#but especially in laura's first appearance there is a tiny bit left open to wonder if it's just paranoia

[widowshill]

this is just an idle thought so i'm not sure i can word this well but there's ... something about supernatural narrative ambiguity (such as in cases like carmilla) that really interests me with V's ultimate fate. i.e. i think in one reading ... she did fall from the cliffs that evening at widows' hill, just like carolyn prophesied she would & roger joked endlessly about, and liz did not save her. and victoria getting her quote "happy ending," miraculously getting sent back to be with her vanished husband into a long gone century, returning to an earlier past, is just the silver telling the story version of it. her Savannah, if you will.

"I had to return him to an earlier state of being." / "I found a way to reach into the past and undo it." / "To the rest of the world, they simply cease to be."

moreover i think it's Compelling who liz is with when she finds victoria in each case: professor stokes as V contemplates suicide on the hill, and barnabas when she vanishes into the past with jeff. stokes, who certainly is more than involved with the supernatural but who comparatively represents rational thought, research, learning, Truth and accepting even difficult truth ( "I'm afraid, my dear Miss Winters, that if he is here, he feels as I do. Your place is here. Your time is now. The only way you can join him is to die." ) and barnabas of rewritten myths, of vampires, false identities, the transmutation of women's very sense of self, who has never accepted anything be it feeling or fact and has made every effort to forcibly change it, even if that is only in the telling.

#david did not tamper with roger's brakes – matthew knew they were loose and the part fell out on the road. #i didn't kill paul – he abandoned us and i am waiting for him. #victoria winters didn't commit suicide – she went into the past to be with her husband. Liz Stoddard Truth. #sometimes it's convenient to me that she fulfills the prophecy. sometimes it's convenient that she gets trapped in The Past. #sometimes! she lives and marries roger and adopts david and has another kid and they all live happily ever after. #same story different versions. #victoria winters is like a photon interference pattern. miss particle and wave. anyway. #i don't think there's a lot of that kind of thing in ds over all – as a cohesive thing it's very much Monsters Real ! #but especially in laura's first appearance there is a tiny bit left open to wonder if it's just paranoia #vicki / guthrie / joe was also there I think? form the supernatural persecution side; with roger batting alone at enlightenment reason. #and david playing laura's role (laura carmilla) caught in the crossfire between them. the little car mechanic tidal chart understander #photography developer that is ALSO big time into ghosts and spooks and crystal balls ! #➤ ooc. ┊ she’s nauseous，she’s hysterical，and she’s exhausted.

[leonard-cohen-the-second]

Races, cameras, shifting- oh boy!

Laura's tiny legs were aching as she tried to keep up with Danny's long and powerful stride. Her heart sank and her ears began ringing when the elder woman told her what she assumed was the worst possible news, and the fast pace that both girls kept wasn't alleviating that feeling. Laura's camera bounced against her chest painfully, her hand tried to clamp down onto it so it would stop swinging erratically, but every so often her foot would hit a rut in the ground and there went flying her arms to try to keep her steady. She had just done it for the fifth time when she huffed out a breath and turned her attention to Danny.

“I thought we had one more week before the Sand got here,” she began, not being surprised when Danny didn't say anything back. The worried expression on the redhead's brow frightened Laura, but the girl still continued, “I guess magical creatures are extremely early all the time, huh. What with them being thousands of years old and all- there isn't any time for waiting, am I right?”

“There isn't anyone in the Sand that is over a thousand years old,” Danny replied absently.

Laura's heart leapt, happy to have gotten a word edge wise out of the amazon, but shook her smile away. “Was everything prepared? I mean I know all the Summers were working their butts off so it had to have been all done, right?”

“It's not really about that, Laura.”

Then what it is about? Laura bit her lip, her mind racing to determine what Sand members would look like when she noticed they were almost to the Summer's building. This was it. She was finally going to see a supernatural creature up close and personal! Her slightly sweaty hand curled around her camera expectantly, and it seemed like all concern had left her little body. Racing behind Danny, the woman not taking a moment to stop as she walked straight into the building. The door was strangely open, and Laura followed dutifully behind her.

What she expected was a telltale sign of an extraordinary factor, but when she turned her head towards Mel and a brunette Laura had never seen before there was nothing strange about her. She firstly thought it was another Summer Mel was giving orders to, but as they got closer in the empty building, she took note how they were talking to each other.

“It's been too long, Melanippe. I hope my emissaries did not frighten you. Arriving first is so lame, is it not.” The woman dragged a hand through her long hair, before her dark orbs turned to the newcomers. She said nothing and allowed Mel to speak.

“Oh it was no big deal. Three Sand members randomly on the field sniffing around didn't freak anyone out. We were just glad we identified them quickly or we could have started another war.”

The British woman laughed at that, provoking Mel to do the same, and Danny's face remained in a grim line. Laura didn't know how to react because that really wasn't very funny, but she stood slightly behind Danny like she was told to do. She could still see the Sand leader but Danny was blocking the view of Mel, and the image of a little girl hiding behind their taller best friend from a bully resounded in Laura's mind.

“Sam,” the woman said, her dark cobalt eyes fixing on Laura.

With her name Mel had turned to see Laura, even though she could only see the outline of the side of her body, and even Danny looked surprised and turned her head toward the girl. The sudden attention made Laura fidget mindlessly before she stepped out of the red head's shadow and waved awkwardly.

“Laura,” she replied. Thinking it over she continued, “It's very nice to meet you.”

Silence descended into the room before Sam chuckled lightly and turned back to Mel. “You didn't say there was going to be an outsider in our affairs. And a camera?”

Mel's jaw set before she said nonchalantly, “She's the one that discovered the rouge chapter member in our midst. If it wasn't for that camera and where she chose to point it, we could have lost Danny and maybe more Summers. Because of that I've deemed her an invaluable asset to this years Harvest.”

Admiration and happiness burst through Laura's person like a beacon of light. Mel really thought so highly of her? She let a small smile creep onto her face that was rather hard to hide from the women still staring at her. It made Mel roll her eyes and cross her arms, and Sam just kept her gaze steady. Laura couldn't pinpoint the emotion behind the Sand's eyes, but she didn't know if she really liked it all that much.

Still she tried to urge herself to speak. “So when are the other chapters coming?”

It did not go unnoticed by Danny that the journalist started recording, but Sam spoke up as if she didn't care one way other the other. “Shortly, I'm sure. You must watch out, Mel. The elves aren't going to be happy they came in second.”

“Well I doubt the Vapor are going to get here anytime soon either,” Melanippe responded. “Even with their-” she cut off and pointed two fingers toward her eyes before flicking her hand in a dismissive notion.

Sam laughed at that, hard. “Quite right!”

Elves? Laura's mind immediately began to race at the possibility of actual elves, and she scrunched up her face in thought. Her mind was always filled with the possibility of the supernatural, and she would be lying if she said her infatuation with Danny is what made believing her easier. There was still that doubt in her mind when it was brought up by others, however. She rather doubted all these students were crazy, and there had to be some truth in their words. The concept alone was making her palms sweat with anticipation of meeting a real fantasy creature, though a thought struck her and she looked to Sam with suspicion.

Laura tugged on Danny's arm before moving a bit closer to the woman. Turning her head upwards, she whispered, “What are Sand members?”

Before Danny could answer a huffing member that Laura had not seen before came running in. Her clothes were disheveled and she appeared as if she had been running for a good amount of time. The auburn haired girl didn't speak, opting to look to Sam intently before the latter nodded and looked back to the group.

“It seems as if a race is being conducted. Shall we join?”

Mel's gaze hardened, if that was possible before she said, “Without the other factions? They'll be pretty pissed.”

Sam waved her hand as if to dismiss the concept. “It's just for fun! Come now, let's see the winner.”

Grumbling, Mel left the stage with Sam trailing behind her before jutting her head to Danny to follow. Danny also seemed to be in a bitter mood, and Laura followed behind all of them with anticipation swelling in her stomach. What was so bad about a race between two chapters?

Making it to the large field, Laura saw that the Summers had been keeping busy for the past week. Hand made torches dotted the entirety of the grounds and ceremonial creations hung from the trees that dotted the edge of the grassland and from some of the lights. It looked completely different, especially with different colored paints that swatched the area marking different things, Laura supposed. Upon getting closer, the group saw a rather short girl antagonizing a sophomore Summer.

“Come on then,” the girl said, her accent drawling out, “let's see what you've got.”

“Oh please, everyone knows you're just going to cheat.”

A look of offense stretched across the girl's face and her demeanor changed. “You watch your mouth.”

The Summer looked around to the others. Most were cheering her on but the elder girls were shaking their head slightly while some reached down to a small knife. Laura noticed all of them had weapons of some kind on their person, and the anticipation turned to dread rather quickly. Thankfully the group had arrived rather quickly so nothing else was said.

Sam looked to the Sand girl and to the sophomore. “I was told it was an innocent race. Why do I smell tantalization from you?”

“She called me a cheat...”

“And thus you had no intention of turning when you saw you were losing, Cassandra?”

The tips of the girl's ears turned red and she rummaged her hand through her short hair. It made Laura wonder what kind of “turning” there could be, but when she looked to Danny the face the amazon sported was one of concentration. She had no intention of breaking it and instead continued to watch on, her camera rolling the entire time.

“You are young,” Sam said, her finger running below the girl's chin. “Remember what your place is among this chapter. We are guests here. We do not antagonize those who have opened their doors to us. Bite the hand that feeds you,” she continued, “and you will surely be put down.” Sam must have gotten the reaction she wanted because she smiled curtly and walked back over to Mel. “Now shall the race begin?”

It didn't take much to see the sudden fear that passed through the young Sand's eyes, but Mel held her composure. Instead she replied, “We shall.”

Two sophomore girls were called that included the one that had been fighting, and Cassandra and another Sand of the same size were called from the opposite team. They looked more like freshman, but Laura couldn't have been certain off their size alone. After some talk with their chapter's leaders, the four took their place at the start of the line- which was indicated by two torches and a pattern of blue paint on the grass. Laura slightly jumped when a gunshot was heard, and she had forgotten in relay races that was the traditional starting function.

The four girls bolted, following the rows of torches and staying inside of the white outline that was placed on either side to make lines. The smaller girls seemed to move at incredible speed, just staying slightly in front of the Summer sisters even though they had smaller statures. Most of the race was seen just like this, Cassandra winning by mere seconds while the Summers trailed behind.

Final stretch, Laura thought as she looked down to her camera. She had been recording everything, and she had to keep making sure everything was working. Her head shot up when she saw something extraordinary, and her little body almost jumped off the ground in cheer as the initial sophomore Summer bolted in front of the two Sand girls. They had been coming around a corner and both Sands had slipped in the grass while the Summer sister kept her footing. It gave her invaluable time she needed. The girls were already so close to the finish line, Laura knew the Summers would have their first victory!

“Come on, Emily,” Mel whispered.

It was audible enough for Laura to hear, but she kept her mouth shut as she watched the race continue. Emily and the other Summer were so close to the finish line, there was no way for the Sand to catch up. The air around them was buzzing with electricity, and Laura wondered if the Summers had ever won a race when going up against the other chapters. Those thoughts were squashed as she saw something so unbelievable, later on in the night she would have to check her camera again to see she wasn't hallucinating.

Cassandra had let forth a sound that was inhuman before a thing line appeared straight down her face and neck. With each pump of her arms her skin split in a horrifying appearance, and for a moment Laura thought she had been sawed in half. She kept running, however, and in another second a dark, short haired figure burst forth from the girl's body and bolted toward the finish line. It was so large it quickly knocked down both Summers, throwing them to the ground forcibly, before skidding as it passed the line marking the end of the race. The howl that escaped the thing's throat sent shivers up Laura's spine, but she dutifully kept filming both the wounded Summers and the thing that won.

Danny turned to Mel, unsaid emotion swirling in her eyes, but the latter woman held up her hand to dismiss it.

Mel's voice rang out over the quieted field, “Summers, your sisters are down!”

A unison response came before most of the junior and sophomore classes moved into the make-shift track and picked up the bleeding girls. Emily was wounded the worst, mostly from the force of the collision and sliding face first in the dirt, but it didn't look too bad. They were carried off the field and towards the building a good ways back.

The president continued, “I declare the Summers as the winner, don't you?”

Sam nodded slowly before glaring at the thing that was Cassandra. The latter was whimpering, and her ears were laid back on her massive head. There was something unspoken between them before Cassandra's bones were heard to break, her mouth opening in a silent scream. Before their eyes she was a person again, her clothed form sitting on the grass with her knee propped up. It seemed to be the end of that, and the Summer and Sand members dispersed, some to the woods and others towards the building.

Danny grabbed hold of Laura's hands, which sent shivers up her spine for all the right reasons, before trudging back up towards the school. When they were a good distance away and without prying eyes, or so they thought, Laura turned to the taller woman and stared without speaking.

The red head's cornflower blue orbs looked to her as well before she sighed heavily. “Wolves, Laura. They're werewolves.”

#Hollence #Carmilla #Laura Hollis #Danny Lawrence #fanfiction #I didn't forget about this story #I hope there are still readers out there

[spiritcc]

The Hound of the Baskervilles: director’s script

I’ll try to compress both episodes into one post and that will be big. 

Alrighty so this is the wildest script out of the entire bunch, in my opinion, mostly because of one thing in the end. Many changes from the final cut, many additions, closer to the book than it turned out to be in the end. A lot of stuff. 

So we’re only the third movie in and the script already hurries to point out that everyone is old.

Mister Sherlock Holmes was having breakfast at the table. Hundreds of solved cases marked new wrinkles on his manly face, brows became darker, and temples - lighter. 

Doctor Watson was standing at the fireplace twirling a some sort of cane in his hands. The time left its marks on his as well: his hair got thinner and forehead became higher, moustache...

I’m not sure if Maslennikov had a some sort of weird appreciation for Livanov’s features with all those manly faces and all, but eyebrows getting darker? What kind of an observation is that? Was his first thought upon meeting with Livanov again “MAN those brows!!! Dat going into the script boi!!!”? It’s always the weirdest details.

By the general descriptions of everything and everybody it’s pretty clear that the script was written before the casting, since every character looks like they do in canon. Pretty jarring to read about blonde Stapleton and look at the picture of Yankovsky above the text. 

Speaking of Yankovsky.

Sir Hugo Baskerville, a knight of the age of thirty, was standing on a table topless, trying to organise a choir...  

They wanted Yankovsky to dance on a table without pants on, alright. Yeah, they later specify that he takes his trousers off after this scene, so yeah, that might’ve been...an interesting scene. I like how they keep referring to him as knight, like from all the things in the world, I don’t think this guy is worth the courtesy. 

When was the original case set season-wise? It was summer in the script, the murder happened in June and Mortimer talked about dog footprints on the grass. It turned into January and snow in the final cut, which is more fitting cause what kind of shitty grass would that have been if there are clear footprints on it.

Now, when they said a lot of stuff between sir Henry and Barrymore was improvised, they meant no joke. Of course before Mikhalkov burst in, Henry was a pretty canon-looking bud. No alcohol tiny joke plot ever took place, Barrymore was even compassionate to a degree about everything. No infamous porridge and “oatmeal, sir”, which you should be pretty familiar with if you’re yodeling around this blog. None of that, just plain canon all around. Whether that was a good or a bad change is up to your own judgement. 

At one moment he thought he saw...

...a woman wondering around the swamp. Her thin silhouette in a light dress blinked behind the sickly trees and disappeared...

<...>

...a short thin blond man of 35-40, with a clean shaven bland face. 

Definitely Yankovsky right there. 

Watson managed to kinda annoy me slightly in this script, surprisingly, he kept being a dick for no reason to anyone who asked about his investigation even faintly, remained grumpy for no reason, everything for no reason. Why? There have been moments in the final cut, but they’re not as in your face as here. 

...Doctor Watson stood in front of sir Henry Baskerville in his bedroom and helped the ex-Canadian to do a tie in an English manner.

“Where are your tie pins?”

“In this box...”, sir Henry opened it and started picking a pin, “Listen, Doctor, if her name is Beryl, maybe I’d stick a beryllium pin on?”

“Vulgar!...”, Watson throwned.

“You’d have to notice the pin first.”

“Vulgar for your inner wellbeing”, Watson explained coldly, “For a gentleman’s wellbeing! Here’s your smoking, time to go down to the table...”

Henry: beryllium for beryl how bout tha-

Watson: ew. ew ew ew. what the fuck. what the fuck of a pun is that. disgusting. appalling. here, take your big boy pimp suit and fuck off. 

I was glad to know there were some extended Watson/Henry dudebro scenes originally. 

Interestingly enough, Watson was supposed to remain relatively sober after that dinner, which was obviously not the case in the final version. Quality changes, man, quality changes.  

Also a case of a needed change, Mrs. Barrymore and everything about her character. She was supposed to be canon, but Kryuchkova’s husband (Vexler, the lead cameraman of the series) was already in the hospital recovering from a heart attack, and she was pregnant, and her script was nothing but tears and drama. So she decided to fuck this all and play her role with a smile, and the irl Mikhalkov/Adabashyan dudebro tandem helped. 

Also about line distribution, here’s a picture of Mrs. Barrymore speaking to Watson about the letter, accompanied by the text where Mr. Barrymore speaks to Watson about the letter.

She found it in the end, so why not give the text to her then. 

This script loves to call itself out, here’s the text of Henry and Watson discussing Stapleton’s fit, under a picture of Henry from the final cut expressing his angsty teen self on a horse.

That’s kinda even surprising to an extent that an adaptation that had so many changes from the canon in the end is still considered very faithful to the text. 

While listening to Frankland, Watson was constantly looking for a free chair to sit on, and never found one in the end. 

The real tragedy. 

The iconic “Love, Watson...” moment is nowhere to be seen in the script either, I’m starting to get really amazed. Who comes up with this then, who improvises this on the set? Who’d thought to insert a four second long scene of Livanov explaining love like he’s the creator of this universe? Honestly, this is fascinating.

By the way, a good story for me personally: Cartwright the most unfortunate boy of the series got to arrive home after all. Of course they had to cut it. We’ve no idea where he went. Maybe he’s still wondering around the swamp, keeping the hound legend alive. Who knows, certainly not the final cut.  

Double by the way, this script had a rather vivid imagination about special effects in the USSR. 

Yes! It was a dog, giant, pitch black. But no mortal has ever seen a dog of such kind. Flames were firing from its mouth, sparks flied in its eyes, sparkling fire was playing on its face and nape.

There was a whole story of delusional Maslennikov vs. actual SFX and canine experts on the set, which ended up with Maslennikov shooting an arrow up his ass or something along the lines, but yeah, definitely not happening, this setup. Let’s set a dog on fire lol k art 👊👊 sherlock holmes adaptation🎩 special effects 😱😱 baskerville hound 💀top quality 👌 (c) Maslennikov circa 1980s.

When a second flashback flashed and Hugo took his pants off, apparently the script says that his girl just fainted in the end. Yes, just fainted, and the guy was killed by the dog. Like pantsless “knight” Hugo was just checking out his bud who had a scar on her upper lip lying on the ground when the dog attacked. I dunno, the streaks of ketchup in the final cut suggest things did not end well for neither of them, but oh well. 

Apparently Holmes vs. Stapleton chasing scene was nowhere in existence, but instead we’d have to watch an unnecessarily graphic scene of Stapleton drowning.

 A soul tearing, dying cry from the depths of the night swamp interrupted the words of Mrs. Stapleton...

...Stapleton was drowning in the swamp. He was drowning slowly, twitching with his entire body, trying to grab the weak bushes of swamp grass. The more he fought for his life, the deeper the thick liquid was sucking him in. Bits of white fog were consuming him just as stubbornly as the swamp abyss.

Stapleton screamed loudly and beastly, and that’s why his face appeared to have the last final resemblance to his feral predecessor - Hugo Baskerville... 

yikes

well, at least the final directions are kinda cool, history repeating itself or something, more like dna is a bitch please don’t breed. 

By the way, even there in the script the dog was most definitely shot by Lestrade. I’m still fascinated by this decision, especially now when I know that this always was the original intention. 

“Precise shots of Inspector Lestrade in Devonshire”, she read out the big heading, “Is that true, Mr. Holmes?”

“Pure truth, Mrs. Hudson.”

“Is that true, Doctor Watson?”

“Sadly, yes!”

“Why “sadly”? “Times” always claims that this is the best Inspector of Scotland Yard”, the granny said with conviction.

Ah yes, the Mrs. Hudson’s crush plot. Also, Watson, fuck off and be jealous somewhere else, you couldn’t even, like, handle a pun. 

And just as the movie is about to hit the final credits, a completely unexpected turn follows. You’ve read this rather weird paragraph about Watson seeing a woman wondering around the swamps, right? Well, no wonder there, that’s Beryl, like who else would that be. Indeed, after a second hallucination like that it was her who emerged in the next scene. Then they go to Stapletons, Watson looks out the window and...sees a woman wondering round the swamps. My weirded out scare didn’t last long, that’s probably Laura Lyons? Who else might it be now, I guess it was a some sort of early exposition, why not. 

Several of those incidents come and go, it’s the climax, Beryl is safely strapped in a basement, Lyons is chilling home, Stapleton is about to drown, Holmes tries to chase him and...sees a figure of a woman wondering round the swamps in the distance. 

I tell ya this was the first actual legitimate scare I got after reading this, all this time it had a some sort of explanation, but not now, not in a situation like this. Then the flashback follows with that gal described having a scar on her upper lip, a weird detail to point out, but who am I to judge there’s a guy with no pants on. 

So literally the final minute of the movie, and it goes like:

“The fact that Stapleton stole sir Henry’s old shoe”, Doctor Watson remarked, “is a perfect evidence that we had to deal with a real dog, not with some mystic force.”

“Perhaps, yes”, Holmes replied, deep in thought.

Narrowing his eyes, the famous detective looked at the flame burning in the fireplace.

He saw a strange face of a woman - pale and mysterious, with a scar on her upper lip. The face turned away from Holmes and started disappearing in the white fog...

“Although, I don’t know, my dear Watson, I don’t know...”

??????

They had a ghost of Hugo’s chick wondering around the place for the entire movie

Jesus man, that is so creepy when I finally realised what was going on, they had a literal ghost, even like 0.3 seconds before the final credits?? A story about some mystical evil forces being proven bullshit accompanied by ghosts and Holmes hallucinating a victim long dead even back home at safe Baker Street. “I don’t know”, jesus christ what the hell and everyone kept seeing this on the swamps and she was everywhere jesus fuck 

Like what was I supposed to assume until the end, when it comes to the Hound you expect anything but this sort of shit to occur. A ghost, man. A literal ghost. Don’t tell me this isn’t the wildest script of them all. 

So here we go, the Hound of the Baskervilles. Pretty dark undertones it had, I suppose. Helps to sleep at night. 

#russian sherlock holmes #the hound of the baskervilles #christ how am i supposed to sleep after this finishing this

[feelingsdusk]

You asked for prompts, if you're still interested - BAMF!Stiles that shows everyone that he doesn't need saving, especially from Peter (who's simply smitten). Have a great day!

The best helping hand is at the end of your own arm.

Stiles can say without a doubt that he has never been the strongest or the fastest or the smartest, but he can also say that he has never needed to be saved either. He does that by himself just fine, thank you very much, because he may not be the est anything, but he's strong enough, fast enough, smart enough and, essentially, everything enough to take care of himself and the people he cares about.

And if he isn't, well, he finds a way, he learns, he gets better.

Okay, okay, he has to admit it takes him embarrassingly long to kick his ass into gear, but excuse him if the sudden knowledge of the existence of a whole new world has left him floundering for a bit... especially with attacks raining left and right on him apart from his usual school drama.

But enough is enough and it's time to get his ass into gear already. He draws the line at being kidnapped and tortured by a geriatric fascist and having to sacrifice his poor Roscoe to save people that didn't appreciate it afterwards, fuck you very much. Because Stiles is not like this, he doesn't let things catch him off guard. Where he's concerned, pre-emptive strike may as well be his middle name. Or if he does get caught off guard (because he may not be the smartest but he knows it), he always has backup plan after backup plan lined up to execute. In short, pre-emptive strike may be his middle name, but forearmed is his third.

With that in mind, when he can finally move without having his whole body protest loudly in pain, he orders three different rare species of aconite (ones that he knows will survive in California's weather) and he goes in search of his mum's gun. His dad gave it to her when Stiles was about five years old because a twerp that was angry at his dad tried to take it on his family. Needless to say his dad took steps to have them as safe as possible when he wasn't there to protect them and, despite her vehement protests, took his mom to the shooting range after making her get a license until she could hit on the target every time. Then he got her a Glock 19 (smaller and lighter than the 22 that his dad has in his safe) and a full case of 9mm hollow-point bullets. His mom wasn't happy at all, because she was against guns, so without telling him, she hid it where she was sure Stiles wouldn't accidentally find it, bought an almost identical BB handgun and went on with her life as normal. His dad never found out and since he never had the heart to go through her things after she died (Stiles was the one that painstakingly slowly moved everything to the attic), he never took the gun.

In fact, Stiles is pretty sure he doesn't even remember it, which works just fine for him, because he would have had to steal the one in his safe or find a way to acquire one illegally otherwise.

It's painful, both physically and mentally, and he ends up filthy in the process because neither Stilinski has set a foot up there since Stiles brought the last of his mom's belongings up while his dad was passed out in front of a bottle of whisky. It takes him veritable hours to find both guns and the extra bullets and pellets hidden in a box full of knitting patterns and needles and he flees the moment he has it in his hands.

He takes a shower and then filches his dad's cleaning supplies to take care of the gun. He hides it and takes her mom's BB handgun to practice in the backyard, because he can get access to more than enough pellets but can't afford to waste actual bullets. He has good enough aim but he has to be better for what he has in mind.

When the wolfsbane arrives he sets out to work with it. Because he's a vengeful bastard, he fills the empty space in the bullets with four different mixes of the three aconite he has and then seals the opening, careful to not mess up with its balance. He puts a tiny mark on each bullet's case to know which is which just in case an accident happens and then fills the two empty magazines he has alternating the kind. This way, even if someone manages to take the gun from him, they have a quarter of probability of actually getting the cure and three-quarters of poisoning themselves even more.

He tries to work out the be a spark thing but it's an utter failure other than for his ability to make the mountain ash function enough to make a barrier. The Internet doesn't help, no matter how much he tries, so he reluctantly goes to Deaton. The cryptic man talks in circles for fifteen minutes, gives him another pouch of mountain ash and then shows him where the door is. Stiles mentally gives the man a big fuck you very much and moves on to greener pastures.

He trains. Trying to get stronger is an exercise in futility when one's average opponents can lift a car one-handed without even breaking into a sweat, so he has to get smarter. Getting faster seems like a moot point too, but again, if he's smarter about it, it will help. And so, he concentrates on agility, on falling without hurting himself, on jumping without fear out of harm's way. Self-defense seems like a good idea, but without anyone to actually practice on (because Scott is in despair land being consoled by his new best friend Isaac and he hasn't called since summer vacation started... and Stiles is salty enough about it to not call himself) he's had to be content with just memorizing the moves.

A month into summer vacation, he learns from his dad that Erica and Boyd are still missing and he frowns.

It's not like he cares about them -Erica gave him a concussion with a part of his own car, Boyd treated him like an irritating pest and, more importantly, they both left him behind after he helped them out of the Argent's basement- but he heard them talking about going back to Derek last time he saw them and he doubts they're willingly putting their parents through a calvary while hiding cozily with their alpha after a whole month. Which can only mean one thing: there's more supernatural shit about to go down.

He decides to go to talk to Derek anyways. He doesn't fancy being pushed against walls just because the werewolf can't control his temper enough but at this point it's not like he has any other options and he needs to know if he's being paranoid or if his hunch is right to decide how to proceed.

As luck would have it, Derek is not the one at the loft.

"Are you stealing those?" he asks with one cocked eyebrow.

"Why, Stiles, hello to you too," Peter drawls. "FYI you can't steal what's already yours."

"Since you're officially dead, you don't actually own anything, though."

"Touché."

Stiles bends into an exaggeratedly pompous half-bow before turning serious and asking without preamble. "So, Erica and Boyd?"

Peter cocks his head as if he's found a particularly interesting puzzle and then smirks. Stiles braces himself.

"What do I get out of this?"

"Your continued survival?"

Peter laughs heartily and then smirks again. "Ah, I knew I liked you for a reason. What do you know about the alpha pack?"

Oh, boy.

"Say, Peter," he muses after the man brings him up to speed, "how much better is a werewolf's sense of smell and hearing compared to the ones of a normal wolf?"

Peter pauses and looks at him carefully, with an unholy gleam on his eyes. "Practically the same."

"Huh. Interesting. See you, creeperwolf."

And Stiles unceremoniously leaves.

So, according to Peter, they have combed the preserve and found nothing, which means that they must be hiding in one of the abandoned buildings around Beacon Hills or they would be drawing too much attention (if what Peter says of some of the members' appearance is true) to themselves. There can't be many of those around Beacon Hills, right? It's a small town after all.

---

Peter is at the loft too when Erica and Boyd crawl their way back with a surprising addition in tow. Derek and Isaac gape for a moment before hugging them tightly. Peter hovers at the fringes because the first thing that comes out of his nephew's mouth when Cora looks at him is he killed Laura.

(It shouldn't smart this much that Cora, whom was left behind just like Peter, stays put.)

They explain what happened... or what they know anyways. Cora was already captured by the time Erica and Boyd were imprisoned in the bank's vault. They were kept in a mountain ash circle and no moonlight would reach them, so they were slowly losing their minds. The alphas would rough them up every day and barely feed them. Then, today, just after they had been paid a quite painful visit, shots (the muffled kind that suggested a silencer) and screams started and continued until just one heartbeat remained. Whoever it was, they moved around a lot for a while and then they stood still. Then, several hours later, more shots and screams erupted before silence reigned. Once again, the person moved around for a bit before coming to the vault's door. They opened it but the werewolves didn't dare come out for fear of being shot too. However, just after leaving the door unlocked, the person left. After a while, Cora dared to peer outside and found the mountain ash line disrupted. Outside their former prison, there was a lot of blood painting the tiles and some walls, but no bodies at all. They hightailed out of there.

Five alphas that have annihilated pack after pack all around the country, taken down in a matter of hours by one single person. One person with enough steel in his core to not panic about having to dispose of five bodies when it's not even fully dark out now. Peter feels giddy with want.

(Unfortunately, nothing ever falls on Peter's lap, so if he wants, he's going to have to make sure he gets it himself.)

He slips out stealthily and wonders where his dear boy is thinking to hide the bodies. The answer is the Preserve, of course, so he makes a guess of where exactly that might be in there and then he takes off running. Then he thinks about it, stops to grab some curly fries (he sneers in disgust at the grease that seeps through the paper bag) and then he heads out again.

He finds Stiles grunting as he drags one body to a very deep pit that has been obviously prepared beforehand. Peter can't help the broad grin that splits his face. He grabs one leg and hauls it up one-handed and Stiles starts a little, letting go of the body to put him at gun point. Peter just tosses Kali carelessly to the pit and hands him the curly fries. Stiles blinks surprised for a moment and then rolls his eyes, holstering the gun. Peter leaves him there munching happily at the greasy monstrosities and goes to grab the last two former alphas to toss them to the pit. Then he helps the teen dose them with a concoction that has him sneezing the whole time before filling the hole with the soil that was separated to the side. Very cleverly, the topmost part of it has been carefully taken so as to not disrupt the grass on it, so when they put it back in its place, it looks as any other patch of forest floor.

Peter wants, he wants so bad.

He wants this ruthless yet caring boy. He wants his resourcefulness, his cleverness, his loyalty. Hell, he wants his cheekiness, his rough edges, his always running mouth and his stupidly spastic ways.

"Congratulations," he says instead. "But what about the darach?"

"The whassit?"

"The dark druid that has been preparing for a ritual on the Nemeton," Peter states simply.

Stiles stops where he was folding the newly clean tarp he used so that no evidence was left on his jeep. He looks at Peter, gaze penetrating and unwavering.

(He wonders if he's given himself out, if it's too clear that he makes people want to keep him around by making himself useful and indispensable, and he fidgets inwardly.)

"Isn't this something Deaton should notice right away?" Stiles asks suddenly and Peter blinks surprised.

"Indeed."

"Huh," he muses. "Maybe we should pay him a visit."

Peter grins.

#prompts '16 #anonymous #my fanfiction #teen wolf #steter