where has it been all my life

Hey fam

I hate to post something like this, but I’m at that point in my life where I need to do something about it or it’ll just get harder from here.
As you all know, I am 6 months pregnant with a precious miracle named Zachary Thomas.
I am also single, which means the father of Zachary tries to be ‘involved’ but not making much of an effort as he should, including sending money which he still hasn’t sent which has been months since he promised me, but I’m not gonna hold my breath to his 'promises’ anymore.
Which is why I’m posting this. I need help from you guys, because you all are family to me and it would mean the world to me if you could help in anyway you can, either buy sharing this or donating a $1 to my GoFundMe campaign that I barely started today.
Again, anything and everything helps and I grately appreciate it. It took a lot of courage for me to post this, because of how stubborn I am about doing everything myself, but its okay to ask for help every once in awhile I suppose. Thank you all again who can help in their own way.
GoFundMe page: gofundme.com/2efgp3w

Originally posted by booperdoopermotherfucker


Prompt: hi i found you tumblr a few days ago and i just fell in love with it. i like how you are writing!:) can i get a request please? with Sebastian on a really bad day like storm arguing but it would be happy end.. sorry for my english im still learning..:( i a reading you from hungary xoxo(:

Word Count: 545

Warnings: Cursing?

Author’s Note: Guys! I finally listened to the Hamilton soundtrack. WHERE HAS THAT BEEN ALL MY LIFE?!?!?!?!

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Watch Where You’re Going (Steter)

Note: Has this been done yet, or..?
Summary: Stiles runs into Peter while playing Pokémon Go. Literally.


Apart from representing a hot spot of supernatural fuckery, Beacon Hills was not exactly a metropolis in a Real Life sort of way. Being a relatively small town in Northern California, nothing of real human import every happened here. All things considered, it was more of a Pallet Town than a Saffron City.

Stiles had learned the hard way after about two hours of playing Pokémon Go that he would probably have to do some human sacrifices if he wanted to lure any awesome Pokémon into this dump of a town. You could only catch so many Weedles until it got real old, real fast.

Which was why, when he suddenly spotted a wild Vaporeon just around the corner, he chased after it with a single-minded focus that would have moved his primary teachers to tears. Holding out his phone in front of him like a dowsing rod and barely watching where he was going (which wasn’t exactly unusual for him), he took a right, almost stumbling over his own two feet in his haste, getting closer, getting closer, and another turn to the right—

—and crashed right into something solid, warm and unmoving; another human being.

There was a hitched breath and bit-off curse, but Stiles couldn’t pay any attention, not now, because the Vaporeon was right there.

“Hold that thought,” he muttered and angled his phone just right, now watching the Pokémon through the screen as it lounged lazily on the other person’s shoulder.

“Stay still for a second,” he continued, not even recognizing the person, even as he stared at them through the camera of his phone. This was more important; he selected a Pokéball with quick thumb strokes…

There was a light commotion in the background now as another Pokémon Go player stumbled onto the scene, and Stiles’ adrenalin spiked. He’d seen it first, god dammit!

A low snarl, and a squeak; but Stiles didn’t look up.

He aimed the Pokéball and let go of it—holding his breath, he watched the little ball engulfed the Vaporeon and started wiggling back and forth, but even now he didn’t quite dare to hope, and—YES! He’d caught it!

Stiles threw a fist into the air.

“YES!” he shouted, “YES!

He looked up from his phone for the first time and instantly froze as he saw who it was that he had literally bumped into.

“Tell me, Stiles,” drawled none other than Peter fucking Hale, his voice the sort of deadpan that could either lead to sarcastic banter or a bloody throat, depending on the season, your zodiac sign and whether anybody had managed to piss him off already, “was capturing that Pokémon worth losing your limbs over?”


Stiles gulped in a lungful of air and did what he knew to do best, he deflected.

“Wasn’t there another player here just now?”

They certainly weren’t here anymore.

He tried to think back and retroactively analyze the situation, what all the sounds he’d absentmindedly heard could have meant — had there really been a snarl? — but it was of no use, he’d been too focused on The Mission.

Peter didn’t move a muscle, and yet his face suddenly seemed to express fundamental doubts about Stiles’ intelligence.

Stiles wondered when he’d become so apt at reading the man’s face.

Then, a thought suddenly struck him.

“Wait a second,” he blurted out and narrowed his eyes, “did you just go all Alpha Werewolf on some kid just to scare them off?”

Again, not a single twitch on that face.

“Now why would I do that?”

Because you love scaring the shit out of people and it happened to coincide with helping your favorite squishy human?

There was no way he would say that one out loud, no sir.

“Because there can only be one Pokémon Master in this town and that would be me?”

Peter rolled his eyes and didn’t dignify that with a response.

“Thanks, by the way,” he added, finally remembering his manners.

The werewolf just shoved him to the side and walked away, leaving him to contemplate the absurdity of what had just happened by himself.

At least they hadn’t gotten round to more threats of violence.

Stiles counted that as a win.