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THE BLOG(ish)

@independent-fics / independent-fics.tumblr.com

Just a lost girl, trying to find her place in this world•And who has a really extensive obsession with TV shows....•Independent-Fics on ff.net and AO3!
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Sterek Dead Boy Detectives AU: Derek and Stiles are detectives, taking on the cases with supernatural connections that the living aren’t capable of handling. They extinguish supernatural threats and helping lost souls find peace and move on to the afterlife… oh, and they’re dead.

Both boys never found peace, never moved on. Now they are on the run from Death, trying to help others find their peace.

A client contacts them to help her friend, Lydia, a clairvoyant who’s possessed by a demon.

They are able to exorcise the demon, but Lydia is left with no memories and no idea who she is except for her name. While Stiles and Derek argue about whether or not they let her stay with them (because the dead shouldn’t interact with the living), Lydia picks up a missing child poster and has a vision. The child is alive.

Lydia teams up with the boys to help them find the child, but things take a turn when Stiles uses magic on a cat, a misdemeanour that the Cat King demands he answer for. His punishment? He is trapped in Beacon Hills until he counts all the cats. That wouldn’t be too bad if they hadn’t also pissed off a witch. And, on top of that, they’re still hiding from Death.

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Cora: Why are you sleeping on the couch? Stiles: Because Derek and I had a fight. Cora: He made you sleep onthe couch? Stiles: No, the rules are - whenever we fight - whoever's wrong has to sleep on the couch for the night. Cora: *exaggerated sigh* What did you do? Stiles: I told him his husband sucks. Cora: ... But you're his husband. Stiles: And--?
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Harry Wilson and the legacy of Nathan Ford

Harry Wilson has heard the many legends and exploits of one Nathan Ford. The man is painted as a ruthless, cunning, unstoppable force of nature that Harry is mildly relieved to never have met. On the other side is the fingerprints he’s left on the team that aren’t so much spoken about as they are shown:

The way Sophie’s smile turns a little more genuine when someone mentions her late husband, the ever-present mask she wears cracking a little to show something a little more real.

The way Eliot gets frustrated sometimes and looks a little to the left of Sophie, as if expecting someone to be there and intercede on his behalf. As if he got used to having someone to complain to, commiserate with. Someone he could confide in and be a little childish with, too.

The way Hardison will pull off an amazing forgery, crack an impossible code, create a piece of tech that borders on science fiction and look around the room with a megawatt smile that dims a bit when he realizes the person who’s approval he’s looking for isn’t there. He goes from youthful jubilance to suddenly looking his age in a fraction of a second, but Harry don’t miss the turn. Harry don’t miss when his eyes went from wide-eyed excitement to a more subdued pride.

The way Parker seems to compare Harry to another man and then dismiss the thought entirely. Because Harry isn’t him, could never be him. She doesn’t seem disappointed or relieved, just neutrally accepting. He catches her talking to an old painting a few times. Talking to it like she’s seeking guidance. Hardison catches him watching her one time and says “She’s just rubber-ducking,” but Harry thinks there’s more to it than that. She tells Old Nate about her latest social interactions and asks why people behave the way they do. Her body language is different–more open, vulnerable. She is completely herself with the painting, unafraid of being questioned or laughed at. Comfortable in the belief that she won’t be judged or mocked. It tugs at something in Harry’s chest and he’s reminded of his daughter for a moment. Not because Parker is reminiscent of a child, but because she’s reminiscent of a daughter who has all the faith in the world that her dad will have all the answers for her. 

Nate Ford is a superhero he could never live up to and will never attempt to replace. Besides, the team doesn’t need another Nate Ford. They seem to be happy enough with the ghost of him. So Harry has two Nathans warring in his head: the relentless predator staking his prey, and the once-broken alcoholic who helped give a remarkable group of people a reason to stick together.

For many reasons, Harry Wilson is glad he never met Nathan Ford. The man who could and would have terrified him. The man he could never live up to. That is, until Sophie begins telling the story of one Jimmy Papadokalis and the memory of the most frustrating court proceedings of his life surface to mind. He surprises the team (and himself) when he suddenly yells out, “You mean Nathan Ford was THAT ASSHOLE??”

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