it is fantastic okay

Okay, but who wants to read about Percival & Newt growing old together? @funkzpiel @thegaypumpingthroughyourveins @axilarts @mamin-the-troll @qed221b

  • Imagine Newt finally meeting Percival after he’s rescued, being amused by the grumpy Percival because everyone treats him like glass and tip-toeing around him because you’re still recovering Mr Graves, you need to take it easy.
  • Imagine Newt introducing Percival to his creatures, and seeing the utter delight on Percival’s face as he interacts with creatures he’s only ever seen in textbooks. Imagine Percival stealing glances at Newt who’s dressed only in suspenders and a white singlet as he tends to the creatures, scars layered upon lithe sinew and muscle, and a look that’s tenderly soft on the red-head’s face as he talks to his babies. Imagine him always finding an excuse to visit Newt in the suitcase, and bonding with the creatures who are drawn to the hurt and bone-weary tiredness they can sense within Percival.
  • Imagine Percival personally telling Newt that MACUSA wants him to remain on as a permanent consultant, and smirking at the bout of stammering that erupts from Newt, and the oh so cute blush that immediately covers his entire face. The blush intensifies in colour when Percival, in a sudden bout of courage, leans forward and whispers in Newt’s ear, that he’d like to take Newt out for drinks.
  • Imagine their awkward first date that takes place in a fancy restaurant because Percival wants to spoil Newt. Neither of them know what to do really, because Percival’s not gone on an actual date in years (asides from the occasional romp in bed) and Newt’s been preoccupied with his creatures. They sit at the table, dressed in neat slacks and dress shirts, and just stare at one another like high school students out on their first date. Eventually, Newt quietly asks Percival what his favourite colour is. The conversation grows from there with occasional stutters and constant blushing as they stumble over their words to get to know one another, but as the night grows, so do their confidence and laughter flows more freely. Newt learns that Percival likes to sleep in whenever he can, and that he has a pair of fuzzy stockings he wears every night before bed. Percival learns that Newt can’t sleep in total silence; a habit borne from spending too many nights with his creatures in his suitcase, where the air is always filled with grunts and squeals and whistles. Newt is the one to kiss Percival good night on his cheek, and they both part ways with fierce blushes on their faces.
  • Imagine their relationship going steady enough that they’re comfortable with public displays of affection, within the realms of acceptance of course. Percival does have a reputation to maintain. The gestures grow from little touches here and there, to an arm carelessly slung over shoulders or waists, to little kisses in between meetings and briefings. Percival’s Aurors grow fond of Newt, because of how happy he makes their Director, and whenever someone catches the couple in the midst of a hug or kiss or quiet word of affection, they never fail to compare notes later in the break room. There are soft sighs and coos over how lovely the couple is, and oh do you think they’ll have a spring or autumn wedding? I think Mr Graves is partial to autumn really, and the colours would compliment Mr Scamander’s complexion. 
  • Imagine Percival proposing to Newt. He plans an elaborate set up to surprise his beau, and when they’re in a vast field with only the soft chirping of the crickets for company under the pretense of stargazing, Percival drops to one knee and asks Newt for his hand in marriage. Of course Newt says yes, but not before he laughs nervously and looks around, because he thinks it’s a joke that Percival wants to marry him. The older man shows him just how much he desires Newt when he pushes his fiancee (he relishes the feeling of the word on his tongue; fiancee fiancee fiancee) and kisses him, hard and deep and tasting the part of soul that makes him feel like he’s home. 
  • Imagine the wedding, which is a grand affair, much to Percival’s dismay. Nearly all of MACUSA shows up, and so do the illustrious Scamander and Graves family. Newt has to calm his soon-to-be husband down, less he succumb to his nerves and anxiety because Newt, you don’t understand. Aunt Wilhelmina will keep asking how we’ll have children, and Uncle Amos (who’s half-blind, bless him) will mistake Seraphina as his deceased wife and oh this will be a disaster! Thankfully, the wedding goes by without any incidents. The ceremony is beautiful and so are their vows as they pledge life and love, and there is nary a dry eye in the audience. Queenie catches the bouquet (Newt refuses to hold one, but they still have a bouquet ready for tradition’s sake) and Seraphina blushes when a saucy wink is thrown her way to the catcalls of her subordinates. Aunt Wilhelmina keeps her child-bearing comments to a minimum, and Uncle Amos doesn’t accost anyone, and later on, when Percival and Newt go off for their honeymoon, Newt has to wipe away a tear from Percival’s eyes because they’re married. They’re actually married.
  • Their life together grows, through sadness and pain and joy and celebration. They decide on the use of a surrogate for their first child, and adopt several more. Percival doesn’t tell his husband, but every thin, malnourished child whose haunted eyes yearn for love and family remind him of Credence, and while the boy is now alive and well, and working happily at the Kowalski Bakery, Percival is determined to not let another child down again. An unrealistic aspiration, but one Newt understands because he too, looks for sunken eyes filled with fear like the little girl in Sudan who died far too soon. Their boy grows up fine and strong, with Newt’s fiery red hair and Percival’s steady temperament, and looks after his adopted siblings, all of whom have lost the haunted quality in their eyes and the stutter in their voices in fear of the belt and whip. Theirs is a happy home, and even though horrible, horrible things happen in the world, such as the Second World War, the great duel between Dumbledore and Grindelwald and later, the First Wizarding War, their home is a safe haven for Percival, Newt and their children.
  • When Newt retires at the age of 99 in 1990, Percival is 104 and their eldest son has married and borne a bright boy by the name of Rolf, who also inherits the Scamander’s red hair and Newt’s penchant for magical creatures. Percival rolls his eyes; of course there would be another creature-crazy Graves-Scamander. Their other children go on to leave home, build families and travel the world. There are owls sometimes, and there are visits whenever possible, but for the most part, the elderly couple live a quiet life far from the demands of the wizarding world. Rolf visits whenever he can, bringing news of his travels and discoveries, and Percival despairs because there is always some magical creature sitting at the dining table with them. Rolf visits one day, and shyly tell them of a Luna Lovegood who, they learn, is as crazy about creatures as he is. Eventually, they are married, and everyone laughs when Percival moans to the heavens about yet another insane addition to the family. He has a soft spot for Luna though, who speaks in a soft voice with a lilt that reminds him of the green plains of his long forgotten home, and he’ll Stun anyone who says anything. 

After seeing nothing but fashion disasters in my Castlevania experience I found the artwork of Maria from the PSP Rondo of Blood remake and

Okay, okay, that is a fantastic look, yes yes YES, 10/10, it makes up for every other fucking fashion disaster in this hell franchise. I was questioning whether or not I should save up for a Playstation store giftcard and get that game digitally on my Vita but this seals the deal, I fucking love this look.

//OKAY SO LIKE GAIS LOOK AT THIS FANTASTIC PIECE OF ART. IT IS SO FUCKING AMAZING! LITERALLY THE BEST!! GUESS WHO THE ARTIST IS, IT ISN’T ME OH NO. ITS THIS LOVELY LITTLE AMAZING GUY RIGHT HERE -> @gunpowder-and-alcohol 

AND IF YOU FUCKING LOVE THIS IMAGE YOU SHOULD FUCKING GO AND COMMISSION THE GUY!! HES GOT SOME GREAT PRICES AND HE NEEDS THE MONEY TO HELP PAY FOR SOME HORMONES HE NEEDS. HE IS A FANTASTIC ARTIST AND EVEN YOU CAN’T HELP HIM BY BUYING HIS ART DROP A LITTLE NOTE IN HIS INBOX TELLING HIM LITTLE NICE THINGS.

okay this is not directed at anyone on my dash, but i think some people actually forget this ??? just because someone’s in a heterosexual relationship doesn’t mean they’re straight ?? there is more sexuality than just gay and straight. there are a bunch, people just don’t classify in those two. unless they have specified their sexuality, please don’t assume someone is straight because they’re having a relationship with the opposite sex. 

(long post, sorry)

In spite of everything I love Harley Quinn but, damn, writers treat her so badly. I swear, the temptation to make her actually stupid must be terrible because it’s so often implied, or explicitly stated, that she slept her way through school. First of all, it does not work like that.  Second, she’s not a therapist or a psychologist, she’s a psychiatrist, she’s a fricking MD and a damn young one too. Managing pre-med and collegiate gymnastics that she relied on to keep her scholarship? Harley is fucked up, but she’s not the dumb blonde she plays. (also stop making her stacked, she’s a gymnast. she is 4’11” of pure muscle and is not top heavy)

If you want a good Harley backstory it’s simple. She’s ADHD but medicated and slightly robotic because of it. I want to take special care not to demonize meds but, rather, people’s disapproval of neurodivergence and a lack of focus on what is best for a patient rather than what is most convenient for others. So, maybe, around ten years old Harley is a hyperactive space cadet who’s brilliant at tests but sloppy at coursework, who would be a gymnastics prodigy if she could actually focus on technique and put in practice time instead of fooling around. Then the meds come and it’s actually really cool because she can do the things she needs to do instead of just wanting to do them, doing something else entirely, and getting in trouble. People are proud of her, she’s proud of herself. But now there are expectations. Family and teachers and coaches overschedule her, find worth only in her success and don’t care about her mental health at all as long as she’s performing and castigate her when she does fail. Fuck if you don’t internalize that. But she doesn’t look unhealthy and she’s doing amazing. She actually has to choose between the Olympic trials and continuing her grad studies. She probably has some issues with self-harm but it either doesn’t look like self-harm or is well covered up. 

When Arkham accepts her, fresh from her residency, it’s not a mistake. The woman is amazing. All they can see is a mountain of achievements rather than the seething ball of nerves, self-loathing, and imposter syndrome boiling just under the surface. That’s when Joker comes in. He’s got the Hannibal Lecter shtick down. Where everyone else sees an intelligent driven young woman he sees a frightened overwhelmed girl who is working her hardest to convince the world she’s anyone other than herself. Sending her into a nervous breakdown would be too easy so he doesn’t even bother. Instead he’s open with her, almost friendly. The other doctors are amazed, Harley is amazed, she’s not done anything particularly revolutionary but, for the first time in forever, it looks like the clown prince of crime is showing progress. He unravels her and it’s a challenge, she flinches back and gets very serious when he comes too close to the real Harley under the professional. Still, soon she’s questioning everything. She doesn’t even really like her co-workers. She hasn’t had a real friend in years. She’s forgotten how to have fun. Did she ever want this to be her life or did she just do it for other people? It starts so slowly that it looks, at first, like she’s getting better at self-care. Maybe something totally silly one weekend, a trampoline park where she can enjoy the way her toned body moves without stressing out over landings, a face painting booth at a street fair, some garishly colored downright tacky decoration that clashes with her sensible apartment. Suddenly she realizes how much she hates knowing the difference between cream and ecru. The beigeness of her life is repulsive. She hates the person she’s pretending to be even more that she hates herself which is really saying something.

After her weekend of freedom she would have called in sick if it wasn’t so suddenly important to see him. The relief she feels at talking to one of Gotham’s most infamous supercriminals is disturbing but it is relief and she’s been swallowing a slow-motion panic attack for hours. She admits, though she shouldn’t, that she took his advice about doing something fun and he teases her, what would straight-laced Doctor Quinzel do for fun? Did she realphabetize her sock drawer or buy a new clipboard? It’s not important to impress him, it’s really not. He’s dangerous, cruel, and he looks so proud when she admits that she bought a lamp shaped like a lawn flamingo. The only mistake, he says, is that she should have stolen it. She hopes the wicked thrill it gives her doesn’t show on her face. It does. She almost even laughs. He likes it when he can make her laugh and she likes it when he likes things.

It’s wrong and unprofessional, the relationship she develops, and she knows it but her whole life she’s been so high strung. Nothing she’s done has been for her, she’s not sure she knows how to really do selfish things anymore, but he knows the selfish things she needs to do. It feels good when she follows his advice even when it’s small things like the rainbow striped socks she wears concealed under her very bland slacks and sensible shoes. She’s so happy, almost giddy, and he loves her happiness, he loves her, he loves the real her that she’s had to beat down and hide for so long, the her that even she isn’t able to love. She is able to love him, though, and since he loves her she’s able to love herself for him, to protect and nurture something so important to him.

When the choice comes between her old self, the tedious endless labor of making the world proud, and Him, the spectacular man that brought color into her life, it’s not even a question. She kills Doctor Harleen Quinzel, she throws away the version of her that let herself burn just for medals and hollow accolades. She embraces Harley Quinn and it’s so much a part of her nature she can’t even see that she’s still living her life for someone else’s approval, except this time that person is a murderous clown. She hasn’t let her hair down, she’s just put it in pigtails instead of a bun.

2

harrison osterfield as johnny storm 🔥

originally posted on my instagram (and haz liked it!) (:

please don’t repost.

46 Of The Most Beautiful Sentences In YA Literature

1. “You could rattle the stars. You could do anything, if you only dared. And deep down, you know it too, and that’s what scares you the most.”
—Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass

2. “Because sometimes chance and circumstance can seem like the most appalling injustice, but we just have to adapt. That’s all we can do.”
—Gavin Extence, The Universe Versus Alex Woods

3. “I can’t seem to be a pessimist long enough to overlook the possibility of things being overwhelmingly good.”
—John Corey Whaley, Where Things Come Back

4. “Books are my friends, my companions. They make me laugh and cry and find meaning in life.”
―Christopher Paolini, Eragon

5. “Because Margo knows the secret of leaving, the secret I have only just now learned; leaving feels good and pure only when you leave something important, something that mattered to you. Pulling life out by the roots. But you can’t do that until your life has grown roots.”
—John Green, Paper Towns

6. “Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all those who live without love.”
―J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

7. “I’m done with those; regrets are an excuse for people who have failed.”
—Ned Vizzini, It’s Kind of a Funny Story

8. “Becoming fearless isn’t the point. That’s impossible. It’s learning how to control your fear, and how to be free from it.”
—Veronica Roth, Divergent

9. “The moon is a loyal companion. It never leaves. It’s always there, watching, steadfast, knowing us in our light and dark moments, changing forever just as we do. Every day it’s a different version of itself. Sometimes weak and wan, sometimes strong and full of light. The moon understands what it means to be human. Uncertain. Alone. Cratered by imperfections.”
—Tahereh Mafi, Shatter Me

10. “Eleanor was right. She never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn’t supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something.”
—Rainbow Rowell, Eleanor & Park

11. “Don’t be afraid of death; be afraid of an unlived life. You don’t have to live forever, you just have to live.”
—Natalie Babbit, Tuck Everlasting

12. “Just because we’ve been … dealt a certain hand … it doesn’t mean that we can’t choose to rise above — to conquer the boundaries of a destiny that none of us wanted.”
—Stephenie Meyer, Twilight

13. “Some walks you have to take alone.”
—Suzanne Collins, Mockingjay

14. “That’s the thing about pain. It demands to be felt.”
—John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

15. “We believe in the wrong things. That’s what frustrates me the most. Not the lack of belief, but the belief in the wrong things. You want meaning? Well, the meanings are out there. We’re just so damn good at reading them wrong.”
—Rachel Cohn, Dash & Lily’s Book of Dares

16. “Why would you be given wings if you weren’t meant to fly?”
—Leslye Walton, The Strange and Beautiful Sorrows of Ava Lavender

17. “Live! Live the wonderful life that is in you! Let nothing be lost upon you. Be always searching for new sensations. Be afraid of nothing.”
—Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

18. “It’s just that…I just think that some things are meant to be broken. Imperfect. Chaotic. It’s the universe’s way of providing contrast, you know? There have to be a few holes in the road. It’s how life is.”
—Sarah Dessen, The Truth About Forever

19. “The universe is bigger than anything that can fit into your mind.”
—Ava Dellaira, Love Letters to the Dead

20. “I try to think about how it all works. At school dances, I sit in the background, and I tap my toe, and I wonder how many couples will dance to ‘their song.’ In the hallways, I see the girls wearing the guys’ jackets, and I think about the idea of property. And I wonder if anyone is really happy. I hope they are. I really hope they are.”
—Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

21. “Things were rough all over but it was better that way. That way, you could tell the other guy was human too.”
—S.E. Hinton, The Outsiders

22. “What if evil doesn’t really exist? What if evil is something dreamed up by man, and there is nothing to struggle against except our own limitations? The constant battle between our will, our desires, and our choices?”
—Libba Bray, Rebel Angels

23. “It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.”
—J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone

24. “It’s like the people who believe they’ll be happy if they go and live somewhere else, but who learn it doesn’t work that way. Wherever you go, you take yourself with you. If you see what I mean.”
—Neil Gaiman, The Graveyard Book

25. “I can tell you that the end of a life is the sum of the love that was lived in it, that whatever you think you have sworn, being here at the end of Jem’s life is not what is important. It was being here for every other moment.”
—Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Princess

26. “Life, with its rules, its obligations, and its freedoms, is like a sonnet: You’re given the form, but you have to write the sonnet yourself.”
—Madeleine L’Engle, A Wrinkle In Time

27. “Maybe who we are isn’t so much about what we do, but rather what we’re capable of when we least expect it”
—Jodi Picoult, My Sister’s Keeper

28. “People never really died. They only went on to a better place, to wait a while for their loved ones to join them. And then once more they went back to the world, in the same way they had arrived the first time around.”
―V.C. Andrews, Flowers in the Attic

29. “Goodbye, I say, goodbye, as I disappear little by little into the middle of the middle of my own spectacular now.”
—Tim Tharp, The Spectacular Now

30. “But if I’m it, the last of my kind, the last page of human history, like hell I’m going to let the story end this way…Because if I am the last one, then I am humanity. And if this is humanity’s last war, then I am the battlefield.”
—Rick Yancey, The 5th Wave

31. “The words were on their way, and when they arrived, she would hold them in her hands like clouds, and she would ring them out like the rain.”
—Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

32. “Child, no one is ever ready for anything. I would never doom you to that. What sort of adventureless life would that be?”
—Alethea Kontis, Enchanted

33. “And now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.”
—John Steinbeck, East of Eden

34. “Maybe some people are just meant to be in the same story.”
―Jandy Nelson, I’ll Give You the Sun

35. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: We all want everything to be okay. We don’t even wish so much for fantastic or marvelous or outstanding. We will happily settle for okay, because most of the time, okay is enough.”
—David Levithan, Every Day

36. “Doubt everything at least once. What you decide to keep, you’ll be able to be confident of. And what you decide to ditch, you will replace with what your instincts tell you is true.”
―Amy Plum, After the End

37. “Just as a river by night shines with the reflected light of the moon, so too do you shine with the light of your family, your people, and your God. So you are never far from home, never alone, wherever you go.”
—Karen Cushman, Catherine Called Birdy

38. “You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you’ll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present.”
—John Green, Looking for Alaska

39. “There’s no shame in fear, my father told me, what matters is how we face it.”
—George R.R. Martin, A Clash of Kings

40. “I know that the whole point—the only point—is to find the things that matter, and hold on to them, and fight for them, and refuse to let them go.”
—Lauren Oliver, Delirium

41. “We feel cold, but we don’t mind it, because we will not come to harm. And if we wrapped up against the cold, we wouldn’t feel other things, like the bright tingle of the stars, or the music of the aurora, or best of all the silky feeling of moonlight on our skin. It’s worth being cold for that.”
—Philip Pullman, The Golden Compass

42. “It’s a lot easier to be lost than found. It’s the reason we’re always searching and rarely discovered—so many locks not enough keys.”
―Sarah Dessen, Lock and Key

43. “On that cold night in January it all slipped into place for me and she became my everything and my everyone. My music, my sun, my words, my logic, my confusion, my flaw.”
—Julie Murphy, Side Effects May Vary

44. “Hope? Hope can be a powerful force. Maybe there’s no actual magic in it, but when you know what you hope for most and hold it like a light within you, you can make things happen, almost like magic.”
—Laini Taylor, Daughter of Smoke and Bone

45. “[She] had always suffered from a vague restlessness, a longing for adventure that she told herself severely was the result of reading too many novels when she was a small child.”
—Robin McKinley, The Blue Sword

46. “Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels, but old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young.”
—J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix 

Sheriff Knows Best

Stiles/Derek, G, 2K words, Sheriff POV, Coffeeshop AU, matchmaker!Sheriff

(Credit for the title to @cobrilee!)

This is an expansion of the following idea, written by the lovely @artemis69:

the coffee!AU, where John goes to the same coffee shop every day, and there is this very grumpy, quiet barista that always makes him amazing coffee and keep the best pastries for him. And one day the Sheriff learns that Derek is the one to bake them all, so he decides: this will be my son in law, I need a reason to have this man in my family for at least forty to fifty years. Then he matchmakes with no subtility whatsoever, basically offering his only son on a silver plate, Stiles spluttering all the way (but he takes Derek’s number anyway because the guy is just amazingly cute)

John’s on his regular morning stroll when he stops in his tracks and takes in the brand-new coffee shop, complete with a banner advertising their opening day. The little corner space has been boarded up for over a year, and John had no idea it was opening today.

Any new businesses are a boon for Beacon Hills, especially family-run ones like this one is rumored to be, so John ducks inside. It’s warm and homey, and there’s a pair of young dark-haired people behind the counter, close enough in features that they’re probably siblings. The quiet bickering points that direction, too.

They stop, though, when they see the Sheriff—the uniform tends to have that effect—and he pastes on his public servant smile. “Hi there. I saw this place was open and wanted to come on in and introduce myself. Sheriff John Stilinski.”

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you,” the woman says, holding out her hand for a shake. A nice strong grip—John likes this girl already. “I’m Laura Hale, and I own this place with my brother Derek, our resident grumpy barista-slash-baker.”

Derek rolls his eyes at Laura, but his smile to John is genuine, if small. “Hi, Sheriff. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, son,” he says, perusing the case full of tempting sugary treats. “You made these?”

He nods. “Can I get you anything?”

John hums. “A medium coffee, and…any one of these delicious-looking goodies. You pick. Just don’t tell my son,” he adds, and Derek looks up at him.

“Your son?”

“I have slightly elevated cholesterol,” he says, stressing the word. “Nothing to worry about, honestly. But he polices my diet. I don’t think he knows about this place yet, though, so this is great.”

Derek hums. His tongs hover over a muffin—lemon poppyseed, it looks like—before moving to another one. Raspberry-almond, according to the sign, and well, John isn’t picky. Derek drops it into a little bag and hands it over.

“Happy to help,” he says.

John thanks him and opens the bag. Laura’s still pouring his coffee, but it smells so damn good that he can’t resist.

“Wow,” he says, his mouth full. “This is delicious.”

Derek looks quietly proud, and Laura claps him on the shoulder as she reaches over to hand John his coffee. “On the house, today, Sheriff,” she says. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promises.


“Thanks, Nina,” John says dryly, leaning back so she can put his plate in front of him.

“You’re welcome, Sheriff,” she says with a friendly smile, ignoring his stink eye.

Stiles just grins at both of them and digs into his French toast. He insists on having their weekly father-son breakfast at Paulie’s Diner because no matter what John orders, Nina will only bring him an egg-white omelet with a dry English muffin. Stiles must have some serious blackmail or be paying her off somehow, and John is, he has to admit, grudgingly impressed.

“Don’t look so bummed out, Pops,” Stiles says, around a mouthful of what’s surely syrup-drenched deliciousness. “At least I let you have turkey bacon.”

“It’s not the same,” he says grumpily, poking at it. “But at least I’m getting a steady stream of baked goods now.”

Stiles glares at him. “Are you serious? From where? I thought I had paid everyone off.”

He knew it. “I’m not telling you,” he says, a little displeased with how childish he sounds.

“Fine,” Stiles says, sniffing. “I’ll figure it out, you know I will.”

He will, John knows. Goddamn, he loves his kid, even if his life goal seems to be depriving John from any and all delicious food. “And speaking of, I met someone the other day,” he starts, and Stiles gasps theatrically, his hand coming up to cover his mouth.

“Is this you crapping all over my dream of having Melissa as my stepmom?”

John sighs at the reminder. Melissa is…well, she seems happy with that Argent guy. Whatever. He’s not bitter.

“Not for me, Jesus,” he says, shaking his head. “For you.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles says, slumping back in the booth. “Eye roll” is too mild, John thinks. It’s more of a whole head roll. “Seriously, Dad, I’m only 25. You don’t have to marry me off quite yet. You’ll get your grandchildren someday, I promise. Stop trying to set me up with people.”

“I’m just trying to be helpful!” John protests. “He seems nice.”

And makes really good treats, he adds in his head. That’ll be a good trait for a son-in-law.

“And who exactly is he?”

John pauses. “I met him at the aforementioned undisclosed location.” 

Stiles snorts. “Find out if he actually likes dudes, then get back to me.”

“Okay,” he says seriously, and Stiles grimaces.

“No, Dad, don’t actually—”

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