face. It had been only a few weeks since you had turned up in the station, but Stiles felt like you had been there for much longer. You said once that you there was no  real reason you had ended up in Beacon Hills, that you had just hopped on the first but you saw, but he didn’t entirely believe that.
There was some reason you ended up here, that you had ended up with him. He was sure of it, and if was being honest, he didn’t care what it was. All that mattered to him was that you were here, and whether it was god, or nature, or the universe that did it, he thanked them for whatever had brought you to Beacon Hills.

2

Just vent art.