#rip to “Angel” by First Aid Kit which got bumped off because I just found “Arise” this morning and I fucking love CLANN

[kris-mage-fics]

URL Music

Thanks for tagging me @bi-stander!

K: The Koi Story (锦鲤抄) performed by Jiaju and Zongli

R: Renn by :LOR3L3I:

I: In And Out Of Love by Armin van Buuren feat. Sharon Den Adel

S: Surrender by The Birthday Massacre (cw: lyrics about stalking)

M: Middle Of The Night by Elley Duhé

A: Arise by CLANN

G: Good Behavior by Plumb

E: Everytime We Touch or Evacuate The Dancefloor by Cascada (Sorry I can't choose!)

F: Flower Maiden by Dzivia

I: I Miss You by blink-182 (cw: flashing lights, disturbing imagery, depictions of drowning, and spiders)

C: Concomitance by Anton Belov (bandcamp link since I couldn't find it as a single on youtube)

S: Show Your Fangs by The Crane Wives

By the way, a lot of these videos have the lyrics in the CC, description box, or in one of the top comments. Though I know some of the lyrics for "Good Behavior" are wrong.

Tagging @yuuugay (three U's might be hard, but I believe in you, Yuki!), and @georgiedoesntfloat (I'm sure you'll find some awesome songs!), and anyone who'd like to do this too! (Sorry for not tagging anyone else, I actually did like 96% of this two days ago then my brain decided it couldn't think of more people who like music and it hasn't been cooperating with me since. :/ Did I go overboard with the colors? Idk, but I'm leaving it.)

#I'd say this list is a fairly good representation of my totally random music tastes lol #rip to “Angel” by First Aid Kit which got bumped off because I just found “Arise” this morning and I fucking love CLANN #(I say that as if I've been a fan for a long time when the truth is I found them - and 2/3 of the music on this list - less than a year ago #you can pry cheesy 2000's dance music out of my cold dead hands! it got me through some rough times and it's still fun #is it just me or does “I Miss You” hit harder now than when it came out 20 years ago? wait wtf it came out 20 years ago?!?! haha I'm old #I still have every song on Chaotic Resolve (the album “Good Behavior” is from) memorized I listened to it so much after it came out #if you do look up the other songs on it be aware that “Cut” is about self harm and my take is that “Damaged” is about CSA but it isn't clea #it's the least Christian album from a Christian musician I've ever heard #I have a pretty hard rule to not listen to Christian music from a certain time period ever again but that album is my one exception #(there are good reasons for both the rule and the exception but that's a whole damn post on it's own to explain) #tag game #music

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Stella and the Wolf - Chapter 17

You can read it here on AO3 or find the Tumblr Chapter Index here. 

They take a back road out of the Preserve. Chris’s SUV handles it well, but Stiles can just imagine the thrashing that the undercarriage of Jackson’s Porsche is getting. He can’t bring himself to care though, because it’s Jackson.

He sits in the back seat with Derek, and swallows down two Advil from Chris’s first aid kit, and then hands the bottle back so that Chris can take some. Chris has been quietly bleeding this whole time too, and Derek doesn’t seem at all inclined to magic his pain away like he did with Stiles. Like he’s still doing, Stiles suspects, since their fingers are loosely linked together on the drive.

It takes a while, but they exit the Preserve a few miles down on Telegraph Road, and turn back towards Beacon Hills. On their way into town they pass a police cruiser, lights flashing and siren wailing, and Stiles knows that Dad’s car has been found, or is about to be.

He turns his face away and stares out the other window as the dark trees flash past.

The Beacon Hills Cemetery is on the edge of town. It overlooks the Preserve, but then so does most of the town. The Porsche turns off before they reach the cemetery, down a small road marked ‘Private’. Stiles has no idea where the road leads, and Peter pulls over before he can find out.

Chris pulls in behind him.

The night is colder, or Stiles’s previous burst of adrenaline has worn off enough that he can actually feel it, and the skin on his arms pebbles underneath the sleeves of his dress shirt.

Lydia, taking Peter’s hand as he helps her out of the Porsche, has her floaty silvery scarf thing wrapped around her shoulders.

A stole. Jesus. That’s what it’s called. A stole.

Stiles welcomes his brain back.

Jackson climbs out of the backseat.

“What’s the plan?” Chris Argent asks.

“You people distract her,” Peter says. “And I tear her throat out.”

Chris’s gaze is steady. “She came hunting an Alpha, Peter. She’ll be prepared. And she has hostages.”

Some of Stiles’s previous faith in Peter sours, and he shifts from foot to foot anxiously.

“Well then,” Peter says after a moment. “Let’s go and see where all the pieces are set up on this board, shall we?”

“Wait,” Chris says. “You kids, come over here.” He pops the back door on the SUV to reveal an arsenal. “Do you know how to use these?”

“Cop’s kid,” Stiles says, which doesn’t technically answer the question, but still. He reaches for the Colt Delta Elite. It’s nothing fancy, but that’s good. Stiles won’t get distracted by unnecessary bells and whistles.

Lydia and Jackson are a little less enthusiastic about taking theirs.

“Safety’s on,” Chris says. “Don’t point them at anyone unless you mean to shoot. It’s regular ammo, not wolfsbane.”

“Good,” Stiles says. “I’m not planning on shooting any wolves.”

He glances over to Peter, to see his approving smile.

***

The Beacon Hills Cemetery is over twelve acres of pristine, peaceful memorial gardens. Stiles remembers that from the brochure. The words have been burned into his brain since his mom’s funeral. He hated them then, and he hates them now. But what the brochure didn’t mention was how at night the grounds are less pristine and peaceful, and more creepy as actual fuck.

They enter via a side gate, sheltered from sight—hopefully—by a copse of trees. The bright moonlight that drew patterns for Stiles back at the Hale house seems like a hindrance now.

“Wait here,” Derek whispers, squeezing Stiles’s hand, and then he and Peter both morph into that strange half-shift and vanish into the cemetery grounds.

“It��s not going to be as simple as he says, is it?” Lydia asks softly.

Chris Argent shakes his head. “I doubt it.”

***

Kate and her hunter partner—buddy? compatriot? minion?—have Dad and Stella held at the Hale memorial. Stiles isn’t surprised. Neither are Peter and Derek when they return with the news. The Hale memorial, from what Stiles remembers of it from passing it to visit Mom’s grave, is a big granite block with the names of the family carved on it. They don’t have individual graves. Stiles used to think that was because there weren’t enough body parts to make it worth it. But that’s stupid, because people have buried less. Now, he thinks, it’s so they can be together always, like a pack should be.

He wonders if Laura’s name has been added to the memorial yet.

“The element of surprise,” Peter says, “such as it is, is Chris, and you three. She won’t be expecting you. Now even though I would personally love to rip her throat out, I’m not actually that much of an egotist.”

Chris snorts.

“If you get the chance to shoot her,” Peter tells them, “do it. She won’t be sporting enough to offer you a warning, so don’t make the same mistake with her. Derek and I will go back and get the car, and drive in the main gates. The four of you should circle around and pick your positions. Does that pass muster with a hunter, Christopher?”

Chris dips his chin. “It’s the best plan we’ve got.”

“Good,” says Peter. The moonlight gleams on his teeth when he smiles. “See you at the finish line then.”

And then he’s gone.

Derek holds Stiles’s gaze for a moment, the weight of his promise steady between them, and then he follows swiftly after Peter.

***

“This is not how I expected tonight to go,” Lydia whispers as she hunkers with Stiles behind an ominous stone angel.

“Right?” Stiles agrees, and checks he’s still got his gun.

***

“Shit,” says Chris Argent, and stops crawling.

Stiles bumps into him.

The Hale memorial is as huge as he remembers. It’s almost as big as the old family crypts on the other side of the cemetery. The memorial is a black granite block, almost a wall, and it stands a little apart from the surrounding graves on a slight hill. In the moonlight, Stiles can make out two figures sitting at the base of the memorial—one in khaki, and one smaller one in a plaid shirt.

Dad and Stella!

There’s a blonde woman standing over them. Kate Argent.

And there’s a man dressed in black fatigues rounding the base of the memorial as Stiles watches.

And… and then another man.

And another one.

Kate doesn’t just have one minion with her. She has three.

Chris was right.

Shit.

“There’s too many of them,” Chris says.

Stiles’s heart is thumping too fast. “Four of them, and six of us.”

“Three of us are high-schoolers,” Lydia hisses, which, point, but that’s Dad down there, and Stella. Stiles can’t just do nothing.

“We should call the police,” Jackson mutters.

Stiles balls his fists. “She is pointing a gun at my dad and my little sister!”

“Yeah, and if we fuck this up, she’ll fire it,” Jackson says.

Again, point, and Stiles feels the first threads of cold panic grip his chest. He doesn’t know what to do. There’s too much at stake, and he doesn’t know what to do. Lydia’s right. He’s just a high-schooler holding a gun he probably can’t hit a fucking thing with anyway.

He doesn’t know what to do.

And then he hears the roar of an enraged Alpha reverberating through the moonlit night. The hair stands up on the back of Stiles’s neck, and it doesn’t matter any more.

Peter’s made the decision for them.

***

Stiles doesn’t really know what happens after that. He’s there, and he’s taking part, but it’s like he’s suddenly incapable of making short-term memories or something, because he can’t put the pieces together. It’s like moving from A to B with no idea of how he’s doing it. He’s focused on following Chris, and on getting to Dad and Stella, and everything else—even the guys with the guns—somehow becomes background noise.

Three guys and Kate Argent.

The first guy goes down fast, because he’s looking at the direction the Alpha’s roar came from, and Chris shoots him in the back. He hits the ground, and he’s not even moving, and Jackson—who must’ve been watching some cop shows recently—stops to kick his weapons out of reach.

It’s like, okay, wow, they have a system and everything, and this could actually work.

Except it only works for that one guy, because that’s all it takes for the others to know they’re coming.

Stiles hears a pop, and Chris grunts and flinches back like he’s been punched, and it takes Stiles longer than it should to realize that no, he’s been shot. But Chris is a badass, because he just transfers his firearm into his other hand and keeps moving.

“Get down!” he says over his shoulder, and Stiles tumbles obediently into position behind a headstone.

Lydia lands beside him.

Jackson crawls behind the cover of the headstone over from them.

Stiles peers out from behind the headstone. Chris is still moving, and Peter and Derek are there now. Derek is still in his odd half-shift, but Peter—Peter is monstrous. The Alpha is a massive, misshapen beast, made of claws and fangs and fur, and as Stiles watches he digs those claws in under a hunter’s jaw, and snaps the guy’s head back.

Stiles should be horrified, maybe, but that’s two down.

Chris stumbles at last, and rolls behind a headstone. He sits up against it, clutching his shoulder.

So that’s one of the good guys—Stiles will set time aside later to figure out exactly how he feels about Chris Argent—down too.

Stiles can see Dad and Stella. Dad’s leaning over Stella, shielding her, and Stiles can’t see why they’re not taking shelter on the other side of the memorial. Why aren’t they moving? They need to be moving.

Stiles shoves his gun into the waistband of his dress pants.

“Stiles!” Lydia hisses.

But Stiles is already scrambling out from behind the headstone and running for Dad and Stella.

He hears a roar, and registers vaguely that it’s Derek. He glances over toward him, and sees him grappling with a hunter. Derek’s got this, right? He’s got this. Because Stiles has to get to Dad and Stella.

So that’s two hunters down, and Derek’s occupying one, which leaves Peter to attack Kate, just like he wanted.

It’s working, right?

It’s working.

“Stiles!” Dad yells at him, and somehow Stiles hears it as the warning it is, and hits the ground like he’s diving for home on the baseball diamond. There’s a strange sound right above him, a small whoosh like the sudden displacement of air, and holy fuck, she shot at him. She shot at him! Stiles really shouldn’t be so surprised, given what he knows about Kate Argent, but he’s sixteen years old, and this is the first time he’s ever been shot at.

It’s a learning curve, apparently.

He rolls to his feet somehow, still moving, and sprints up the slope of the hill towards the Hale memorial. He lands on his knees beside Dad and Stella, jarring every already-bruised bone in his body.

“Stiles,” Dad says, and raised his hands toward him.

His hands are cuffed. So, Stiles realizes, are his ankles. Stella isn’t cuffed, but she’s burrowed in to Dad like a tick, and Stiles figures she’ll be twice as difficult to dislodge.  

Stiles pants for breath. He’s here. He made it.

Except Dad looks horrified to see him. “Stiles.”

And Stiles doesn’t need to have seen as many cop movies as Jackson to know what the sudden press of cold metal against the back of his skull is.

#Stella and the Wolf #sterek #discontentedwinter #my fics