I woke up at 5.30 and couldn’t fall back to sleep, so I fell into Sterek feels instead. Thought I’d try to make some sense of the story it looks like they’re telling (possibly a futile attempt, but…)
I’m on mobile, so no read more, sorry!
It had taken Stiles a while to get comfortable leaving his phone on silent when he was in the middle of something; the idea of being unreachable, or worse, unaware of the current threat had haunted him for months. The reality of being almost 3,000 miles away eventually sunk in and he was able to accept being temporarily out of the loop when he needed to focus. It was equal parts terrifying and freeing, a sort of nauseating relief.
So when he sees a missed call from Chris Argent after his last class before break, his heart drops immediately into his stomach. The voice-mail is maddeningly vague, but before it’s even over Stiles is shoving a few last essentials into his mostly packed duffel bag and impatiently waiting the handful of seconds for Chris to pick up his phone.
Chris has barely gotten a “Stiles” out before Stiles rushes out “What’s going on?”
Thankfully, Chris doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. “There’s a rumor that there’ll be an FBI raid at a location I’ve been looking into for some possible illegal hunting. Can you see what you find out from whatever contacts you’ve made there?”
“Yeah, of course. Give me a couple hours. Do we know when it’s supposed to be happening?”
“Week from last Friday, so what, few days from now,” Stiles feels overwhelmingly sorry for Chris, the man must be pushing himself hard if he’s losing track of the days. “I’m not sure what their interest is, possibly a human trafficking angle,” Stiles’ stomach clenches at that. The idea of it so abhorrent it makes him shiver; the fact that hunters are involved, and therefore some of the people involved are likely to be werewolves adds an extra layer of disgust, a too vivid picture of Erica, Boyd,and Derek at the mercy of unhinged hunters flashes in his head and his whole body tenses. Chris confirms the thought with his next words, “but it’s not like they’ll be prepared for what they’ll find if my intel is right.”
“Right, I’ll get back to you as soon as I have something.”
“Thanks, Stiles,” Chris says sincerely, the exhaustion in his voice obvious, and Stiles has a moment of shameful relief that he’s not responsible for any of whatever is going on. It doesn’t last long. Chris inhales audibly, and Stiles instinctively prepares for a blow. “And Stiles,” he begins and pauses, reluctance and regret clear in his voice and in the short silence, “You should know that there’s a Beacon Hills connection to whatever we’re walking into.” Before Stiles can demand more, Chris adds an apologetic “I don’t know more than that right now, but I’m looking into it.”
Stiles drops onto his crappy dorm mattress, the weight of the information making his legs buckle. Stiles chokes out “I’ll call you back tonight,” and hangs up.
The call to Rafael McCall takes an eternity to connect, so when he finally answers, Stiles doesn’t wait for a greeting. “I need to know everything you know about a possible human trafficking raid happening in a few days that has a connection to Beacon Hills.”
“Hello to you, too, Stiles,” Rafael says in that condescending way he has always addressed others with, and Stiles is reminded that despite the man having put in a good word for him at the FBI, he was a first class asshole.
Stiles grits his teeth and manages a “Please,” letting his panic color his voice and hoping Mr McCall is having a day where he’s capable of basic human compassion.
He gets lucky, because Rafael responds with “I’ll see what I can find out, but no promises.”
“Fair enough, but I need it tonight.”
Rafael sighs, but agrees, and Stiles disconnects the call. Stiles spends the next two hours on the computer, finding everything he can on human trafficking, reaching out to contacts for information on hunters who’ve gone off the rails, and wishing Danny was there to help him find a backdoor into government files.
When Rafe calls back with a time and place, Stiles has a frustratingly small list of notes, but at least he has confirmation to pass along to Chris. Rafael has managed to get himself assigned to the team going on the raid, citing his “personal interest,” and Stiles manages not to scoff at the idea that the man has any real connection to Beacon Hills or its inhabitants. Still, Stiles says a sincere “Thank you,” before he tells Rafael firmly “I’m going with you.”
Rafe sighs out a resigned “I figured you’d say that. You’ll have a seat in my vehicle, otherwise I know you’ll just show up on your own.”
He’s not wrong. “Thank you,” he repeats, this time, he says goodbye befits hanging up to call Chris.
Sitting in the government issue black SUV while FBI agents move with surprising stealth to prepare to storm the building is excruciating. Being told to stay in the car isn’t surprising, but it makes him feel anxious and angry and helpless all the same.
While the agents surround the building, a familiar figure approaches Stiles’ car. Stiles barely restrains himself from hugging Chris,the relief at seeing him, at seeing someone from home, from his life in Beacon Hills, from his pack of misfits, is almost staggering.
He settles for a nod of greeting and gratefully accepts Chris’ hand on his shoulder, letting the weight of it ground him.
“Stiles,” Chris says, clearly unsurprised at seeing him there, but decidedly unhappy about it. “I know you couldn’t, but damn do I wish you’d stayed away from this, kid. I’m sorry for dragging you back into this shitshow.” Stiles can see Allison’s ghost in Chris’s eyes, and it hurts in a way he knows it always will.
“I don’t think I could really stay out. Not forever,” he tries to reassure Chris. “Plus, if I could’ve helped and I didn’t, I’d never forgive myself.” Chris squeezes his shoulder, but his face draws tight.
“We’re moving in as soon as the FBI does, hoping the chaos gives us some cover. I wish they weren’t watching this place, so we could’ve moved in as soon as we found this place,” Chris says as he drops his hand to check his weapon. Before he turns to move into position, he levels Stiles with a sympathetic look. “I don’t want to tell you, but you should know, Derek is in there.”
Stiles freezes, he can’t feel his hands for a moment, but uses his thumb to count off his fingers, hoping with all he has that this is all a bad dream. There are only five fingers, and Stiles feels icy dread rushing through his veins. Chris’s voice pulls him from the edge of panic, “Whatever you do, be careful,” he says, the words heavy between them but a strange comfort nonetheless as Chris pats his shoulder again and walks away with practiced silence.
It takes Stiles less than 30 seconds to make a plan. With determination and likely ill advised bravery, honed over two plus years of fighting monsters–human and supernatural alike–he turns on the radio scanner in the SUV and assesses the unassuming old warehouse for a good entry point.
When he finds Derek, he almost cries when Derek looks up from where he’s sagged against a crumbling wall, a complicated mix of emotions playing across his face. Derek chokes out “Stiles?” and despite the confusion in his voice, hearing his name from Derek’s mouth again is incredible.
Stiles takes in the room as he walks through it, a standard villain’s lair except for the heavy chains bolted to the walls, floor, and disturbingly, the ceiling. And the IVs filled with what Stiles assumes is a wolfsbane solution, considering there’s one in Derek’s arm. Anger and relief swirl around in his brain as he moves to Derek’s side, pulling the IV from his arm with disgusted satisfaction.
He’s restrained, but thankfully only by heavy leather cuffs–laced with more wolfsbane, judging by the reddened skin on Derek’s wrists. Stiles takes Derek’s hands, one at a time, removing the cuffs carefully and tossing them away.
“Hey, Der,” he says, cupping Derek’s face with one hand and resting the other on his shoulder. “Not quite the reunion we were planning, big guy, but we need to get the hell out of here, okay?”
Derek is worryingly quiet, eyes glassy from the drugs in his system, a look of shock and something like awe on his face. “Hey,” Stiles pats Derek’s cheek, not willing to slap him to awareness while he’s been so abused. “Derek, we need to go, are you with me?” His thumb traces Derek’s cheek as he pleads and tries to calculate how far he can carry Derek before he can’t anymore. “Der, c’mon, let’s go, c’mon. Please.”
Derek closes his eyes tightly for a second, and when he opens them again they’re clearer. Stiles fights the urge to sag against him in relief, but it’s a near thing.
“Yeah,” Derek says, voice raw (Stiles willfully ignores the knowledge that that means Derek’s likely been screaming for long hours, over however many days). “Yeah, I’m with you. I’m with you. Let’s go.”
Stiles breathes out heavily and gratefully, standing to help pull Derek off the floor. Derek stumbles, the wolfsbane making his movements unsteady, but Stiles catches him. He drapes Derek’s arm over his shoulder, gripping his forearm firmly and wrapping his free arm around Derek’s middle. They both hold on to each other tightly.
They make it into the hallway just as a team of FBI agents run down it in the opposite direction. Stiles is grateful for the vest Rafael had given him to wear, as not a single agent gives him a second glance.
Derek grips Stiles’ shirt as they struggle down the dim corridor, Stiles pulls him closer in response, taking more of his weight as Derek slips. He’d had to leave Derek once, and it had torn him apart; he wouldn’t be leaving him again.
They just had to get to Rafael’s car, then Stiles could get them both far away from this nightmare. Mr McCall will understand.
A road trip should give Derek time to recover, give them time to reconnect, to decide what to do next. Plus, it sounded like a much better reunion story; they deserved a kinder story.
So Today I Watched… Castlevania
(Season 1) // Netflix (2017)
If there is
something that suits up Castlevania just right is animation. For years this
story has been told in videogames with the Belmont Family. It wasn’t until 1997’s
Symphony Of The Night that Darcula’s ilk entered the fray in the face of Alucard.
This series doesn’t adapt directly from the games but creates a new storyline
with familiar faces for the gamers: Trevor Belmont, the main character of
Castlevania III: Dracula’s Curse, Sypha Belnades from the same game and Alucard,
the son of Dracula.
stars in Wallachia in the year of 1445 when Vlad Tepes receives a fierce woman
named Lisa at his door waiting to become a doctor to help people. Since she’s
not devoted on superstition she wants to learn actual science to make an actual
difference on people’s lives. Something she believes Vlad can provide since is
castle is chock full of technology. After some time they become a couple and
she makes him fall in line with the customs of man.
Vlad had vowed to walk,
travel, learn and live like a normal human because of the love they professed
to each other. Fast forward to 1475 and Lisa continuous practice of medicine does
not fall in line with the Catholic Church impositions of the times, so she is accused
of witchcraft and condemned to be burned at the pyre while Vlad was traveling
on foot. At his arrival he learns of his wife’s death
and discards his humanity to swear revenge on every living thing on earth. One
year later the country is barren by bloody heavens and blood lusted demons that
raid humanity every night killing anyone in their path.
Belmont is the last in the house of Belmont. He’s been excommunicated from his
church because they despised the family’s methods of dealing with the menace of
Dracula. He’s only fond of being left alone to drink peacefully in a quiet
place but circumstances bring him back to fight again when he arrives at the city
of Gresit. He quickly learns of the powerful influence the church has there and
how local Speakers has lost any connection to the people because of the
impositions of the church.
Trevor not only has to fight demons, he also has to
deal with imposed bigotry and superstitious countrymen that are easily
manipulated by the priests who impose their law by numbers and force. In the
end he gets more of than what he bargained for since he joins forces with the son
of Dracula and very powerful Speaker who manipulates the magiks arts to take
down the Dark Lord once for all.
produced by Warren Ellis, with sweet and gory animation by Powerhouse Animation Studios
based on the art of Ayami Kojima, and amazing music by Trevor Morris, this
first season is composed of a mere four episodes of 25 minutes each setting up
the whole story for a very exciting second season of eight episodes coming up
in 2018. This is one great show you will not want to miss, check it out now!
Immigration advocates and city officials celebrated a legal victory after a State Supreme Court judge on Staten Island ruled that the city could proceed with destroying the personal documents used by New Yorkers to sign up for the IDNYC program. The judge ruled against a lawsuit brought forward by Ronald Castorina Jr. and Nicole Malliotakis—two Republican members of the state assembly from Staten Island who had sought to prevent the city from destroying copies of foreign passports and other documents used by cardholders. Many who feared that federal agencies like ICE, emboldened by Donald Trump’s harsh immigration crackdowns, would use it to ensnare and deport undocumented immigrants.
Bay Ridge for Social Justice organized a protest in the neighborhood of Assemblywoman Nicole Malliotakis in Staten Island. We walked through the residential streets of Staten Island to send a message to Malliotakis that despite whether she appeals the court’s decision, we will protest her at every step of the way. We chose to go to her neighborhood because we wanted her to feel the pressure of having people breathing down her neck in her own home, which is how so many undocumented immigrants feel when they are threatened to be deported.
A/N: I wrote this shit in a solid hour and a half so it may not be that good but it sounds pretty ok so hERE WE ARE.
Pairing: Hoseok x Reader
You’re not sure if Hoseok is secretly a cold blooded lizard—but
the temperature of his apartment is outrageous—especially at this stage of
When you step in the door, replacing your spare key to his
living space inside your bag, you immediately shiver. The wooden floor is cold
against your bare feet—the chilliness of the room permeating your t-shirt and
causing goosebumps to prick your skin.
A quick peek at the thermostat informs you that the
apartment is a dreadful 60 degrees. Almost 40 degrees cooler than the healthy
human internal body temperature. How the fuck has he not caught a cold yet?
Setting your bag down on the floor—your hurry into Hoseok’s
bedroom, already a shuddering mess of a human as you raid his closet for anything
to keep you warm.
A few minutes later you emerge wearing one of his thick, oversized
sweaters. The fabric is soft and comfortable, but even so it rejects your body
heat and soaks in the coldness of the apartment. It only takes another few
minutes for you to finally decide to mess with the thermostat—but to your utter
disappointment, when you flick the switch for the heat from ‘off’ to ‘on’…nothing
The heat is broken.
“Why did I agree to meet him here after his class~,” you
whine, returning to his room and flopping onto his unmade bed. Grabbing your
phone—despite the fact that he’s likely in the middle of listening to a lecture—you
send him a complaint.
I want you to know
that your apartment is fucking COLD. My nips have never been this hard in my
fucking life. They could probably cut diamonds right now. I hate you. –5:32PM
Burying yourself in the too-thin covers, you roll onto your
side and subconsciously move one of your hands to grip your chest. Your nipples
are so hard and sensitive from the cold that the minute you pinch the hidden rosy
bud a gasp leaves your mouth. Immediately you flush red—not having intended to
make such a sound—but you can’t help it. It’s too damn cold in here and your
body is just reacting in the only way it knows how.
Too bad the heightened sensitivity of your nipples only
makes you want to touch them more.
By the time your phone finally pings with a response from
your beloved boyfriend, both of your hands are on your breasts—pinching and
rolling the hidden buds. Just imagining Hoseok actually making skin on skin
contact with them—your sweater discarded—has your thighs pressing together.
Ahahaha I’m sorry the heat is broken I forgot to tell you. I’ll be home in a
little bit. Will you survive?? Kek
Hands leaving your chest, your hurriedly reply.
Yes. They’re hard and sensitive
and you know—I’ve been touching myself. In your bed. And it feels so good…ANYWAY.
Enjoy the rest of your class~
Grinning slightly, knowing that you might be in a little bit
of trouble when Hoseok finally arrives, you move to touch yourself again, but a
notification on your phone pops up before you even get the chance.
…you little minx. I
don’t care how cold it is there. Take your pants off and wait for me. Keep
touching your breasts until I get there, but nothing else—you hear me? I’ll be
You stare at his message with wide eyes, biting your bottom
lip. You can imagine him sitting in class, eyes dark and cock hardening between
his thighs as he hurriedly types a response. You picture him frustrated just at
the thought of you—your thumbs looping beneath the band of your black leggings.
You slide the form-fitting fabric down your legs, kicking them off until they
plop onto the floor beside the bed.
Your panties are already wet, you can tell—and your core is
flourishing with anticipation at Hoseok’s orders and the possibilities of how
he’ll treat you when he walks through the front door. However—for now you brush
those sinful thoughts aside and return to playing with yourself though the
thick fabric of the sweatshirt. You know it will likely feel better without the
clothing in the way, but…it’s so cold—and you want Hoseok to…have the honor.
Once again flushing at the thought—tongue poking out to wet
your lips—your press your ass into the sheets as your arousal heightens. Each
pinch, roll and tug drags you farther into your unraveling mental state. Your
hips move of their own accord—grinding against nothing. Your core is throbbing
and you want nothing more than to close your eyes, press your fingers into your
clit, and bring yourself to orgasm—but…
“Hoseok,” you whine, almost too desperate for your own
tastes. Your fingers tremble, tempted to disobey his orders.
I’m bored, so I’m just gonna compile all my headcanons here. Some are dumb, some I think could actually be true if the dadster theory is true, some are just random. Also, some of these I talked about with my friend @zucchinimuffin and we came up with some pretty funny/cute scenarios with the skelefam, so I’ll include those too. Oh, and these are just my personal thoughts on this particular Undertale theory, they are in no way canon, so no hate please. However, I do encourage leaving your own headcanons in the comments or reblogs!
Also, so this post isn’t too long, I’ll put everything under the cut.
The scariest thing about the sea is how little we know of it. As the saying goes, we know less about the oceans than the surface of the moon. And that’s the scientists. The laymen know even less, and even most of that is skewed and laden with misinformation, no little thanks to the media’s sensationalistic fuckery that proposes that the entire ocean is out to fillet your ass. (As a reminder, my continous insistence that the sea is a writhing Lovecraftian hellscape full of man-eating terror is a conscious exaggeration for the sake of comedy. Please do not take my writing style seriously.)
The worst case of this is obviously sharks. The poor things have been so much vilified for no reason. Ever since Jaws and its massive cultural impact, sharks became the go-to bad guy of the animal world, with real-life effects too. (Can I say widespread shark hunting after the movie came out? I’m sure I can.) It also caused various memetic bullshit spreading about sharks that means we ended up with films like this.
Pictured: what the fresh hell
A trend I noticed in this killer shark shittery is that the “killer shark” is always a Great White. Always, always a Great White, which is also the first thing that pops into people’s minds when someone says “shark”. It’s like other sharks don’t exist, which is sad because sharks are a group as diverse as, say, carnivore mammals. Can you imagine if people wrote off carnivores as just wolves and nothing else? Because this is exactly like that.
Sharks are crazy diverse, but we never manage to peel our eyes away from the Great White for a long enough time to notice how insane they are. We have stuff like sawfish,
and the utterly ridiculous thing called the wobbegong. (Yes, that is a shark.)
What I’m basically saying is that sharks have as many forms as any other order of animals do, and people are so preoccupied with tacking as many CGI teeth on the Great White as it is humanly possible that we don’t notice how interesting, and weird, and fucking stupid sharks can be.
Seriously, I dare you to go to a shark horror movie and take the shark danger seriously after acquainting yourself with today’s specimen, the swellshark. Because this guy is just so ridiculous, I swear to Cthulhu.
This right here is today’s specimen, Cephaloscyllium ventriosum. It’s a pretty run-of-the-mill shark, small, brown and pointy-nosed, but its entire life goal is to methodically fuck up the fearsome reputation its Great White cousin has worked so hard for, and be absolutely laughable.
It spends all day being a lazy ass and sleeping in rocky crevices, hunting at night by being even more of a lazy ass and lying in wait until the prey is mere centimeters away, or even more of a lazy ass by laying on the rock bottom with its mouth open and literally waiting for the prey to swim into it. However, sometimes it can be a surpisingly daft little shit and raid human lobster traps without getting caught.
The stupid part is its self defense strategy.
So we’ve established that this little fuck lives in rock crevices. Naturally, this means that anything sufficiently determined and hungry can easily pull it out, right?
Wrong. Because if threatened, the swellshark lives up to its name by pulling the most ludicrous defense stunt this side of self destruction.
It sucks up water, and does this.
IT INFLATES. IT FUCKING INFLATES. THIS IS AN INFLATABLE SHARK. I QUIT.
Furthermore, it bites into its own tail and thus turns into a swollen little donut that’s completely impossible to dislodge from the crevice it’s in. I mean it works, but it’s so dumb.
To take away even more from the fearsome reputation of sharks, it is bioluminescent, and it has a tendency of sleeping in heaps of fellow little sharks.
So the next time someone puts out an Ultra Mutant Killer Shark movie, remember that there is a shark that glows in the dark, sleeps in cuddle piles and inflates to defend itself, and have a merry day laughing at the film’s stupidity.