Is ‘fat’ really the worst thing a human being can be? Is ‘fat’ worse than ‘vindictive’, ‘jealous’, ‘shallow’, ‘vain’, ‘boring’ or ‘cruel’? Not to me.
I like Parrish because he’s just a ‘go with the flow’ type of guy like
Ninja killing people? Okay.
Someone bombs the police station? Okay.
Suspicious boy turning up at a demolished home and his finger prints come up for a much older man? Mmmkay.
Pretty little lady in a house where a family died in and finds a meat locker full of dead people? Gee, this lady is pretty.
Pretty little lady a psychic? Okay.
Sheriff looks suspicious at times? Mmalright.
sterek au: stiles takes his kids to saturday morning tutoring, and finds himself quite interested in the art teacher.
idk i had the need for derek being an elementary school age art teacher, and stiles being a single father who becomes rather smitten with the hot art teacher in the stupid apron with smiley faces on it.
Scott ran ahead in a burst of energy, but Lydia gripped Stiles’ hand and refused to go any further. Stiles halted right outside the door of the Hale’s Educational Center and looked down at the top of Lydia’s red hair, her face buried against Stiles’ leg.
“What is it, berry-bug?” Stiles squatted down in front of her, and Lydia gripped his t-shirt and used it to obscure her face. Stiles ran a hand down Lydia’s braid and tugged on it gently. “This isn’t like you. You’re not shy.”
“I don’t want to go,” she whispered.
“I thought you wanted to go to art class while your brother went to tutoring.” Stiles rubbed his hand along Lydia’s back, and after a few moments, her hands loosened around his shirt and she pulled back to look at Stiles. She rubbed her eyes with her fists.
“I don’t know anybody, Daddy,” she whispered. When she removed her fists, her eyes were red and damp. “What if they don’t like me? What if they make fun of me because I’m smart like the kids at school?”
Stiles sighed and took her small hand in his. “What did I tell you about those kids at school?”
“To ignore them,” Lydia said. “And that I can be smart and be a beautiful princess.”
“Darn straight,” Stiles said, and Lydia giggled softly. “I can go get the tiara out of the car if it’ll help you feel better.” Lydia nodded, and Stiles grabbed her hand and led her inside. The front desk girl, Cora, smiled when he came in. “Can you watch her for a quick sec? We left something very important in the car.”
Lydia watched him with wide, watery eyes and a wibbling lip, and Stiles just hoped she wouldn’t start crying before he got back with the tiara. Most kids had blankets or stuffed animals they couldn’t be without, but not his Lydia. She always had to have her tiara.
A minute later, Stiles returned with the silver sparkly crown. Scott was holding Lydia’s hand as he talked to his friend, Isaac, and the two girls he “thought had cooties,” Allison and Kira. They had cooties so bad that Scott didn’t shut up about them for days after each of his tutoring sessions. The girls were smiling and talking to Lydia, and she was smiling shyly, while pressed against Scott’s side.
“Lydia,” Stiles said gently, and when her gaze landed on the tiara, her face lit up. Stiles set it on her head, making sure it was secure before readjusting her braid. “There you go, my strawberry princess.”
Lydia threw her arms around Stiles’ neck and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Daddy,” she whispered.
“I love your tiara,” Kira said.
Allison looped her arm with Lydia’s. “My dad bought me a Katniss costume. But he wouldn’t let me wear it today.” Stiles watched fondly as the three girls walked into the art classroom.
“This isn’t a playroom,” someone said from beside him. A dark-haired man with stubble and broad shoulders was glaring at him. Stiles would have felt threatened if the man didn’t have pink paint smeared across his cheek and wasn’t wearing a yellow apron with smiling suns on it.