Rebloggable For Anon

rebloggable for anon

read the whole recap here

He's right, Cody really nailed it!

Seán has given Cody his stamp of approval 🥺

Resident Evil 3 - Concept Art

the f i n a l  d a y

https://shenstuff.com/

on a side note though, while this will be the last store ad, i appreciate your patience with these & support throughout the store’s lifespan. i’ve got something that i guess you could call a bone-chilling series to share with y’all after this, possibly even later today.

This was so good! Your description of the mind space and how the memories constantly shifted was great, 10/10!

Wake Up

Rating: T

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Relationship: Theo Raeken/Stiles Stilinski

Characters: Theo Raeken, Stiles Stilinski

Additional Tags: Magic, ER, Kind of mental issues, T is for Tara dying in the background

Words: 4991

Status: Complete

Summary: Stiles had screwed everything up. So now it was up to Stiles to fix it. To wake Theo up.

Notes: Re-using an old tumblr post of mine (I can’t find it, thanks, tumblr) with the scene that stuck in my head ad turning it into, well, this (apparently, 5k words long). You can read it on Ao3:3 Enjoy!

***

Theo was not waking up. Stiles didn’t know how or why this happened and that wasn’t even the point.

The point was that Theo was not waking up. Obviously.

Well, okay, maybe Stiles knew how and why this happened. It might have been a mistake. Possibly on his part. There was a chance that he screwed with magic he should have never even thought about touching, but he is a curious fellow, he just wanted to try it out, it seemed so intriguing and new and shiny, and the book was simply left there, unattended, begging to be read and put to use, and who was he to stop himself from new experience and much-needed practice while things were quiet? Plus, he didn’t ask anyone to get involved, he was going to be fine by himself. And, anyway, it was a week ago, why would anyone remember that? It was going to be all right.

Except it really wasn’t, was it? Stiles’ tender pale fragile human body wouldn’t have survived the blow, so Theo’s surprisingly dumb and rushed and absolutely not thought-through intervention was suspiciously resembling something divine.

And still.

All of this wasn’t the point. Yes, Theo’s not-so-human body survived it.

But the point was that Theo was not waking up.

And Stiles couldn’t just wait around anymore. It’s been so long, he wasn’t even sure how long exactly anymore. The whole fucking week or month or whatever of Deaton chewing him out for getting where he wasn’t supposed to go and telling him that they need more research before they take any action to try to fix the damage. The whole fucking week or month or whatever of Scott trying to be supportive but failing miserably because he can’t seem to be able to find his love for humanity for Theo now. The whole fucking week or month or whatever of Malia weirdly circling around like, well, a coyote waiting to attack. Of Lydia being as sympathetic as she could and so beyond annoying. Of everyone walking on eggshells around him and being very judgmental at the same time, since it has been his screw-up that landed Theo wherever he was now.

From where he was not waking up.

And Stiles just missed his boyfriend. The irritating little touches all the time. The just bearable heat nearby at night. The random ridiculous flirting, the occasional research session, the snark remarks, the constant bickering and confusing fights about nothing. Just the generally calming and kind of infuriating presence. Hell, even the little face Theo made when he was confronted with the need to eat rabbit. Stiles didn’t know what the story was, but he knew for sure there was one, and he very much wanted to figure it out. And he would be damned if he didn’t have the chance because of his own inability not to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong.

Because Theo was not waking up.

Stiles had screwed everything up. So now it was up to Stiles to fix it.

To wake Theo up.

That’s how he found himself on the floor in front of Theo’s bed on his knees, lighting up candles, with the same fucking book beside him. If Theo wasn’t coming to him, he was coming to Theo.

For a moment, Stiles looked up at the bed. Theo was there, unmoving, breathing slowly, seemingly asleep. Like he had been the whole week or month or whatever. Not waking up. Not reacting. Just breathing. So peaceful – so unnatural for Theo. Peaceful was not his thing, even asleep, and seeing him like this was heartbreaking and deeply annoying. Why did he get to be so calm and almost cozy in a way while Stiles here was going crazy with worry and nerves and guilt?! How did he manage to get on Stiles’ nerves by just lying there? For once, lying as in inclining his body in a horizontal position, not the other definition. It must be some kind of special talent one gets born with. And Stiles was going to put an end to it.

He grimaced at Theo. He wasn’t going to enjoy his peace for long now, the bastard.

Stiles took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a second, then put the book on his knees and started the ritual.

Continuar lendo

no place for promises

chapter 27: on the come up

Warnings: / (heed tags for further information) You can read it on AO3

“What the fuck, Dad?” Stiles asks in lieu of a greeting. He slams the letter on the little table next to his hospital bed. The glass rattles against the water bottle. His palm stings from the impact. “Peter Hale? You take money from Peter Hale?” There is a lot he would like to add, mostly asking if his dad suffered from dwindling sanity. Still, even he realizes that would be in poor taste, so he allows Theo to pull him back by his upper arm before that pisses him off too, and he slaps his hand away. He told him to wait in the car, but it’s not like Theo listens to him. Ever.

His dad considers him like he always does when confronted with one of his tantrums; a quiet, steady expression that is nowhere here nor there. His sheriff facade. Being too soft would make Stiles blow up, being too strict would make him only more defiant. “Kiddo,” he says in a tone that is somehow both stern and understanding, “I didn’t know the money came from Peter Hale.”

Biting away a scoff, Stiles crosses his arms. “A random Italian fashion company pays for our bills, and you just let them?” He didn’t let them. Stiles knows he didn’t. His dad investigated, hence the lawyer’s letter. And yet. The anger sits on an oil spill. It has been sitting there for a while, constantly threatening to slosh over. But now it’s more like whatever used to protect his anger is held together with cheap glue and rips open by the smallest of disturbances. 

“I did not.” There’s a sharpness in his dad’s voice that hasn’t been there before, and he sits up a bit further, forcing the pillows to comply with his elbow. “They refused to reverse the money. I contacted our lawyer to see if there’s a way to force their hand.” But there wasn’t. Peter made sure of that. “After I learned that, I tried to contact the owner of the company, but as you figured out, that was a dead-end too.”

Stiles runs his fingers through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He can’t believe he didn’t mention anything. It’s Peter Hale. The guy comes with bad news attached to his hip.

“Because you don’t need to know everything.”

Continuar lendo