Abilities/Powers: Stiles is completely powerless in terms of might, magic, and wolfiness. In his own words, he’s “147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones, sarcasm is [his] only defense.” He’s also somewhat prone to panic attacks and, though we’ve only seen it rarely, asthma attacks. In a lot of the episodes, he’s being protected by his good friend Scott or his good frenemy Derek – but he’s done his fair share of saving as well. It’s not a skill per se, but he’s extremely brave for being he who runs with werewolves and all. His smarts help quite a bit as well.
Sample Entry Two: [aaahaha so I hope you don’t mind me using an amatomnes sample. No sex involved, he’s just landed on the island of misfit sextoys and attempting to figure out what to do with himself.]
Sex-or-die collars, libido affecting curses, the idea that he’s going to have to bump uglies with a bunch of attractive strangers if he wants to survive—Stiles reacts to it all as he does with anything else that comes his way: he doesn’t. Or it may be more accurate to say he’s ignoring it, refusing to let it affect him, because so much of it is just too unreal for him to process, and he’s the dumbass who runs alongside of werewolves and gets threatened by reptilian death monsters, so. It’s saying a lot. And really, no one is asking him to write his feelings about the place on paper (that he knows of), so he can freely, happily push it to the back of his mind. And it’s kind of simple, because yeah, the leather fucking chaffes a little, but it’s not like it’s tight, right? He has a week or so until he actually has to do anything about it, and damn, that’s seven whole days to prepare his essay on Sex Islands and What They Do to The Human Psyche, a Dissertation by Stiles Stilinski.
But for now? He can zip his collar up underneath his big red hoody and… what, exactly.
All he knew was that he had to get the hell out of that room before he had a panic attack. Not that it wasn’t a nice room, thanks for the good night’s rest, but the last thing he knew, he was on the lacrosse field, and he’d just won them the championship. He did. He can’t help but let out a nervous laugh at the thought of it, because that’s—it actually happened, he’s pretty sure. If he can believe he’s been suddenly transported to another islandy dimension, well, actually playing in a lacrosse game and scoring the final three points really ought not to be that much of a stretch. Except in the way it kind of is, he’s actually more convinced about his predicament than he is of the lacrosse game, but he’s pretty sure he didn’t imagine that oh my god I’m doing this feeling, because hey, it doesn’t come up often enough that he can afford to just forget about it.
And the best part? Lydia was there. His dad was there, everyone was freaking there—
And now he’s here. And his heart is pounding again just thinking about it, this is why he had to leave the room earlier, he just can’t focus on home right now. Specifically, on not being there, being where his dad and friends are, and with the devils he knows so dearly. He couldn’t breathe in the room he’d arrived in, with the realization that he wasn’t where he should have been, let alone discovering the concept of survival here.
Oops. Right. Not thinking about it. Probably a good time to move away from the temple entirely, and this is a perfectly good dirt path his sneakers have found, why ignore it, right?
It’s kind of nice here, if the whole collar and trapped forever problems are ignored, and yes, they are, Stiles doesn’t need to remind himself anymore. But really, it’s kind of pretty, and nothing like he’d ever seen before. His first thought when he saw all of the architecture that he’d landed in Greece, like, maybe ancient Greece, and he’d started to rattle off a list of all the gods he could remember and what they stood for, both their Greek names and their Roman updates, just in case he wandered outside and was asked to, he has no idea, drop a vase off at the nearest temple to Hecate or something. Then he worried he was in Pompeii or something, because really, that couldn’t get any worse, but his network device had given him the answer.
Atia. Not in Greece or anywhere close. Not on Earth. Named for the island’s very present deity (not that Stiles expects to see her, or particularly wants to), and suddenly, Stiles knows exactly how he’s going to spend his first afternoon here. Atia is not someone or something or any place he’s heard of, with good reason, but that leaves him at a disadvantage he’s not typically used to. Before he knows it, he’s tapping away at his device for the map application, searching, and turning abruptly in a perfect right angle, because there’s really only one place, the best place to push a problem as far out of his mind as possible while still actually kind of sort of dealing with the problem as much as he is capable: the library.
If he can find and check out every single book on lycanthropy in the Beacon Hills library and memorize every detail regarding kanimas in the newly acquired and translated bestiary, he can damn well find the history and practices of the island Atia and its goddess. He’s not in the mood for any more surprises, he’s decided, and it suddenly feels like he hasn’t even left home the moment he cracks open the first book he can find once he’s arrived.
And, okay, it turns out to be a book full of interesting and flexible sex positions, but hey, here? That counts as research, too.
no subject
Sample Entry:
⓵ test drive meme for another horror RP;
⓶ train to the afterlife meme;
Sample Entry Two: [aaahaha so I hope you don’t mind me using an
Sex-or-die collars, libido affecting curses, the idea that he’s going to have to bump uglies with a bunch of attractive strangers if he wants to survive—Stiles reacts to it all as he does with anything else that comes his way: he doesn’t. Or it may be more accurate to say he’s ignoring it, refusing to let it affect him, because so much of it is just too unreal for him to process, and he’s the dumbass who runs alongside of werewolves and gets threatened by reptilian death monsters, so. It’s saying a lot. And really, no one is asking him to write his feelings about the place on paper (that he knows of), so he can freely, happily push it to the back of his mind. And it’s kind of simple, because yeah, the leather fucking chaffes a little, but it’s not like it’s tight, right? He has a week or so until he actually has to do anything about it, and damn, that’s seven whole days to prepare his essay on Sex Islands and What They Do to The Human Psyche, a Dissertation by Stiles Stilinski.
But for now? He can zip his collar up underneath his big red hoody and… what, exactly.
All he knew was that he had to get the hell out of that room before he had a panic attack. Not that it wasn’t a nice room, thanks for the good night’s rest, but the last thing he knew, he was on the lacrosse field, and he’d just won them the championship. He did. He can’t help but let out a nervous laugh at the thought of it, because that’s—it actually happened, he’s pretty sure. If he can believe he’s been suddenly transported to another islandy dimension, well, actually playing in a lacrosse game and scoring the final three points really ought not to be that much of a stretch. Except in the way it kind of is, he’s actually more convinced about his predicament than he is of the lacrosse game, but he’s pretty sure he didn’t imagine that oh my god I’m doing this feeling, because hey, it doesn’t come up often enough that he can afford to just forget about it.
And the best part? Lydia was there. His dad was there, everyone was freaking there—
And now he’s here. And his heart is pounding again just thinking about it, this is why he had to leave the room earlier, he just can’t focus on home right now. Specifically, on not being there, being where his dad and friends are, and with the devils he knows so dearly. He couldn’t breathe in the room he’d arrived in, with the realization that he wasn’t where he should have been, let alone discovering the concept of survival here.
Oops. Right. Not thinking about it. Probably a good time to move away from the temple entirely, and this is a perfectly good dirt path his sneakers have found, why ignore it, right?
It’s kind of nice here, if the whole collar and trapped forever problems are ignored, and yes, they are, Stiles doesn’t need to remind himself anymore. But really, it’s kind of pretty, and nothing like he’d ever seen before. His first thought when he saw all of the architecture that he’d landed in Greece, like, maybe ancient Greece, and he’d started to rattle off a list of all the gods he could remember and what they stood for, both their Greek names and their Roman updates, just in case he wandered outside and was asked to, he has no idea, drop a vase off at the nearest temple to Hecate or something. Then he worried he was in Pompeii or something, because really, that couldn’t get any worse, but his network device had given him the answer.
Atia. Not in Greece or anywhere close. Not on Earth. Named for the island’s very present deity (not that Stiles expects to see her, or particularly wants to), and suddenly, Stiles knows exactly how he’s going to spend his first afternoon here. Atia is not someone or something or any place he’s heard of, with good reason, but that leaves him at a disadvantage he’s not typically used to. Before he knows it, he’s tapping away at his device for the map application, searching, and turning abruptly in a perfect right angle, because there’s really only one place, the best place to push a problem as far out of his mind as possible while still actually kind of sort of dealing with the problem as much as he is capable: the library.
If he can find and check out every single book on lycanthropy in the Beacon Hills library and memorize every detail regarding kanimas in the newly acquired and translated bestiary, he can damn well find the history and practices of the island Atia and its goddess. He’s not in the mood for any more surprises, he’s decided, and it suddenly feels like he hasn’t even left home the moment he cracks open the first book he can find once he’s arrived.
And, okay, it turns out to be a book full of interesting and flexible sex positions, but hey, here? That counts as research, too.