Draw this family is addictive, f****! Well, the whole Hale family walkin together through Beacon Hills. Uncle Peter, who looks as a young adult, give a piggy back ride his favourite niece :D
UNFAIR.
just workin’ on some really painful fuckin’ feel so i’m staring at this
FBI Stiles AU
The FBI is on the hunt for a serial killer who tags his victims’ bodies with triskelion tattoos. Agent Stiles Stilinski is lead investigator but gets kicked off the case when his superiors find out about his history with one of the suspects. Ignoring orders, Stiles turns to Scott to help him clear Derek’s name and stop the real killer…
Teen Wolf cast promotional photos
I CAN’T DO THIS. I THOUGHT I COULD DO IT, BUT I CAN’T!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LOOK AT STILES WITH HIS LONG DYLAN O’BRIEN HAIR!!!!! IMPOSSIBLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
lydia is sooooo pretty omg
Having them all look in the same direction except Derek makes it look like they’re all looking to Derek. Like he just busted in on a pack meeting and said something dramatic and heroic and everyone looks intrigued except for Scott, who’s all, “Bitch, please, this is my pack.”
Teen Wolf Spoilers: Scene from season 3 at Wonder Con 2013
I am trying SO HARD TO RESERVE JUDGMENT but fuck I hate fight scenes where people like STAND AROUND WAITING TO GET HIT. I’m sitting here at my computer holding back a scream of JESUS FUCK DEREK DO SOMETHING. STILES’ DAD IS JOHNNY CAGE YOU KNOW HE CAN GIVE YOU SOME MOTHERFUCKING TIPS OR SOMETHING. (Did you know I fell in love with Linden Ashby when I was a child on account of his fighting skills? True fact.)
OMFG, now I want a fic where Sheriff Stilinski is in fact a world champion martial artist and when he finds out about werewolves and becomes a part of the whole thing he’s like, “I know you have claws and everything and that’s definitely an advantage, but has anybody ever taught any of you how to actually fight?” And then he ends up teaching like, Advanced Martial Arts for Wereidiots. (Seriously though, if the pack bothered to add real-world fighting skills to their super strength they’d be SO KICK-ASS.)
My BFF asked for this exact story and I even undertook a rewatch of Mortal Kombat and everything in order to get it written but I’ve only got a few thousand words on it so far and so maybe someone else should write it and then I can just enjoy reading it and not have to do all the work!
My version included the pack + Stiles racing to rescue Sheriff and arriving to find Sheriff standing in a circle of unconscious bad dudes, Stiles not being aware his dad (and his mom!) was a kickass martial artist, and the pack spending so much time with Sheriff and idolizing him so much that Derek gets butthurt.
And also the pack creating a list of Chuck Norris-style “facts” about Sheriff.
Someone who is not me should write this.
Like, right away.
I’m sorry, all I’ve gotten out of this thread is the possibility that Stiles’ mom is Sonya.
everything makes a crazy sort of sense now.
There were reasons why they’d stopped. Why they settled down under the radar in a quiet little northern Californian town. Most of them began and ended with their son, but he hadn’t been the only reason. They’d wanted to protect him. They’d wanted to protect each other.
In the end, it hadn’t been enough.
But now there were Wraiths here. In his goddamned town and everything that he’d buried raged to the surface. Everything that he was itched beneath his skin, aching to be released.
“You’re in my town now,” he said, cracking his neck. Some of them grinned, salivating like he was fresh meat. He was old and unarmed to their eyes, but they would remember. John would take great pleasure in reminding them. “Let’s dance.”
He hadn’t fought like this in years, but it was like finally being able to breath again as he let them all charge at him at once. Ameteurs, he thought as he used them against each other. The sharp crack of impact was loud in the forest, and John used the terrain to his advantage until there was only one left.
Bent in half, he spit blood through a smile of cracked teeth. “I know who you are. I remember you now.”
“Then you know why you should never come back.” There’s blood on his hands, in his mouth. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to feel so fiercely alive. “You can tell your buddies the same.”
The smile splits wider. “Johnny Cage and his little wife Sonya.”
John snorts. “She’d’ve kicked your ass for that.”
“But she’s not here, is she?” he makes a tutting noise and all of John’s muscles lock in place. Sonya’d usually been the one to fall for taunts (before going on to wipe the floor with someone) but John wasn’t immune. Not when they used her against him. “She died slowly. Painfully. Screaming into the Netherrealm. Where she still screams today.”
“Only tainted souls enter the Netherrealm. My wife wasn’t tainted.” Of that he was certain, but the words were hard to force out through a dry mouth and a throat gone tight.
“Not without help.”
He didn’t remember charging, but the white hot pain his his ribs snapping blinked him back into focus. He could hear the Wraith taunting him again, but he didn’t listen. He could hear people coming, the noises they made as they followed the trail of bodies.
He could hear his son’s voice, urgent and full of fear, crying out for him.
“You’ll never find her,” the Wraith gasped, John’s hand closed over his throat. “Not alone. I can take you to her.”
“You don’t seem to understand your position here,” John said, as Stiles and what sounded like several others burst into the clearing. “This is not a negotiation.”
“Then what is it?”
John tilted his head to the side and said without emotion, “This is where you fall down.”
His neck snapped with a soft pop, his body sliding to the forest floor. John took two deep breaths before he turned to face his son.
Stiles was looking at him like he’d never seen him before, and John had to look away. He scanned the faces of the others: some were expected, others were a surprise. Most were still partially shifted and John thought back to the past year and a half and werewolf slotted in so neat with everything that he was actually kind of disappointed that he hadn’t thought of it himself.
“Dad,” Stiles said, soft and pained, and John turned back to him. “What?” he waved a hand at the bodies, at the destruction and John shifted, wincing.
“You’re hurt.” It was Derek Hale, the kid he’d tried to arrest for murder twice, who stepped forward first, sliding his arm behind John’s back to steady him. “We should get you to a hospital.”
That seemed to break Stiles’ trance and he hurried to John’s other side, half bracing him and half clinging to him. “You’re in so much shit right now, dad, I can’t even tell you,” he muttered, and John raised an eyebrow.
“Glass houses, kid,” he said, hobbling forward. “Or did I just miss the conversation where you told me about werewolves?”
He listens to Stiles babble excuses all the way back to the car, but the floodgates have opened and somehow everything about the last year and a half gets crammed into the twenty minute drive to the hospital, Stiles half turned around in the front seat and Derek’s hands white knuckled on the wheel.
John knows he’ll have to do his own confessions. Knows he’ll have to make it soon, because the minute he’s healed he’s going to have to explain to his son why he’s going away. Why he may never come back.
Because if what the Wraith said is true, if Sonya’s still alive and fighting in the Netherrealm, then John is going after her. And he’s not going to stop until he finds her. Until he brings her home.
Teen Wolf Anastasia Crossover: Ten years ago Gerard Argent sought to kill the Hales, the royal family of Beacon Hills. Only he failed, two of the Hale children survived, Laura and Derek. Derek and Laura were separated and Derek doesn’t remember who he is, only that he carries a small key around his neck that belongs to something important. Enter Stiles, previously employed by the castle as a kitchen boy while his father worked for the castle guard, he hears of Laura’s reward for finding her brother and sets out to hold auditions for ‘Derek’. He happens across Rek (Derek) and together him, his best friend and cohort Scott, travel to meet Laura, teaching Rek the ways of Royality in hopes of convincing Laura that Rek is her long lost little brother. Neither of them are prepared for the outcome of their adventure.
Allison: How did you escape the castle?
Derek: *frowns* There was a boy…he opened a wall..*shakes his head* Sorry, that…that sounds weird..
—
Stiles: He really is Derek…
Scott: What do you mean, of course he is!
Stiles: No, Scott… I was that little boy…I got them out..
Scott: So then, we really did it?
Stiles: ….yeah…
Whew. This was fun. Each scene is based off a scene from the movie. I can always post the individual pictures too, if people are interested.
In a time of treason, is the time for trust.
He died on a Thursday.
It had been raining for three days when Ruiz got a call about a 415 down by the old Archer Motel. Word was that the place had been sold, but none of the repairs had been started yet, so mostly it was just a pile of musty old rooms and a couple of outbuildings that were falling apart. When it had been on the main road out of town it had been pretty popular business for travelers or for people who didn’t want to be seen at the hotels in town, but when the new highway got built business tanked and eventually the owners cut their losses.
Now most of the calls were about high school kids there to get drunk, get high, or hook up, and occasionally all three. Ruiz sighed and practiced her stern, disapproving face as she turned onto Old Cedar Road, running through the usual script in her head, which didn’t hint at all at the fact that she’d hooked up a couple of times out here herself.
The fifteen years since hadn’t done the hotel any favors. The roof sagged badly at the south end and she wouldn’t be surprised to find it caved in one day soon. There weren’t any lights on, of course, the electricity having been cut off years ago, but there weren’t any flickers from candles or flashlights that she could see either.
Her brakes whined as she drove slowly around the building, the cruiser’s headlights doing nothing to break through the underbrush of the surrounding forest and she sighed heavily, not looking forward to doing a room by room search, when she caught the gleam of black metal.
The car was tucked behind the building right up next to the back entrance and half hidden by a dumpster, but even through the rain and the bad lighting Ruiz could see the plate number. She didn’t even have to run it to know who it blonged to. They didn’t get a lot of APB’s put out in a town this size, and certainly not the same person twice.
“Shit,” she swore under her breath when she recognized the jeep parked drunkenly next to the Camaro. Another plate she didn’t need to run.
She sighed and tugged up her hood, switching on her flashlight as she stepped out into the wet. She was two feet from the door when she heard the scream: a tangled mess of pain and fear that came from the woods, and she turned on her heel and was running before she’d consciously made the decision, her gun already in her hands.
The roar chilled her blood, but she concentrated on breathing and the solid grip of her weapon in her hands. Her eyes darted around at every shadow, but she still almost tripped over the body, her mouth clamping shut to stifle her yelp.
It was grotesque: face bulging in odd places, lipless mouth open in a snarl. It was also very, very dead, its chest covered in shocking red, like someone had tried to pull all of its insides out.
Ruiz blinked and swallowed back her instinctual revulsion, her gun swinging up at the noise and movement from across the clearing. The circle of her flashlight showed only a body on the ground and another one leaning over it and for a moment she thought she was witnessing a second murder.
“Police,” she said, voice hard and steady. “Stand up and put your hands behind your head.”
There was a whimpering noise, but the crouched body didn’t move, and Ruiz stepped closer, blinking rain out of her eyes.
“Sir, I need you to step away.”
She could see him now: his face pale against the shadow of stubble, his hair black and plastered to his head. He didn’t even look up at her, murmuring words too low for her to hear against the sound of the rain. But she could hear the choked off noises of the man beneath him. She could hear the whimpers and…
“Oh, Jesus,” she whispered as she recognized him, her gun lowering from sheer shock.
He jerked, body twisting in pain and Ruiz could see now where his clothes had gone dark and heavy with blood. Could see where Hale’s stained hands were pressing against him, trying to keep it inside. “Stiles,” Hale snapped when the kid’s eyes began to close, his voice like a knife.
Her heart was still hammering in her chest, but her hands didn’t shake as she lowered her weapon and used her left hand to pull out her radio. “Dispatch, this is Officer Ruiz, badge number 162, we have a Code 10 at my location. Repeat, Code 10 at Archer Hotel off of Route 5.”
“Copy that, Officer Ruiz, medical team has been dispatched.”
“Look at me,” Hale was saying, his bloodied right hand now pressed against the kid’s cheek. “Just stay with me, help is on the way.”
“Derek,” he choked out, hands curling weakly in Hale’s leather jacket. “You have to promise.”
“Just shut up,” he snarled abruptly. “You’re not going to die here.”
“You have to promise,” he insisted, hands going white knuckled.
For a flickering second the kid looked strong again, almost glowing with vitality, but then Hale nodded and Ruiz blinked and the kid was slumped and coughing weakly.
“Thanks, I wish…I wish,” his face crumpled in pain, tears coming unbidden to his eyes and Ruiz’s throat went tight, her eyes stinging in sympathy.
“Stiles. Stiles!” When the kid didn’t respond Hale made a wounded noise and pressed his forehead against the kid’s.
Ruiz had taken training in grief counseling, but they hadn’t really covered how to handle a grieving man who may or may not have basically eviscerated another person only moments before.
She cleared her throat and said, “Mr. Hale?” He ignored her, his breathing going so ragged he might have actually been sobbing. “Mr. Hale, I-“
He shifted, his mouth closing over the kid’s. Not kissing, not really, just pressing there, and Ruiz opened her mouth and then closed it without saying anything. She blinked, but the dark streaks moving over Derek’s hand and face remained, pulsing steadily like a heartbeat.
It was only when the kid opened his eyes that Ruiz realized he’d been breathing easier. Hale pulled back, the marks disappearing from his skin and the kid’s mouth lifted at the corners as he traced red fingers over where they’d been.
“Thanks,” he said, soft and gentle, all the tension in his voice gone.
Hale’s mouth trembled when the kid traced over it with his fingertips. His voice broken when he spoke. “You have to hold on, Stiles. Just…please. They’re almost here.”
“I know, I can hear them.”
Ruiz could too, she realized, and then hesitated for a moment before she turned decisively and walked back to the hotel. Standard procedure meant that she should keep eyes on Hale, but she could give them a moment.
Hale’s voice was a low, fading murmur as she moved away. “Just stay with me, Stiles, please. You have to stay. You have to-“
She tilted her head up to the sky as the sirens drew closer, the rain going soft and salty with tears.
Laura Hale (Madison McLaughlin), Talia Hale (Alicia Coppola) and Derek Hale (Ian Nelson).
CANNOT DEAL
LEAVE ME HERE TO DIE
GO ON WITHOUT ME
OMG. Seriously? DUDE. (And s’official. Derek looks like his Mom. *sob*)
UGH, retiring to my attic bedroom to claw madly at the wallpaper while sobbing, mouth open. When you hear about the room they found where someone had written in a harsh, crabbed, alien hand, over and over, the walls, the ceiling, the floors, scrawled in eyeliner on the mirror, stabbed into the couch pillows, THIS IS WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A WOLF THE BITE IS A GIFT THIS IS WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A WOLF THE BITE IS A GIFT, think of me.
The raven is sometimes known as “the wolf-bird.” Ravens, like many other animals, scavenge at wolf kills, but there’s more to it than that. Both wolves and ravens have the ability to form social attachments and they seem to have evolved over many years to form these attachments with each other, to both species’ benefit.
There are a couple of theories as to why wolves and ravens end up at the same carcasses. One is that because ravens can fly, they are better at finding carcasses than wolves are. But they can’t get to the food once they get there, because they can’t open up the carcass. So they’ll make a lot of noise, and then wolves will come and use their sharp teeth and strong jaws to make the food accessible not just to themselves, but also to the ravens.
Ravens have also been observed circling a sick elk or moose and calling out, possibly alerting wolves to an easy kill. The other theory is that ravens respond to the howls of wolves preparing to hunt (and, for that matter, to human hunters shooting guns). They find out where the wolves are going and following. Both theories may be correct.
Wolves and ravens also play. A raven will sneak up behind a wolf and yank its tail and the wolf will play back. Ravens sometimes respond to wolf howls with calls of their own, resulting in a concert of howls and calls.
Not to make everything about Teen Wolf or anything, but this means that Stiles is the Raven, right?