Malia Tate.

17 year old were-coyote, thoroughly in touch with her inner beast. A knockout combination of claws and sass for days.

[so-mccallmemaybe-blog]

Wanted: Goalie for Hire (MALIA & STILES)

[neverloveastilesthing-deactivat]

laxgod-jax:

If Jackson had been a goddamn wolf like every other teenager in this forsaken town he would have heard Stilinski, he would have heard the ball whizzing through the air, would have heard the anger in Stilinski’s arm as it lashed out at him. But Jackson was a human, so average that it hurt, that it ached in his bones that someone like Scott McCall was better than him. Derek Hale was the root of all evils and Jackson just wanted everything they had.

"They say confidence is sexy, don’t they?" Jackson winked through his face mask, knowing Malia was probably unable to see it. The girl was fast, almost as fast as Danny, though it was apparent she didn’t share his sweet spot at the net. He narrowed his eyes, at the girl, wondering why a girl that looked like Lydia had somehow become so decent at lacrosse. It didn’t matter that she was a girl, but she was Lydia with brown hair, she was small and cute and hand hands too small to fit into his gloves. But she was good at what she did, and standing in that net Jackson hated to admit that she looked like she belonged there. "If Danny keeps ditching you, maybe I’ll keep you in the net," was what he barely finished saying before he heard Malia scream at him to duck.

"What the fuck, Stilinski?" he hissed, turning around as his spare stick clattered to the ground somewhere off to the left of him. "What the actual fuck? I know you’re a raging idiot, but I’m trying to practice!” He ripped his helmet off tossing it to the ground so Stilinski could see the full force of his glare. “Would you rather it be you in the net? She’s not fucking defenseless,” he nearly growled. “You’re no hero, Stiles. She doesn’t need you’re help.” Jackson wasn’t sure why he was defending Malia when he barely knew her, but if she could make a save like that on the first try.. well, he figured she was worth befriending, somehow. Jackson didn’t make friends, didn’t care about people, hated when the ousted him at lacrosse. But Malia reminded him of Danny, and he found he didn’t mind so much.

[chaosmalia]

Stiles didn’t have a lot of faith in Jackson Whittemore. If possible, he had negative faith in him. The only reason he thought Jackson didn’t go around kicking puppies was because he was too stupid to find puppies to kick, and that was the only thing protecting the puppies, so Stiles should have been halfway grateful. It was a very problematic circumstance, and on more than one occasion, he’d wished a small plane would crash out of the sky - just a Cessna, no big deal really - and land on Jackson’s overinflated head. That would possibly save its passengers anyway.

This was actually lower than what he’d expect of him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Stiles demanded, and he didn’t let go of the stick, using every bit of his 2 inch advantage to his disposal as he stomped over to the blond. "She’s not even wearing the proper gear. Are you trying to kill her?! Are you that stupid or - no, just really, really stupid?!"

Stiles wished the ball he’d lobbed, using the stick would have whacked Jackson’s head right off his shoulders. No one would miss it.

He didn’t even know who the girl was. Stiles could introduce himself after he was done being self-righteously angry on her behalf.

It was probably a good thing that Malia didn’t see him give her that wink through the mask, or he would have had another lacrosse ball lobbed at his head. She wasn’t that easily won over. “If Danny keeps ditching you? That’s okay, Jackson. As much fun as it is helping you practice I don’t want to be anyone’s back up plan.” She sassed with a sweet smile, only to have it fade as he whipped around to give the other boy behind him a hard time for only wanting to help. /Boys./ she thought to herself, pulling off her helmet and shaking her long wefts of brown hair back into place as she walked over to play peacekeeper. She couldn’t afford to get worked up, bad things happened when she grew frustrated; things that neither of them would understand. At a slender 5’8” she was far from intimidating, so she knew she would have to take a more… lady-like approach to this. That and throwing Jackson on his ass and telling him to back off would have definitely sent up a red flag that something was astray with her, even more so than her ability to stop his goals or her lack of a need for protective padding. Additionally, she had never been able to rely on brute physical force, so she fell back on her brains for survival.

"Hey now; easy there tiger. I’m sure Stiles here was just looking out for me like a gentleman." Malia said, resting a small hand on Jackson’s shoulder as a means of bringing him back down. He was kind of cute when he was all pissed off, but the other boy was just doing what he thought was right so there was no reason to get his boxers in a knot. While Jackson’s explosive ego was one thing; she tipped her head in curiosity; sensing a more genuine vibe from this Stiles person. Were they friends? If that were the case, it was definitely an interesting dynamic. "Do you play too?" She asked Stiles, because she was new to the school and honestly had no clue about anything or anyone’s social status.

[chaosmalia]

Slipping Away - (Derek & Malia)

[ashfleshandbone-deactivated2014]

The iron scent of blood entered his nostrils as his claws pierced her torso, long lacerations inflicted on her skin the wolf was sure would kick in the shift. Or more like he truly hoped they would, a moment of doubt running through his mind, dreading having to wound her again. Derek pushed the girl off of himself and to the side, his fingers stained with the heavy dark red color of blood, her transformation thankfully beginning then, coming easier than earlier. He watched as grey and brown fur turned to tan skin, her honey brown hair a tangled mess, brown eyes staring up at him with sadness in them. She was trembling, nude and with patches of dirt holding onto her skin, Derek taking off his leather jacket as his own features returned to their human form.

He didn’t speak as she apologized and tried to hide behind what was left of her sweater, instead approaching her and offering his jacket to her, knowing that considering the thing was big on him, it would be enough to cover her. His eyes diverted then, seeing her blush and look away sign enough that his gaze was embarrassing her. Her body didn’t interest him, Derek not in the state of mind to concerned himself with how the young girl looked. Bare skin just wasn’t something the Hale’s were ashame of, especially when it came to shifting. However, he needed to remember not everyone had the same views of his family, especially someone who didn’t seem to know much of that environment.

Green eyes returned to the stranger when she asked why he had helped her, his usual deadpan expression softening. “You seemed to need it. And you were attacking me.” Derek wouldn’t have killed her, but walking away could have been much easier, possibly avoiding future problems. Still, there was something about her, her eyes reminding him of someone, her scent strangely familiar…

His trademark expression returned then, his eyebrows slightly knitted together. “Who are you?”

[chaosmalia]

Fortunately, she had healed from the wound relatively quickly, even if she wasn't yet strong enough to maintain her full from after being wounded. She didn't know why she was so besides herself, struggling to cover up. She wasn't embarrassed about her body, but she also didn't feel the need to stand up naked in all her glory and flaunt it either. That being said, she gladly accepted the jacket from the man, the leather swallowing her small frame but still being enough to cut the chill in the night time air. Sure, she was warm blooded but she was also still adapting to no longer having a thick coat of fur to keep her warm. As another turn of good fortune, she managed to find her underwear in a pile of leaves near by, pulling on the plain black panties as she stood up, still a little shaky on her legs. "Yeah, about the whole attacking thing... sorry. It just happens." She said, her a sassy sneer on her features as she pulled some leaves out of her hair and brushed the dirt off her face.

"I try to control it, but it doesn't always work out for the best. My dad doesn't know about it; hell, no one in my family does even though I'm sure I was born this way." Not to mention that she was a lone wolf in a sense, and that itself brought it's own dangers.

The facial expression he made in return also looked familiar to her. It was a face that she had made herself many times. Maybe it was a were-person thing, or a simply a strange coincidence. "Malia Tate. Local resident crazy girl that turns into a coyote during that time of the month." her sense of humor was dry, but she extended her hand for a shake. "And you are? Do you live close by?" She felt like she had the right to know since he had happened to be in the right time and place to save her from herself. Maybe, just maybe if she could befriend him he could help her. He seemed to know a little bit about this whole lycanthrope thing, more than google or old books had to offer. Hell, maybe she could even get back to sleeping normal hours and not falling asleep in front of her laptop.

[chaosmalia]

Slipping Away - (Derek & Malia)

[ashfleshandbone-deactivated2014]

Derek had never encountered someone who could achieve transforming completely into an animal but had no control over it. In fact, the only two people he truly knew who could shift that far were his mother and sister, Talia Hale never losing control and Laura already mastering her training when she finally turned into a black fur wolf. He knew they did not lose their ability to process thoughts and understand human speech and emotions, having talked to Laura many times during her wolf form. But could the stranger be different as she did not seem to have an anchor? Did she understand what he was trying to say? Or was he going to waste his words, even risk getting seriously hurt, if he continued to urge the girl with the honey brown hair to find control?

Her howl answered his question though, the wolf understanding the girl knew what he was saying, but did not know how to achieve it. It seemed something wasn’t allowing her, Derek needing more information about the girl to be able to figure out what it was. In the meantime, he decided to choose a more generic approach, hoping not to be forced to use plan B. “Find something meaningful,” he urged one more time, his eyes turning to their normal light green color. “Hold onto a memory or an emotion, something that reminds you why you need to be in control.” That didn’t work however, or the girl was too far gone to try, and the coyote charged at the wolf with her claws extended, moving too fast for Derek to react in time.

Her claws ripped the material of his shirt and bit down into his chest, Derek letting out a short cry of pain, stumbling back as the coyote kept coming at him. The second time around he used his strength against her, his irises glowing blue as he grabbed the coyote’s nuzzle with one hand and clawed at her stomach with the other. Talking hadn’t worked, so all there was left to force her to turn back into her human form was plan B; pain.

[chaosmalia]

In her research, Malia had at least been able to figure out that her full shift was occurring due to how distanced she had become from her own humanity. Her feral, lonely inside was showing on her outside by reducing her appearance to it's most pure, wild form. She learned that it was a skill that many other shifters could only complete with control after years of practice, and that most could never do so. It was apparently a matriarchal trait inherited by birth. The worst part in all of this was that she hear Derek's words; she understood what she was trying to tell him even if in her coyote form she couldn't communicate back to him that an anchor simply wasn't an option when she didn't have anything to anchor herself to.

Meaningfulness was something her life severely lacked. While she didn't know her birth parents, she did love her adoptive mother and sister. She had to live with the fact that she not only wrecked their car, but ate them afterwards. She had destroyed her small family, the only thing she did have that had given her a glimmer of hope. Now she was stuck with a father that she couldn't look in the face let alone tell the truth too, and as the days went by he made her feel even more crazy and hopeless than she already was. As she attacked, she did her best to remember something that could bring her back like the other had advised; the distraction from their fight being enough to slow her down and allow him to capitalize.

As his claws cut across her torso in a searing flash of pain, much like the memory of her younger sister. She thought of her mangled body at her claws, the guilt for taking her life, and the small doll of hers she kept hidden away to preserve her memory. Perhaps this was what the man meant by anchor. She fell back into her human form gracefully, sadness heavy in her warm brown eyes as she trembled slightly; her body shaken up from the force of her strike combined with the shift. "I'm sorry... I can't control it and it just happens, oh my god please don't tell anyone they'll think I'm crazy.." she apologized in a half sob, about to get up from the ground when she realized she was completely naked; even her underwear hadn't survived. As if the day couldn't get any worse, she reached for her shredded sweater in an attempt to partially cover herself, a blush racing high in her cheeks. Sure, she didn't like men, but she was now realizing how darkly handsome this guy was and how horrible of a first impression she was making. "I mean, thank you." She said in a small voice once she stopped tripping over her words, tipping her head down. She was grateful for his help; so far, this stranger had been the only person in the Beacon Hills that maybe understood what she was going through.

"Why did you help me?" she asked, because he didn't have to. He just as easily could have gone the other way and typically she would have been yelling at him for not letting her be, but if she was ever going to conquer this /thing/, she would have to let her stubbornness take a backseat.

[chaosmalia]

Slipping Away - (Derek & Malia)

[ashfleshandbone-deactivated2014]

The sight caught Derek by surprise, not exactly sure what he was expecting, but definitely not a teenage coyote in the middle of a full shift. The scent of fear was thick in the air, the wolf fighting back his own urge to protect himself, the girl in clear distress and not needing anymore provocation. It was too late though, her skin slicing open to let out patches of fur, her facial features breaking and transforming, her eyes glowing blue. It was those blue irises that snapped Derek out of his trance, his own eyes glowing blue, fangs and claws extending and his muscles prepared themselves for any attempt of attack.

Though the predator in him urged him to protect his territory and get rid of the threat, Derek stayed still, forcing himself to take a few steps back from the girl. Her scent was strange, something about it not allowing him to attack first, instead his lips pressing together as he got the urge to help the girl calm down. “Breathe,” he told her. “Slow down your heartbeat, don’t let her take control of you.” He kept trying to calm her down, telling her to breathe over and over again, but soon her yelling turned into growls, the wolf aware the girl was not turning back on her own anytime soon.

Derek’s face changed then, his transformation completing as the stranger’s did, being able to evade the coyote as she ran towards him. He bent his knees and pressed his hands against the ground, his claws digging into the dirt as he prepared himself to counter if the coyote attacked again. A growl left his throat as he warned the girl to back off, baring his teeth but not moving, showing he was only going to attack if she charged at him. “You need to take back control.” He wasn’t sure if she knew how to, but talking her through it seemed a better idea than staring at her and waiting for the first move to be made. “Pull yourself back, anchor yourself!”

[chaosmalia]

Malia often wondered if there were other species of shifters that went through the grueling pain of a full transformation, as it wasn't something for the faint at heart. Her feeling of threat arose from the fact that someone was challenging her for the only place she felt safe, the one place she knew she could hide away and not risk exposing herself to the outside world. Her eyes widened as the other man took on a hybrid transition of his own, his growl more powerful than her own as well as his presence. She could feel it blanketing the area around her, attempting to command her. She took a step back, but not without fully bearing her teeth.

Malia felt so far gone. Her emotions were riddled with guilt for her actions, remorse, and anger. When he said she needed to find an anchor, it made sense, even if it were easier said than done. An anchor to what? She had nothing; and right now, she didn't even have herself. She howled almost painfully since she had lost the ability to speak in full form. It had never occurred to her that allowing herself to become so detached from her humanity is what ruled over her. She was stubborn, but not entirely dumb. However none of that mattered when she didn't have the self control to use sense.

Despite knowing this werewolf was stronger than her mere, wild werecoyote form, despite the subtle familiarity in his scent, and the good intentions behind his low growl, Malia slipped away and attacked, making up for what she lacked in strength and size with lightning fast speed. She landed a few good rips with her claws, but little did she know going for the throat would be her worst idea yet. At this point, she didn't see how one more body to her count was any worse, even if the act of the kill would trap her in her form for many years to come.

[so-mccallmemaybe-blog]

Wanted: Goalie for Hire (MALIA & STILES)

[neverloveastilesthing-deactivat]

laxgod-jax:

Jackson was the epitome of conceited. He was arrogant and over confident, and perhaps all of the hair gel had somehow ruined his brain cells, but brain cells weren’t needed to be rich and powerful. Money buys power and he was sure as hell going to have power after he took his inheritance and left this shitty town and his shitty adoptive parents. But while he was here, he had to be the best, to earn his keep, his pride, his everything. Lacrosse was the only thing he really had, aside from Lydia, and even though he had her, he didn’t really have her. He never would. People thought Jackson was oblivious to that fact, but it was the most real thing he knew. 

"I am," he sneered, not much edge behind his words. "I’m the best this town has." Of course that was excluding McCall. There wasn’t something right about McCall, something not right about this town, and it all started with that weirdo, Derek Hale. And now, with McCall being entirely too good at lacrosse all of a goddamn sudden, all Jackson had was to be the best. 

"I’ll let Danny know you tried to live up to his standards," Jackson rolled his eyes, turning the lacrosse stick in his hands. He was secure in the knowledge that this girl would probably suck. She was tiny - like Lydia, his mind supplied - and she had the wrong stick, had never sat in the net before and Jackson knew this was going to be good. "Oh, Mal, you’re the best I can do." He laughed to himself, stilling the stick in his hands as he bent over to pick up the once discarded ball. "Ready or not, here I come." He backed up a few feet, pursing his lips underneath the cage of his helmet. Taking a few running steps at the girl, he launched the ball at the net, aiming high left, right at Danny’s weak spot. Except this wasn’t Danny - fuck. 

[chaosmalia]

Stiles probably loitered more than was sensible in a town filled with werewolves. Werewolves, his mind supplied at the worst possible times. You can’t even put this shit on Youtube. No one would believe you. Before the incident with Allison’s dad, though, he had seriously considered it, thinking about all the make up bullshit and photography lies he could churn up for the sake of internet fame and infamy.

When he came across the scene at the lacrosse field, he had half the mind to turn away. He got enough of Jackson in school. He didn’t need to spend more time anywhere near the fucker. It was the petite figure in the goal that caught his attention. Unless Danny had seriously shrunk down (and all things considered, that wouldn’t be all that weird), Jackson was going to pulverize Lydia with a lacrosse ball. 

Fear gripped him, and an almost respectable sense of heroism - only heroes didn’t attack from behind. He ran up to their leftover gear, and without hesitation grabbed a ball and stick and flung it at Jackson. Hopefully, he was fast enough to stop the jackass from hurting Lydia.

It took him a moment to realize Lydia would never wear those clothes. Or play lacrosse. Huh.

Malia could sense an air of arrogance about the other man, but it wasn't like there weren't others with the same mentality. She didn't know her own parents, and even offed half of her adopted family due to a wolfy incident she had no control over. There was a good chance they had more in common than met the eye; both of them were very much in their own in this world. The only difference being while Jackson derived his power from money and wealth, Malias power was physically rooted inside of her. All she had to do was hone it. It was a shame that it was so hard to control these days; she felt completely at the mercy of whatever was ruling over her shifts.

"It's refreshing to see a man that's /so/ confident in himself." She spoke, her only thought being that this Danny person must of had the patience of a patron saint to deal with Jackson on a regular basis. Malia also knew she was at a disadvantage with her slender size, but she was fast; and calm - both things that went a long way. Her eyes locked on his stick as he scooped up the ball, following the motion of his arms as he cradled it while making his approach toward the net. He took his shot, and it was almost as if time slowed as she made the save perfectly. She even surprised herself; using her stick to flick it back to the boy across from her. "Beginners luck?" She said, although her smile remained hidden by the helmet.

Unfortunately, she knew that she would have to let him score the next time. If she was too good and he really was the star athlete he claimed to be, she couldn't afford to raise any more suspicions. People already thought she was crazy and a runaway since she opted not to revel the truth of what really happened with her adopted family, and the last thing she needed was another person pushing to have her committed. This was when her keen senses felt another ball coming, "Jackson, duck!" she yelled, seeing the ball flying at Mach speed ready to clip him on the back of the head. She would have made more of an effort to save him or push him out of the way, but for the sake of keeping her secret as well as amusement she left Jackson's fate in his own hands. She didn't know who this other person was, but if he was that apt to defend her honor she liked him already.

[chaosmalia]

Slipping Away - (Derek & Malia)

[ashfleshandbone-deactivated2014]

The tracks lead further into the preserve, the scent of wolf thick in the air, Derek sure it was the Alpha who had been roaming around the woods. He had been following the trail through the night, often getting loosing it but finding it once again hours later. The problem was he had been at it all night and all morning, the Beta wolf beginning to think the Alpha was playing tricks and simply sending him around in circles. Irritation was well settled in his body by now, Derek stopping for about the twentieth time in the past forty hours as the scent disappeared, the wind picking up and erasing all traces of it.

This was hopeless; he couldn’t be running around the woods trying to find the Alpha, he needed Scott to attract it. But of course that wasn’t exactly easy when the boy not only refused to seek Derek out, but refused all approaches to help the older male had offered. Derek kept telling himself to try, to wait as Scott would soon find his way to the old Hale house to ask for help; the born wolf had made it very clear in the locker rooms the boy had no choice, it had to be only a matter of time before he either came asking for help or…

It was better not to think about the second option.

The wind picked up again, this time carrying a new scent to Derek’s nostrils, the identity of it unknown to the wolf but the species recognizable; coyote. They weren’t exactly rare in this area, or at least actual coyote animals weren’t, but this one was different. Derek followed the scent, noting it was moving quickly towards the ruins of the Hale house, the wolf making his way back home to cut whoever was approaching off. He wasn’t sure if the coyote was a threat or just someone lost, but Derek couldn’t help but get territorial when it came to the remains of his old home.

Derek ran as fast as he could, coming into a clearing when he finally caught up with the coyote, sliding through the grass as he came from their right before coming face to face with them. “Who the hell are you?”

[chaosmalia]

Her ears perked at the sound of someone nearing her; doing nothing to help her cause. She didn't want to hurt any more people than she already had, but as her fear grew her body became instinctively and naturally defensive, and when the strong, poignant scent of whoever this was hit her nose she caved, her body attempting to cripple itself down into her feral, coyote form between groans and outbursts of struggle. She was /so/ close. She could smell her den only meters away as she now crawled across the soil and foliage of the forest floor, her eyes transitioning to a vibrant, aqua blue.

The odor hit her strong, and she looked up to see a rather tall, dark man in front of her. "You have to go, I.." She tried to explain, knowing the scent of wolf was taking over but having no actual knowledge that other forms of shape shifters even existed. Oddly enough, there was a faint scent of familiarity in the aroma; almost nostalgic enough to tigger a memory of long, long ago. She didn't want to hurt this person, as abrupt and abrasive as they were. She rolled her eyes as he questioned who she was and why she was here. Who did this asshole think he was, and he clearly had to be stupid for not taking off in the opposite direction. "I don't want to.." She struggled to speak, her yell turning into a loud, aggressive growl as her body broke itself down into animal form; a shell of her humanity as her clothes and limbs were gone and she was nothing but fur and rage. She snarled; baring her teeth as she lunged at him, missing the first time but doubling back in an attempt to defend her small part of the reserve she called home for years; her den underneath an uprooted tree.

She didn't know how long she would be stuck like this this time. Sometimes days, hours. Hopefully never again for years. The only thing that brought her back the last time was being weakened to the point where her curse regressed. She didn't mean to be a threat; she was so lost, so scared, and the only option was to isolate herself to prevent further harm to others, such as the man who had hunted her down and was attempting to stop her in her tracks. Why wasn't he afraid of her? Why wasn't he booking it for the sake of self preservation? She rested back, leaning down on her front paws with her hind legs still raised as she growled low, having gained enough sense of control to briefly slow herself down as she felt out the intentions of this mysterious, dark haired man.

[neverloveastilesthing-deactivat]

Hypothetically... [Malia]

[neverloveastilesthing-deactivat]

… Who tranqed you?

No.

Why did they tranq you? You can’t just - not mention that.

The rescue plan’s the best part.

[chaosmalia]

Uh, Hunting accident.. with my Dad - as a kid. My sister took her practice shot and it ricocheted and hit me, putting me down for a nice nap. Some luck, huh? I guess I could have made up a cooler story to tell but you strike me as someone who wouldn't let it go until they got the embarrassing truth.

It better be a damn heroic one.

[neverloveastilesthing-deactivat]

Hypothetically... [Malia]

[neverloveastilesthing-deactivat]

He… Is. Very important and gun-happy.

Did I set myself up for a kidnapping scheme?

[chaosmalia]

Ooo, Guns. Well that's great as long as they don't have tranquilizer darts in them. Don't ask, I had a bad experience.

I can't say that I'm entirely sure, however lets hope this scheme at least has a rescue plan in place.

[neverloveastilesthing-deactivat]

Hypothetically... [Open]

Hypothetically, if I disappeared within the next week, would you call my Dad?

His number’s 911.

[chaosmalia]

His number is 911? How did he pull that off? Clearly he must be someone important.

[so-mccallmemaybe-blog]

Wanted: Goalie for Hire (Jackson & Malia)

[so-mccallmemaybe-blog]

Hyper vigilance was all Jackson knew lately; constantly tracking McCall’s every movement, cautiously following Derek Hale like he had a death wish, it was nice to shut down for once, to get lost in lacrosse like it owned him, owned his body. So no, Jackson hadn’t noticed the girl in the stands, hadn’t noticed her honey brown hair because it wasn’t anywhere close to the strawberry red that he was used to honing in on, her nose buried in a book like Lydia’s never could be, not in public at least, not unless it was some mathematic theorem that Jackson was destined to never understand. 

He twisted, looking at the stick in her hands, and rolled his eyes. “I am a pro and if you’re going to get in the net, you’re not using that.. thing.” Practice sticks were gross. No one ever knew who touched them, could be someone like Stilinski. How disgusting. Jackson sighed and walked back over to his bag, sitting down to assemble his spare stick, threading the net with the same careful precision he had used on his own stick. Taking this time to look the girl over, he dropped the sneer, licking his lips and focusing back on the stick. She was attractive; features born of someone entirely too much like Lydia Martin. 

"Jackson Whittemore," he said as he stood up, pushing the stick into her free hand. "I hope you’re any good at lacrosse because you’ve got some pretty big shoes to fill," he hummed, defending Danny’s honor. He knew it wouldn’t be terrible having her in the net. She was right, it was better than nothing and it would just be like when Coach put Stilinski in the net to make them feel better about their percentages. 

[chaosmalia]

The same could be said for her about research lately. Finding out more about herself was her only focus, and the only way to do that was by slaving away on google and hitting the book hard. She didn't have friends, or a family that was interested in her, so she had to find other ways of occupying her time. The only thing that brought Jackson to her attention was the manner in which he sat on the bleachers; all confidence. Of course he wasn't unfortunate looking either and that helped, but Malia couldn't really say she had ever been one for boys except for special occasions.

"Of course you are." She said mockingly, but then looked at the stick in her hands - shorter and probably for a forward player, not a goalie if the net was where she was being appointed. She didn't know a ton about lacrosse, but she did know goalies had longer sticks with bigger nets. Although, she was pretty confident in her abilities to stop whatever shots he threw. Just because she wasn't in her /other/ form didn't mean her reflexes had faltered. She could feel his eyes soaking in her features, but her facial expression was less than impressed. In fact, it was somewhat sour. She knew she was nice to look at but that wasn't why she stepped up to the plate to play ball.

"Nice to meet you, Jackson." she said as he passed the stick to her, "I hope I can meet your exponential standards for goaltending." she added, grabbing the spare helmet which she could only have assumed was for his friend that didn't show. As a kid she always played as an attack; her aggressive and cutthroat nature making her a powerful forward - but goalie couldn't have been that hard. She had to keep her pretty face in tact somehow incase he got a little excited with where he was slinging balls. After pulling it on she took her position in the net, tapping her stick on each side of the metal frame with a smirk that was hidden by the cage on the front of the helmet. Stop the balls, right. She could do this.

[chaosmalia]

Slipping Away - (Derek & Malia)

Malia had been feeling rather... lost these days. Life was so much easier ticking away as she spent her time in a den in her coyote form. Now she was faced with having to go to school, as well as continue to live with her adopted father knowing her uncontrollable shift was the cause of all the misery in his life. It was a special kind of hell. Dinners were quiet and uncomfortable, and her spare time was spent trying to catch up on those years of school she missed because even werecoyotes needed a high school diploma to make it in the real world.

It had been weeks since she regained her human form, and despite endless aggressive research she was still coming up shorthanded when it came to specific information related to her predicament. She had read almost every story in the book about every lycanthrope imaginable; but they were just that - stories. No detail, no survival guides, no crash course in 'full moon 101'. She was starting to feel fucked, and the more on edge she grew the higher the chance of relapsing into her animal form became. She needed help and had no idea where to find it. It wasn't like she could just walk up to people and be all, hey, I do this werecoyote thing on the weekends without them thinking you were crazy.

In need of air, she shut her books and turned off her laptop, dropping out from her second floor bedroom window to go for a walk through the woods. She wasn't completely out of touch - she could sense the ground beneath her feet, her hearing was attuned, and her reflexes sharp as ever. She just had no control over the... less favorable perks. The light of the evening on her skin made every fine hair on her body stand up. She felt herself slipping, so she did the only thing she could think to do - she ran, faster than ever, looking for her old den to retreat into until the itch under her skin passed and those around her would be safe. She leapt over traps, roots, and branches; lighter and faster on her feet than a wolf would have been. She tried desperately to run it off, but as she moved through the reserve she groaned out loudly and dropped to all fours. It worsened progressively the more scared she became; the curse feeding on her fear.

[so-mccallmemaybe-blog]

Wanted: Goalie for Hire (OPEN)

Pulling his lacrosse gear out of the tiny back of his Porsche, Jackson grumbled to himself. Danny was supposed to be with him, cramming their gear into his car together, screaming the lyrics to Lady GaGa as they sped through the streets. He needed to keep his practice regimen up, so instead of having Danny be his goalie, he was going to have to shoot at an empty net.

Jackson gritted his teeth, throwing his bag down onto the bleachers and collapsing with a frown. He set about to netting his stick, slow and methodically, in an effort to calm himself down enough to practice thoroughly. Jackson needed to be the best, needed to practice every single day -hardcore workouts, running, stick handling- in order to be the best. It was all he had, all he had ever had.

In and out, in and out, in and out. Jackson bit his lip, finishing off his netting. He pulled on his cleats, lacing them slowly, fingers bending in entirely too elegant arcs. He stood, stretching before grabbing his stick, debating for a moment if he should practice his high stick, but then deciding not to. He gathered his equipment, walking out into the front of the net, taking a few practice swings before picking up the ball, bouncing it a few times. God, he wished Danny hadn’t bailed on him; at least he would have someone to shoot the shit with, then.

[chaosmalia]

Being new to Beacon Hills (well, not really) meant that Malia was still in the stage of re-assimilating with human interaction. Or at least interacting in her human form after living in a fur coat for the past 6 years. Since her re-transformation, she had been struggling to figure out how to control her shift, leading her to become somewhat of a bookworm as he soaked up all the lore and myth she could in hopes of finding a solution to her problem. It wasn't like her adoptive father was in touch with his supernatural side, so she was very much doing this on her own.

She was seated on the bleachers with her face in a book on Southwestern Native American medicine stories, when she felt the abrupt thump of someone sitting down a few tiers below her. She peered up from her reading, rolling her eyes as she watched the man string up his lacrosse net as if he had done it 1000 times. He probably had done it 1000 times, but that was aside from the point. When he finished and went off to the net to presumably practice, she was faced with the decision of whether or not to attempt to be social and approach him. She had played lacrosse as a kid with her family in the back yard, and the worst he could do would be brush her off and she could go back to reading in isolation.

Knowing something had to give, huffed and stuffed the dusty book back into her bag, leaving the stands as she grabbed a practice stick that was propped up against the equipment shed on her way out to the field, cradling it in a twist-turn motion. "Hey. I was watching you back there, you looked like a pro." she teased, unable to help that her natural approach to people was to give them a hard time. No on in her adopted family was like that, so it must have been a trait inherited from her birth parents, wherever they were. "but you're not going to get much practice shooting at an empty net. I'm Malia."

[chaosmalia]

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