A sudden rainstorm crashes into Beacon Hills' Pride Art Festival, creating three very different love stories beneath the same storm.
Isaac & River: As a half-selkie, River thrives in the rain, feeling more alive than ever. While everyone else runs for cover, River embraces the downpour, and Isaac can't help but admire them. The rain leads to a passionate kiss and a reminder that Isaac loves every wild, beautiful part of who River is.
Derek & Stiles: Stiles spends the entire storm complaining about being soaked while Derek patiently deals with him in classic Hale fashion. Taking shelter beneath a tent, Derek reassures him with quiet affection, teasing, and subtle compliments until Stiles finally admits the rain isn't so bad, as long as Derek is beside him.
Peter, Chris & Noah: Peter strips off his shirt and treats the rainstorm like he's a dramatic weather god sent to bless Pride personally. While Chris is thoroughly exasperated and Noah endlessly amused, Peter flirts with strangers, makes shameless innuendos, and generally causes chaos. Beneath the teasing, however, is a genuine reminder of how much the three men love one another.
When the storm finally passes, a brilliant rainbow appears over the festival. The couples reunite with kisses, laughter, and affection. River and Isaac sharing a quiet moment, Derek and Stiles finding comfort in each other, and Peter, Chris, and Noah proving once again that their love is equal parts devotion, humor, and absolute chaos. Together they celebrate Pride beneath the rainbow, surrounded by friends, family, and the people they love most. 🌈❤️
all the unresolved sexual tension and years of looking but not touching between them i just know sterek’s first kiss would be heated as HELL like the grip. the passion. the moaning. the desperation. derek pulling stiles into his lap and holding him there like he wants to keep stiles here forever. stiles whimpering and clinging to derek like he’s afraid to be let go. his fingers accidentally leaving marks on stiles’ waist. derek saying “open your mouth” and get back to kiss stiles violently, they kiss like they’ve been missing each other their entire lives i am NOT well at all
for the wip game i just gasped out loud at "van life" WHAT IS VAN LIFE I NEED IT
man I got reaaaaaaally into this idea when I was in a rut/procrastinating on my last longfic - basically the premise is that Derek is a van life guy and content creator, and he has a shtick. (see snippet below hehe) Stiles is a streamer/gamer who watches Derek's content. I got all the way up to writing them meeting randomly and deciding to hang out, and then I sort of lost the plot/couldn't really figure out what was gonna happen next........... other than smut, obviously *shrug*
here's the beginning i wrote a while ago!!! 💕
Derek has a shtick. It’s sort of hokey, he knows, and maybe it’s a little weird, but people have much weirder internet personalities than guy-who-takes-shirt-off-for-charity.
It started mostly on accident. Cora is Derek’s social media manager, the person who edits all of his videos and runs his Instagram and Twitter pages, and she was the one who insisted that he record his scenic workout when he was camping in the Grand Canyon. It wasn’t, at that point, completely unheard of for Derek to post videos of his workouts, but he’d always done it fully clothed, and it was mostly so that he could highlight his progress as he got stronger. Then, on a sunny day in Arizona, he recorded his workout without really thinking about the fact that he was shirtless—and the clip went sort of viral online. Not just viral among the van life people that knew Derek, but viral among a lot of other communities too. It was the most successful video Derek had ever made.
So Derek started using that to his advantage. If the algorithm pushed shirtless videos, and if people wanted to see him shirtless, he would be shirtless for the videos that were most important to him.
Derek travels full time these days. It took him about a year to build out his van the way he wanted it, but now he maintains a PO box in the Midwest and just drives around, wherever suits him. He makes videos everywhere he goes, usually just to show off whatever’s local—small places, off the beaten path, away from the tourist traps. And in a lot of the videos he makes, he talks about local charities and projects that are trying to restore nature or protect and rehabilitate wildlife; nowadays, he makes those videos shirtless, always introduced by a minute or two of him working out. Because they get attention, and that’s how he helps places raise money.
It’s earned him somewhat of a reputation. But it’s also generated a lot of support for causes that Derek cares about, so he’s not really embarrassed about it. Besides, he only has about 700,000 subscribers, and his videos aren’t that popular. Although Cora has sent him a couple interesting fan-made videos that she calls “thirst edits,” which appear to be compilations of his shirtless form set to music.
He honestly doesn’t think about it that much. It’s just what he does. He likes to travel and he likes to make videos and it’s not like he needs a job, so he might as well raise awareness for good causes, even if it means he sometimes pimps himself out on the internet. He’s aware that people talk about his body—that’s sort of the point. He’s not ignorant to that. But he also doesn’t seek it out or try to engage with people about it. It also helps that Derek largely stays away from comments and social media sites, so Cora can block weirdos and help him protect his peace.
Cora doesn’t usually send him those comments. Until his Twitter page is apparently bombarded with hundreds of messages about a streamer who referenced him in a video recently. Cora sends him a clip apparently cut out of a larger stream, and tells him to watch it.
It’s a guy—a guy who looks like a video game streamer, definitely. He’s sitting in the exact kind of setup that Derek would expect, all neon lights and fancy chair; there are a pair of dogs sitting in big beds behind his chair but visible on camera, one German Shepherd and one smaller white mutt, who looks like some kind of terrier. The streamer is in his mid-20s, white, with high cheekbones and a smattering of beauty marks, as well as a charming, almost goofy sort of smile. He’s handsome, Derek thinks, but he plays video games for a living, which means he might be a total piece of shit.
“—my algorithm knows I have a thing for hot, shirtless guys with a heart of gold,” the streamer is saying with a smirk. “Yeah, I’ve seen him. Goddamn Derek On the Road—”
That’s Derek’s online handle.
“—was, like, made in a factory specifically to appeal to me. But he’s gotta be everybody’s type, right? I mean, unless you’re, like, a fascist who hates hot guys? Even lesbians think he’s hot. He’s, like, sexy without being aggressive about it. Like Mr. Darcy.”
Such commentary isn’t entirely new to Derek, but it’s…flattering. Maybe this guy’s not so bad.
He seems to pause while he reads messages in the chat, smiling the whole time. Then he continues, “Yeah, I don’t think the shirtless thing would work well for me. I’d probably blind all of you—and then how would I pay my bills?” His eyes move again and he hums as if deep in thought. “Well, I could probably be convinced to get shirtless for charity. I’ll hit the gym for a solid month. And maybe a tanning salon. And we’ll support some, like, really sick cause.” As if on cue, the German Shepherd yawns with a whining sound, and the streamer laughs. “Okay, yeah, something for dogs. Rowdy said we have to.”
Derek is smiling by the end of the clip, which was probably Cora’s goal. So he sends a thumbs up emoji to signify that he saw the video, and then asks her who the guy is.
>His name is Stiles. He plays a bunch of random games, he has nearly four million followers
Jesus. That’s a fucking lot. Four million people watch him play video games?
>That was from yesterday’s stream and you already have 250 new subs
Huh. Well. Derek doesn’t mind that.
The streamer—Stiles—has a nice voice. Seems like maybe a good sense of humor. Maybe Derek will watch some of his videos.
God sometimes I'm writing smut and I'll like, delete a sentence because I'm like, no, I can't write that. It's too indulgent. And then it's like. Girl, what the fuck are you even going to the candy store for if you're just going to buy raisins. Get real.
Imagine Grace defined his name as the elegance definition of grace and Rocky spends years thinking how fucking ironic this clumsy leaky space blobs name is.
Until Grace slips out a sentence along the lines of "could you give me a little grace here" and Rocky immediately points out he used a word wrong so Grace has to explain that yeah, grace means elegance but it can also mean mercy sometimes too.
And Rocky has to suddenly reconcile that the clumsy leaky blob that saved his life twice, that almost certainly doomed himself to come back for him, name is Mercy.
Do yall wanna hear about the time I was truly honestly shocked by own stupidity?
I'm gonna tell yall anyway.
So for those who're following me, yall know I love me my Teen Wolf. I tend to blame @doyou000me for this because she sent me one TW fic by an author and I was hooked on this silly werewolf and his human.
Now a few months have passed and I know a lot of authors who write for this fandom and I devour these fics. I have written my own Teen Wolf fics and one of them has actually been gifted to a few of these authors, including the one whose fic I first read.
I read all the new fics and the old ones, and sometimes I want to go back and re-read some of those amazing fics.
Which is what I decided to do last night. I wanted to re-read that very first TW fic. So I typed in the author's name. Which I know because I've gifted them a fic.
But there's nothing. No one shows up on ao3.
I think it's a glitch. So I think "hey, let's just use the link where I've gifted them the fic. Maybe I've just typed the name wrong."
Still nothing. No fics.
My heart's in my throat. My fingers are clammy. I think "no. no no no, they cannot be gone! The fics can't be gone!"
Even typing in the name of the fic gives me nothing and I am distraught. I am heartbroken. I am voice messaging Doyo my misery and my pain because the author who brought me into this fandom is gone.
This morning I wake up and the hurt is still there. I think why did they leave? Are they sick and tired of the bots, the AI, the terrible people in fandoms that make life so difficult?? If so, I understand but god, does it hurt.
Suddenly I have a thought. I have another friend, to whom I'd sent this very fic months ago when she'd asked how I suddenly got into Teen Wolf. And I think that maybe, just maybe... that link might give me an answer.
I go to my friend's messages. I search for the link. I find it. I click on it with half a prayer in my heart.
The link works. It takes me to the fic.
I think: is this a fluke?? Let me move it to the external browser.
It still works. I click on the author's name. It takes me to their profile, to all their fics.
I am overjoyed! I am amazed!! I am checking to see why the hell I couldn't find the fic-
I wrote the name wrong.
This wonderful author is named Waddiwasii.
I missed one i. One fucking i.
And I never fucking realized.
I even wrote the name wrong when I gifted them the fic!!!!
When i tell you i have never been so fucking disappointed in myself oh my god. I told Doyo and I'm pretty sure she hasn't stopped laughing.
I was feeling agitated and artblocked yesterday so I decided to give my brain a rest by watching TV and then the next thing I knew these were in front of me
When my mother forgets a word, she is the queen of coming up with new words. Words that would take a third National Treasure movie to fully decipher. I was talking to her yesterday, and she said this: “You know the time for los jibbities is coming up. You must be so excited!” Oh, is it time for los jibbities already? I must have missed it on my calendar. Are we celebrating something? “Of course! We should all be celebrating, shouldn’t we?” OK, so los jibbities is a happy thing. It’s not like something is giving you the heebie-jeebies, which would have been my one and only guess. “Los heebie-jeebies? Now you’re making things up...and this is my show.” You’re right. The time for los jibbities is coming up. Is this a season? “Yes, the season for love. The season for pride.” OK, los jibbities. “Yeah, sound it out.” Los…jibbities. LGBTs! “Sí, mira cuz you’re gay!” “You couldn’t just say pride season? You couldn’t just… *laughs*
I've seen this clip many times, but never really appreciated the power of "what was her problem?" Just casually assuming that lesbians come in a wide variety of shapes and being inclusive. As a transbian who is probably still closer to Homer shaped than to my ideal, that's huge!
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