daliaaaaa could you tell me your fave sterek fics please?? :)
How could you ask me this? Do you have any idea how many
sterek fics I’ve read over the years? How many I’ve loved?
This is a short list of the very few I could think of off
the top of my head. I think I’ll probably make a recs page, because I’ve been
meaning to for a long time. I have a recs tag, but that includes different
pairings as well.
“I called you a slave-driver!” Stiles cried hysterically. “I called you an ogre! I stole all the blue paperclips!” Derek raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s company property!” he shouted, waving his arms madly in distress. Derek ran a hand over his face. “It’s not theft if the vice president of the company gives you permission.”
Mikasa: Bad jokes Reiner: Gay jokes Bertholdt: jokes that are too long and in the end no one knows what it was about Annie: No jokes, more sarcasm Eren: Super flat jokes Jean: uses memes irl Marco: jokes that you think are offensive at first but then they turn out not to be Sasha: Puns everywhere Connie: All kinds of jokes you could end with a *BadumTss* Historia: Passive aggressive jokes Armin: Clever jokes Ymir: Perverted jokes Levi: Poop jokes (duh) Hanji: Disgusting jokes Erwin: Dad jokes Nanaba: Cute jokes Mike: Not really jokes, more like funny comments Moblit: Jokes that end with yelling
a/n: thinking of making this into another small series!! based on a request!! let me know if you think i should post another part! also this is my first series where im adding another POV get keen. also ill start a tag list for this so leave a message in my ask box or down below if you’d like to be added!!
it was another busy night at pop’s chock’lit shoppe.
booths were bursting at the seams as they celebrate the win of river dales very own bulldogs. i didn’t even need to go to the game to know that they’d won.
teenagers and parents hustle into the diner buying burgers and fries by the dozen. me? i sat in my usual booth with my usual oder; cheese burger fries and a chocolate milkshake, with of course my laptop.
i was busy typing up my newest lead that i didn’t pay any attention to the small girl that walked through pop’s doors and ended up at the front of my booth, fries and milkshake in hand.
“can i sit?” she murmurs shifting on her feet
i tilt the lid of my laptop down gesturing with my hands for her to sit, she smiles at me placing her food infront of her as she sips on her drink.
she studies me and i close my laptop completely glance at the small girl, she looked exactly like jellybean.
“everything okay?” she nods pulling books out of her back pack and plugging her headphones into her iPod.
i open my laptop and start typing again inspiration flowing through me. we stay like this for awhile, me working on my story and the little girl writing what seemed like english homework whilst bopping her head to the music that filled her earphones.
she sighs heavily causing me to look up at her “im holly (y/l/n)” i smile “jughead jones the third” she chuckles.
“theres three of you named jughead” she giggles her laugh carrying through the diner, the dinner rush was over and most of the booths were now empty. it was just us, pop and a few local stragglers.
“you miss holly remind me of my sister” she raises her eyebrows “can’t say the same about you- my sister is way cooler than you” she sass’ and i laugh.
“how old are you holly?” “I’m 10, you?” “17″ i reply stealing one of her fries “hey!” she sulks.
“my sisters 17 too, she steals my fries too” i nod smirking to myself
“her names (y/n) we just moved her from san fransico, how olds your sister?”
i close my laptop setting it aside “my sister is 10 years old same as you her names jellybean” she laughs again “is there three jelly beans too?” i shake my head “nope just the one and only”.
she pops a few fries in her mouth “can i ask you a few questions?” i chuckle “haven’t you just been doing exactly that?” she shakes her head.
folding my arms across my chest i decide to give in “fine, i’ll bite”
a take a swig from the saucer infront of me “are you writing about that dead kid?” i spit out my coffee choking slightly.
“yes or no?”
“do you ever take that beanie off?”
“not even when you shower” she pesters
i lean forward “i even poop with it on” she giggles and makes a disgusted face.
“my turn” she nods
“what are you listening to?”
“music” i roll my eyes gesturing for her to go on “right now- all time low”
“why are you at a diner asking a stranger at 10pm personal questions?”
her eyes widen “wait your not a murder right?” i cock my eyebrow “maybe”
“my sister was supposed to come meet me here for dinner after she’d finished work that was” she pauses looking down at her watch
“3 and a half hours ago”
i brush my thumb against my lips “is that true?” she shrugs smirking mischievously to herself.
“do you want to use my phone to contact your sister?” she shakes her head frantically “NO”
i lean back in the booth smiling maniacally crossing my arms infront of my chest “so you sister doesn’t know your here?”
she sinks lower into the booth sipping her milkshake shamelessly
“she’s probably worried about you”
the younger girl looks up sadly before her eyes drift over to the entrance the bell chiming indicating a new customer “crap!” she ducks underneath the table hiding herself behind my legs.
“hey!” i complain as the girl hugs my legs.
i scoff and turn and see the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen walk through the doors of pop’s. her (y/h/c) was dripping wet from the downpour outside yet it still looked incredible.
her clothes hugged her figure as the water drops from the fabric to the clean tiles. her eyes scan the booths looking for someone.
she walks over to pop worry evident on her face “hey I’m looking for my little sister she’s 10 but this high, brown hair” she gestures with her hands “her names holly”
i clear my throat pointing to my booth, as the younger girls back pack and homework sprawled out on the table top.
she mutters a thank you before approaching my booth, she breathes a sigh of relief as she realises that the back pack indeed belonged to her younger sibling.
“you must be holly’s sister?” she nods rocking awkwardly on her heels “(y/n) (l/n) I’m sorry if she’s been bothering you- and you are?” she smiles down at me her cheeks tinting red in the warm diner.
“jughead jones-” i pause “the third” she giggles nd boy do i have to contain myself from drooling.
“there’s three of you named jughead?” she continues giggling covering her mouth and apologising “oh god I’m sorry i shouldn’t be laughing” i chuckle to myself smiling up at the girl.
“its fine, your sister actually said the exact same thing” she widens her eyes and drops to her knee spotting her younger brunette sister curled up at my legs.
“holly!” she scolds “get out and leave the poor boy alone” i try and hide my smirk.
“his name is juggie and he’s my friend” she retorts.
“its fine (y/n) honestly i have a little sister the same age, its harmless really” she shakes her had dipping back under the table.
“you give me no choice” i watch as the (y/h/c) girl moves under the table trying to grab her younger sister from underneath the table.
squeals fill the diner until holly pops out of the booth her sister trying to follow suit only to bash her head on the table and aggressively grab my thigh in the process of a line sentence of cussing.
i lean down to her offer my hand “you okay?”
she clutches her head with one hand and she grabs mine with the other allowing me to pull her up into the seat beside me.
“id like to say that karma for laughing at my birth name?”
she giggles still wincing in pain “atleast theres no gum in your hair” i muse smiling at the mystery girl.
“this day keeps getting better” she smiles sarcastically
“c’mon holz mums worried sick i need to get you home, so say goodbye to your new found friend and lets go. no more running away” she nods sadly rolling her eyes at her older sister.
“can we come back here tomorrow” she whines as the older girl packs away holly’s books into her backpack.
“i don’t know holly I’m already swamped in school work we can’t be coming here on a daily basis i can’t watch you all the time” the younger girl looks disappointed.
“i’ll be here” i speak up the two girls turning to look at me “if you don’t have the time you can drop her off and illl look after her for an hour or two”
she sighs looking at her sister as she stands on her knees begging her sister
“please please please”
she looks at me biting her lip “i don’t know holz”
holly’s face drops disappointment clearly evident on her face.
“you can come too, bring your homework if you feel up to it” she smiles at me before slipping out of the booth “i’ll think about it”
i nod a smile creeping on my face.
“c’mon holly say bye to jughead” she smiles at me giving me a fist bump before walking to her sister.
“thank you, for looking after her. i know not everyone is wired to be kind to a young lost girl. i owe you one”
“if you come tomorrow ill make it even” he says hopeful wanting to know more about the beautiful new girl.
“maybe, goodnight” she places her hands on her sisters holders and guides her toward the exit looking back one last time to send a small smile my way.
there was something about her and i couldn’t quiet put my finger on it but i had to know her.
“How did you get past the wards?” Derek had put them up, with Peter’s grudging assistance, after the Alpha pack had made themselves at home a few times too many.
The guy pulled a face. “You mean the wards a five-year-old girl with the mental ability of a goldfish could deconstruct?” He blinked wide eyes at Derek. “Gee, I don’t know. It’s bound to go down as one of life’s great mysteries.”
And Derek just stood there, staring at Stiles like he was a ghost.
“Dude, I know it’s been a while but you don’t have to look at me like you’re that surprised I’m hung over in the woods. It’s practically a tradition at this point.”
“Stiles?” Derek whispered, the name falling from his lips like a punch to the gut. Stiles watched, confused, as Derek took a deep breath in and took a shaky step forward then back again. “You’re not- you can’t be. Who are you?”
A magical accident sends Stiles back in time. Now he’s stuck in New York, living with Derek and Laura, and the only way to get back to his own time is to learn to use magic. Meanwhile, he must figure out how much he can tell them about their future. Can he warn them about the dangers they face? Can he change his own past?
And can he trust the creature known as Bookworm, who seems to know him better than he knows himself?
"We’re happy to have you, Stiles,” Laura says, and nudges Derek hard, “Aren’t we?” “Of course,” Derek says through gritted teeth. When he looks at Stiles, the kid has a smug grin on his face. What a little shit.
AU where Stiles is sent to the Hale pack to be their emissary.
There is a thing people like to bring up about “low functioning people with autism” to illustrate how horrible our lives are. It appears really terrible to people who have grown up not-autistic.
Smearing feces all over the place. Well, that’s proof we aren’t aware or intelligent! Because poop is gross and disgusting and everyone knows that.
Except they don’t. Most two year olds do it until corrected. By five they learn that it is something that will make Mommy gag and pitch a fit. It is later in life that they learn why adults freak out at it.
There is a reason kids do that. Poop feels GOOD. It’s slimy and mushy and makes fingers happy. And you can paint on the walls with it! Awesome pictures that feel good while you make them!
Autism adds a complication, particularly when you’re nonverbal. We might not even notice you’re mad about our art (especially if you baby us so much we don’t see you be mad). We don’t understand your “don’t play with your poop” instructions - words are hard. We don’t know it’s unsanitary until we get some education that you deprive us of because people that play with poop obviously can’t learn so no point in wasting the effort.
There are things that can make it happen less even before you figure out how to communicate with us.
Mud! Playing in mud is so awesome. My fingers and toes have a really happy time with mud. The spraying down with the hose before being allowed back in the house just adds to the fun.
Finger paint! Make it a little thicker than usual so it has that slimy but resistive texture of poop. Like thin play-dough, but slimier. Better than mud in some ways because we can make pictures with it. You might not know what we painted but we do and we had fun doing it.
Playing with feces is not evidence of being ‘animals’ or ‘stupid’, just a possible sign of sensory deprivation and lack of knowledge of how unhealthy it is and a desire for feeling slimy stuff and making pictures.
“The most important thing in the world is family and love.”-John Wooden
Garfield blinked awake. He squinted into the darkness, his eyes quickly adjusting to the low light. A flash of pale skin caught his attention, and Garfield sat up. “Rae?”
She paused, hovering at the edge of the bed. It was then that Garfield could hear the gentle crying drifting in from the other room. He was up immediately, trying to usher the empath back into bed. “Go on back to sleep, Rae, I’ve got this.”
Raven wavered reluctantly, her gaze darting towards their bedroom door. “Are you sure? He might be hungry.”
Garfield chuckled. “Well, if he is I’ll come get you.” He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Now go back to sleep, okay?” Garfield didn’t wait for her to answer; instead he padded to the door and slipped out into the hall.
The cries grew louder as Garfield crept through the little apartment. He carefully opened the door and peered within. A smile quickly tugged at his lips as the outline of the crib caught his gaze. Garfield slipped into the room and flipped on a lamp, calmly padding up to the little crib. “Hey, little guy,” he cooed. His sharp nose caught the foul scent of a soiled diaper, and Garfield carefully scooped up the wailing newborn.
Chester Mark Logan, only three weeks old. Raven had picked the name; she’d read it somewhere in one of her many novels. Garfield hadn’t been fond of it at first; after all, he felt his own name sounded old. But after a lot of negotiating, or, on Raven’s end, insisting, the name had grown on him.
Garfield undid his son’s sleeper, mentally bracing himself. He was getting good at changing diapers. It was still disgusting, seeing the weirdly colored poop his child produced, but years of soiled food rotting in the fridge seemed to have prepared him.
The poop was just as bizarre as expected, and Garfield had to hold his breath to take it off and dump it in the trashcan. He snagged a wipe and cleaned Chester up, humming softly under his breath. The little newborn had settled down a bit, seemingly pleased that the soiled diaper was removed. He cooed up at Garfield, his big, purple eyes sparkling in the lamplight. “Hey, little dude,” Garfield murmured. Chester cooed in response, waving his little green fists in the air. It was utterly adorable. Then again, everything about Chester was adorable.
Despite the fact that his son had inherited his…green-ness, Garfield couldn’t see Chester as anything less than perfect. He’d always struggled with feeling attractive and handsome, and it wasn’t until he fell in love with Raven that he started to see that aspect of himself. And now, with Chester, he really saw it. The kid was a handsome little thing, green skin and all.
A pair of arms slipped around his waist, and Garfield jumped in surprise. Raven’s familiar scent washed over him, and he leaned into her touch. “I thought I told you to go back to bed?” he teased. Raven hummed into his back.
“You were taking too long; I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
Garfield chuckled. “What, don’t trust me with a diaper?”
His wife pulled away, and he turned to see a smile lighting up her features. He stilled, admiring the joy sparkling in her eyes. Even now, at two o’clock in the morning, wearing rumbled nightclothes and a messy bun, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. And he was lucky enough to call her his wife.
“You’re better with it than I am,” she murmured, her voice light with amusement. Garfield rolled his eyes and grinned. This was surprisingly true. Raven was a pro at figuring out what Chester needed when he cried, thanks to her emphatic abilities no doubt, but changing diapers was not her forte. The first time she tried, Raven had taken one look at the diaper’s contents and fled the room, leaving Garfield to do damage control. Which didn’t quite go so well; he’d nearly thrown up a few times until the diaper was changed and their son was cleaned up.
Now, though, changing diapers was a breeze. Garfield scooped Chester up and cradled him against his chest. He smiled softly as the little baby yawned and snuggled close, already drifting off to dreamland. A light touch grazed his arm, and he looked up to meet Raven’s gentle gaze.
“You’re so good at this,” she said. Garfield grinned.
“Eh, I’m alright. You on the other hand, are a goddess.” His statement earned him an eyeroll and a peck on the cheek, much to his pleasure. Raven leaned on his shoulder and slung her arms around his waist, smiling that beautiful smile he loved so damn much. How he ever got so lucky to have such an amazing family, Garfield didn’t know. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever know, but he wasn’t going to complain. Gifts like these were hard to come by, and he planned on loving his family with everything he had.
“You know, I wasn’t sure if I could have kids,” he murmured. Raven blinked up at him, her smile disappearing.
Garfield shrugged awkwardly, trying not to disturb Chester. “Yeah, well, messed up genes, remember?” He snorted, dropping his gaze to his son. “I mean, I could have gone to a lab and gotten tested or whatever. But…I guess I was afraid of the answer.”
Raven squeezed him in a one arm hug and pressed a kiss onto his shoulder. “It’s alright. I suppose I never knew if I could have children either.” There was a warmth to her voice despite her words, and Garfield blinked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I am a half-breed,” she said with a rueful smile. “It was possible I’d be sterile like a mule. However, my father is not mortal, so I already figured things didn’t quite work how they normally would.”
Garfield hummed thoughtfully. She had a point he hadn’t even considered before. Biologically speaking, two species similar enough could copulate, but if they differed too greatly, the resulting offspring was typically sterile. Like mules, for instance. Or ligers. But since Trigon was a demonic entity from another dimension, it made sense that magic was most likely involved.
Which had a tendency to make things a bit…interesting.
Chester stirred in his arms, snagging Garfield’s attention. “Do you think he’ll inherit our powers?”
Raven shrugged. “It’s hard to say. Our powers are so different…there’s no telling what combination could arise.”
They both stared silently at their child, apprehension and wonder filling the air between them. Garfield held him close, feeling suddenly protective. Powers or not, he’d do whatever he could to make Chester’s life as good as he possibly could.
He’d let Chester stay a kid for as long as he could.
Raven carefully pried their son from his arms, cradling him to her chest. “It’s time to let him sleep,” she murmured, shooting him a gentle smile. She kissed Chester’s head and laid him in the cradle, cooing words of comfort under her breath.
Garfield smiled at the sight. What a lucky man he was, indeed.
I got it to work. Victory is mine. Also, Garfield is the best dad, confirmed.
I'm a very practical person when it comes to things, and I typically approach all situations with a level head. But being around some species of insects make me lose that cool edge, and I was wondering if you think that more natural, or learned?
I hope you don’t mind this getting to be kind of a long thing, but the “innate fear of insects” is something that’s actually really darn interesting about humans. There are a lot of theories and explanations that attempt to get at this, and it really can’t be said to be 100% innate or 100% learned. Like so much of human psychology, the fear of insects has both evolutionary and learned elements.
The evolutionary roots actually start with something called the visual predation hypothesis. All primates have really good stereoscopic (3d) vision. Our eyes are on the front of our heads, as opposed to the sides. We also all have color vision, which is weird for a mammal. The visual predation hypothesis suggests that one of the things that actually helped drive these traits in primates was our little tree-shrew/lemur-like ancient ancestors preying on bugs. What that means for us is that we’re very good at spotting insects. But if we relied on them so much… why the fear?
One theory is that this may be a response to danger. Humans evolved in Africa, which is home to several venomous species of spider (although few can kill an adult human, a bite can be debilitating- and a bite that might not bother an adult could seriously hurt a child.) During the early days of our species, we spent a lot of time foraging in areas that might be home to dangerous beasties- including spiders and snakes. (Snakes are another critter a lot of people fear!) The theory goes better you were at spotting a potentially deadly snake or spider, the more likely you were to survive. In a 2001 study, psychologists showed volunteers of things that were either threatening (spiders and snakes) or neutral (mushrooms and flowers) and asked them to locate the target object in the picture. The participants spotted the spiders and snakes much more quickly than anything else; those who had previously indicated on a questionnaire that they were afraid of either snakes or spiders were the fastest at finding them.The researchers used the results to argue that we’ve evolved to be especially attuned to the presence of potentially dangerous animals, however small: “Certainly there are certain stimuli that are pre-wired in the brain because they have been perennially dangerous to our ancestors.” If you would like to read this study, it can be found here.
But what this doesn’t take into account is how reliant we were on insect protein for much of our early existence, and it also doesn’t take into account the fact that we’re not innately afraid of things like lions or leopards- in fact, many of us are drawn to those animals. Another theory relates the fear of insects with our brain’s rejection response. Our brains don’t actually know the chemical difference between disgust and fear. Despite what Inside Out might tell you, the brain registers those as pretty much same thing. The mixup of fear and disgust is partially cultural, but also tied to biology- different cultures have different things that register as disgust based on what’s normalized during childhood, but everybody has the same rejection response, which is that feeling of “oh my GOD get that thing away from me.” It’s a mechanism that helps keep us safe- we’re disgusted by poop and rotting meat because both of those has the potential to make us wimpy-gutted primates sick. Insects are kind of like a messenger of disgust- this theory posits that their presence often indicates something that could make us sick. It’s not the insects, it’s just the association.
But then there’s also a cultural bias against bugs in the West. In many cultures, bugs aren’t considered creepy or frightening because they’re common and because they are food. But in the west, we don’t see insects as part of our landscape. To us, insects are an outside thing, and they don’t really have a place in the clean, almost sterile landscape we’ve constructed in our homes and cities. We like to believe that we’re the just masters of our domain, and “wild” things don’t belong here anymore. According to Jeffery Lockwood, an entomologist who wrote The Infested Mind, which is about human-insect relations, these days, most of us see insects primarily as invaders. “Now that we’ve moved into urban environments where close quarters and hygiene are at a premium,” says Lockwood, “we find that the vast majority of our interactions with insects are negative in that they are the things that are invading our homes and our private spaces, rather than things we see out in nature.”
So there’s lots of apparently innate reasons to fear bugs! But there’s also a major learned component as well. When a baby is born, there’s really only two things it fears: falling and loud noises. But babies pick up on their parents’ behavior very quickly- and if the parents aren’t keen on bugs, it takes next to no time for the baby to learn that maybe bugs are something to be feared. David Samson, a British psychologist and phobia expert, argues that a one-year-old seeing a spider for the first time would have no natural instinct to be afraid of it- and because kids are curious, that’s where problems arise. “A child moves their hand towards it, then a parent walks in and tells them in a louder-than-normal voice not to touch it, uses a faster-than-normal hand movement and perhaps even kills it. This is something extraordinary and suddenly the child has learned something. A folder is created in the subconscious called ‘spider’, and within that folder is something to be fearful of.“ Replace “spider” with “any insect a parent doesn’t want in the house” and you’ve got a very quickly learned behavior.
You couldn’t stand how his brothers treated him, especially Sigurd. Just because Ivar was crippled it didn’t mean he was less of a fighter and less of a man. You and Ivar had grown close over the years you’ve known each other. Your father had been a friend of Ragnar’s so naturally you two had spent a fair amount of time with each other. When you two were younger you would sit with Ivar when he couldn’t go play with his brothers and refuse to leave his side. Now of days you saw him less, but when you did it was like nothing had changed. The colder the weather got the number of those sick rose. Unfortunately this winter you couldn’t seem to shake the sickness no matter how many times you visited the shaman. One morning you woke feeling about as disgusting as goat poop, so you decided to stay in and give your body the rest it needed. Quickly throwing off the furs from your body you swung around your legs only for your feet to meet the cold hard wood floor of the house making you shiver. Standing and stretching you cross the room to light a small bundle of sage and let the smoke fill the room before putting it out. You grab an extra fur Ubbe had brought you back from the last hunt and used it as an extra layer as you lay back down. You lay there for what feels like hours shivering because your body just felt so cold before you hear rapping on the door. Too tired to answer you lay still hoping whoever it was would just leave eventually.
“Y/N!” you hear the distinctive voice of Ubbe call to you. Having no energy you don’t answer and pull the furs tighter around you. All of the sudden with a loud crack your front door flies open sending in a rush of bitter air. Ubbe stands in the door way with Ivar thrown over his shoulders; he saunters in and sets Ivar down in the chair beside your bed.
“Y/N, what is the matter?” Ivar questions his hands quickly coming to rest on your forehead and brush away the hair from your face.
“She needs to go to the Shaman, brother,” Ubbe states as he goes to pick you up.
“No, the Shaman will come to her, Ubbe,” Ivar demands reaching across you to grip Ubbe’s arm.
Ubbe stares at his brother judging wether or not to argue with him, “Very well then, I will go bring him here.”
Ubbe jogs out the door and in the direction of town to fetch the Shaman.
“You should’ve sent word to me that you were sick, Y/N,” Ivar said softly still rubbing my hair back from my face.
“I didn’t want to worry you, Ivar,” I whispered my hand reaching out to hold his.
“Well too late, min stjerne,” Ivar retorted rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand, “I’m not leaving your side until you are better.”
(Feedback always welcome! Request are open!! @nekodalolita I hope you liked it!!)
I don’t usually post about the beards anymore, but this I have to say…
Don’t ever say a thing like that anymore. Don’t you dare say that you are “forever a greedy fat lady in a skinny person body”. That’s offensive on so many levels that I don’t even want to go there! Like you know you are being watched! You know that there are thousands and thousands of young girls reading what you say by associating yourself with Harry. At least have the dignity to say inspiring things and not disgusting things that can influence some of these fans! Next thing you’ll do is what? Promote the poop tea!?
(3/3 I 5,447 I General I Sterek, Scallison, Petopher, Berica I No Hale Fire)
After Paige dies, Derek and Peter’s relationship falls apart. When Derek starts to show interest in one of Peter’s close friends, Stiles, the man hatches a plan to make ‘Sterek’ a reality. Even the rough patches throughout it made the end game worth it.
John Stilinski had had to change tutors for his son five times in a single month so far – ranging from professors and experienced private tutors to intelligent college and university students. None of them had survived more than a week. Greenberg had had given up after just four days.
“Beware of the boy,” Greenberg had warned Derek. “And…stay away from Roscoe,” he had muttered, looking weak and terrified, as if he was recollecting some nasty nightmare.
Greenberg had already fled before he could entertain further confused queries from Derek.
(aka - Stiles is a rich, spoiled brat, struggling academically(or is he?). Derek is his new tutor, who just needs a job. Of course, Stiles owns a grumpy cat – Roscoe - and Derek doesn’t get along with it.)
In which Derek is an adolescent werewolf with a penchant for chocolate bunnies, and instead of the dream summer of lazing around the house playing video games and nibbling on his hoarded supply of easter candy his mother makes him get a job.
In which Stiles is a showoff jock with a broken arm and an embarrassing crush who can no longer push the lawn mower around the yard.
(28/28 I 30,443 I Teen I Sterek, Scallison,Jydia, Berica I Alive Hale Family)
Derek hasn’t been having the best year what with his first girlfriend rejecting the werewolf bite and dying and his second girlfriend turning out to be a psychopath who wanted to kill his entire family. And with bad things happening in threes, Derek can’t say he’s completely surprised when his grandmother dies nine days before his seventeenth birthday. She was the only family member that ever completely understood Derek, and for the past year, she’d been the main thing that held him together. When he opens his birthday gift from her nine days later, Derek finds a cupcake cookbook and makes the decision to perfect one recipe a month until he’s mastered them all. And maybe along the way he’ll manage to pull his life back together too.
34,162 I Mature I Sterek I Stiles Finds Out About Werewolves)
Derek Hale is new to school, on his first day Stiles shows him around on his first day of school, they develop a fast frienship but as time goes on stiles finds him falling for his new best friend. Will the feelings be mutual?
Stiles and Derek are childhood friends who drifted apart. When Stiles joins the lacrosse team against his will, the universe (with a little help from Laura and Lydia) chooses to push them back together.
68,066 I General I Sterek I Alive Hale Family)
Something is seriously up with the captain of the lacrosse team. There’s just no way Derek Hale is human. *** “I was wondering if you’re even human. You move so quickly. I mean, it’s ridiculously fast. No human should be able to move that fast, y'know? It’s unfair for us. I mean, it’s obvious you work out, and I don’t, so that could be why, but like…I was just wondering if you were human, that’s all.”
“Stop talking, Stilinski, or I'll—”
“Put me on the bench all season?” Stiles asks knowing full well that Derek Hale can’t threaten him with shit.
(12/12 I 108,298 I Explicit I Sterek, Berica I Mental Health Issues)
“Mmmmh pretty.“ Stiles purrs in a way that makes a wild fire torch the planes of his skin. He knows Stiles is drunk and that the boy would probably stroke a pineapple and compliment its attractiveness, but Derek can’t help the way his heart starts to be a huge backstabbing dick, thundering uncontrollably against his chest. It’s painful, because Derek knows it isn’t real.
A story about goody-two-shoes Derek crushing on a Polish Prince Charming with a drinking habit - also the universe keeps on shoving astral poop into his face. It’s utterly spectacular.
Stiles and Derek have been close friends since the Hale siblings moved in next door after their parents’ death. But Derek’s in the popular group, he’s a star baseball player, and he dates popular Pep Squad captain Jennifer Blake. Stiles doesn’t have any of that, just his skateboard and a hopeless crush on Derek (oh yeah, and his Vote Lydia Martin Prom Queen button). As prom and the baseball state championship grow closer, Stiles and Derek start rekindling their friendship.
The street was full of people going to work, as Derek headed for the entrance of the Whittemore building. He wasn’t paying attention to the people around him, despite being a nightly crime fighter. That was his night job. During the day, he didn’t do it.
Not unless he had a bad feeling. Like now.
He stopped dead in his tracks when he felt a pair of eyes on him, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as a chill ran down his spine. He ignored the man bumping into him and calling him something rude, and instead zoned in on the feeling.
A tight grip around his bag and the coffee cup, he turned his head and looked over his shoulder.
OR Derek is a superhero. So is Stiles. Neither of them know this about each other though.
Stiles and Derek were inseparable growing up, but then college, jobs, and life happened. When Stiles comes back to Beacon Hills a decade later, he doesn’t expect to reconnect with Derek, and he sure doesn’t expect to fall in love with him.
A sudden strangled noise beside him made Derek snap his eyes open. He huffed out an angry breath, pursing his lips, irritated at the interruption.
It was Stiles. Stiles with bulging eyes, a red face and a hand clamped on his mouth. He was struggling to keep back his loud snort. Derek shot him a piercing glare, trying and failing to find his rhythm again.
“Just shout whenever…” Derek grated out, hissing at Stiles. “…and I’ll be there…WHAT?”
“Bieber? Really Derek-” Stiles choked, laughing as if he had lost his mind.
“You got a problem with that?”
Stiles jerked away from a snarling Derek, huffing out – Whoa, raising both hands in surrender. Not even a beat later, he shot a shit-eating grin at Derek.
“Okay, fine,” Erica holds up her hands, “don’t listen to me, continue to pine forever, spend the entirety of winter break being ‘just friends’ with him in a castle full of mistletoe, see if I care. But if, on the other hand, you actually want to be even a little proactive about this, I have a plan.”
Hi!! I'm looking for a specific fic that's an au where the first chapter is that stiles defended Derek in school from people making fun of home for being a were wolf. Derek's family is like Irish werewolf royalty?? Stiles turns out to be magic and also Scott is stiles older brother and also a cop!! Thanks!!
I just read your post on the Hogwarts school uniform (which was wonderful) and I would loooove to hear more of your thoughts on wizard fashion???? If you were so inclined
you!! I just had a conversation with problematicpizza where we discussed some of our thoughts on
the subject. You may find it interesting!
The following is just a massive headcanon. For the most part I don’t think it
contradicts the books, but for the mostest part it’s just based on personal
taste. Also, I’ll be focusing on
traditional conservative wizard clothes, the kind that shun muggle influence at
all costs. If you read the posts I linked above, there we talk a bit about
Okay, so I
think that the basic thing here is that magic would free wizards from some
concerns regarding clothing and material:
(“You say you want to wear a massive cloak made of the heaviest brocade? And
you want it to be all gathered and pleated and draped and bunched up so that
you can use even more fabric?? Worry not, there’s probably a spell to make it
light as a feather and floaty as cheesecloth.” I would say that such magics are
worked during the process of manufacturing the fabric.)
(“Look at that lengthy train you’re dragging behind you all over this disgusting,
dog-pissed, owl-pooped cobbled floor! It’s utterly filthy!!” – “Ahahah, ‘tis
okay, one quick spell and it’ll be like brand new!”)
(“This satin is too soft and won’t hold the shape I’m trying to give it T_T” –
“All is not lost my friend, you can spray it with this magic starch and you’ll
be able to make it into a ginormous dragon!!!”)
what I’m trying to say is that witches and wizards have found the way to wear
the most impractical crap you could ever imagine and still be able to move
around and function in general.
that my view of wizard clothes is very… cartoony? In regards to style, the
overall look is an amalgam of medieval, baroque and Victorian fashion, but very
stylised and exaggerated. I would say that the wizarding world that we see in the
books is a bit like this. Practicality is quite often just thrown out of the window
in favour of aesthetics (and general we-can-do-better-than-muggles stubbornness.)
And this is not limited to clothing, but to absolutely everything. In my
opinion, the wizarding world of the films (which I love) is a bit too grounded,
a bit too serious and mechanical, while in my head it’s much more whimsical.
So in my
version of wizarding clothes there’s, to start with, lots of volume and general
puffiness. The more you want to show off how rich and magical you are, the most
space you want to take, probably. Then there’s layers. Again, a matter of
status: more layers = more enchanted fabric = more magic + more money. Also, asymmetry
and imbalance, in an art-nouveau-pushed-WAY-too-far kind of way. Since you don’t
have to worry about falling over because of MAGIC, then you might as well perch
a ginormous explosion of ribbons and stuffed tropical birds on the right side
of your hat, which is already tilted to the right because you’re so
fashionable. And colour, colour is cool too. Like, we have iridescent shot
silks that look one colour or another depending on the angle you look at it, so
why wouldn’t wizards have fabric that changes colour with the weather or your
mood? Also, moving embroidery. Embroidered flowers that shift with the sun and
animals that run around (Umbridge has a couple of cute kittens on her collar
that get excited when she’s being exceedingly cruel).
This is, of
course, wizard clothes taken to the extreme. Some people wear simpler robes,
others go utterly wild. One of the purposes of school uniforms (I think) is to
even out some inequalities that may exist between the students (like how rich
their family is), so it makes sense to keep them simple. And someone who is serious
and strict with a no-nonsense attitude (say, Snape or McGonagall) would wear
something like this:
Dumbledore, for instance, would go for something more regal:
course, there’s our Umbridges and Lockharts:
Do all of them look very feminine? Yass :D
finish with, an unfinished lil’ Quidditch player:
I really wanted to do many more drawings, but I’m not sure my boss would’ve been happy about it….