virtuous suffering;

if you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?

[batmanofbeaconhills-archive]

   Good. If there was one thing Stiles was hoping to achieve, it was at least ruining Jennifer’s coffee.

                          He hoped it was bitter and tasteless.

                                              Like her soul.

               He was limited to what he was capable of doing while in public and sitting in a coffee shop. Eyes narrowing slightly, he watched in silence as she laid the book she had been reading down flat on the table, eyes not straying on it for too long before they were back on her face. The agitation that had already begun to fester in him only became worse when she spoke, the tone of voice she was using towards him reminding him too much of a certain Mr. Harris.

                                  He had liked her better as an innocent, naive English teacher. She had been less of a threat. Less of an annoyance.

             Because at the moment, all she succeeded in being was a constant reminder of a situation where he failed to help keep his dad safe.

                                        She fucking stabbed him. Among many other things.

    Head tilting up a bit, Stiles did what he could to reel his anger in, but it was practically fizzling underneath his skin — as if it was wanting to literally burst out of him. He hadn’t gotten the chance to get back at her. He had wanted so badly to take that bat and swing it into her face, but wasn’t able to, because she had been the only person who knew where his dad was. It was so frustrating. It was still frustrating, even when his dad was probably working and sneaking in fast food that he’d chew him out for later on when he found the crumbled up wrappers in the back seat of the car, haphazardly hidden away.

      Eyes rolling he finally shook his head, giving Jennifer his first response to her words after letting silence settle over them. She was playing a game and despite how much he didn’t want to play along —

                             He knew better than to cause too much of a scene.

    “How about you take those stupid sunglasses off your face.

                               Or is the fluorescent lighting in here too bright?”

[deliverancefromsin]

       "Not nearly-- but I like them. The lady at the store said they make me look classic." She pauses. "But then again, she's paid to say that, isn't she?"

       Laughter flows forth, and she traces the rim of her cup with a polished finger.

                                                "How about you lose the attitude, instead?                                                        Maybe then we can get somewhere."

       And they're getting nowhere, when she could be finishing her PSL and finishing another chapter in Agnes Grey. It's one thing to have her cover blown, and another completely to have her day ruined-- which Stiles is well on his way to making happen. She can handle damage control, but that doesn't mean she'll enjoy it.

[viscumx]

                         It’s an accident. His father has sent him out to do rounds — rounds that don’t involve weapons or defense or anything, really, just that he drives to make sure that the places the Alphas had been are still safe, undamaged, untouched in their absence. Stiles figures that his father has reason to be paranoid. It’s still so soon.

                                           Yet of course he finds the very beast most responsible for that paranoia in the warehouse she was meant to have been killed in.                    Why is it impossible for the people they kill to just stay dead?

His body, half out of the Jeep. half in, tenses all over, and fuck he doesn’t have a weapon. Note to self, Stilinski, it’s Beacon Hills: always carry a weapon, it’s never safe. Honey hues narrow, a tongue pokes out to trace his lower lip. Tension oozes off his body, but there is no fear. Only hatred. Only the pure, unadulterated heat of revenge boiling in his tainted veins.

                       ”Should have known. You couldn’t stay dead the first time, why should you stay dead this time?”

        There are questions niggling at the back of his mind; why is she alive, how did she survive, why did the fucking dumb as hell bitch return to the place where she’s most wanted? What’s that saying again — the perpetrator will always return to the scene of the crime?

                                                Stiles wants to hurt her.                Longs for the feeling of her tendons snapping beneath the pads of his fingertips. Wants to hear her begging for him to please, please let me go, please, Stiles. While he just keeps tearing,

                                                   and tearing,

                                                                    and tearing at the flesh on her bones.

                      If he had the means, he’d do it. Perhaps that’s the Darkness Deaton had mentioned. Perhaps that’s what’s making him think and dream of these things. Or maybe he’s finally tipped over the edge of his oh-so fragile sanity.

                          “The only thing I’m curious about is why you’re standing here talking to me like I’m supposed to care about anything you have to say.” A malicious scowl passes over his face.

                               {    Bloodthirsty.    }

                                   ”This isn’t a game of chess.”

   Everything about her body screams for him to run. She seems ready to pounce. Intending to be threatening.

          Well here’s a plot twist for you, Jennifer Blake: Stiles isn’t your prey, and he isn’t scared of you. Not anymore.

         ”I’m kind of busy right now, you should leave and save your glorious, villainous speech for someone who gives two flying fucks.”

[deliverancefromsin]

      "Be glad that this isn't a game of chess," she says easily, friendly. "If it were, this?" --she gestures between them, superiority radiating in the simple curve of her wrist-- "This would be checkmate."

       The thing is, she doesn't impress easily. Not anymore. She's met dozens of teenage boys-- Stiles fits the mold fairly well. Sure, he's got defining characteristics, ones that spark her attention; but he's not a one in a million prodigy like Scott. On a black and white board, he may not be so quickly sacrificed as would a pawn, but as far as pieces go? His own nature limits forward progress.

                     An unfortunate weakness.

                                                                                                  ( Everyone has one. )

       "Of course if you're busy, I won't keep you.               --But not here.          I was here first."

                                       ( The words are borderline playful, and her expression matches.                                              Neither hide the threat just below the surface. )

[pureandobscure]

Visit Original Link

[raisedtoxfight]

              It’s not that the waver in her voice goes unnoticed, but Cora’s far too busy trying to piece things together to even give it a second thought.

                        “I thought you were dead.”

             There’s no beating around the bush, obviously — the girl hardly thought Jennifer would forget having her throat slashed by Deucalion, and Derek wouldn’t have a reason to lie to her about that.

                                            Still, it was hard to put a puzzle together when the pieces didn’t belong to her.

              A glance was shot back and forth across the seemingly empty parking lot before an eyebrow raised towards the woman, not questioning the outfit just yet.

                                     ”What are you doing here?”

[deliverancefromsin]

       "Well, I was. Sort of," Jen admits, making an effort to offer something of a smile. "But things took an unexpected turn in my favor and" --she spreads her fingers wide, elbows bent awkwardly, presenting herself like some kind of magic trick-- "here I am!"

                                              She couples it with a laugh, anxious and abrupt.

                            ( For all it's vague, it's the truth. )

       Clearing her throat, she drops her hands and uses them to compulsively smooth the fabric of her skirt, as if it could have wrinkled during the few moments she stood there.

       "Do you plan on mentioning this to Derek, by any chance?" she asks in lieu of answering questions about her motives. It's not like she wants to lie to Cora-- so she'll just avoid it altogether.

[halethropyarchive]

        Shock is an easy way to knock him back and that’s exactly what her words do to him. They leave him in shock.

                                                        Your uncle already tried that.

        Peter? Why? Certainly not for Derek. Or, Deucalion. Or, anybody besides his own selfish wants. It leaves his face crumbled in curiosity for a good ten seconds before it stretches back into the hardness his features had been in once before. Because, that only momentarily knocks him back— it doesn’t leave him like so. 

                        “I’ve always been better than Peter at cleaning up messes.”

        Those are the words he chooses and he feels the bitter taste of them as soon as they leave his mouth. They ring so untrue to his ears. Derek is horrible at cleaning up messes. He’s horrible at trusting people. He’s horrible at nearly every single thing he’s ever done in his life, and it’s left him broken; defeated. It’s the reason he’s so angry right now, looking in the eyes of yet another girl he fell for who betrayed him. Maybe she didn’t leave him for did, but, she used him. So, before she had the chance of wrecking his life any further— he left her for dead. 

           However, as it seems, things were terribly hard to kill here in Beacon Hills. 

                     [ Third times a charm.                        He tells himself this.                        As some kind of mantra to just do it.                        Break her neck.                        Tear more into the flesh that couldn’t probably take much more damage.                        Kill her. ]

        But, he feels himself relenting at his own words even as she taunts him with hers. Derek only momentarily squeezes his hand before he tosses her to his right and away from her, allowing his fist to collide in the wall and make it shake with vibrations as a growl rips through him.

                                        “Why are you here, Jennifer? Why don’t you just disappear from Beacon Hills? Make everybody’s life easier?” 

[deliverancefromsin]

For a moment, when his hand leaves her-- she thinks maybe, he can forgive her. Maybe, they can talk. Maybe, she can forgive him.

       But it's a single moment and nothing more than a wasted opportunity, because in the next she collides with the ground, aches sparking along her spine, along where thin bones poke at the skin.

       ( She's always been skinny, and it's never worked in her favor when it comes to bruises, to fights. Her sacrifice-supplemented healing factor has since exhausted itself, too, so the pain welling into black and blue smudges will linger long after Derek does. )

       A push and she can bear her weight on her elbows, her forearms; but she stays down.

                                                                             For now.

       There's only so many times she can be knocked and shoved and abused. It may sate something in Derek to act violently against her, but she has a limit of what she can take, even for his sake.

       And if there's anything she understands, it's strategy, and retreats don't always end in final failure.

       "Why do you think I'm here?" she asks, head yet bent, gaze locked on where her palms spread flat on the concrete. "Why on earth would I stay, in spite of the bad blood, the bad memories?"

       She swallows: it weighs on her more than she may ever admit to walk down the street and see the faces of families she's devastated with her sacrifices, to go through her daily routine and know without a doubt that every person she's ever cared for wanted her dead, even now wants her gone. Contrary to popular opinion, Jen is still human. She has weaknesses-- many of them. So, so many of them. One of the worst stands only a few feet away.

                     But everything comes at a cost, and she doesn't regret her choices. 

       As Machiavelli once said, the ends justify the means.

                                          ( Julia struggles, where Jennifer does not. )

                            "Just whose life would I be making easier if I left?"

[mccallonme-deactivated20131207]

     When people died, they were suppose to stay dead. But Scott learned that wasn’t always the case — not in his life time. Jennifer had successfully managed to fight death once again, and if it wasn’t for the fact that very close people to Scott had died, Scott would be gritting through his teeth about why in the world wouldn’t she just stay dead.

          “That’s not why I’m here.”

     He answered quickly, and in a matter-of-fact tone. And in that moment, Scott cursed himself for always finding hope in people. It seemed a lot easier to kill them, and move on with life — in fact, that urge, at that moment, was the hardest one for Scott to fight. His fists clenched as his sides as he tilted his head slightly upward.

          “I wanted to make sure you knew who to stay away from.”

     Derek. It was blatantly obvious who Scott was talking about. But others fell under it: Stiles, Lydia, Allison… Anyone who was put through the hell ride that Jennifer conducted. Eyebrows knitted together; it was time to put his best (or maybe worse, should he say) intimidation face on.

               ”—Or I’ll personally make sure of it.”

[deliverancefromsin]

Her nose wrinkles, bunny-like and deceptively innocent. "Jumping straight to the threats, I see," she grimaces. A different tack, then.

       And honestly, if anyone's safe from her, it's Derek. She doesn't understand why Scott's so concerned-- she and Derek are good for each other. They bring out the best in each other. Why is it that she's the only one who sees what a perfect pair they make?

       Reconciliation still rankles with the rest of them-- the only forgiveness she wants is Derek's. The only apologies she wants are from Derek. But those will come at the cost, because none of them have learned yet what it truly means to be pack, and to betray pack. At this point, she knows that if she asks Derek to choose between her and Scott, between her and any of them, she'll only be disappointed.

                                                              ( So it's a good thing, then, that she has a  p l a n . )

       "I understand that you're an alpha now, Scott, but I thought you of all people would realize that being an alpha doesn't automatically give you the right to tell others what to do. That would be an abuse of power."

       "Your power only extends as far as your pack."

[deliverancefromsin]

halethropy:

                Apparently the dead come back with a strong punch. Literally.

        His lip feels busted for the time being as he grits his teeth, wild eyes finding his attacker as he tries to swallow that not only is Jennifer back from the dead— but, she seems pissed at him.

        In hindsight, he did turn his back to her when she trusted him. But, her trust hadn’t been the only one broken in this situation. It ensures that he lunges for her, a growl rumbling in his throat as he extends a hand to grasp at her jaw and slamming her into the nearby wall. His eyes flash to their blue color, canines growing out, but, he’s able to keep the change just at that rather than transforming completely. 

             ”Leave now, or I’ll finish what Deucalion started.”

                           Empty threat. But, she didn’t need to know that.

She doesn't know why she did it.

       Except yes, she does. She just wishes she didn't.

                                                  ( You didn't look for me.                                                        You didn't want me.                                                            You chose the man who single-handedly                                                             ruined my life over me.                                                      You brought me to life only to let me die. )

       Julia still wonders if it's because her beauty can't even be called skin-deep.

       Jennifer... Jennifer doesn't give a fuck.

                                                                                   --Or, at least, she can pretend not to.

His fingers dig into her skin, unrelenting and harsh, and if she closes her eyes she can pretend that they're a safeword away from cocoa and a Lifetime movie. However, she's realistic enough to recognize that anything she says will only anger him further.

       The bright side: maybe she'll bruise, and she'll have something to remember him by for a little while.

       Strains of breath escape her as her lungs creak against her ribs, pinned to the wall as she is. Even so, even constrained as she is-- Jennifer huffs a soft laugh. "Your uncle already tried that."

                          As much as she can, she cranes her neck: baring it to him.

                                        A  c h a l l e n g e .

                                                            "I like my chances."

[smellitthenlickit]

[candypriceless]

Visit Original Link

[deliverancefromsin]

                     "Not the Hale I've been expecting, but I'm hardly disappointed."

       With a scarf about her head à la Grace Kelly and designer Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses covering the better part of her face--hiding in plain sight, Jennifer, they're worth the hefty price tag--only the upturn of the corners of her mouth, the apples of her cheeks offer the warmth with which she delivers the words.

       The car keys in her hand dangle loosely, and to make a point, she drops them into her purse; the door to her plain, functional white Prius goes untouched.

                                                   "I'd thought you both left," she says,                                                         and her voice strains just enough to betray her.

[daughterstobeleaders-archiv-blog]

     Honestly, she wants nothing more than to shoot an arrow through the brunettes skull. Not for the comment about her having two men, because it doesn’t even phase her. She wants nothing more than to make sure that the woman stays dead this time, but it’s not her place.

       She rolls her eyes, arms crossing over her chest, “Maybe if you would stop using people as sacrifices you might have all of those things. You know that isn’t what I meant.”

           ”Last time I checked you were dead, so I’m curious as to how you’re here.”

[deliverancefromsin]

       "Oh, Allison," Jennifer sighs, indulgent and very much feeling the weight of the difference in their years. "The sacrifices didn't take anything from me. They gave me a means to protect. The deaths were a necessity, for the greater good. You see that, don't you? Do you think the great Demon Wolf can say the same about the people he's killed?                                                                                Your friend Boyd, for example?                                                                                        Maybe Erica?"

       Just thinking about it makes her teeth  g r i n d . To know that the alphas have wrought more havoc, taken more lives, yet are forgiven, let to roam free as if they aren't murderers, as if the deaths they're responsible for had a purpose beyond selfish greed.

       "I wanted to help you, to keep anyone else from ever falling in the wake of their insatiable thirst for glory. But no, I was the one who got her throat slashed.                 Death was my reward for trying to keep any more lives from being ruined--                     but thankfully, it didn't stick."

       She smiles--more than a little sarcastic around the edges--holding up an entwined index and middle finger. "The Nemeton and I, we're kind of like this."

[batmanofbeaconhills-archive]

    It was a face he hadn’t been expecting to see. 

                                    Ever.

    Up until now, Stiles had satisfied himself with the thought of Jennifer Blake being no longer of this world, having up and disappeared the night Scott and Derek finally rid of her and Deucalion — and it had been silent after. The silence had been welcoming. It was something that Stiles hadn’t thought he’d be able to witness again and he embraced it for however long it chose to stay.

            Worry about the Darach had been lifted from his shoulders. His dad was safe. His friends were safe. Everyone was safe.

                   But then…

    He walks into a coffee shop with the intent on getting caffeine into his system but instead finds himself looking at the familiar features of a face he couldn’t of ever expected to see again.

    Common sense would of been him taking his phone out and instantly shooting Scott or even Derek a text message to let them know of her existence still… existing. They had all assumed Death for her; and clearly they had all been wrong. Inhaling a short, quick breath, Stiles decided to go against common sense (it only made things more difficult and going with his gut instinct was a lot faster). His feet took him across the space between them and he was settling himself down in the chair in front of her carefully and warily moments later, not falling for the aura of supposed innocence she was putting out by reading a book - and wearing sunglasses - at all. This woman was not innocent.

                 She spoke once noticing his presence, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

    “You’re real casual about this.” He snarked back, shifting back into the wooden chair and ignoring the jitter in his leg. It was the nerves, as well as the adrenaline rushing through him.

                “Are you enjoying your coffee?”

                              His brow raised, his lips pressed together, and there was no real sincerity to those words. He hoped the coffee tasted like shit.

[deliverancefromsin]

"I was."

                   ( Pumpkin spice latte, actually. Extra whip, extra espresso.                         Gotta take advantage of the season's flavors while she can. )

         She sets the book down flat, exchanging it to wrap both hands around the large, white mug before her, to take a slow sip.

         The shades stay on, to give her an edge. She doesn't anticipate letting anything slip, but she also has learned to be prepared. Besides, she's partial to the enigma. --And the afternoon sun is still uncomfortably bright for fall, sheesh.

       "Is there a reason I shouldn't be casual, Mr. Stilinski? I know running into teachers outside of school grounds can be awkward, but since I'm no longer employed at BHHS, I didn't think it would be a problem."

       --She's condescending, of course she is; but she's spent the better half of a semester observing him and his friends in their natural element. She knows how each of them works, how they tick. She knows that Stiles can talk in circles and the best defense is to beat him at his own game.

        Jennifer places the mug back on the small dish it had been served on, the porcelain meeting with a definitive, challenging clink.

[deliverancefromsin]

WHAT MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER WHEN YOU ARE IN A BAD MOOD?

   The usual:

          Nutmeg-dusted cupcakes.               Patrick Swayze movies.                   The pained cries of they who have wronged me, and many others like me.                             …Derek.

                                What can I say? I’m a simple girl with simple needs.

[deliverancefromsin]

     "Mr. Stilinski," she grins, lips spread enough that her teeth flash, white and threatening. A carefree laugh and an apologetic nod follows as Jennifer corrects herself:                     "Stiles."

       Oh, Stiles. She sees more than a little of herself in him-- in the way he hovers perpetually at Scott's side, in the way he boldly asserts himself with wolves, in the way he trusts them enough to refrain from maiming him irreversibly. Funny, isn't it, how he remains hesitant of Derek, oh so good Derek, yet unconditionally keeps faith in his best friend. 

     ( Naïve little Julia once had faith in her own best friend. Still does, if she's honest, even after the multiple attempts on her life.                                                           Jennifer gets it, for all she knows it's a mistake. )

    "So, you found me. But for what reason?"

                She takes a step forward, clasping manicured hands loosely in front of her.

                          "Come to threaten me? Oh, or question me?"

                                       A grin.  

               "Curious about my motivation?                       About my power?                             Or maybe you've finally recognized all this for what it is:                                                                                                                                 a game."

       Jennifer crosses her arms over her chest, shifts her hips to one side: though subtle, it screams predatory, in control. 

                          "If this is a game... I do believe it's your move, Stiles."

[deliverancefromsin]

       There hadn't been pictures of her at Derek's place.

       Actually, there'd been no indication that Erica ever was-- beyond one of the many shadows that darkened her hero's heart. He didn't like to talk about those things, and she never pressed.

                    ( They both had enough demons to want to hide from them, for a while. )

       The blonde sticks out the way a confident woman comfortable in her skin usually does. Julia would have envied that ease, the naturalness with which she exudes beauty and personality and everything a man could want.

       Jennifer, on the other hand-- Jennifer may not know faces, but she knows scars.

                                       Especially Derek's, more intimate than maybe even her own. 

                                                                                 ( --or so she thinks. )

       And so she adopts her most casual manner, one that's in all honesty more Julia than Jennifer.

       A nervous hand tucks a brown lock behind her ear as she steps forward, smiling meekly. The other gestures down at the beta's feet, shoulders rolling as she shrugs, friendly and easygoing.

                          "I love your shoes. Is it too weird to ask where you got them?"

[deliverancefromsin]

             And the paragon of Alpha-hood has managed to sniff her out. Impressive.    

    "Scott, what a pleasant surprise.           I hope this isn't about your final essay? What with having my throat slashed open by not one, but two werewolves, well, that's not really my jurisdiction anymore."

       A smooth chuckle hums past her lips, not bothering to disguise the bitterness, the vitriol. He sided with a deceitful murderer, her murderer, twice over-- and what's worse, took Derek with him. Scott McCall intrigues her, of course he does: he's someone who can achieve such a legendary status at such a young age, someone who can earn Derek's trust while simultaneously acting against him.

       But Scott McCall has also declared her beyond hope, unworthy of his or Derek's consideration, and let a monster walk free without a single penance for his crimes.

                        Jennifer Blake does not make the same mistakes twice.                                 He won't get the better of her again.

                    ( The sooner he realizes it, the better. )

[daughterstobeleaders-archiv-blog]

         She doesn’t want to think about the last time she saw Jennifer Blake.

                                { Now this is a sacrifice. }

Allison doesn’t know the details of Jennifer’s demise. All she knows, and all she cared about, was that her Dad was safe. After almost losing Lydia and almost losing her Dad ( along with Stiles’ Dad and Scott’s Mom ) Allison’s not exactly Jennifer Blake’s biggest fan. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out.

      Still, even if she doesn’t know every detail of the woman’s end, she knows there was an end. Scott had told her about everything with the leader of the Alpha pack and how Jennifer was gone too. After Scott and Stiles had joined her in the surrogate sacrifices she was sure that was the last she’d hear of her again.

          She knows that brown hair. She would never forget Jennifer’s face.

 ”What exactly do you want?”

           No use in asking how she was alive. Nothing ever stayed dead in this town.

               [ Gerard. Peter. Now Jennifer. ]

[deliverancefromsin]

       At Allison's voice, she goes still. A turn--with just the right amount of fumbling to keep up the general aura of harmlessness--and she's facing her former student, appraising her with sharp eyes.

      "What everyone wants.              A steady income, a roof over my head-- wouldn't hurt to throw in a handsome man to keep me company, too. You'd get that better than anyone, though, right? Seeing as you've got two on your hands."