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EACH VERTEBRAE REVEALS A MYSTERY PRAY ON MY SPINE , IT'S A ROSARY

[slysinn]

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𝗦𝗟𝗬𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗡 ᛋᛚᚢᛋᛁᚾᚾ [ adj. ] from old norse , meaning ; mischvious , or bringing ill - luck

a non - canon , original interpretation of 𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐳𝐲𝐬ł𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢 , otherwise known as ᛚᚢᚴᛁ ; the trickster god , lord of foxes , shape - shifter , the mischief bringer , god of magic , wieldier of fire and chaos . a lesson in : the hanged man , resurrection as madness , rage in metamorphosis , gazing into the void , the living dead ; or the walking dead , the unnamable weight of grief , guilt as discovery of the self , 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙙𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙤𝙤𝙙 . . .

⁰¹ . ᶦⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿ    .    ⁰² . ᵖᶦⁿᵗᵉʳᵉˢᵗ    .    ⁰³ . ᵖˡᵃʸˡᶦˢᵗ    .

IN CONJUNCTURE WITH : CAOINSIDHE , QUEENWOLF , & LOUPROU

* NOTE ON MY INTERPRETATION , while i do not have any official information pages done for stiles , it should be noted that i write them mostly as an original character with my own lore . in my interpretation , stiles is an ancient and nameless deity , who presides over death in nature , is the keeper of the cycle of death and rebirth , and fire . they are an entity that resides in the roots of an ancient and immortal yew tree ( sometimes referred to as the life tree , or yggdrasil , but the tree has lived far before the first myths note its existence ) stiles , in modern day , is haunted by the ghosts of all their previous lives , who have lived and died in the roots of the yew . most interactions that take place in his main verse will occur either in the few years before their death , or after , when they break the spiral and comes back with their power and knowledge of who they are restored .

general rp etiquette applies . this blog is mostly for friends only , and due to both the nature of me being both very anti - canon and having low activity i will be private and selective in my following . that being said you are more than welcome to follow me , but please do not be offended if i choose to soft-block . i personally do not do starter calls because they tend to stress and overwhelm me , so feel free at any time to send me as many memes as you'd like-- whether i reblogged it ten seconds or two months ago , if we are mutual my inbox is always open to you and is the best way to get interactions going here !

concepts seen on this blog are either entirely of my own creation , or are featured in tandem with the lore my friends have built . very small beats and pieces of canon are featured , but have been heavily altered . i am not canon compliant , i do not enjoy the tw fandom at large , and i will block you if you even attempt to defend sterek .

[slysinn]

is this your dream nightmare girl

[slysinn]

true to form the only productive thing i did this weekend was finally name the town stiles is in

[slysinn]

let stiles be your muse’s dead wife

[slysinn]

stiles btw

[slysinn]

its actually so important to me that you know and that you understand that stiles left. stiles is the person that left. stiles is the leaver. stiles is the selfish one in that scenario. they cut off everyone. and yes they do think its for a good reason. they believe with 100% conviction that something bad is going to happen. that they will hurt someone that they love. that foreboding sense of death is in everything. and it does not matter if they were right. there were so many better options. they could have told people. they could have kept contact with the people who loved them but they didn't. nobody knew where they went, or what was happening. stiles told their father not to follow them. if you love stiles you have to understand that. you have to understand that they are someone who runs. who hides. they are the fox yes because they are cunning but because they are evasive too. and you must understand that stiles is an injured, and spooked animal. they will run. they will snap. they will bite the hand no matter how gentle it is. yes, fundamentally, stiles is a good person. they have a good heart. that does not change that they made a mistake, that they knowingly did something hurtful. they will try to apologize for that forever. they will try to make up for that however they can. they are genuinely and truly sorry, they mean it with their whole heart. you do not have to forgive them. they will understand that too.

[slysinn]

cheek kisses!!!!!! sorry she’s french!!!!!!!

allison is a breath of fresh air , and stiles has been slowly suffocating in the dark . she is cool moonlight , and they are a fire that has been set in the deep rotted nettle of nighttime . she is a balm , something that soothes -- cold waters , and familiar arms , and a hand against the heart that comforts , stills , settles . and they are left with the distinct feeling of being something lost , something wandering , a creature stumbling through the underbrush -- and they have finally looked up , and found the light overhead , and realized home is much closer than they ever could have imagined .

and their instinct is to apologize , to beg for forgiveness , for the wreckage of them that she has stumbled across . a ship wrecked against rocky shores , a lighthouse crumbling , a hurricane -- a forest fire . they have wielded themselves as a weapon , taken the knife and cut , pried herself out of the lives of everyone around her , and left only natural disaster at their heels . she finds them , roots of madness warped and wrapped around her body until they can't get free . finds them hollow eyed and bloody mouthed , and still she is kind in a way that feels utterly undeserved . and even now , there is that old guilt , that old grief -- that knocks at the back of their skull . a reminder dredged from the depths that whispers , it is all your fault . this is all your fault . she is gone and it is your fault .

but they are a selfish creature , and she is so unbelievably grateful for her presence , for the press of her mouth against each cheek -- for the way , that for just a moment , they are light enough that a laugh catches in their throat . " you're here . " it is a statement , but it is laced with a certain amount of disbelief . her hands rising to rest against allison's arms , the squeeze of her fingers , a test -- a reassurance , that she is real . that the moon has tipped her gaze back to them for a moment , that they are allowed once more to stand in the silvered light of her presence . " come -- yeah , come inside . please . "

[slysinn]

can you tell me the next time you're going to do something so fucking dumb?

stiles has this reoccurring dream , one they've told no one . a secret kept tucked beneath their ribs . in the dream they are in a hall of mirrors , and each one has a different face , but is still distinctly her . each movement is a perfect replica , each one faces them with the same wild sharpness in their eyes , the same knife - point of a smile . and in this dream , without realizing , they find their fingers digging into their jaw until it breaks . and instead of screaming , they laugh . and all the mimics laugh with them , and watch with hungry eyes as the blood starts to spill from her mouth . as they twist and grind bone against bone , as they work their jaw until it is soft , and moldable , like clay . as they paint their face with the deep crimson pouring from their parted lips . as they sink to their knees and the bodies step from the mirrors to surround them . and the laughter is so loud , they can't tell when their own laughter turns into screaming . they wake up around then , usually . the scream can only live in her throat so long before it tears her awake .

maybe it's more of a nightmare after all , maybe that's why they haven't told anyone . it's easy to explain an absurd dream . it's harder to explain the horror lurking behind your closed eyes .

they're thinking about this dream now , while they crouch there with bloodied hands . as the breath rasps in and out of their throat . there is a fire , somewhere at their back . she doesn't remember setting it , but the flames warm the drying blood all the same . and they are staring at their hands , and feel an ache in their jaw , and feel the bone click and grind as her mouth works to spit out blood onto the ground . for a moment , they don't bother looking up . and only grit out , " i wasn't being fucking dumb . "

she's aware of the concern hidden in the depths of the voice at their side , they are acutely aware , in fact , that azriel cares enough to show up unbidden , unsummoned , to their side . their neck turns , cranes , cracks -- and they loose a sigh . and their fingers clench , and unclench , three times in slow succession , before she rises . and her eyes are nearly black in the dim light , from where they finally turn to look at them through blood - stained hair . " they wanted me dead . i got to them first , hardly stupid . " their brows quirk up , the ghost of her familiar amusement crossing her features as they turn , shoulders bumping , searching the ground for where their weapon landed . " i thought you'd rather admire that , actually "

[slysinn]

okay. we can have a plotting call as a treat actually

[slysinn]

so that’s how ive been doing

[slysinn]

no because do you Understand the vibes of it. the queer horror of it. like what do you mean you’re being haunted By Yourself. what do you mean you are your own ghost. what do you mean that accepting who you really are is what leads to your survival and ultimately happiness. girl the allegories have been there the entire god damn time

[weltenwellen]

Hua Xi, from "Night Drive Through My Own Life"

[ihateprompts]

kiss prompts

dialogue

"can i kiss you?"

"are you sure about this?"

"close your eyes"

"wanna practise?"

"i really, really want to kiss you right now"

"i think i deserve a kiss"

"if you win, i'll kiss you"

"kiss me again"

"are you wearing chapstick?"

"shut up" (affectionately)

"you'll have to teach me"

"was that okay?"

"woah.."

"you're gonna get lipstick all over me"

"i think this is the part where you're supposed to kiss me"

"just follow my lead"

"one more kiss? please?"

"can we do that again?"

actions / scenarios

hand kisses

neck kisses

cheek kisses

stomach kisses

forehead kisses

thigh kisses

trailing kisses down your lovers body

arms wrapped around your lovers neck

light pecks

smiling while kissing

lifting your lover up

kisses meant to distract

kissing for a dare

goodmorning kisses

goodnight kisses

hello kisses

goodbye kisses

kitchen counter makeouts

kisses while cuddling

soft kisses becoming heated

heated kisses becoming soft

kisses to keep your lover quiet during sex

kisses while sitting in your lovers lap

kisses under mistletoe

leaving love bites on your lover

pulling away to look at eachother, eyes full of love

whispering in-between kisses

lifting up your lover while kissing

messy half asleep kisses

kisses that lead to more than kissing

kissing in the rain

almost kisses that are interrupted by a third party

nervous kisses

staring at your lover's lips before a kiss

hands on your lovers neck while kissing

routine kisses

drunk (mutually / accidental) kisses

kissing your lover as a reward

lazy makeouts

kisses leaving you breathless

heavy breathing with foreheads leaning together

hands in your lovers hair

hands under your lovers clothes

forbidden kisses

pulling your lover in by their collar

pulling your lover in by their tie

hands cupping your lovers cheeks

passionate kissing, pressed up against a wall

being caught kissing

confessing in the heat of the moment, leading to a kiss

luring your lover back to bed with kisses

kisses with a height difference - one leaning down while the other is on their tiptoes

[mulderscully]

You are a very hard person to love.

[queenwolf]

The  moon  is  heavy  with  the  weight  of  a  lingering  fullness.    Its  light  spills  across  the  landscape,    urging  the  things  in  the  dark  to  tuck  further  into  those  shadows  lest  they  be  seen.    They  are  heard  though;    night  music  swells,    crescendos,    and  breaks  as  if  to  beg  the  moon  for  a  little  reprieve  or  else  to  thank  her  for  her  appearance  as  she  filters  through  the  canopy  of  dark  trees.    Allison  turns  her  face  away  from  the  sky  to  look  at  the  curved,    painful  body  of  her  friend  beside  her.    She  can  hear  the  rasp  of  panic  in  their  every  exhale,    sharp  and  harsh  as  they  are  around  the  press  of  emotion  filling  them  up.  

❝    Stiles.    ❞  Her  voice  is  softer  than  the  bugs  chorusing  around  them.    She  reaches  a  hand  to  touch  their  arm,    but  aborts  the  connection  at  the  last  moment.    ❝    I’m  sorry.    I  shouldn’t  have–    ❞  Something  is  hot,    jagged,    pressing  against  the  inside  of  her  brain;    she  thinks  for  a  moment  that  she  might  be  bursting  with  heavy  light,    too.    The  headache  eases  only  when  she  presses  the  knuckles  of  her  dominant  hand  into  the  socket  of  her  eye.    Now  Allison  is  the  one  to  turn  away  and  hide.    ❝    I  guess  I’m  just  stressed  out.    This  case  is  fucking  me  up.    Not  that–  I  still  shouldn’t  have  spoken  to  you  like  that.    Shit.    ❞

[slysinn]

there is a rattling in the back of their head , a knocking against the skull , a scrape against his spine . and they know that it is the beckoning of dead things , the invitation of ghosts that feed on the spike of his panicked heart ; old , and ancient , and unknowable spirits feasting on the fear and fire of a body both living and undead . and even though they know it is coming , it still feels suffocating to hear the sounds of the wild slowly drowned out by the whispers and wails filling their ears . to feel the earth slipping out from under them slowly , to see only the darkness between the trees ---- as if they are something to be shunned from the light , undeserving as they are . because , at the end , was it not their hand that guided the sword ?

a hand flinches to their ear , fingernails digging into flesh , a tremble in their fingers ---- as if they could reach in and pluck the voices out one by one , bloodied as they may come , and finally remember what silence is like . " no , no , it's ---- " he's not sure how her voices reaches him , how it penetrates through the walls of sound and registers enough to spill a response without realizing it . there is an echo , a ghost of something pulling in his chest , and he drops his hand to turn back to her ; frowning when they're greeted by the sight of her own back . their hands slip to the back of their neck , intertwining , palms pressing tightly , as if to hold their head to the rest of their body . an exhale , head shaking , " it's fine , allison . it's . . . it's fucking with all of us , i think " their eyes shut for a moment , searching through the sound for the groan of trees , the hush of leaves , the small lullaby of the earth to tangle their thoughts into ; an anchor all its own . " i'm not sleeping again , so . not that that's an excuse , but . . . you're not alone , is what i mean "

[slysinn]

and with that im reminding everyone stiles heart was stopped for 7 minutes when they died

[slysinn]

“ i’m going to hold your hand. ”

the surprise on their face is evident , like an electric shock ricocheting through the body ; and with it comes the tidal wave of doubt . the instinct to curl their hands into their lap , to shy away from something loving , and warm . to dig his fingernails tighter into his skin and refuse to let go , to prefer the violence of his own hands than risk the gentleness of someone else ( how broken do you have to be , to crave ripping yourself apart before allowing a single kindness to touch your skin ? ) but it's different with her , it has always been different with her . the way he has followed at her heels for years now , has trailed after her , has laid with his throat bared ---- the way he would thank her either way , a bite or a touch , he would be grateful for anything .

" oh , are you ---- are you sure ? " their breath catches in their throat , their gaze flicking up to hers , searching for something , for anything , to make the doubt in the back of his head solid and real . but he seems not to find it , and finds something else instead . their cheeks flush , shoulders lifting slightly , uncurling their fingers from where they dig and clench together . he swallows down something , exhaling a laugh that rasps like leaves in the wind , his palm laid on his knee for her . open , and waiting , and trembling with something unnamable " sorry ---- sorry , i mean , okay . yeah , okay "

[slysinn]

you're doing that on purpose, aren't you? sciles :o)

there is nothing but moonlight and breath between them , and for the first time in so long , stiles feels something in his chest calm , and settle . a wild thing that has found familiar home , that has seen the sun between the leaves , and found someplace warm to finally lay its head after the long winter . they lay on their backs , side by side , the lines of their bodies fused into one being ---- the way they've always done , the way they maybe always will ( he hopes they always will . if they could have one wish , it would be this ) there's a huff of a laugh , almost weightless , almost warm " yeah ? doing what , exactly ? " there's mischief in it , but a gentler kind . one that is entirely aware of the way their fingertip runs back and forth against scott's knuckles , the way their other fingers are half curled into his palm , the way their head is tipped to rest against his shoulder , their breath warm where it brushes against his neck .

they roll onto their side to face him , and they feel the weight of familiar things left unsaid in their throat . things known , but always unspoken ---- things that can only be understood in their absolute silence . their smile presses into the slope of scott's shoulder , a hand lifting to pat his chest , ignoring the way it lingers , and then stays there , soothed by the drum of his heart against their open palm . a taunting raise of their brows , voice laced with familiar teasing " and what are you gonna do about it , mccall ? "