until everything goes to hell

Fic Recs Mega Post

Whenever I write one of these posts I’m struck by the sheer amount of incredible writing talent in this little fandom of ours. It is quite astonishing, and it’s a privilege to get to read all of this wonderful work. Below there’s a small selection of the fantastic stuff I’ve been reading recently, featuring gods, monsters and feral jungle men - and that’s just for starters!

Storms (series) by @lovecrimevariations (KareliaSweet): This frankly astonishing series starts out in barnstorming but fairly innocuous style in Where Are The Storms I Was Promised, in which Will Graham, famous monster hunter, is called to deal with the Wendigo that’s been terrorising an entire town. And then it proceeds, over the course of a further six instalments, to document the beautiful, bloody, often painful course of the relationship between Will and Hannibal, constantly deepening and recontextualising the ‘verse as it goes. Reading this series is almost like watching a really good magic trick – every time you think you’ve got its measure, it pulls something new and surprising out of its hat. And it’s not just flash and sparkle either, the writing is utterly beautiful, the characters are perfectly captured and it is both deeply funny and enormously moving (I was genuinely weepy a number of times throughout). Plus, it also features a majestic, powerful, do-not-under-any-circumstances-fuck-with incarnation of Bedelia, who is worth the price of admission all by herself. Seriously, she was my favourite part of this whole series and I love it beyond any sense or reason. If you have any love of writing whatsoever, read this series, it is a masterclass.

You’ll be in my heart by @starkaryen: Based on the totally beautiful art (here and here) by @camilleflyingrotten, here Will is a scientist on an expedition to find and study gorillas. Instead, he ends up finding Hannibal, a mostly-feral man who lives in the jungle, has an adopted gorilla family, and takes an immediate shine to Will. Who, because this is Will and Hannibal, finds himself taking a shine right back. And all is rosy in Camp Hannigram, until Jack damn Crawford sticks his nose in (like always) and threatens Hannibal’s way of life. As befits the utterly gorgeous artwork, this fic is just lovely from start to finish. It features a particularly adorable version of Hannibal – the scenes in which he indulges his obsession with Will’s safari hat are nothing short of precious – and a charmingly earnest Will. It’s a simple, innocent bit of loveliness, which is rather refreshing in this dark and sophisticated fandom of ours XD.

(Also, if you’d like a little more Tarzan AU, this time with an A/B/O flavour, check out Hannizan by @hotsauce418, which is just pure filth and utterly wonderful with it XD.)

We, the common by @thelongcon23 (thelongcon): A retelling of the show (and beyond) in omegaverse style, this fic alternates masterfully between Hannibal and Will’s POVs as the omega becomes fascinated, obsessed, and ultimately falls in love with the alpha. The result is that while the course of events remains largely the same         (Will still gets framed and gutted, and they still go over the cliff in each other’s arms), others change drastically (the way Will locates Hannibal in Florence, for instance, gets a very clever omegaverse twist). And their relationship after the fall? Well, I can pretty much guarantee you’ve never seen it go down quite like this before. If you’re looking for fluff, I suggest you go elsewhere, but if you’re after passion, intensity, and that terribly Hannigram sense that love and cruelty are not mutually exclusive, this is the fic for you. The writer has a firm grip on the characters’ voices and motivations and is uncompromising and incisive in their betrayal of both. This is not necessarily an easy read (particularly towards the end, when Hannibal gives Will a reckoning of his own) but it is a compelling and fascinating one.

Cookies by @desperatelyseekingcannibals (TigerPrawn): Now, those of you who are after some fluff, here’s some of the best around. Tiger’s non-cannibal AU is an absolute treat, full of emotional idiots, kick-ass women and a totally adorable kid (and I don’t say that lightly cos kid!fic ain’t my thing!). It all starts when Will accompanies his daughter Abigail as she goes door-to-door selling cookies for charity and finds himself face to face with the ever-so-handsome Doctor Lecter. And then somehow, before he knows it, Will is agreeing to a date in exchange for Hannibal buying all of Abby’s stock, and soon finding that he might have stumbled into a real relationship. Not that it’s smooth sailing, of course, this is still Hannigram we’re talking about! It is my deep and ardent belief that Hannibal dreams of being a romcom when it grows up and with this utterly charming, romantic, as-sweet-as-its-name-suggests fic, that dream is made a reality. Anyone who’s ever wanted to see Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter fall in love the old-fashioned way (you know, without all those annoying stints in prison and near-fatal injuries), treat yourself and read this fic. I guarantee it will melt even the most dark and twisted of hearts.

Picture Imperfect by @shiphitsthefan: Will Graham is a very special alpha – unlike many of his sex, he can be trusted not to turn into a hormonal animal around omegas. It’s how he’s made his career as a photographer. That is, right up until he’s in a room with concert harpsichordist Hannibal Lecter and everything goes to hell when they scent each other and can barely keep themselves from ripping their clothes off and bonding right there and then. Seems like they’re true mates and it’s only a matter of time before they give into their urges – so Will, being a decent and respectful alpha, has to get this courtship show on the road before that happens. Well, mostly before that happens. Given the UST inherent to the plot, this is every bit as intensely, stupidly hot as you’d hope, but it’s also a really clever, thoughtful exploration of the omegaverse concept, set in a ‘verse in which omegas are the ruling gender, a nice reversal of the usual a/b/o setup. Plus it has an almost indecently adorable version of Hannigram, in which progressive Will and traditionalist Hannibal attempt to conjoin their lives so that they can get on and shag already! Smart and sexy a/b/o is one of our fandom’s greatest strengths and this is truly just an exemplary version of it.

Space Invader II: A Very Darko Sequel by @devereauxsdisease: A sequel to the utterly wonderful Space Invader (and if you haven’t read it, I’m begging you, go remedy that this instant), this return to Dev’s Spacedogs ‘verse sees Adam and Nigel still ensconced in blissful coupledom. So blissful, in fact, that it’s making Darko wonder if he might want some of that relationship stuff for himself. Cue the appearance of a certain sassy lab tech last seen working for the FBI. That’s right, Beverly Katz is alive, in town and about to rock Darko’s world XD. This is just an utter joy to read, stuffed with Dev’s trademark mix of fantastic dialogue, heartfelt emotion and wickedly dirty jokes. And best of all is her way with the characters, all of whom are wonderfully loveable and who work beautifully together. I spent the whole fic marvelling at the way in which these disparate characters come together and feel like they were always meant to be that way – they make a lovely, entertainingly weird family and are never less than an utter delight to spend time with.

Forgemaster by @llewcie: Valhalla Enchanted by way of the Greek gods now, in this peerless piece of sweetness by the lovely Llew. Char and Ella are the new Dionysus and Aphrodite (in this ‘verse, the gods can retire and be replaced) and live like brother and sister, i.e. bickering, winding each other up, pushing each other’s buttons… They particularly like making bets, which winds up with Ella making Char agree to three dates with Hephaestus, being played in this fic by One Eye. Given that One Eye is unsociable, ragged, and constantly dirty from his forge, Char is less than impressed with his companion and says so… somewhat unfortunately within One Eye’s earshot. So when, despite himself, Char finds himself falling for the blacksmith god’s charms, he’s got a lot of work to do to convince One Eye that he’s worth the trouble! Llew has the charm turned up all the way to eleven in this gorgeously frothy, funny little comedy of errors, with a sweetly vain version of Char melting under the steadily growing appeal of One Eye’s gentle strength. If you need cheering up for any reason, this fic should be your first port of call.

Pure Imagination by @constructfairytales (beforethedawn and Destinyawakened): Stranger Things was one of my favourite shows last year (admittedly it’s no Hannibal, but what is?). It was smart and weird, and as an 80s baby it pressed every last one of my nostalgia buttons, from soundtrack to costume design. So, of course, it was with nothing but delight that I started this crossover AU, in which Will is police chief of the town where young Will Byers goes missing and Hannibal is the psychiatrist he brings in to counsel the traumatised community. And I wasn’t disappointed – this is a fantastic blend of Hannibal’s surreal romanticism with the full-on monstery weirdness of the ST ‘verse, with plenty of unexpectedly but pleasingly fluffy Hannigram at the centre of it. Though it follows the basic plot of ST, having Will and Hannibal involved inevitably shakes things up (Will’s empathy is given a brilliant twist) and predictable this certainly ain’t. Instead it’s fun, thrilling and playful, with at least one story development that genuinely had me on the edge of my seat. And did I mention the Hannigram? Cos, yeah, there’s no slow burn here. Our boys are goners from the second they meet and the intensity of their connection is all kinds of wonderful.

The Estate by @bokuno-jinsei: Amusingly, the tags on this fantastic fic eventually turn into a short plea for Will Graham to stop thinking so much (a plea which anyone who’s written the over-analytical little shit will know is hopeless). Fortunately, Will clearly paid no attention, and so we readers are treated to this charmingly introspective piece of canon divergence. So, Hannibal gets as far as sitting Will at the dinner table in Florence. But, before he can get out his bonesaw, he seemingly has second thoughts and so Will wakes some time later to find himself ensconced in the last place he expected to revisit – Lecter Castle. Where, he finds, Hannibal has decided to change the game between them: if Will agrees to see if they can live together, Hannibal will cease any attempts to change or influence Will. So the pair find themselves as the unlikeliest of roommates as Will wrestles with his demons, his desires and, inevitably, his feelings for Hannibal. Anybody who enjoys intense conversations, brewing sexual tension and Hannibal in waders (yes, really), step this way, you’re in for a treat.  

Inevitable by Vulcanmi: I do adore canon divergence. And I have a weakness for prison fics (love Hannigram falling in love while incarcerated). So this fic is entirely my jam. It picks up in the second half of s3: Hannibal is in jail, Will is “happily” married to Molly, and Jack is still desperate to have his pet empath back on board to deal with the Tooth Fairy. Except in this ‘verse, Will decides not to give into Jack and remains with his family, far away from Baltimore. In order to make it up to his former boss, though, Will writes a letter to a certain inmate, suggesting that he offer his services where Will cannot. Of course, it’s not the last letter Will ends up sending to Hannibal. Not by a long shot. And we all know what happens once Will gives Hannibal an inch… (hey, I didn’t mean that kind of inch, you filthy perverts!). Though it starts out as an angsty exploration of Will’s determination to separate himself from Hannibal, somewhere along the way this fantastic fic transforms into a twisted yet adorable romcom, as our murder muffins confront their feelings and try to figure out whether there’s any version of the world in which they might be together. And, frankly, it’s an utter delight to read. One for those (*raises hand*) who like their hurt/comfort 20% hurt and 80% comfort.

Inside the Imitation by @belladonnaq (Belladonna_Q) with artwork by @reapersun: A confession. I’ve never seen The Thing (because I’m a scaredy-cat who doesn’t watch anything that could remotely be described as scary. “But Vic, isn’t Hannibal scary?” Yeah, yeah, I contain multitudes, now hush mango, I’m working). However, I’ve never let ignorance get between me and my Hannigram and so I jumped headfirst into the The Thing/Hannibal crossover which, fortunately, works utterly brilliantly with absolutely zero knowledge of the film. So, once again Jack Crawford finds reason to call upon the services of Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter. Except this time, it’s not in order to investigate the Minnesota Shrike, but a strange case with its roots in a decades-old tragedy in Alaska. Soon things turn weird and monstery and Will and Hannibal find themselves reluctantly (well, as ever, Will’s reluctant, Hannibal’s thrilled) investigating a burned-out government building with something truly frightening at its core. This is thrilling, clever and wonderfully creepy, a fantastic reframing of canon (especially the Hannigram) and tons of fun throughout. I have to admit, I did not see the twist coming in this fic (though that’s possibly because I’m a dim bulb when it comes to plot) and it was delivered brilliantly, turning everything on its head and upping the stakes for our beloved murder muffins. Oh, and make sure to check out @reapersun’s fabulous artwork that accompanies the fic, it’s staggeringly gorgeous.

The Marriage of Heaven and Hell: Volume 2 by @fragile-teacup: A continuation of the marvellous The Spaces Between series, this picks up a little after volume one, with our boys enjoying Argentinian high society. Unfortunately, while the end of the previous instalment hinted at full-blown murder husbandry, it quickly turns out that Will and Hannibal haven’t quite sorted out their feelings to anyone’s satisfaction (you’re shocked, I can tell). Fortunately, we’re pretty much out of slow burn territory here and the idiots manage to get their act (mostly) together just in time for some ghosts to rear their perfectly-coiffed, millionairess heads and throw a spanner in the works. This sequel continues the achingly lovely tone of its predecessor, with romance a-plenty amongst bouts of emotional idiocy and bloodlust. It’s sweet and tender without compromising on the intensity and darkness of our beloved boys and builds their relationship with care and patience, allowing for a believable building of trust and love between them. It is, in other words, a treat to read in every way, so get yourself to ao3 and have at it!

As ever and always, if I’ve miscredited anyone or if there are bad links, please let me know and I’ll correct it ASAP. Happy reading, lovely fannibals!

Ymir drifts in and out of consciousness on the ride back to the wall. Every time she wakes she reaches for Historia. She never has to reach far.

“You idiot,” Historia says fondly. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“For you,” Ymir laughs. Every laugh needles her body, but she can’t seem to stop. “You only think you’re so special.”

Ymir blinks slowly. She looks so tired. “Historia.”

Historia brushes Ymir’s hair when she sleeps, watches the moon swell overhead. Something in the way Ymir says her name makes her feel brave.

The cart clatters until the wall looms over them like a parent and Ymir strokes the base of Historia’s fourth finger. 

“I wish I had something to give you,” Ymir sighs. “Some–some sentimental nonsense–can you believe I told you I’d marry you–”

“I don’t want a stupid ring,” Historia says. “I want you.”

Don’t act like you’re leaving me.

Ymir’s already asleep again, and doesn’t wake. Not until everything goes to hell. Not until the last touch she feels is the cloud-light scratch of a titan’s nail at her jaw.


Sometimes she dreams of them dancing that night, under that swollen moon. In dreams her skirt blooms and flutters down to her ankles, freer than her regal wear, catching starlight with every turn. In dreams there’s a silk tie tucked into Ymir’s magnificently-tailored jacket, loosened by the numbers of times Historia’s threaded her fingers through it to pull Ymir down for a kiss. 

In her dreams they can kiss for hours, because Ymir isn’t hurt, isn’t struggling to keep her body from shattering in a blistering burst of heat and breaking bone. Those nights Historia wakes with a heart like a darkening bruise in her chest.


“She’s too selfish to let herself die,” Historia says at first, when anyone who remembers Ymir gets the nerve to ask. The lie twists in her heart. “She’ll come crawling back to me eventually.”

Then the new commander delivers a letter to her hands. There’s too many eyes on her then, too many questions. All Historia can think of is the faint scent of Ymir on the page. What she wouldn’t give for an hour without a crown, an hour to grieve.

Historia redoubles her efforts in the orphanage. Levi is eager to join her, and they form a quiet companionship. They don’t talk about the way it’s born of grief, of how it feels to carry on against the weight of losing everything.

Sometimes she sees Ymir in the children’s dancing eyes, their crooked grins. Sometimes all it takes is a few freckles in the sunlight to bring Historia back to her youth, to make her heart wistful again, no matter how long she’s tried to harden it.


Historia sees the ocean alone, a hand on her horse’s steadying flank. She closes her eyes. The cutting breeze could almost be the sweep of an impossibly gentle nail across her jaw. 


Hundreds of miles away Galliard remembers another war through another’s eyes. He remembers how a transformed Ymir reached toward the girl on horseback with a tenderness he’d never known his titan form to be capable of. Somehow Ymir already knows they’ll never see each other again. 

He remembers the first time the girl made Ymir laugh, the first time she huddled close in Ymir’s bunk for warmth. He remembers how Ymir didn’t sleep the whole night, her heart relentless as the girl snored against her collarbone. How it felt, just to be trusted like this.

He doesn’t think much of this world, but he thinks they must have been lucky, the queen and the poor titan girl.

My ideal Leverage movie opening

Starts with a hallway. It’s quiet until it wasn’t and then everything goes straight to hell. There are flashing lights, sirens, security is practically a swarm. And then, “Damn it, Hardison” and the sound of running feet as Eliot and Parker take off down the hall. Guards follow, they go different directions. Hardison is on the coms. 

This cuts to a scene of Sophie and Nate in a nice open kitchen with big open windows. The sun is shining in, there are flowers on the island, it’s the perfect straight-from-the-catalog kitchen and they’re moving around each other like its a well practiced routine as they make their breakfast. There’s classical music playing. 

Cut back to Parker. She’s on a ledge. There’s guards running towards her, she jumped with a ‘weee’ and there’s another comment over the coms about Parker being ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag. 

Back to Sophie and Nate. They’re eating breakfast. The talk is small.

Cut to Eliot knocking out multiple guards, opens a door just as Hardison, typing away on his phone, goes to push it open. They agree to get the hell out of there. 

Back to Sophie and Nate. A car pulls into the driveway. The doors open and two dark hair kids get out of the car and run up to the house. 

Parker, Eliot, and Hardison are together now in Lucille. They’re getting the hell out of doge. Chase music is playing. 

Back to Sophie and Nate, who are now up from the table, gathering their things. A man walks into the kitchen calling after the children that are just standing in the doorway, stops, looks at Sophie and Nate and then asks who the hell they are. It’s his house, they’d been pulling a long con while he was on vacation. They run, Nate comes back for the framed photo from their wedding before offering an awkward, “goodbye” and then he’s gone. 

Kate Fuller ain’t perfect, kiddies

The first time we meet Kate she is barely holding her family together. In fact, Kate is so convinced her father killed her mother that she calls up her insurance company and impersonates a secretary to get confidential information about her mothers accident from their insurance records. She then decides that she’s going to sneak off with her boyfriend and abandon her family on a road trip. When she meets Richie, she asks for a cigarette because it was her way of rebelling. She even says she’s not a smoker but she’s pissed at Jacob because she believes he’s lying to her. So she does what any teenage girl would do and smokes with the random guy chatting her up who clearly has a thing for her. 

Keep reading

The time to let go

This is for @bxdcubes. Just so you know that, even if we all will miss your writing, just by being here you inspire us. I haven’t been able to really write for nearly a month. Seriously, not joking. Apart from this I have just written about 200 words of another fic. And that’s it. So, yeah, thanks for just being here, Mar, and for being your wonderful self.

Thanks also to @ssree for proofreading this so quickly.

For the Peter Hale square of my TW Bingo chart, by the way.

The damn creature is laughing.

Well, Peter thinks he (she? them? it?) is laughing. For one, the dark-skinned being’s facial features are nothing like a human’s, so he’s assuming that the horrifying widening of the mouth that’s showing too many and too sharp teeth is actually a smile. For two, the sound that’s coming from it, is at the same time shrill and deep and everything in between, as if more than two voices are speaking at the same time, the same exact words, in unison. Peter doesn’t like what that implies.

(Boy, did Disney get it wrong, by the way.)

And Scott is trying to talk to it.

Peter doesn’t regret many things in his life, but in the cases he does feel regret, the sentiment is strong, deeply and excruciatingly so. The clumsy way he handled the Paige matter, dismissing his own concerns and suspicions about Derek’s fishy behavior back then and the way he let Talia step over him even though she was the one that gave him the position of enforcer, are the most recent fine examples of that. Biting Scott McCall is rapidly climbing up to the very top of those.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Scott wails, expression earnest.

Also, right now, he’s regretting coming back to life altogether.

Why? Why? Why did he choose to come back? Ah, yes, Gerard. And his damn self-preservation instincts, because Peter has never known when to let go. But why didn’t he leave? Because being contrary and seeing their frustrated faces isn’t making up for the inconvenience anymore. He should have left to greener pastures a long time ago… especially since he’s caught some whispers of sending him to Eichen House as of late.

The creature lifts its hand to mockingly pet the little boy’s fox ears and Peter instantly becomes tense like a coiled spring, ready to jump in. There are warning shouts all around and Peter wants to scoff, because if warnings worked on that thing they wouldn’t be in this situation.

“You can relax,” it says, making a shiver go up Peter’s whole back, and, well, excuse him, but not happening. “I’m not going to hurt him.” Again, excuse him if Peter doesn’t trust… How can he be so stupid? Why is that stupid, stupid, stupid boy trusting what it says? Even his less than brilliant nephew hasn’t relaxed! The sheriff and the Argents (both of them, father and still healing daughter) are still pointing their guns at it! Peter doesn’t know where the rest of the pack is, but he’d bet his life that they wouldn’t trust that thing either, dammit. “But I thought we could play a little game.”

When a fairy says that, you better tense.

When a fairy says that while they smile with sharp shark/piranha teeth, you better be scared.

When a fairy says that while they smile with sharp shark/piranha teeth and two serpentine tongues come out from in between those aforementioned teeth, you better prepare your testament.

“What kind of game?”

Oh, for the love of…

“You want to play then, good,” it says and Peter wants to bash his head in the nearest flat surface. “It’s very simple, actually. I let pumpkin go and he has to choose who he trusts the most. Whoever he chooses wins a special reward, and the others lose. If he doesn’t choose anyone, everyone loses.”

“I thought he didn’t remember anything?“ Sure, concentrate on the important things, Scott, Peter thinks, nevermind asking what’s that special reward… and more importantly, what’s the punishment for losing. “How is that fair?”

“He doesn’t,” the thing nods, petting the ears again. The kit grumbles and swats at the hand like a kitty would at someone annoying. Everyone’s breath catches but the thing just laughs. “But I’m not unfair, the memories are there, deep down, so he’ll choose whom he instinctively trusts the most… which can be no one at all. Have you all been good?” It enquiries mockingly.

There’s a pregnant pause and the thing cackles. After the nogitsune and baby Argent’s very near death, Stiles has been avoiding everyone. Be it because they truly wanted to give him space (or they justified it like that anyway, in Peter’s very uncharitable opinion) or because they wanted to give him a wide berth, no one has been close to him these past few weeks. Peter, being the persistent bastard he is, has been tracking him down out of boredom just for the fun of bickering with him, but…

“We’ll play,” Scott says.

Peter regrets, he regrets so much. Damn the faery court’s rules that state that only the alpha or the alpha’s chosen representative can talk. Scott’s very own brain is about seven years old right now and sporting fox ears, claws, teeth and tail.


Peter hates Deaton with the heat of a thousand burning suns right now. Damn him for suggesting making a deal with the faery to heal Stiles and rid him of the nogitsune’s taint. If Peter wasn’t so estranged from the pack… If he had heard about this beforehand he would have…

“Wait! You didn’t say the rules! Can we call him? What’s the reward?”

The thing sets Stiles down, steadying him, before setting his dark beady eyes on Scott and smiling. “Oh, my bad,” it singsongs disturbingly as it lets go. “Whoever he choses gets to keep their life, the rest, well. And if he doesn’t choose anyone, everyone dies and this adorable pumpkin will be the court’s pet,” it finishes as faery guards fill the clearing.

They’re screwed. Completely screwed. Peter’s is going to find a way to haunt Alan Deaton into an early grave for this, because when he was thinking about greener pastures he didn’t mean this . He ignores the incredulous shouts and checks the clearing for an escape route so that, when Stiles inevitably chooses his father, maybe he can slip out in the commotion…

Small hands pat his leg and he looks down surprised to find the hopeful eyes of the kit fixed on him. Stiles makes an up gesture, wanting to be picked up and he obliges even though everything in him feels like jelly at having dodged the bullet, so to speak. There are shouts and angry voices right beside him but he can’t quite hear it above the ringing of his ears.

(He’s going to survive.)

Then, Stiles jerks in his hands suddenly and looking in his eyes, he knows that the boy has just remembered everything. Peter’s hairs stand on end as energy starts to concentrate on Stiles, and he just knows this whole thing isn’t going to end well as the faeries do the same.

(Or maybe not.)

If he hadn’t been right in the middle of it, Peter would have said that the colorful explosion was magnificent.

(For a moment he wonders how different his life would have been if the fire never happened.)

Peter wakes up with a shout and then starts choking. There’s poison in the air and he doesn’t recognize where he is. He falls from the bed coughing, his lungs burning horribly. He forces himself up, tumbles to the nearest window and tries to open it, only for the wood to burn his hands. The crackle of fire reaches his ears. Like lightning, memories flood him and his whole body convulses in protest, in horrified denial.

It can’t be.

Is this his particular and very personal hell? Whatever he’s done in his life, even killing Laura, doesn’t warrant this kind of punishment. He doesn’t deserve to relive this night. He doesn’t. Peter isn’t a good man, but he doesn’t.

He doesn’t.

He won’t.

He won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him struggle and despair and hurt and fail. For once, he’ll accept what’s coming even if only to be a contrary bastard and not give them the satisfaction of doing what they want him to do. According the time the clock in his table is showing, it will be at least two hours until everything goes to hell (oh, the irony), and Peter is going to wait for it calmly, in peace. He closes his eyes.

He must have nodded off (probably the effect of the wolfbane in the air) because the next thing he knows is that there is a child spewing profanities right beside him and shaking him.

A child with fox ears, claws, teeth and tail. Stiles. He startles, shaking off the sluggishness that still lingered. Whatever Stiles is painting on his arm helps clear his head too.

“PETER! I swear to God, you bastard! Wake up, come on! The mountain ash is gone but I can’t do anything about the fire! You have to help me get them out!”

It’s not hell or a dream.

He raises, pulling the kit with him as he does so, and takes off running to locate and wake the rest of the family. He knows that Stiles won’t obey if he tells him to wait outside, so he doesn’t even try.

Derek and Laura arrive just as he’s pulling the last one out of the house. Derek screams and Peter doesn’t have to investigate much to know why. Kate Argent is pinned to the very first tree in the yard, making wet gurgling sounds as her own blood chokes her. Peter can’t find it in him to feel sorry for his nephew, and if that makes him a bad person, well, tell him something he doesn’t know already.

He drops to the floor as his legs start to tremble. He nearly just let go. He nearly lost everything again without even fighting it. He can hear the kids crying but he can’t deal with it right now, not when he can’t even breathe properly himself.

“Breathe,” Stiles says as he climbs into his lap. Peter’s arms circle him tightly before he can even think about it. “Breathe, Peter. Come on, listen to my heart.”

And Peter does, burying his head on the crook of Stiles’ neck. Talia is saying something but he doesn’t care. Kate emits another gurgle and Derek cries harder, Laura trying to console him, but that sound is like music to his ears, helping his heart calm.

Destroying the Argents is a balm to Peter’s soul. If he hadn’t been so out of his mind (an omega or very nearly one) the first time he went after them, he’d had chosen this route of revenge. Why kill them if he can make sure they suffer for many years to come? Or in Gerard, Kate and their hunter’s case, make them suffer through two weeks of imprisonment, interrogation and then sitting powerless as the matriarch was forced to execute them for their crimes. Kate was especially satisfying because she suffered two weeks with minimal pain relieving medication before being condemned to die.

“Psycho,” Stiles says rolling his eyes as he goes back to complete his homework, bored out of his mind. His ears even flicker in irritation and Peter’s bloodthirsty expression turns fond and amused.

“Kettle, meet teapot,” Peter drawls, remembering what Stiles did to Eichen House, and the kit sniffs but doesn’t resist as he pulls him into his lap, scenting him thoroughly.

Laura chooses that very exact moment to enter into his study without knocking. She scrunches her nose at the sight but very wisely keeps her mouth shut. Well, she’s not completely stupid then, congratulations Talia. But then again, even the sheriff has given up on saying anything after one day Stiles dragged him aside. He’ll probably never know what Stiles said to his father that day because he did something to make the room soundproof, but whatever he said did the trick, because the man never said anything about it again.

(Stiles is his anchor, his pack above pack. He won’t let anyone take anything from him without fighting ever again.)

“Derek wants to talk to you,” Laura says.

“Mmhm,” he answers raising an eyebrow. “And why isn’t he here then?“

“Please, uncle Peter?”

Derek has been going to therapy for a year now. He started talking again not so long ago and his frame is not so gaunt anymore. A vicious part of Peter wants him to suffer for as many years as Peter did for his stupidity first and then his betrayal. Laura too, to be honest, even if the only way he can hurt her now is by not helping Derek. Another part of him remembers that Derek suffered for years in their original timeline and that he killed Laura for her transgressions. Besides, if he’s just, in this time they have done no such thing. He sighs and Stiles rubs his chin on his arm.

“You shouldn’t meddle, Laura.” She purses her lips, obviously trying to contain a tirade about Derek just being a kid and many things he has heard before and he continues before she can even get a word in. “When is his therapy session?” She gapes. “Well?”

They still haven’t decided what to do about the Nemeton or the alpha pack, and they don’t know exactly how this whole time travel thing happened. Stiles is pretty sure that it was the result of the combination of his protective magic, the fairy’s powers and Peter’s desire to see what would have happened if there had been no fire, but Peter himself doesn’t really care about the how, so long those fairies don’t come back to finish what they started. Peter has everything he wants and needs, he thinks absently as he rubs his cheek on Stiles’ unfairly soft hair, so maybe it’s time to let go now.

i think about how the Washington kids could have been online famous a lot like, in the way that most celebrities kids are

not to the same extent as actors and singers and stuff because bob washington was just a director but imagine them having some sort of fanbase online and people making edits and gushing about how hot they all are and they post snapchats and vines of them doing stupid shit together and everyone thinks theyre great

and then hannah and beth go missing and everything goes to hell