not to be corny but some of you are so artistic and intelligent and it makes me so happy to see the world thru ur eyes like…. isk how to say it i guess im proud of knowing u people. feels like a privilege
what happened to the tiny little dragon pals that the triwizard champions drew from that bag????? harry mentions it being in the boys dorm later but never mentions it again like ??? if I had a tiny dragon companion i could carry around on my shoulder like a weird, spiky little bird i would literally never let it out of my sight
Stiles
that played once, when he was twelve. He asked it as his birthday present, and
John and Melissa drove them to the nearest place from Beacon Hills. Stiles was
absolutely delighted, until they learned that they would be put with strangers
to form a team. It all went downhill from there.
They
were left alone to be shot at fifteen seconds in, and had to hide under a ramp.
Scott had an asthma attack when the fog machines started and Stiles, terrified,
had to drag both of them out. He then fell into a full blown panic attack in
the changing rooms.
So,
not their best memory.
But
fast forward seven years later. They are nineteen now, Scott is a werewolf and
Stiles has been tortured and shot at. Laser tag is gonna be easy. Stiles is so
ready to avenge their younger selves.
He
only need a team.
Stiles
prudently presents the idea during pack night. He’s not worried for most of
them, he knows that most of his friends have an unhealthy love for violence and
winning. He’s also ready to make Scott cry in order to convince Isaac.
The
only unknown variable is their taciturn alpha. Somehow, convincing him to play
with lasers in a room reeking of teenager’s hormones and sweat seems like a
difficult task. But Stiles has prepared his speech, he has perfectly reasonable
arguments, and he will bullshit about pack unity and trust exercises if need
be.
Of
course, because this is Derek and he likes to fuck up with Stiles’
expectations, he’s only finished the first sentence of his passionate plea when
Derek raises one hand in the air to stop him.
“Yes,” he breathes, and smiles. They all blink at him a little. Derek
keeps smiling, bunny teeth showing and looking almost… excited.
So.
Derek’s
family apparently used to throw their kids into the woods to pitch them against
each other for fun.
Stiles
is not surprised.
Stiles
is awfully not surprised.
This
was the family whose genes created Peter Hale.
Not
noticing their stunned silence, Derek describes his childhood memories. During
their monthly run under the full moon, adults used to hide colored pieces of
tissue everywhere. The next day, Derek, his sisters and cousins were all let
loose, in several teams, into the wood. At dusk, the team that was able to
bring back the more targets to their home base while protecting said home base
from enemy raids won. The prize was some old trophy, bragging rights and first
crack at every dish during the huge dinner.
Derek
is trying so hard to communicate his enthusiasm for his claws-and-fangs-allowed,
hunger-game version of catch the flag that his hands are moving a little bit in
the air. It’s adorable.
When
Scott tries to get back on the subject of laser tag (Stiles glares at him,
because Derek was sharingthings), Derek immediately nods and
explains helpfully that there is a place supernatural-friendly just 45 minutes
away from Beacon Hills. There is no protest in the pack. Stiles bats the air
with his fist in victory.
Their
first game together teaches Stiles a lot of things.
I minored in European history, but uh. Don’t expect any even remote level of accuracy??? Yeah. This is more just, like, a general mythology AU instead.
(Although actually unrelated, she prompted because of this fanvid. Go watch it. It’s only about a minute long and it’s a fun time.)
~400 words
He can’t run anymore. There’s nowhere to run.
The boy sees a figure in the distance and he goes to it. Someone, anyone.
The boy drops to his knees; the statue before him is that of the wolf god. He could laugh: a virgin left to beg for holy intervention. What the statue is doing out here, the boy has no idea, but he prays more fervently than he ever has in his life. For his life.
“Please. I call on you. Please, please.”
He can hear it coming behind him, but there’s nowhere else to go. He drops his head to the cool stone feet of the statue and his breathing comes in uneven gulps of air and tears fall from his eyes.
“Help me and I will do whatever I can. I’ll bring you offerings. I will sacrifice to you every day. I’ll give you whatever you want. I’ll– I’ll do anything. Please.”
Closer and closer and closer and the boy can hear panting breath closing in on him and his back curves like he can somehow save himself. But then he hears something else: a roar that blocks out all else, deafens him. When the boy stumbles back, there is not a statue before him, but a man with glowing eyes and claws and pointed teeth and– The boy watches as the man–the god–scares away the monster without even a fight.
The boy is still shaking, body and breath shuddering. “Th-thank you,” he manages.
The god looks down on him. “I will protect you.” The boy feels claws under his chin, but they do not rend flesh; they are gentle and demanding all at once.
The boy looks up into the god’s glowing eyes. He swallows. Nothing comes without a price. “What do you want?”
“Give yourself to me,” the god says, and the boy is still on his knees, is looking up and assessing. “And I will protect you.”
The god’s power radiates from him and the boy knows that he’s telling the truth. This god could protect him from anything, everything that comes after him, everything the boy brings on himself. He nods.
The wolf god smiles with sharp fangs. “What’s your name?”
The boy leans his cheek into the god’s palm and locks eyes with him, lets his tears soak into the skin, makes certain that the god will not go back on his word.
The boy answers, “Mischief.”
I’ve started a longer version of this… Anyone interested?
shealwaysreads 