Panlix

Lol!! Poor Felix. #technologystruggles. I bet all his pictures are blurry as hell. So Peter has to take the picture for him just so he doesn’t have to stare at the blurry blob that’s supposed to be Felix’s face. (I totally have a headcanon that Peter likes keeping pictures of Felix, whether he takes them with a camera or draws them himself.)

Yessss. I love picturing them driving in a car. (I bet they’d try to get a convertible cause Peter would like having the top down. Or they’d get an old Jeep Wrangler). Like I legitimately think of them going on road trips all the time instead of taking any form of public transportation. Cause they’re in control and they can go wherever they want. And it just feels so free, you know? 

So abso-freakin’-lutely. Headcanon accepted. I also 100% believe that they like listening to a wide variety of music that might not even make sense for them. I can see that song coming on and Peter being like “I don’t knoooow.” but leaving it alone because he notices that Felix seems to be enjoying it. I’d buy that Felix would dig Adele’s voice. (I also think he likes classic rock too, he’s a funny boy.) 

A Stiles-centric S5 Fix-it Fic that so far has fixed absolutely nothing:

Stiles gets very good at putting himself back together. He learns which cuts just need butterfly bandages and which need actual stitches and he knows to keep a needle threaded because trying to get everything ready when you’re shaking from blood loss is fucking hard. (Not impossible though, he learns that too. There’s not much that is impossible when you don’t have any other options.)

Not Quite Normal OTP Challenge: #6 Swordfighting

“What are you doing?” Derek finally asks when Scott doesn’t seem to be moving.

 “Oh, you’re not fighting me,” he says, shaking his head. “I have breathing problems. You’re fighting-”

 “Me,” a voice comes from behind him and Derek turns to see Stiles smirking at him.

 Stiles is holding an old, beaten up blade that is too thin and too short by half in one hand and appears completely unconcerned that Derek’s sword seems to be in perfect condition. He had clearly just run a hand through his hair again and it’s sticking up and he-

 He is grinning like he already knows he’s won. Even though he hasn’t bothered to get into fighting stance yet.

 It should not be as dashing as it is.

The Silent Fury, chapter 3

Stiles is leaving soon. They both know it even though they’ve never mentioned it aloud. But Stiles’ leg is almost completely healed, or at least, healed enough that he moves around constantly and only rubs at it absently towards the end of the night. The pain Derek takes almost every night has faded from a deep throb to a dull ache.

Derek hasn’t missed the  multiple stashes of food Stiles has spread throughout the canyon either. The biggest is underneath his small shelter in the woods but he’s started two more than Derek has sniffed out. Or the fact that the rocks on the far wall smell like Stiles, like he’s already started to practice scaling up them.

Third, and often forgotten was Felix, who was the first to take after his mother’s looks. All tall and wheat-thin, stretched across a set of bones so thin that it was a wonder he didn’t blow away. With corn-gold hair and storm-cloud eyes. 

He had alarming features. His bones the juxtaposition of his flesh, which sunk in around lean muscle. He looked like some hand crafted thing from his mother’s nightmares and stood at the same striking height as his father, but with all his contradicting features he had many shadows on his face, making him look taller in comparison. And older in the way one’s soul ages drastically more than their body. But for all his standoffish looks, his personality was next to bland as far as his family was concerned. All except the youngest, Thomas.

                                               ///

Felix did not live a particularly exciting life. He drove cattle and spent his days cleaning up after his brothers. Somehow, the monotony never bothered him. Until of course, the day someone let the cows out. 

A Panlix One-shot about Felix not believing in magic or anything supernatural.

Felix doesn’t believe in signs, or destiny, or a greater force working out in the endless bounds of the cosmos. He doesn’t believe in thick fingered gods, pointing their mighty sausage shaped fingers down onto the flat plains of earth, judging left and right. Nor does he believe in a fiery hell with flames so hot they’ll melt your bones for an eternity. Nor does he believe in a heaven that’s so sacred and warm its like a snuggie for the soul. He’s not superstitious and he’s not religious.

He’s not curious about “the mysterious way the world works” like his coworker, Ruby. Who is all about the good karma and juju.

He stares blankly at his friend, Curtis, whose springy curls bounce when he makes comments about his “chi”.

A Panlix One-shot about Peter being hurt.

It’s incredibly difficult getting someone with an injured knee into a comfortable position to have sex. First, Felix tries to lay Peter out flat on his back, but realizes too late that it puts too much pressure on Peter’s knee.

Peter tries, rather valiantly (stupidly) to hide the pain, but the watery gloss over his green eyes betrays him. Showing his weakness like a neon sign, obvious and blatant. Round, fat tears spill out and begin rolling down his cheeks, and there’s no hiding that it hurts. The illusion that they could continue on like normal is gone, faded away, lost in the steady stream crawling down Peter’s face. His shame is as plain on his face as the pain as it burns through him; sending hot bursts of pain jolting up from his knee to the back of his skull. He sobs, utterly uncontrolled, and Felix freezes above him, eyes as wide as saucers.