Ecco dove postare i miei infiniti interessi...

So, I’m doing my rewatch and I’m wrapping up season 2. Which used to be my favorite, but it’s becoming more and more troubling for me.

So, near the end of 210 and Scott encounters Gerald at the police station. And he’s indignant: “What are you doing here? Its not supposed to be like this.” then “I did everything you asked. I joined Derek’s pack. I got you the information you wanted. I told you Matt was controlling the Kanima.”

Gerald sends him away and Scott walks down the hall, past Derek, who’s hiding around a corner and clearly heard everything. 

And his face- its just completely shut down. It didn’t strike me until now how deep Scott’s betrayal went. The fact that Derek had thought that he was winning Scott over, that they could be brothers, that he had just saved Scott’s life. And it was all at Gerald’s bidding. 

Now, Derek is anything but stupid, and he knows Gerald pushed Kate, made her into a person who could do what she did. He know how flat out evil Gerald is. And to have Scott, a werewolf, to be working for him, after Peter just used him to resurrect himself.

I’m frankly amazed he didn’t just grab the betas and leave town. I would have been so tempted to just say ‘Fuck off, Beacon Hills.”He’s got money. He doesn’t have to stay there. And yet, he is. He’s still trying to stop the Kanima. He’s still trying to save people.

I almost wish he did leave. Because in just a few nights, Scott’s going to force him to give the bite- what he believes to be a gift- to that bastard Gerald. 

Now, while all this was happening, Victoria (and Chris) killed herself, and then Allison went to the hospital and met with Chris. Then she came home and got the letter from Gerald and had her break down.

And then they got the text from Scott that Derek was there and they needed the bestiary, which Matt made them send. The Argents and crew saddled up and went to station and all hell broke loose.

Derek ran into a room filled with violently poisonous Wolfbane and dragged Scott’s ass out, and how does Scott end the season: 

You might be an Alpha, but you’re not mine.

Fuck you, Scott. Seriously. Just fuck you. 

Don’t get me wrong, as I’ve already explained in a bit more detail here, I do understand Scott’s situation in all this, with Gerard threatening to kill his mother and all. But he still could have talked to Derek. He could have let him in on the plan where he was pretending to work with Gerard, and he definitely should have told him about the plan where he was going to use Derek’s body to give Gerard the bite. And you can’t seriously tell me that if it had been anyone else than Derek, he still would have pulled this crap. No, if it had been anyone else than Derek, he would have talked to them. He would have tried to find another way. It’s only ever Derek that gets thrown under the bus like that.

And don’t even get me started on Deaton in this whole mess, because seriously, fuck you, Deaton. But also, yes, fuck you, Scott. Very much so. That „you might be an alpha but you’re not mine“ line definitely killed any kind of understanding or empathy I otherwise could have had for Scott’s actions in that situation.

I’ve said it a hundred times or more: Derek’s all bark back in S1/S2, yes, and he’s also kind of an asshole through the first half of S2. But he has proven, time and time again, that he won’t hesitate to put his own safety on the line to save Scott’s ass when it really matters, even back in S1 when they were supposedly enemies. And as a thank-you, he basically gets kicked in the face. Over and over again. And that’s okay, somehow, because it’s just Derek. He probably deserves it, right? And interestingly, the same thing also goes for certain parts of the fandom: Everything is always about consent and agency and lack thereof, about how certain things are oh so abusive, and about right or wrong in general. But when it comes to Derek, all this stuff gets hand-waved away and there’s an endless list of excuses why Scott was right to do what he did and how he really, really had no other choice, and how it’s nothing really, no need to make a fuss about it. It would be interesting to see the reaction if the situation had been reversed, if it had been Derek who’d forced Scott to do this.

when Derek bites the others in s2 Scott treats it like a grave personal insult, he actually insults the betas as well as removing from them their ability to choose because he’s not special any more. We see that Scott doesn’t use his powers at lacrosse because Jackson accused him of cheating. The bite makes Scott special but Derek is more special, he’s not infected with the ability, he’s born, he can do everything SCott can do, and he’s stronger, he makes Scott average again.

KWW2020: “Yeah she’s a lady, what about it?”

Favorite Use of Stereotype: Oh Yoon Seo (Touch Your Heart)

You don’t get much more traditionally feminine than Oh Yoon Seo. She’s got that long hair. She loves skirts and high heels and the color pink. She screams in a high-pitched voice when she’s scared. Her career was based on her looks and her virginal image rather than her acting skills, and work went away as soon as her reputation was tarnished.

foxerica

♚♞♚♞♚♞

“Stiles, it’s five-thirty in the morning. Could you please turn that down?” Scott asks, leaning in the doorframe of his bedroom and rubbing his eyes.

“Sh, it’s about to get to the good stuff,” Stiles whispers, waving a hand at his best friend. “Go back to sleep, Scotty.”

There’s a yawn and then a sigh. “It’s too late. I’m already awake. What’s he wearing this time?”

“I wish I could answer that with nothing, but I can’t. He’s wearing clothes and it’s such a shame,” Stiles murmurs. Scott joins him on the couch and they fall into silence.

“I’d wear your rain boots and bring your umbrellas with you today folks. It’s going to be a stormy day,“ the hot weatherman tells the world. Stiles can’t help but smile. God, he lives for this. Derek the weatherman goes on to explain the direction of the storm, he cracks a couple of too-early-for-those-wide-(and beautiful)-smiles, and then he passes the screen back to his news anchor.

Scott yawns again. “Stiles?”

“Yeah buddy?” Stiles asks, tearing his eyes away from the screen long enough to look at his best friend.

“Try to keep the volume down tomorrow morning. This is the second time this week, and he’s only ever on the screen for thirty seconds,” Scott says.

“I’ll try. I’m sorry. I get so caught up in the excitement—”

“Every morning?” Scott asks.

Stiles gives him a sheepish look. “Dude, I can’t help it. He’s so hot and funny and cute and yesterday he told a joke while they were live and the anchor, Kate, was so pissed but it was really funny. Do you want to hear it?”

Scott shakes his head. He leans forward to clap a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “Not yet. Let me make us some coffee and toast. You can tell me all about it after that, okay?”

Stiles beams. “Sounds good.”

He’s never been a morning person until he saw Derek Hale, the hot weatherman. He made some adjustments after that. It’d actually turned out for the best, because he got some quality studying time in while the rest of the apartment he shared with Scott, Isaac, and Jackson was quiet.

Scott is the only one who knows about his insane crush on Derek. Obviously. He’s not stupid enough to tell Jackson that he has a superficial crush on the weatherman. That sounds ridiculous, and Jackson would tease him endlessly about it.

“Stiles?” Scott prompts after a moment.

“Yeah?”

“I asked if you’re excited for our party tonight,” Scott says while he puts some bread into the toaster.

Stiles nods. “Yeah, sure, I guess. It’s a weird concept to me that Jackson has other friends.”

Scott laughs and shrugs. “I’m sure most of them are actually Danny’s friends who just tolerate Jackson.”

Stiles snort and agrees. “Yeah, that makes way more sense. We should have Jackson’s expensive peanut butter for our toast this morning.”

“And have him throw another temper tantrum when he wakes up? No thanks. Besides, Isaac wants us to calm down on provoking Jackson. Apparently it’s been getting in the way of his studying and well…”

“You like Isaac and don’t want him to be sad. I get it. I’ll try my best dude, but no promises.” Stiles flips open his textbook. You know, if his dad knew that the hot weatherman was making Stiles a better student, Stiles is sure that his dad would arrest Derek Hale just to thank him and invite him over for dinner.

♚♞♚♞♚♞

“Our apartment is packed!” Scott shouts later that evening. Stiles bobs his head in agreement, before he points at Isaac. Without words, Scott knows exactly what Stiles is thinking. Scott turns to look and then he’s shaking his head at Stiles. “No way dude, I’m not interrupting that.”

“Isaac’s talking to Allison, Scott. You guys just broke up and you like him. If you don’t swoop now, Isaac might get lost in Allison-land. You might lose your chance, dude. Go for it!” Stiles says, loudly so Scott can hear his pep talk over the damn music.

Scott looks at the two of them like a lost puppy. “You think?”

“I know,” Stiles says, urging Scott to go with a wave of his hand. He grins when Scott heads over to them.

Someone bumps his arm and then says, “That was great advice you gave your friend there.”

Stiles turns, proud of himself and ready to bask in the compliment, when he finds himself standing face-to-face with hot weatherman Derek Hale. You know, the guy he gets up at five a.m. to see every morning and then he hangs around his television for most of the morning to see whenever he comes back on the screen. Yeah, that guy? He’s standing right there and he spoke to Stiles.

“I—thanks,” Stiles says, feeling his face flush. God, he hates how loud it is in here. He puts out his hand, rather awkwardly, and shakes Derek’s. “Stiles. Stiles Stilinski.”

“Derek Hale,” he says as though Stiles has no clue.

“Nice to meet you,” Stiles says. Derek’s expression tells him he didn’t quite hear him but he’s smiling anyway. “Who do you know here?”

Derek’s eyebrows come together and then he realizes what Stiles asks. He moves in a bit closer. “I’m friends with Jackson. Well, actually, Isaac really. But we were all on the same lacrosse team together last semester.”

Stiles has a hard time keeping his mouth shut. This is one of those times…except nothing’s coming out. Derek and Stiles could’ve met way before tonight if his friends had told him anything about their lives. Granted, Stiles usually never cared about their lacrosse games. He’d gotten enough of the lacrosse bench in high school. But they played with Derek Hale? That’s just cruel to leave Stiles in the dark like that.

“Who do you know?” Derek asks, loudly.

Someone turns the music down - Stiles does a quick glance around to see Boyd shyly walking away. Boyd’s the best, seriously. Stiles smiles at Derek now. “I live here with Isaac and Jackson, actually.”

“Wait, you’re—not Scott, right?”

“No, that’s Scott,” Stiles points him out.

“Oh good, that’s what I thought. Isaac has had the biggest thing for him for a while now. Not that he’ll ever admit it. But it’s always Scott this, Scott that.” Derek takes a sip from his red cup and then lets himself glance around the party.

Wow, this is so weird.

"So you’re that weatherman, huh?” Stiles blurts because his brain can’t function like a normal person. Not that he’s ever really complained about it. Until now. His brain could shut up.

Derek nods. “The one and only. Well, unless Kate gets me fired.”

“That bitch,” Stiles breathes, but loud enough for Derek to hear and laugh. “She’s so obnoxious. I mute her whenever she comes on.”

“You…you watch the news, huh?” Derek asks, looking highly amused. Maybe even a little smug.

“Yep. Gotta keep up on current news and…weather,” Stiles stumbles to say.

Derek lets out a laugh again and then says,”You just said you mute Kate, so…”

“You make the weather interesting,” Stiles admits and then he rolls his eyes. “Whatever, shut up.”

“Derek!” a blonde girl comes rushing up. Stiles recognizes her as Erica, Boyd’s girlfriend. She wraps her arms around him and kisses Derek’s cheek. “I didn’t see you. When did you get here?”

“A few minutes ago,” Derek tells her. He glances at Stiles, which makes him want to stay. But he can’t. There’s no way that Derek wants him to hang around. He rubs his neck before he casually turns away as Derek’s voice about seeing Boyd fades.

He pushes his bedroom door open and shuts it by leaning against it.  Stiles closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose. What is his life? “Ugh.”

“I know. This party is terrible,” Lydia’s voice comes from his bed.

His eyes pop open. “Lydia, what are you doing in my bedroom? Your boyfriend’s room is just down the hall.”

"Exactly. He’s too arrogant to think that I’d ever come into your room for solitude.” Lydia pats the bed beside her. “Why are you upset?”

Stiles plops down beside her and then frowns. “Derek Hale is at my party. Or the party. It’s not really mine if all of my friends came for other people from this apartment, I guess.”

"And?” Lydia prompts.

“And he’s super gorgeous and was just talking to me.” Stiles groans and covers his face with his hands. “I have no idea if it was going well or not, but then Boyd’s girlfriend came up and totally distracted him. He’s so much prettier in person. Fuck. I want to cry he’s so hot.”

Lydia pats his arm gently and simply says, “Stiles, I love you.”

“But?”

“But, you’re never going to get a guy - or girl, for that matter - wallowing in undeserved self-pity. Stop hiding and go out there and get the guy.” Lydia huffs a little when Stiles shakes his head. “No, Stilinski. I mean it. You get your ass off this bed, you go out there and make a complete fool out of yourself, and if he’s not interested in you, then you can come back in here and wallow in deserved self-pity.”

“You want me to make a complete fool of myself?” Stiles asks, peeking at her through his fingers.

“Yes. Because if he doesn’t stay with you at your worst, he doesn’t deserve you. Now, go.”

Stiles gets up, because when Lydia tells you to do something you fucking do it. But he pauses to glance back at her. “Has Jackson seen you at your worst?”

Lydia meets his eyes. “Jackson met me at my worst and loved me anyway. I know it doesn’t make sense to you, Stiles, but he’s one of the best guys I know. Underneath all of his crap, he cares.”

"I hope so. He still doesn’t deserve you,” Stiles tells her. “He makes you happy though?”

“Most days,” Lydia replies. “And on the days he doesn’t, we work at it. It’s not always going to be rainbows and butterflies, but the best things aren’t always easy.”

Stiles only nods and studies her for a moment longer before he leaves his bedroom. He scans the party and finds Derek standing in the corner talking to Boyd. Well, at least they’re standing together. Stiles doesn’t see much talking going on.

He makes his way over, and passes by Jackson. He pauses only to say, “Your girlfriend’s in my bedroom. You might want to make her happy.”

“What did you do?” Jackson growls.

"She gave me a pep talk, dude.” Stiles nods towards Derek. “To talk to your hot friend.”

Jackson eyes him down before he accepts the answer and turns to find Lydia. Stiles walks up to Derek and Boyd and gives them a pathetic wave.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Derek says, with a quick smile. “You’re back.”

“Miss me?” Stiles teases, before he can think about it.

“Of course. I thought to myself, I can’t live without this guy I just met three minutes ago. It was terribly hard.”

Stiles grins, teasingly pushing Derek’s shoulder. “Don’t be mean.”

"Hey, you’re the one who left me mid-conversation. What do you have to say for yourself?” Derek asks, eyes dancing with amusement.

“I needed another drink,” Stiles answers. They both know it’s not true, but Derek doesn’t call him out on not having a drink in his hand. Stiles glances at Boyd. “Hey Boyd. How are you?”

“Invisible,” Boyd mutters, but it’s said without anger. He nods once before he says, “Boys.” Then he’s walking away.

“I—”

“Don’t worry. Boyd’s like that. He’s not big on socializing anyway,” Derek assures him.

“I know. But still.” Stiles shrugs and moves closer to Derek, taking the place where Boyd had stood. “I thought you and Erica would like to catch up.”

“You know her?” Derek asks.

“Vaguely. I know Boyd better. I know Erica as the hot blonde who makes out with Boyd at any opportunity,” Stiles jokes.

Derek laughs.”So you know Erica then.”

“How have we had so many mutual friends and never met before?” Stiles asks, searching Derek’s face.

“No clue, but it’s a damn shame.”

Stiles doesn’t bother fighting the smile.

♚♞♚♞♚♞ 

“Stiles, I have an exam at nine!” Scott complains, as he comes out Isaac’s bedroom a few weeks later. Fuck, it’s been an amazing few weeks.

Stiles snorts. “Good, then you can get in some extra studying time. Now shut up. Derek’s about to come on.”

“I—” Scott gives up apparently. He grabs his backpack from the hallway and joins Stiles on the couch.“When are you going to ask Derek out?”

“Um, never. We’re just friends, dude.”

“I don’t—”

“Shut up. He’s on!”

Derek’s smiling at the camera. God, it’s too early to be that cheerful. Stiles has no idea that he’s wearing the same smile.

“Before I tell you the weather, I would like to say good morning to a very special person. He claims not to be a big fan of mine, but I have it from good authority that he gets up every morning to watch the weather. So Stiles, if you’re watching this - I hope you have a great morning. Call me later. I think we should go on a date.”

"Wha—wh—holy fuck,” Stiles breathes. “He said my name.”

"Can he do that?” Scott asks, looking at Stiles as though he has two heads.

“I don’t know. But he just did it. He…dude. I have a date. With Derek Hale, the weatherman.”

"The hot weatherman,” Isaac’s voice comes from behind them. They both turn to look at him. Isaac’s only paying attention to Scott though. “I woke up and you were…gone.”

Scott blushes. “Sorry dude. Stiles woke me up with the TV. It wasn’t my intention to leave you.”

"That’s okay,” Isaac says, looking relieved that Scott hadn’t left on purpose. He sits down in the chair closest to Scott’s end of the couch. “So, Stilinski, what are you going to do?”

“What should I do?” Stiles asks, glancing back at the screen. Kate’s face is moving, but he can’t hear anything. Seriously, he has no idea how she keeps her job. Her voice is beyond annoying.

“I think you should call him and accept the date,” Scott says.

“Me too.”

“But…I don’t have his number,” Stiles admits. “We’ve been Facebooking, but I don’t want to accept over Facebook.”

“I have it,” Isaac says. He hops up. “I’ll grab my phone and be right back.”

“Thanks dude!” Stiles calls out.He turns to Scott, “Did we tape that?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure it’ll be on the internet. Doesn’t the station usual put up the morning’s news on the website around eleven?” Scott asks.

“Right, yeah.”

“Here,” Isaac says. He hands Stiles his phone.

“Thanks man. I should…hang on.”

Stiles rushes into his bedroom and shuts the door. He dials Derek’s number and waits.

God these rings are insanely long.

Then—“Hello?”

“Hey, Derek, it’s uh, it’s Stiles.”

“So you were watching”

“Yeah, I was watching.”

“And?”

“Yes.” Stiles belly flops onto his bed. “What idiot says no to the hot weatherman and a date?”

“You’d be surprised. I remember you talked about a restaurant called Fran’s. Would that be a suitable place for a first date?” Derek asks.

"I’d go anywhere with you,” Stiles answers.

Derek laughs. “That’s a bit serious for a first date. Maybe save those lines for our second.”

“I like the sounds of that. Are you going to get in trouble for asking me on camera?” Stiles asks, concerned.

“Nawh, I cleared it with my boss." Derek pauses before he adds, "I should go but I hope you have a great morning, Stiles. I’ll call you later and we can sort out the details of our date?”

“That’d be great,” Stiles says, hoping he sounds casual. “Have a great morning yourself, hot stuff.”

There’s a laugh and then a click. He rushes out of his bedroom.

“It’s official! I have a date!” Stiles shouts. “I have a date!”

Scott and Isaac cheer.

Ten seconds later does Jackson’s bedroom door swing open. Jackson has a sheet wrapped around his waist. “What is all the noise about? Do you idiots have any idea what time it is?”

“I have a date!” Stiles blurts before he realizes that’s probably a mistake.

“With who? Your hand?” Jackson sneers.

“No, with Derek Hale, the hot weatherman.”

Jackson studies Stiles for a second and then nods. “Derek’s a good guy. Not bad, Stilinski.”

Stiles has no idea how to prcoess that, so he simply asks, “Feel like breakfast?”

"Sure.” Jackson turns to look back into his room. “Lyd, do you want breakfast?”

“Yeah.”

That’s how Stiles, Scott, Isaac, Jackson, and Lydia end up in the kitchen making breakfast together at six o’clock in the morning. Jackson asks what Stiles and Derek plan to do on their date and Lydia gives him a knowing look. No one said that Stiles thought he had it all figured out.

“Think he’ll pay?” Isaac asks, sounding a little worried.

“I think it’s custom if you ask for the date, you pay,” Scott chimes in. Isaac looks relieved.

“Sometimes it’s nice to spoil someone though,” Jackson tells them.

Lydia smiles at him, and suddenly, Stiles sees it. He sees the way they look at each other, as though the only light comes from that person, and wonders—hopes, rather—if he and Derek might ever look at each other the same way one day.

“You know, Derek made a complete fool out of himself on TV this morning,” Lydia points out. “That could’ve backed fired on him.”

“But it didn’t,” Stiles counters.

“No, it didn’t.” Lydia winks as Stiles’ phone buzzes.

DEREK: important update from your very own beacon hills weatherman DEREK: on your date, it will become about 114% hotter than usual DEREK: please be aware of this sudden heat wave and be advised to take precautions in order to ensure safety of your body DEREK: these precautions include lube and condoms, if you choose to take clothes off as your cooling down method

Stiles bursts into laughter at the table, and then shakes his head when the others ask him what happened. He meets Lydia’s eyes and murmurs, “This one’s a keeper.”

♚♞♚♞♚♞

I’m tired, so I apologize if there any mistakes. And also, sorry for highjacking this post.

“But hey, can’t get enough of a good thing.“

*SCREAMS* PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO ME

Trying my hand at digital oil painting. I just loved this look from Jensen and I was bored, so why not! 

‏نزعت الخطاف من فم احد القروش وعند مشاهدة القروش الاخرى لذلك صارت القروش تأتي لنفس المكان لنزع الخطاف من فمها علما ان هذه القروش لا تحب ان يلمسها احد.

because I do

like a lot,

I don’t think it’s healthy,

but c’mon

HE’S A PUPPY

filled with awkward dance moves,

cute little things he does with his face,

and the way he always loses control of his neck when he laughs,

but then, he switches to Derek Hale…

and he becomes instant sex god in .02 seconds

also, he can tell a story with just his eyebrows

and I can’t take this man

you. are. not. allowed. to. be. this. adorable.

DON’T even get me started on the thumb hole sweater

he just leaves me like

First the dog greets the cat with a nose touch/possibly a lick to the chin, which is a combination of cat & dog greetings (cats touch noses to say hello to people & animals they love, dogs lick snouts, and licking the chin is often a sign of respect to someone they think of as superior). Then the dog lies down to make itself less threatening to the babies. 

But then that ‘roll over & expose tummy’ move? Combined with waving his paws at the kittens? That’s not how dogs usually initiate play. They might roll around once they’re already play-fighting with another dog, but inviting a dog to play is usually done using what’s called the ‘play bow,’ where the dog dips their front half down, front legs stretched out in front of them & hind quarters still in the air. They’ll prance around & do the bow several times, especially to initiate a ‘come chase me!’ type game. Exposing the stomach is usually a sign of submission, or asking for a belly rub, which they would also often be doing towards someone they see as a superior (with exceptions for just like… lying down, of course). 

But cats? Cats invite play-fighting by rolling over, exposing their tummy, and waving their paws in the air (again, as opposed to just lying down to relax). It’s why many people are startled & upset when they try to rub a cat’s belly in that situation & get scratched and/or bit. Because the cat isn’t showing submission or asking for a belly rub like a dog might, they’re inviting you to play fight, which for cats means claws & teeth and that ‘rabbit kick’ thing they do which is used to disembowel small prey – you can see the mama cat doing precisely that at the end of the video, while the dog sticks to more dog style of play by standing above and using his teeth to ‘attack.’ (For humans: waving a string or other favored toy over the cat when they do this, instead of sticking your hand in there, will generally get some good play-hunting action without you losing a limb.)

Old hag by *veprikov

But what if certain species of aliens have Rules for dealing with humans?

Don’t eat their food. If human food passes your lips/beak/membrane/other way of ingesting nutrients, you will never be satisfied with your ration bars again.

Don’t tell them your name. Humans can find you again once they know your name and this can be either life-saving or the absolute worst thing that could happen to you, depending on whether or not they favor you. Better to be on the safe side.

Winning a human’s favor will ensure that a great deal of luck is on your side, but if you anger them, they are wholly capable of wiping out everything you ever cared about. Do not anger them.

If you must anger them, carry a cage of X’arvizian bloodflies with you, for they resemble Earth mo-skee-toes and the human will avoid them.

This does not always work. Have a last will and testament ready.

Do not let them take you anywhere on your planet that you cannot fly a ship from. Beings who are spirited away to the human kingdom of Aria Fiv-Ti Won rarely return, and those that do are never quite the same.

The first researchers had to fight for years to even get a grant, of course. They kept getting laughed out of the halls. A T-Class Death World that had not only produced sapient life, but a Stage Two civilization? It was a joke, obviously. It had to be a joke.

And then it wasn’t. And we all stopped laughing. Instead, we got very, very nervous. 

We watched as the human civilizations not only survived, but grew, and thrived, and invented things that we had never even conceived of. Terrible things, weapons of war, implements of destruction as brutal and powerful as one would imagine a death world’s children to be. In the space of less than two thousand years, they had already produced implements of mass death that would have horrified the most callous dictators in the long, dark history of the galaxy. 

Already, the children of Earth were the most terrifying creatures in the galaxy. They became the stuff of horror stories, nightly warnings told to children; huge, hulking, brutish things, that hacked and slashed and stabbed and shot and burned and survived, that built monstrous metal things that rumbled across the landscape and blasted buildings to ruin.

All that preserved us was their lack of space flight. In their obsession with murdering one another, the humans had locked themselves into a rigid framework of physics that thankfully omitted the equations necessary to achieve interstellar travel. 

They became our bogeymen. Locked away in their prison planet, surrounded by a cordon of non-interference, prevented from ravaging the galaxy only by their own insatiable need to kill one another. Gruesome and terrible, yes - but at least we were safe.

Or so we thought.

The cities were called Hiroshima and Nagasaki. In the moment of their destruction, the humans unlocked a destructive force greater than any of us could ever have believed possible. It was at that moment that those of us who studied their technology knew their escape to be inevitable, and that no force in the universe could have hoped to stand against them.

The first human spacecraft were… exactly what we should have expected them to be. There were no elegant solar wings, no sleek, silvered hulls plying the ocean of stars. They did not soar on the stellar currents. They did not even register their existence. Humanity flew in the only way it could: on all-consuming pillars of fire, pounding space itself into submission with explosion after explosion. Their ships were crude, ugly, bulky things, huge slabs of metal welded together, built to withstand the inconceivable forces necessary to propel themselves into space through violence alone.

It was almost comical. The huge, dumb brutes simply strapped an explosive to their backs and let it throw them off of the planet. 

We would have laughed, if it hadn’t terrified us.

Humanity, at long last, was awake.

It was a slow process. It took them nearly a hundred years to reach their nearest planetary neighbor; a hundred more to conquer the rest of their solar system. The process of refining their explosive propulsion systems - now powered by the same force that had melted their cities into glass less than a thousand years before - was slow and haphazard. But it worked. Year by year, they inched outward, conquering and subduing world after world that we had deemed unfit for habitation. They burrowed into moons, built orbital colonies around gas giants, even crafted habitats that drifted in the hearts of blazing nebulas. They never stopped. Never slowed.

The no-contact cordon was generous, and was extended by the day. As human colonies pushed farther and farther outward, we retreated, gave them the space that they wanted in a desperate attempt at… stalling for time, perhaps. Or some sort of appeasement. Or sheer, abject terror. Debates were held daily, arguing about whether or not first contact should be initiated, and how, and by whom, and with what failsafes. No agreement was ever reached.

We were comically unprepared for the humans to initiate contact themselves.

It was almost an accident. The humans had achieved another breakthrough in propulsion physics, and took an unexpected leap of several hundred light years, coming into orbit around an inhabited world.

What ensued was the diplomatic equivalent of everyone staring awkwardly at one another for a few moments, and then turning around and walking slowly out of the room.

The human ship leapt away after some thirty minutes without initiating any sort of formal communications, but we knew that we had been discovered, and the message of our existence was being carried back to Terra. 

The situation in the senate could only be described as “absolute, incoherent panic”. They had discovered us before our preparations were complete. What would they want? What demands would they make? What hope did we have against them if they chose to wage war against us and claim the galaxy for themselves? The most meager of human ships was beyond our capacity to engage militarily; even unarmed transport vessels were so thickly armored as to be functionally indestructible to our weapons.

We waited, every day, certain that we were on the brink of war. We hunkered in our homes, and stared.

Across the darkness of space, humanity stared back.

There were other instances of contact. Human ships - armed, now - entering colonized space for a few scant moments, and then leaving upon finding our meager defensive batteries pointed in their direction. They never initiated communications. We were too frightened to.

A few weeks later, the humans discovered Alphari-296.

It was a border world. A new colony, on an ocean planet that was proving to be less hospitable than initially thought. Its military garrison was pitifully small to begin with. We had been trying desperately to shore it up, afraid that the humans might sense weakness and attack, but things were made complicated by the disease - the medical staff of the colonies were unable to devise a cure, or even a treatment, and what pitifully small population remained on the planet were slowly vomiting themselves to death.

When the human fleet arrived in orbit, the rest of the galaxy wrote Alphari-296 off as lost.

I was there, on the surface, when the great gray ships came screaming down from the sky. Crude, inelegant things, all jagged metal and sharp edges, barely holding together. I sat there, on the balcony of the clinic full of patients that I did not have the resources or the expertise to help, and looked up with the blank, empty, numb stare of one who is certain that they are about to die.

I remember the symbols emblazoned on the sides of each ship, glaring in the sun as the ships landed inelegantly on the spaceport landing pads that had never been designed for anything so large. It was the same symbol that was painted on the helmets of every human that strode out of the ships, carrying huge black cases, their faces obscured by dark visors. It was the first flag that humans ever carried into our worlds.

It was a crude image of a human figure, rendered in simple, straight lines, with a dot for the head. It was painted in white, over a red cross.

The first human to approach me was a female, though I did not learn this until much later - it was impossible to ascertain gender through the bulky suit and the mask. But she strode up the stairs onto the balcony, carrying that black case that was nearly the size of my entire body, and paused as I stared blankly up at her. I was vaguely aware that I was witnessing history, and quite certain that I would not live to tell of it.

Then, to my amazement, she said, in halting, uncertain words, “You are the head doctor?”

I nodded.

The visor cleared. The human bared its teeth at me. I learned later that this was a “grin”, an expression of friendship and happiness among their species. 

The healing touch by devilscut

Stiles loses his temper with the rest of the pack when they all make excuses not to volunteer to help their Alpha. Deaton has instructed that for the next 24 hours Derek can’t use his hands after he seriously injures them in a magical entrapment. Seeing the emotional hurt that Derek’s selfish pack has inflicted on him when they argue and try to get out of it, Stiles volunteers to stay and then proceeds to give the rest of them a verbal ass-kicking. He then takes care of his friend, the Alpha, Derek Hale, while trying to work out what his feelings are towards the werewolf.

You’ve Got Whatever’s Left Of Me To Get by juniperjamboree

Derek never wanted to run a book store in a college town, but when one hyperactive college student stumbles into The Den, he changes his mind.

Fall Open, Fall In by ellievolia

Warning - spoilers about The Time Traveler’s Wife.

Derek might have loved books in the past, but he’s lost the memories of how much they can spark imagination right back to life. That is until he walks into Adventure Time, a bookshop with more personality than Derek has ever seen, and meets the owner, Stiles. Funnily enough when Derek first opens a book in the shop, he lives the story through and through; ending up being sent to the Moon along with Jules Verne’s characters. Stiles takes Derek on a journey, from pirates to gentlemen, through pain and laughter and love, and teaches Derek again about imagination, about family, about letting go.

A story about books.

A Missed Opportunity Is Found by gaydestiny

Derek was more than halfway done with shelving the new shipment of Young Adult fantasy novels by the time Stiles finally breezed through the door, signaling his late arrival with the dull jingling of the bell. He wasn’t even in his work clothes yet, and Derek noted with disdain the streaks of mud that covered Stiles from head to toe.

“You’re more than an hour late,” Derek stated, more of a fact than an admonishment. Stiles was not only the boss’ kid, he was a snarky, arrogant teenage boy with an abundance of confidence, and Derek could rarely muster the nerve to stand up to him, regardless of his position as manager.

A Literary Love by thewolfwiththeredroses

“Walking down a foreign street in an unfamiliar city, Stiles searches for refuge from the bitter November cold. He’s not quite sure how he ended up here, stumbling through the streets of New York City at 5am before the sun has even risen, when less than a week ago he was still back home in Beacon Hills just waiting for his real life to begin.”

OR

Stiles is an aspiring writer trying to find his way in the world (and New York City), and Derek is the proud owner of a bookshop cafe who just wants to be as happy as his parents were.

Came for the coffee, stayed for you by nashirah

“Ask him about Twilight!” They heard Laura’s shout. Derek almost dropped his hammer.

“For Christ’s sake, Laura!” He shouted back, and added, calmer now, “She made me read it, alright.”

(Or the one in which Stiles’ dad owns a bookstore and Derek’s mom runs a coffee shop. It’s just a romance waiting to happen.)

A Thousand Words by inhystereks

The door to the shop slammed open, causing the glass to shiver angrily and the bell to ring madly. It was a perfect accompaniment to the rumpled countenance of the young man who stood there. His amber eyes locked on Derek, blazing with the fires of hell.

“YOU!” he shrieked, when their eyes met.

Cora, blackmail senses tingling, immediately took several steps away from her brother, whipped out her phone, and started recording.

Blind Date With A Book by thepsychicclam

Stiles thought the Blind Date With a Book trend was a great way to drum up business for his small bookshop. He definitely thought it was a great idea after the hot guy kept returning and buying more blind dates with books.

Derek didn’t know how he kept getting set up on blind dates by his family, or why he kept going on them. The highlight of his night was when the date was over and he could go to the little bookshop in town and buy something to read for the rest of the night. He wanted to read, not date.