stop packing

you wanted something to get you through your exams, he had it. you wanted a fake license, he could get it. you wanted something to hurt you, he was it.

- maggie stiefvater, the dream thieves

2

Sterek AU >> Futuristic freedom fighter AU or something like that

The year is 2020 and the Hale Pack is loved and hated at the same time. The Supernatural secret is out for years by now and the Hale Pack is running crazy throughout the country, trying to help lost and captured beings while fighting the law that wants to oppress them. They only hurt when necessary and don’t kill.

The government wants them stopped, because the Hale Pack is a symbol of freedom for the supernaturals. But even some of the supernaturals hate them, because they draw more attention. Attention that’s not going anywhere, because ‘you can’t put the cat back into the sack’. (’Really, Stiles?’)

But there are more supernatural beings than anyone can guess, so they have help everywhere they go.

The Hale Pack with their silent but brooding Alpha, his second hand man/emissary and the mixed bunch of betas.

Because I promised I would help a friend move, I’m not marching today. So I can’t speak to that experience, of what marching on the common would be. 

But.

I went to the local square to get coffee, and I couldn’t help but full out bawl in public. Mothers and daughters smiling and laughing and holding signs that say Love Trumps Hate. Groups of older women chatting with college-age women, all wearing pussy hats. Men–fathers, boyfriends, husbands, partners, friends, allies–walking and holding signs and being present. The subway stop being so packed that people were lining up on the stairs (which changed my mind about going into work this morning - my space on the train today can go to someone else who is marching). People not even bothering with the subway and just heading straight for the bridge to walk their way downtown. I’ve never, not once in three years, seen my square absolutely packed at ten in the morning. 

I’m not marching today–though I wish I was–but even the little taste I got of the global movement happening today was overwhelming, and overwhelmingly positive.

And I think the thing that will stick with me the longest, as I stood staring into a packed subway car, and making my decision that today was not a day for work (obvious, in retrospect), an older woman inside the stuffed car turned over her shoulder to look at me. Her face was lined, wrinkled and framed by flyaway grey-white hair. She smiled wryly, eyes bright as she took in my expression as I wondered if I could squeeze into the car, and said:

“March to march.”

Suddenly I felt so young…so very, very, very young. How many marches has she been to, lived through. How many obstacles and barriers did she battle against and bruise herself with as she broke them down; how many nights did she lie awake angry or cry herself to sleep over the unfairness and toughness of it all. How many times did she wonder: am I doing enough? when will it ever be enough? will it ever end? How many decades of fighting, how many marches has she done so we could have this one, today–march to marchand yet here she is again. She is the reason I get to go to college, to study science. She is the reason I get to marry whom I want, or not marry at all. She is the reason I get to decide if I want children, and if so, when. She and all the women who came before me and fought for our rights are the reason we continue to march, because we all know our fight is not over. It never was over, not when feminism is still a dirty word to many, not when feminism for so many others does not recognize and respect intersectionality. In many ways–in frustratingly, disheartening ways–it seems as if this fight just beginning. 

I know it is not. I know, because one old woman looked at me today, and said march to march. And I understood in a way I never had before. This fight has been going on for ages, but today, for me, it is only the beginning. Today is when I put one foot in front of the other. Not because I want to, or because I’m inspired. I will do it, because I need to. No more excuses. I do that, because then I am walking behind her. I am at her back, to support her and all she has done. I am at her back, so that one day, when she finally stops walking, there will others to take her place at the front. I can take her place at the front, and that starts today.

Today, I begin to march.

Negan // prompt 39

“Go then, leave! See if I care” ••• “You said you were done with Sherry! You said you were done with all of them!” I yelled. “I slipped up, it happens, shit, woman” he said smugly laying on the bed. “I don’t just go around and sleep with Dwight! Or Simon!” “Don’t you dare!” He says sitting up. “You can’t do that! I’m leaving if I can’t get what I give” “Go ahead, leave! See if I care” he says relaxing in bed not expecting me to actually leave. I started packing up some stuff. “You’re not fucking going anywhere” Negan says. “I don’t see you stopping me” I spat back. “I fucking love you” he says and I stop packing instantly. I looked at him now standing up. “What?” I ask in shock. “I love you, Y/N. Now stay, please”

Originally posted by richonnebitch

5

Scott x Reader

Requested By Anon


Your mouth dropped open as Stiles finished his sentence. He’d told you to be quiet and blurted out to the entire pack that you’d had a crush on Scott for four years. Before the pack could stop you, you hurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs to your bed room while Scott just stared after you.

 

“(Y/N) wait!” Stiles yelled and scrambled after you.


“Go away Stiles I hate you.” You screamed back and slammed the door.

 

“If you don’t tell Dad a buy you a pretzel on my way home tomorrow!” He called and everyone exchanged confused looks.

 

“Cheese?” You asked quietly.

 

“Duh, well were going to carry on if you want to come back down.” Stiles walked back into the kitchen and found everyone looking at him.

 

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