- The ability to be the ‘spark’. While this may sound strange and hokey, it has been proven that Stiles has the capability of willing certain types of magic/lore to work with enough hope/imagination. This isn’t a gift solely his alone (it appears that humans are capable of it), he’s learned how to use it--at least with mountain ash.
-Intelligence. It’s clear that Stiles has more than the average amount of intelligence, and he uses it to the best of his ability. He tends to put things together quickly and manages to be right most (?) of the time.
-Sarcasm. That totally counts as an ability correct?
Items/Weapons: A metal bat. A gun with a full clip. A bag of mountain ash.
There used to be an old myth that if you were falling in a dream and you didn’t wake up before you hit the ground, you’d die in real life.
The dreams also symbolize insecurity, instability, anxiety.
They signified a sense of failure or inferiority in some circumstance or situation.
Stiles had been having a lot of dreams like that, lately. Ones where he barely wakes up before he hits the ground--or instead of the ground it’s water, and he only starts to drown.
Because hey, he’s never going to get just one nightmare. It’s going to be a nightmare within a nightmare. A nightmare-ception.
Stiles had honestly hoped that after everything was said and done, after the horrors of the Charon, of Zelien, after the fucking Chuthulu gridmark god shit, they would get to go home. That things would be okay, even.
Well not ‘okay’, but better than the ‘ I’m probably going to die today in a horrible, bloody, ‘oh god they are going to find my body parts strewn throughout the town’ way he had been feeling lately.
He still felt like there was something that he had missed; that everything had been a bit of a hollow victory, for him. Sure, they had won the fucking day. Sure, the COMPASS people said they could go home. That they finally ‘beat the game’, and could go home to Beacon Hills. But...from everything Derek had told him, from what Lydia told him--whatever he had been going home to? Was going to be a mess. A horror show the likes of which he hadn’t seen.
Well, hadn’t seen until showing up in COMPASS experiments, that is. But from what he understood, he wasn’t going to remember this place, going home. The friendships he had made...how he had changed, all of that would be pulled away from him.
That understanding that things were going to change, no matter what he did--that had to be the cause of the dreams, right?
So when the dream started again, after Stiles stepped through the portal, that was going to take them home, he didn’t think anything of it. It’s just how it had to happen, right?
Except this time, as he rushed towards the ground, he felt as if his eyes were wide open. Stiles threw his arms out in front of him, screaming “Wake up! Wake up!”
And wake up he did.
To a bed, in a strange room. With five other beds.
“...what...the fuck.”
Stiles started to untangle himself, pushing himself into a sitting position to look around himself. This? Looked nothing like his bedroom. Or home. And as he brought his hand up to his face, he felt the three scars sliding along his face. Signs of his time under COMPASS’ yoke.
Forcing himself to standing, he ran a hand over hair, trying to keep himself calm. He hadn’t had a panic attack in a while, and he was not going to have one here. In a place that wasn’t home, that didn’t look like a COMPASS place, either. How the hell did this happen? How did he get--
--how did it go wrong?
“Okay, just think Stiles, think--”
He muttered to himself, trying to sort this out. So he was stuck in a weird place (again), and he wasn’t sure if anyone from home (or Zelien) was with him--or if they had made it home. That left him with two options from his random set of knowledge. He was either stuck in some weird sci-fi/fantasy type thing (again), which meant that wandering might be okay. People might even be around--you know, a friendly half-goat man, or something.
Or he was stuck in some weirdly themed slasher trope (again), which meant that wandering was going to get him hacked into little pieces. Because guess what? He wasn’t a virgin, anymore. And non-virgins always died.
First thing, look for some sort of marker--something hint at where you are.
Stiles let out a breath and forced himself to focus; turning 180 degrees..but found nothing. Nothing, yet.
no subject
- The ability to be the ‘spark’. While this may sound strange and hokey, it has been proven that Stiles has the capability of willing certain types of magic/lore to work with enough hope/imagination. This isn’t a gift solely his alone (it appears that humans are capable of it), he’s learned how to use it--at least with mountain ash.
-Intelligence. It’s clear that Stiles has more than the average amount of intelligence, and he uses it to the best of his ability. He tends to put things together quickly and manages to be right most (?) of the time.
-Sarcasm. That totally counts as an ability correct?
Items/Weapons: A metal bat. A gun with a full clip. A bag of mountain ash.
Sample Entry: here
Sample Entry Two:
There used to be an old myth that if you were falling in a dream and you didn’t wake up before you hit the ground, you’d die in real life.
The dreams also symbolize insecurity, instability, anxiety.
They signified a sense of failure or inferiority in some circumstance or situation.
Stiles had been having a lot of dreams like that, lately. Ones where he barely wakes up before he hits the ground--or instead of the ground it’s water, and he only starts to drown.
Because hey, he’s never going to get just one nightmare. It’s going to be a nightmare within a nightmare. A nightmare-ception.
Stiles had honestly hoped that after everything was said and done, after the horrors of the Charon, of Zelien, after the fucking Chuthulu gridmark god shit, they would get to go home. That things would be okay, even.
Well not ‘okay’, but better than the ‘ I’m probably going to die today in a horrible, bloody, ‘oh god they are going to find my body parts strewn throughout the town’ way he had been feeling lately.
He still felt like there was something that he had missed; that everything had been a bit of a hollow victory, for him. Sure, they had won the fucking day. Sure, the COMPASS people said they could go home. That they finally ‘beat the game’, and could go home to Beacon Hills. But...from everything Derek had told him, from what Lydia told him--whatever he had been going home to? Was going to be a mess. A horror show the likes of which he hadn’t seen.
Well, hadn’t seen until showing up in COMPASS experiments, that is. But from what he understood, he wasn’t going to remember this place, going home. The friendships he had made...how he had changed, all of that would be pulled away from him.
That understanding that things were going to change, no matter what he did--that had to be the cause of the dreams, right?
So when the dream started again, after Stiles stepped through the portal, that was going to take them home, he didn’t think anything of it. It’s just how it had to happen, right?
Except this time, as he rushed towards the ground, he felt as if his eyes were wide open. Stiles threw his arms out in front of him, screaming “Wake up! Wake up!”
And wake up he did.
To a bed, in a strange room. With five other beds.
“...what...the fuck.”
Stiles started to untangle himself, pushing himself into a sitting position to look around himself. This? Looked nothing like his bedroom. Or home. And as he brought his hand up to his face, he felt the three scars sliding along his face. Signs of his time under COMPASS’ yoke.
Forcing himself to standing, he ran a hand over hair, trying to keep himself calm. He hadn’t had a panic attack in a while, and he was not going to have one here. In a place that wasn’t home, that didn’t look like a COMPASS place, either. How the hell did this happen? How did he get--
--how did it go wrong?
“Okay, just think Stiles, think--”
He muttered to himself, trying to sort this out. So he was stuck in a weird place (again), and he wasn’t sure if anyone from home (or Zelien) was with him--or if they had made it home. That left him with two options from his random set of knowledge. He was either stuck in some weird sci-fi/fantasy type thing (again), which meant that wandering might be okay. People might even be around--you know, a friendly half-goat man, or something.
Or he was stuck in some weirdly themed slasher trope (again), which meant that wandering was going to get him hacked into little pieces. Because guess what? He wasn’t a virgin, anymore. And non-virgins always died.
First thing, look for some sort of marker--something hint at where you are.
Stiles let out a breath and forced himself to focus; turning 180 degrees..but found nothing. Nothing, yet.
Damn it--
“What the hell is going on...”