I need to get some teenwolf icons, but who has the time?
I hope a great many of you have decided to follow Teen Wolf, because it's shaping up to be an awesome fandom. I have this thing about werewolves, I don't even know, I could read about werewolves forever. I mean the show is RIDICULOUS, and so so bad, I've told you that before, but it's addicting and I can't wait for the new season - which I have no idea when it starts, it could have already, but I think it's a summer show. I have no sense of time anymore.
But who would with this squishy face being cute at me all day long?
(is this sideways for some people? On my laptop it's correct but on my iPad and iPhone it's sideways. Weird.)
ANYWAY, I'm about 2000 words into the PA Stiles fic, where he hangs out with Derek's twelve-year-old daughter and has cats. Also, Derek thinks he's a creeper:
Alex stops by Stiles’ apartment every day after he gets home from work to see Hank. She flops on his futon and drinks his sodas and eats all his snacks and Stiles doesn’t think this is weird until he opens his door to tall, dark and handsome, who seems to have a pretty loose hold on his rage.
Fun.
“Uh.” Stiles backs up a step, and Mr. Furious decides it’s an open invitation. “Well, hello, come on in, stranger,” Stiles says.
The guy glares at him from the middle of his living room.
“What do you think you’re doing?” the guy says.
Stiles was thinking about making a tuna melt and splitting it with Hank, but he’s not going to share that bit of sadness. “Uh. Nothing?”
The dude eyes his open and messy futon with derision, one lip curled. He skims his gaze over Stiles’ breakfast bar, the empty can of Dr. Pepper and the pack of Chips Ahoy Alex had been eating earlier. When he looks back at Stiles, his face is blank and cold, like a serial killer. Stiles has all of ten seconds to hope for a swift and merciful death before he’s backed up against the wall next to his front door.
The guy wraps a bruising hand around his throat, tilting Stiles’ head up, and growls in his face, “Stay away from my kid.”
Stiles manages to say, “Wait, what?” through the pressure on his larynx, but the guy just glares death at him, then abruptly releases his hold and stalks out his door, slamming it shut behind him.
Stiles is pretty sure he just met Alex’s dad. Shit.
*
Stiles has never been mistaken for a predator. Stiles is, like, the least threatening guy ever, he’s kind of average all the way around and, according to Lydia, still looks like he’s fourteen, or possibly a Labrador puppy.
He calls his dad. He says, “So, like, I may have been mistaken for a sex offender, how do I get out of that?”
Stiles’ dad sighs loudly and says, “What did you do?”
Stiles tells him everything, and as Stiles is explaining all about Alex and the kitten and Alex’s dad he realizes, yeah, he probably comes off a little creepy in this scenario, it’s not great.
“Introduce yourself, apologize, go from there,” Stiles’ dad says, long-suffering, which-Stiles is okay with, because Stiles was not an easy teenager, Stiles’ dad only sounding long-suffering is practically a blessing. “And call me back if he reports you to the police.”
“He’s not going to report-okay, he might.” Stiles has been hanging out with a twelve-year-old girl for days, and he’s not even sure of her last name. Lydia would have his balls if she found out.
Stiles dad says, “Try not to get into anymore trouble.”
Stiles would be insulted except a) Stiles is apparently a trouble magnet, this is why his life is currently in such shambles, and b) he can hear the obvious smile in his dad’s voice, so whatever.
Stiles says, “Love you, too.”
But who would with this squishy face being cute at me all day long?
(is this sideways for some people? On my laptop it's correct but on my iPad and iPhone it's sideways. Weird.)
ANYWAY, I'm about 2000 words into the PA Stiles fic, where he hangs out with Derek's twelve-year-old daughter and has cats. Also, Derek thinks he's a creeper:
Alex stops by Stiles’ apartment every day after he gets home from work to see Hank. She flops on his futon and drinks his sodas and eats all his snacks and Stiles doesn’t think this is weird until he opens his door to tall, dark and handsome, who seems to have a pretty loose hold on his rage.
Fun.
“Uh.” Stiles backs up a step, and Mr. Furious decides it’s an open invitation. “Well, hello, come on in, stranger,” Stiles says.
The guy glares at him from the middle of his living room.
“What do you think you’re doing?” the guy says.
Stiles was thinking about making a tuna melt and splitting it with Hank, but he’s not going to share that bit of sadness. “Uh. Nothing?”
The dude eyes his open and messy futon with derision, one lip curled. He skims his gaze over Stiles’ breakfast bar, the empty can of Dr. Pepper and the pack of Chips Ahoy Alex had been eating earlier. When he looks back at Stiles, his face is blank and cold, like a serial killer. Stiles has all of ten seconds to hope for a swift and merciful death before he’s backed up against the wall next to his front door.
The guy wraps a bruising hand around his throat, tilting Stiles’ head up, and growls in his face, “Stay away from my kid.”
Stiles manages to say, “Wait, what?” through the pressure on his larynx, but the guy just glares death at him, then abruptly releases his hold and stalks out his door, slamming it shut behind him.
Stiles is pretty sure he just met Alex’s dad. Shit.
*
Stiles has never been mistaken for a predator. Stiles is, like, the least threatening guy ever, he’s kind of average all the way around and, according to Lydia, still looks like he’s fourteen, or possibly a Labrador puppy.
He calls his dad. He says, “So, like, I may have been mistaken for a sex offender, how do I get out of that?”
Stiles’ dad sighs loudly and says, “What did you do?”
Stiles tells him everything, and as Stiles is explaining all about Alex and the kitten and Alex’s dad he realizes, yeah, he probably comes off a little creepy in this scenario, it’s not great.
“Introduce yourself, apologize, go from there,” Stiles’ dad says, long-suffering, which-Stiles is okay with, because Stiles was not an easy teenager, Stiles’ dad only sounding long-suffering is practically a blessing. “And call me back if he reports you to the police.”
“He’s not going to report-okay, he might.” Stiles has been hanging out with a twelve-year-old girl for days, and he’s not even sure of her last name. Lydia would have his balls if she found out.
Stiles dad says, “Try not to get into anymore trouble.”
Stiles would be insulted except a) Stiles is apparently a trouble magnet, this is why his life is currently in such shambles, and b) he can hear the obvious smile in his dad’s voice, so whatever.
Stiles says, “Love you, too.”