mischief--stilinski-blog

[mischief--stilinski-blog]

sanguinemtenebrisdiebus‌:

Bev smiles sweetly as she looks down at her sketchbook as she sketches out another dress for her shop. She’s sipping idly at her coffee as the noise of the shop oddly helps her focus. She can tune out the noise to hear the people talking. Talking helps her focus, she can’t deal with the quite and being in a strange town is not helpful. 

Stiles managed to break the coffee machine at one of the worst times. He'd been reading for a few hours before he decided he needed the little pick me up. The sight of the broken glass in the sink that used to be the pot made him want to scream but he swallowed it back down and grabbed a bag. The glass was cleaned easily enough and soon he was standing in line at a little cafe, bag slung over his shoulder. As the line moved, he looked for an empty seat, perking up when a small table was abandoned and seemed to stay that way.

Ordering his drink and handing the cash over quickly, he moved to hold the table when the lady who was in line before him sat with her coffee. A small whine of complaint escaped him as he drooped. Leaning against a wall, he watched and waited for another table to open but none did. When his name was called, he pushed off and gathered his three large cups, don't judge him, in their cardboard carrier. Looking around, he noticed most tables were full of chatter and interaction but one off to the side. Walking over, he took a deep breath before asking, “May I sit here?”

[mischief--stilinski-blog]

dcarjealovsy‌:

For over ten years, Ben was only able to celebrate his birthday with Klaus, but although his brother was the only person that could see him, their birthday was never really spoken about.  October 1st just seemed like any other day, but now that Ben was actually able to celebrate, he bought himself a cupcake from a local bakery, sitting by himself on a bench.  “Happy birthday to me.”  He muttered, wishing another one of his siblings could be there to celebrate with him.  Taking a bite of the cake, he immediately smiled.  “I actually forgot how good cake was.”

Stiles needed to sit down. He had woken up not long before and the little food he'd had at the house didn't quite hit the spot. The doughnuts in the box next to him on the bench and the little breakfast burrito did it but he still had a few left. He sighed and gathered the garbage in a bag, dumping it in a rubbish bin as he began to leave the park, or at least move away from the judging and shocked eyes of the mother who had seen him eat.

As he passed, he heard the stranger mutter to himself in the quiet of the park and continued for a step before stopping. Should he? Would it be weird? If he brought them home, they'd be stale by the next morning and not appealing anymore so he might as well, right? Right. Turning on his heel, he walked up to the guy on the bench and offered a smile. “Hi, sorry, couldn't help but overhear and I really bought too many so I thought, 'Hey! Why not offer?' Right? So, would you like one?” He paused to wait for a reply before his eyes widened a little and he quickly followed it with, “A doughnut. I mean a doughnut. I have doughnuts in the box.” He lifted it up a little with a wiggle as if it could have been another box and he felt the need to specify that one.

[mischief--stilinski-blog]

sanguinemtenebrisdiebus‌:

“Where the fuck are we? What the fuck is this town? I need to get back home. Why the fuck are we here?” Deacon states as he throws his hands up in the air. “Fuck this. Fuck you. Why the fuck are you staring?” He growls.

Stiles was sitting on a bench, trying to enjoy whatever remnants of warm weather were left before the cold became too much to sit in the sun. He was still no closer to finding answers on where he was or what he was doing there but he needed a breather. This place was colder than his Beacon Hills so he tried to warm up with the sunlight. It worked to an extent as he closed his eyes, face angled up so he would see the scattering glow of orange and yellow through his eyelids.

When he heard an upset voice, his eyes popped open as he looked over. He raised his hands in the 'I'm innocent' gesture with slightly wide eyes. “Don't know, don't know, don't know, and I just looked over because you sounded angry, dude. Don't bite my head off, okay? I'm in the same boat,” he started before muttering, “or town, I guess,” he shook his head and dropped his hands as he continued, “as you. Far as I can tell, everyone is.”

[mischief--stilinski-blog]

dcarjealovsy‌:

It was a slow day in Adam’s antique shop, so he figured he would get a little restoration done while there were no customers.  Deciding he needed a little music to go with the project, he started playing a song that brought back a fond memory to the former ghost.  “Shake, shake, shake, Senora, shake your body line.  Shake, shake, shake, Senora, shake it all the time.”  As he walked over to a table that needed a polish, he sang and danced along to the tune, “Jump in the line, rock your body in time.  Okay, I believe you!”  He was so enthralled in the song that he didn’t even notice the door chime ring, as his back was now facing the door.

Stiles fidgeted with his keys, fingers constantly finding their way back to Roscoe's key. It hurt to know that it was gone, to know that he had nothing left from his mother. Now, he didn't even have anything left from his father or anyone. He was alone in a new place that he didn't know how he got to and looked older than he remembered being. He missed them all and was hoping maybe he could find someone he knew here anyone. Hell, he'd even take Peter.

Research, he needed to do research. Taking a deep breath, he stepped off the small step and down the small walk to the street. Picking a direction, he set off in hopes of finding something. As he wandered, he allowed different scenarios to run through his head. Nogitsune? No, he was certain he was alone in his mind now. Some sort of dimension jump? Why would it only take him and why does he look older? Some witch's spell? Maybe. It could've erased memories and he might've moved from Beacon Hills in that time, but why would he? The house didn't look like it had his personal touches and his dad was nowhere to be found, his number in Stiles' cell not working.

He needed some sort of material, old books, a laptop, anything he could get his hands on. He wondered how difficult it would be to find a druid or someone in the know. Either way, he shook his head as he tried to focus when he spotted an antique store. Maybe they'd have books?

Slipping in the shop, he took a deep breath. The scent wasn't quite the same as the old books he'd found on his journey through searching for answers to whatever supernatural event sauntered into town but he loved it. The scent of age in the air made him inhale deep.

The obviously joyous singing made his lips quirk in a cross between a smirk and smile that wasn't rare for him. He allowed it to continue for another moment before deciding the man definitely hadn't heard him come in and softly coughed. The smile-smirk stayed as a bit of his mirth danced in his eyes. The thought of bro-nights with Scott that most certainly contained off-key crooning was bittersweet and made his smile flag for a moment. He took another step into the shop and forced the smile to remain, though dimmed. “Hi.”

[mischief--stilinski-blog]

{ dylan o'brien, cismale, he/him, teen wolf } i’d like to welcome ( mieczysław “stiles” stilinski ) to browning harbor.  i’ve heard a rumor that the ( eighteen ) year old ( police dispatcher ) has ( some ) of his memories.  friends describe him as ( clever ) and ( mischievous ) { simon, 20, est, he/him }

Stiles is from the end of the series but when he appeared in town, his memories were affected. He only remembers a day or two after the Nogitsune was removed from him

Due to his most recent memories, how the Nogitsune messed with his memory and timeline before, and how much older he looks since his last memories he's afraid that it only made him think it went away and has been in control all of this time, doing only God knows what

He spent the first couple of days in the house, locked up and counting fingers and minutes. He didn't want to miss a second, terrified of what it could mean

After over 48 hours, he finally decided that this is all real and he's entirely himself, though he doesn't understand the lack of time for the aging

He doesn't tell people his actual name

His mother used to call him Mischief because that was as close to pronouncing his name as he could get as a kid and he is, after all, mischievous)

He was diagnosed with ADHD and takes Adderall for it

He's still the same resilient Stiles who might stumble but will always pick himself back up and keep going

“If You're Going Through Hell, Keep Going” - Winston Churchill

He's a flailing, high energy boy who spends too much time diving deep into the depths of Wikipedia and chasing the scent of whatever topic his attention is zeroed in on

He rambles and moves his hands to emphasize, almost hitting every one and everything, including himself

He's curiosity, sarcasm, and morals wrapped in a tightly wound ball of energy

He's thinks quickly and can come up with a plan on the spot if needed, though it might be a little (read 'a lot') impulsive and harebrained

He can apply logic and reason to things others put off as outliers and can make leaps that aren't always apparent

Most of all, though, he's loyal and willing to help his friends in need even as he complains and whines the whole way through

He loves his family, bio and chosen

He, though he wouldn't appreciate the comparison, is very much like a fox. He's clever, fast, can worm his way out of a difficult situation or tight spot, and has a fierce attitude with a tendency toward tricks

That being said, he has the loyalty and the headstrong bravery of a wolf (at least all in my opinion)

While he is clever, he has big dumbass energy

He can figure out a puzzle or the solution to a difficult question but he's also the type to snap the band of an elbow-length rubber glove at the wrong time

He played Lacrosse at school but was mainly a bench warmer

He helps himself visualize problems via clue boards

He sometimes has panic attacks and anxiety attacks

He gets bad, wake up screaming, screaming in sleep, sobbing, and panicking nightmares