I’m thinking maybe Spencer has a twin but she isn’t evil like everyone wants. Maybe she’s been helping Spencer all along and that’s the final twist that Wren will Know about. Maybe this is bigger than we all think and everything has yet to unfold.
The Ezra being big A does make a lot of sense now too. Thinking about how A.D. Is trying to get arias loyalty, I agree it could be Ezra wanting to fully pull her in the game and wants to test her loyalty. He also always said he felt that Mrs. D was “A” could he have been saying that not knowing it could be Mary Drake?
He always said he didn’t feel like he was apart of
His family. AND that big shiny red herring when AD is face-timing aria when she’s with Ali and she says, “This is Ezra.” And she took the call. If you also think about it, Ezra is manipulating aria per usual. Whatever is in her file, if A.D., Ezra already knows.
Or it could be the reason aria was able to hold her finger and say, “shhh” in the original opening.
After reading a blog that says they believe Aria will gain ADs trust and then betray him to end the game for good. I think it’s possible she could kill Ezra
Another thing the box from when Toby’s family was moving in, that said “Jenna & Bethany”. Maybe they were roommates or friends at the blind school. And maybe Bethany will tie it all in. Btw Lucas is just a pawn in the scheme. But maybe aria truly will hold a final piece of the ending the game
IDK the shows boring and killing me at this point.
Hello! I was interested in possibly working with Set, (I currently work with Yinepu), and was curious as to what he liked? Thanks! :D
omg Big Red.
Anything gawdy and shiny and dick laden. Yep. He likes balls and is associated with iron and the adze and the was. So any of those.
Anything red or gold. I’ve heard good things about alcohol and meats. Lettuce and ranch is a sure fire win, and I’ve had good success with dark, rich chocolate. Anything expensive or expensive looking.
Did I mention gaudy? like bling bling rhinestone grill gaudy?
It’s very likely that Derek Hale is going to kill Stiles Stilinski. Because Stilinksi is a total fucking jerk.
Derek first becomes aware of him at a little past 3 a.m. one night, when they get the call for a fire out in the abandoned sawmill. The cops are already there, because…
Because that’s their fucking job, okay? Not that it stops Stilinski being a dick about it.
“Oh,” Stilinski says, peeling himself off the hood of his patrol car. “It’s okay, you guys! Somebody finally woke the firefighters up!”
Derek wants to plant a fist in his face.
“What do you guys do every shift, anyway?” Stilinksi asks. “Eat until you’re sleepy and then wake up when you’re hungry?”
“Asshole,” Derek mutters as he jogs toward the sawmill.
He expects Erica to agree with him, but she just laughs. “Jealousy’s a curse, Stilinski!”
Stilinksi gives her the finger, and the glow of the flames from the sawmill throws the dark shadows under his eyes into sharp relief.
Derek spares a fleeting moment to hope he’s so tired he crashes his patrol car into a tree on the way back to town, then he shoves the irritating deputy out of his mind and gets to work.
“You do realize,” Parrish says a few days later while he and Stiles are eating lunch in the diner, “that we’re supposed to be on the same side?”
Stiles grumbles something indistinct into his coffee, and turns his glare on the parking lot, where the big red shiny fire engine is pulling in. Way to make an entrance, douchebags.
Stiles’s hatred of firefighters is legendary in the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department. And, Stiles maintains, it has nothing to do with the fact that the woman from that kids’ charity had looked at him like he’d grown a second head, and said. “Oh, no, Deputy Stilinski. People don’t want calendars with cops on them. We’ll ask the fire department.”
Erica Reyes was right, of course. It’s pure fucking jealousy.
And he’s just so freaking tired, and you know what those firefighters get? Twenty-four hours on, and forty-eight hours off. Jesus. Stiles can’t even imagine what that’s like. To have a schedule that’s not completely all over the fucking place, from morning shifts, to afternoon shifts, to night shifts, and back on the goddamn rollercoaster before his body clock’s had time to adjust.
Firefighters work nights as well, Stiles, the voice in his head tells him. It sounds suspiciously like his best friend Scott. Scott always gets to play the voice of reason in Stiles’s mental debates.
“Firefighters sleep nights,” Stiles mutters into his lukewarm coffee. “Do you know how many fires we get in Beacon Hills? Not fucking many.”
“Talking to yourself again, Stiles?” Jordan asks him.
Stiles looks up as the firefighters walk inside the diner. “Yep. Only way to get an intelligent conversation in this company.”
He tries to ignore the firefighters, but Jordan has to be all polite and sociable. He’s even friendly with Derek Hale, the absolute worst of all the firefighters. With his growly face and his thousand-watt glare, and his cheekbones that…
No, wait? What? Stiles was listing reasons why he’s an asshole, not a fucking walking wet dream.
He feels much less confused when Hale walks past their booth and drops a donut on Stiles’s plate with a shit-eating grin.
Stiles could just shoot him right now, right? He could.
“Fuck you,” he mutters instead.
The donut is pink. It has sprinkles.
It is mocking him.
And so is Derek fucking Hale.
Fuck him sideways.
That donut thing is total fucking cliché. You know why cops get fat? Fucking epinephrine, that’s why. Because cops have the whole hyper vigilance thing going on. Firefighters don’t. Their stress levels are totally different. They’re not so elevated all of the time that it changes their fucking body chemistry. And that is an absolute fact. There have been studies.
Studies that tell Stiles he’s going to die twenty years younger than his peers, and all because of his fucking job. Which he loves, by the way, but still. Twenty years. That seems … that seems like a lot to give away for generally shitty pay and the privilege of dealing with assholes day in, day out.
Assholes like Derek Hale, who is currently laughing at him from the other side of the diner.
“I’m gonna kill that motherfucker,” Stiles mutters.
“Are you gonna eat that?” Parrish asks, ignoring Stiles’s rage and eyeing the donut hopefully. “Because I will if you don’t.”
Generally speaking, the relationship between the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department and the Fire Department is a good one. Personally speaking, Derek hates Deputy Stilinkski with the fire of a thousand burning suns. Particularly when they turn up at a dumpster fire behind Burger King one night and Stilinski is already there, already bitching about their response time, and something about getting all the credit just for knowing where to point a hose.
“We don’t just fight fires,” Derek snipes. “You know what EMS stands for, right?”
“Yeah,” Stiles agrees. “Earning money sleeping.”
Derek resists the urge to punch him in his smug fucking face.
“Listen, Hale,” Stiles continues. “All I know is there are two types of people who make money in bed, and I arrest the first type.”
The fucking traitor.
Later, back at the station, Derek lies awake in his cot and seethes quietly.
“I can hear you hating on Stilinski from all the way over here,” Isaac mutters. “Can’t you just fuck him and get him out of your system?”
Erica barks out a laugh.
“Shut up,” Derek snarls.
He doesn’t want to fuck Stilinksi.
He wants to punch him in the face.
End of story.
For this twenty-third birthday, Stiles goes to The Jungle. Of course he does. Where the hell else is he going to get laid on short notice in Beacon Hills? Scott plays his wingman for a few hours, but he has to be home by midnight, and, really, he’s the straightest wingman in the world.
“Dude,” he announces, “let’s hit some dick tonight!”
Stiles resists the urge to facepalm. “It’s very nice that you’re being inclusive, Scotty, but that’s not really how we talk, okay?”
“Okay!” Scott bounces off toward the dance floor.
So much for his wingman.
Still, it’s cute. His straight BFF getting hit on by all the boys, and Scott’s so friendly and happy to meet new people that he doesn’t even realize they’re pretty much only interested in fucking. He’ll figure it out eventually. Probably when he gets his wallet out and shows his picture of Allison, her hands resting on her very pregnant belly, and discovers not everyone else is as enthusiastic to hear how in love he is with his perfect, pregnant wife.
Stiles makes a friend of the barman, and makes sure the drinks keep coming.
Scott heads off just before midnight.
Stiles dances some, and grinds up against a few different guys. He’s had enough to drink that he parted ways with his inhibitions a while back, thanks. The music is pumping, he’s surrounded by hot guys, and he’s going to get laid. Happy birthday, Stiles.
Which is right when he smells smoke.
Okay, so the smoke machine has been on all night, but this isn’t the strange, cold taste of artificial smoke. This is the real thing. Stiles is just looking around worriedly when the music shuts off, the lights come on, and the smoke alarms start to beep.
A few minutes later, standing in the cold street with the ladies and sharing a cigarette with Valencia, Stiles groans as the fire engines turn up.
“What’s the matter, baby?” Miss Andrie asks. “Who doesn’t like a firefighter, hmm?”
He really, really doesn’t.
“Oh, would you look at that hunk of burning hotness,” Valencia sighs as Boyd heads into the club. “Show me your hose, honey!”
Boyd’s mouth twitches in a grin.
“Oh, sweet baby Jesus!” Miss Andrie exclaims as Derek Hale heads for the entrance. “I want to climb that one like a tree!”
Miss Andrie is at least seven feet tall in her heels, and towers over Hale, but Stiles gets it. Objectively, Hale is hot. A part of Stiles wants to forget he knows he’s such an asshole. The other part wants to hate fuck the attitude right out of him.
That’s probably the tequila talking.
Derek looks over, and pulls up short. “Stilinski?”
“Hale,” Stiles says, folding his arms over his chest in an attempt to look somewhat intimidating. It’s pretty impossible though, surrounded by this much glitter and taffeta.
Hale’s gaze shifts from Stiles to the posse of drag queens and back again. “Having a good night?”
“Right up until you turned up,” Stiles tells him.
Hale glowers, and walks inside the club.
There’s a moment of stunned silence, and then the ladies turn on him like a pack of raptors.
“What?” Stiles exclaims, flinching away. “What?”
“Have you got eyes?” Valencia exclaims. If she had pearls she’d be clutching them. “Why would you shoot that down?”
“Oh, please! He hates me!” Stiles insists. “And he’s an asshole!”
Valencia rolls her eyes. “Sounds like a match made in heaven to me.”
Stiles grumbles at her, bums another cigarette off Miss Andrie, and calls for an Uber. It’s not until he’s halfway home, still stewing at Hale’s dickishness and the ladies’ unfair treatment of him, that he remembers he didn’t even get lucky tonight.
Happy fucking birthday.
“Oh,” Stilinski says. “Here they are at last. Not keeping you up, am I, Hale?”
Shit shit shit. That is a lot of blood.
“Hey, and you brought the rest of the crew too,” Stilinski says. His face is white. The shadows under his eyes are blue. “You guys gotta travel in a pack, right? Incapable of inde-independent thought?”
Derek puts pressure on his wound, and tries not to think about just how much blood he’s already lost. “Sure. You know us. Can’t even buy a loaf of bread without backup.”
“B-backup,” Stilinksi says.
“Looks like you could have done with some of that yourself tonight.”
Stilinksi blinks up at him, like he’s suddenly not registering the words. His pulse is tachy, and his pupils are dilated. He’s cold. He’s going into shock.
At the side of the road, the lights on his patrol car are still flashing, bathing the world in red and blue. The windshield of the car is shattered. There’s a bullet hole in the hood. One in Stilinksi too.
There’s nobody else in sight. It was a traffic stop, Derek figures, and the guy got the drop on Stilinski. He knows from the frantic radio chatter that there are roadblocks being put in place, reinforcements being called out. Every cop who isn’t here is on the hunt for whoever did this.
Stilinski curls a bloody hand around Derek’s wrist. He opens his mouth and closes it again. He looks a lot younger suddenly.
“Hold on,” Derek tells him.
Around him, Boyd and Isaac are working quickly. Isaac reaches over and presses an oxygen mask to Stilinski’s face.
“We’ll get you to the hospital real soon,” Derek says. He keeps pressure on Stilinski’s wound as Boyd and Isaac lift him onto a stretcher.
Stilinski’s gaze drifts past him.
“Stiles!” It’s the sheriff. He’s wearing his jacket thrown over his pajamas. “Kiddo?”
The deputy unlatches his fingers from Derek’s wrist and reaches for his father’s hand.
“You can ride in the back, Sheriff,” Derek says as they carry Stiles toward the ambulance. He’s guessing it’d take a braver man than him to tell the sheriff otherwise.
Boyd drives, while Isaac and Derek work on trying to keep Stilinski stable. His blood pressure is too low. He’s in danger of going into cardiac arrest. Isaac holds the oxygen mask on him, his gloves leaving bloody smears on the plastic. Derek pumps fluids into the canula he shoves in one wrist.
“You hold on, Stiles,” the sheriff says fiercely. “Don’t you leave me, kid.”
Stilinski’s eyes are wide but unfocussed. He mumbles something under the mask.
Derek can’t be sure, but he thinks Stiles is asking for his mom.
They race toward the hospital.
Stiles spends a week in hospital, three more at his dad’s place, and then four months on desk duty. When it finally comes time to get out and patrol again, he swallows down his fear and checks the tasking sheet.
“Seriously?” he asks. “Dad, seriously?”
“Problem?” his dad asks, reaching for his hat. “Let’s start with a foot patrol on Main and see where we go from there.”
Stiles sighs dramatically.
“I’m just saying,” he says later, picking up his grievance from where he left it before his dad bought him a coffee, “this is ridiculous. I’m a grown up! I have a firearm. I don’t need my daddy to hold my hand on patrol!”
“You wanna keep bitching?” his dad asks him. “Or do you want me to put you on report?”
Stiles knows when he’s beaten. It doesn’t stop him whining like a little kid though. “Dad!”
They stop in at the bakery, and Stiles’s dad picks up an order for two dozen cupcakes.
“Is it someone’s birthday?” Stiles asks. Shit. Whose birthday has he forgotten?
“Nope,” John says, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Doesn’t mean you don’t have to remember how to play nice with others though.”
Stiles narrows his eyes at his dad. “What others?”
John hands his credit card to the woman behind the counter, and doesn’t answer.
“Dad? What others?”
“Yo, Derek!” Boyd yells out. “Cops are here!”
“What?” Derek sets down the dumbbells and wipes his sweaty face on a towel before he heads outside.
There’s a patrol car pulled up out the front of the station, and Sheriff Stilinksi is handing out cupcakes to Derek’s crew. Stiles is standing by his side, looking for all the world like he’d rather be anywhere else right about now.
“It’s his first day back on full duties,” Sheriff Stilinski tells Erica. “Figured that was worth celebrating.”
Derek wishes he could smirk at the deputy’s obvious discomfort, but he can’t. Stilinski junior might be a dick, but it’s impossible to look at him and not see how he was that night: scared. So fucking scared, and so close to dying.
“I can’t decide which one I want,” Isaac says when the sheriff shoves the box toward him.
“Take two,” the sheriff says. “Hell, take three.”
Derek lets himself get drawn into the small crowd. He selects a cupcake, and turns around to find himself staring into Deputy Stilinski’s face. There’s a look there he’s not used to seeing. Stilinski looks almost vulnerable.
“So, um,” Stilinski says, clearing his throat. “I don’t remember a lot about what happened, but thanks.”
“Just doing my job,” Derek says, and hates the way it sounds.
“Right,” Stilinksi says, the word bitten off short. “Of course.”
Derek could kick himself as Stilinski steps away from the group and heads back toward the patrol car. He snaffles another cupcake, and, sighing, follows him. It’s almost gratifying to see the surprise on Stilinski’s face when he shoves the cupcake toward him.
“You really think I hate you?” he asks.
Stilinksi takes the cupcake hesitantly. “Um, maybe? You’re kind of a dick to me.”
“Oh,” Derek says. “I’m a dick to you?”
Stilinski narrows his eyes. “Um, yes.”
“And you’ve never been a dick to me?”
“Maybe,” Stilinski admits grudgingly, and groans. “Okay, yes, and I’m sorry, and it won’t happen again, and thank you for not letting me die.”
His eyes are the color of whisky. Why has Derek never noticed that before?
“Apology accepted,” he grinds out.
“Oh my god!” someone yells from nearby. It’s Erica. Of course it’s Erica. “Just fuck already!”
Derek gapes. So does Deputy Stilinski. The sheriff shakes his head ruefully.
Deputy Stilinksi points a finger at Erica. “Shut up, Reyes! That is not— That is—”
“That is not what’s happening here,” Derek growls.
“Right!” Stilinski agrees. “That is not what’s happening here.”
Derek eats his cupcake, his face burning.
Sometimes, Stiles is pretty sure the universe is just fucking with him. Like the guy he hated? Like, lay awake at night just thinking about how much he hated? Well, when a bunch of drag queens, your own father, Erica Reyes, Parrish, and even Scotty all start telling you that maybe you’ve got your head up your ass when it comes to that guy… maybe you’re supposed to listen.
Stiles is very unused to listening.
He’s very unused to all of this.
He’s unused to dating, and kissing, and feeling like a teenager again just because of the way that guy sometimes smiles at him.
He’s still a dick though. Derek. Derek is still a dick.
Well, somehow he’s become a dick who matters.
Six months later when someone lights a fire in the dumpster behind Burger King again, Stiles waits a safe distance away and grins as the fire engine pulls up.
“Guess someone woke you up from your beauty sleep, huh?” he yells across the parking lot. “About time!”
It’s a dumpster fire, seriously. Derek lets his crew handle it while he comes and leans on Stiles’s patrol car with him.
“Did you set this fire just to get us out of bed?” he asks.
Stiles jabs him in the ribs. “Fuck you, Derek. Everyone knows it’s firefighters who do that shit, just for the chance to play hero.”
“Uh huh,” Derek agrees. “Look at them. So heroic.”
Boyd and Erica are digging around in the dumpster to make sure the fire’s out.
Stiles snorts. “Hey, you heading back to the station after this?”
“You need someone to come and tuck you into bed?” Stiles waggles his eyebrows. “Maybe read you a fairytale?”
“Nah.” Derek grins. He straightens up and stretches. “But I kinda want to suck you off in a supply closet.”
Stiles looks at his watch. “My break’s in an hour.”
“I’ll try not to fall asleep in the meantime,” Derek tells him, heading back toward the truck.
“Asshole!” Stiles yells after him.
Derek laughs, and flips him the bird.
It’s not until the firefighters have gone that Stiles sees the paper bag Derek tossed in the open window of his patrol car. He inspects it carefully.
It’s full of donuts.
He takes the donuts back to the station, shares them around, then checks his watch. He’s got a hot date with a firefighter and a supply closet. He’s also got payback to consider.
Still, I felt it to be politically retrograde to participate in those discussions. Part of that has to do with the fact that the extent to which art can be described as a reflection of culture is in itself a gesture that superimposes a presumption of assent. So you become a part of a way of communicating that is culturally validated and you are participating in culture even if you are in resistance to it. The work of both of these collectives had potency, without doubt, but canon is one of the cultural mechanisms for diminishing radicalism and for de-fanging dissent. Canon that elevates an “art of dissent” simultaneously domesticates it, making it easier to privilege cultural production over messier and more disorderly truths, and I’m referring here to resistance.
when i was about eleven, my cousin wyatt was maybe three or four and he was the smallest, cutest little boy on the planet. he was pale af and he had blonde hair and blue eyes and a very tiny, melodious voice. he was absolutely adorable. but, with him being so young, he had trouble pronouncing things and saying certain words. one he had a lot of trouble with in particular was the word “truck”. for some reason, in his mind, the ‘tr’ sound kind of sounded like the 'c’ sound and the 'u’ sound kind of sounded like the 'o’ sound.
basically, every time he ever spoke about a truck, he was speaking about a 'cock’.
this served as a running joke at all my family gatherings because he tended to say it a lot. he was obsessed with *cough* trucks and talked about them all the time, considering we lived in the country. my family thought it was hilarious, though, and never tried to correct him.
..here’s where that became a problem.
i went to the gas station once with my aunt and my cousin. my cousin and i went inside the store to grab a drink or a chocolate bar while my aunt filled up the tank. at a gas station, there tend to be a lot of trucks, and (as we lived in the country) the drivers of those trucks tended to be stereotypically exactly what you’d expect.
a man pulls up outside in a big, shiny, red truck and comes into the store. my cousin is mesmerized by the truck outside and decides to go up to the man who owns it. the man is buying a redbull and speaking to the cashier in a husky, gruff voice, wearing a backwards cap and scratching his beer belly. my cousin is less than three feet tall and has light up sketchers and a fucking diego shirt on.
this little, tiny, porcelain doll looking boy goes up to this big, burly, bearded man, interrupting the guys conversation about snow tires, looks him dead in the eye and says in a voice that matches his stature: "i really like your big, shiny, red cock.“
Ok. So this question is the one I was most excited about. I just think this couple’s quotes are not only beautiful but so powerful. So this time I’m posting the top 11 from least to most votes.
11 (tie). 6x07 Why did I have a thing for you? I don’t know, Stefan. Maybe it’s because I thought you worth having a thing for, because when I woke up as a vampire you told me that I would get through it and I did, because when I watched Elena move on with your brother I couldn’t imagine why she would let anyone like you go, because you were practically my best friend, because I trusted you.
This is a long quote but it is perfection through and through. I love it when characters express why they really love the other with real reasons and not just feelings. This shows anyone that these two are completely right for each other Plus, Caroline showed her vulnerability but also her strength and her character growth.
11 (tie). 4x03 Come to me, whenever you want and I won’t let you lose control.
This quote shows the beginning of their “best friendship”. I believe what she said was exactly what he needed to hear. With this quote she is accepting him and offering her unwavering help. This quote made her his sober sponsor, confidant and best friend.
9. 6x16 I like you, Caroline. I don’t know when it become more than friendship but it did. And it scared me so I pushed it away.
I believe one of the most important things in a relationship is mutual admiration. And this quote exemplifies just how highly Caroline thinks of Stefan. I find it very adorable and just once again proves why Stefan is the right guy for her. (Bonus points for Stefan’s face in the second gif)
I find it very fitting that the same number of people voted for this quote than for the last one. Again, the mutual admiration is completed with this quote. Personally, this is my favorite out of all their quotes. Mainly because what they’re talking about is something so important and rare in that world: their shared respect for life.
8. (4-way tie) 2x02 I promise you, i will not let anything happen to you.
This quote is probably their first meaningful quote ever. (Unless you count 1x01 meaningful, which I do-as foreshadowing) Anyway, what’s so poweful about this quote is that it holds true throughout all the seasons. Even in 5x21 where Stefan gave his life for her. I believe this is a very important basis of their relationship; the fact that they would do anything for each other.
8. (4-way tie) 6x14 When you told me you hated me, that was pretty much the worst thing I had heard in a long time……I think we both know I never really hated you.
Well this quote kill me every time. It’s like they both said what the other had wanted to hear for so long! Caroline needed to hear that Stefan felt enough for him to actually care so much. Stefan needed to hear that she didn’t hate him because this is something he had been trying to remedy all seasons. It is the perfect quote to lead up to a kiss because it’s what they both were waiting for to take that last step.
Stefan being there for Caroline is all I love in this world. This quote is so incredible because even without his memories, Stefan’s only subconscious instinct was to be there for Caroline. Amidst all the confusion, the only thing that was clear for him was that he needed to be there for this girl.
You know what’s so amazing about this quote? It’s that, throughout the seasons, Stefan’s been the only person that truly accepts Caroline for everything she is; not just what he likes about her. So it is true: she doesn’t have to pretend with him because he knows and loves every single aspect of her.
2. 6x15 Maybe all love isn’t true love in the messed up way that you and I have experienced it but, I think this could turn into something even better.
No wonder this is so high up in the list. This moment, in my humble opinion, basically spells out ENDGAME in big red shiny letters. It is amazing to think that after everything Stefan has gone through with Katherine and Elena he still believes that things with Caroline can be something even better. It just goes to show how legitimate and powerful Steroline is. There is no doubt from this moment on.
1. 4x19 I think that someday, you’ll meet someone new and you’ll fall madly in love, and you’ll have moved on without even realizing it.