illbeyouryodaarchive2-blog
slow dancing in a burning room;
Shape without [ f o r m ],shade without colour,Ｐａｒａｌｙｓｅｄ ｆｏｒｃｅ,gesture without motion;
[independent stiles stilinski rp. mun 19+. tracking: wolfgotjokes & illbeyouryoda.]
[!] verses page heavily under construction.
[ :: ]
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this isn’t a promo idk what you’re talking about.
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this isn't a promo idk what you're talking about.
#it's fine it's cool i miss all my peeps here and i don't remember a lot of your urls#so here's the url for my new blog#[out of spark]
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why?? you will give up on the roleplayer world??
um, nope. i'm still playing stiles, i'm just on another account.
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and it’s done. again — if you’d like the url, feel free to shoot me a message. i’ll be checking on here for the next week or so, just in case.
but, yeah. this account is officially i n a c t i v e.
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and it’s done. again — if you’d like the url, feel free to shoot me a message. i’ll be checking on here for the next week or so, just in case.
but, yeah. this account is officially i n a c t i v e.
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emotionallyinsecureneurotic replied to your post: and it’s done. again — if you’d like the url, feel...
Step 1: Roll into ball Step 2: Fall on floor Step 3: Try not to cry Step 4: Cry a lot.
o m f g angel pls.
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and it's done. again -- if you'd like the url, feel free to shoot me a message. i'll be checking on here for the next week or so, just in case.
but, yeah. this account is officially i n a c t i v e.
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i want to make a new stiles account, so i probably will.
i probably won't share it this time (since this one's my second account wop); but, if you want it, just send me a message. i'll give you the url.
but, yeah. that's how i feel. i'll most likely make the account, and then think about it before coming up with a decision.
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Blinking the sleep out of his eyes -- it was a Saturday, can't people wait until after noon for this sort of thing? -- he couldn't help the skeptical look crossing over his features as he leaned against the frame of his front door.
Shouldn't the police cruiser emblazoned with 'SHERIFF' in the driveway be a good indication of where not to bother someone with FBI questions? Especially when his dad specifically told him they were going to the station?
It didn't matter that his dad wasn't there to be the buffer he needed to get this guy off their porch.
"Mind if I see your badge, Agent?" He held a hand out, barely refraining from snapping his fingers impatiently.
So maybe he was being a little abrasive. Who could blame him?
+illbeyouryoda
Beacon Hills was certainly a sight for sore eyes, what with the number of cover-ups the place seemed to be implementing over the past year or two. It was a wonder there weren’t thousands of hunters swarming to the area, the proverbial town becoming a literal embodiment of the word ‘beacon’.
All signs pointed to werewolves…and something else entirely.
Where else would Dean Winchester go?
“Agent Maverick,” he spoke in a level tone, hand flashing a well-crafted fake FBI ID. “Mind if I ask you a few questions?”
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Arms crossing over his chest, he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the other boy. Fingers tapping against his arm, a sigh forced out through flared nostrils as he wondered, once again, why he decided to get Jude's attention. It wasn't like he wasn't anything other than another Jackson; something he knew the other would punch him for, if he ever said it out loud. It made a slow smile grow on his features, his spirits lifted just like that.
"--You can continue to keep that thing away from me, and tell me why you're on my front porch."
[ + jlmayes ]
There it was—that irritating whine of a voice that had inflicted headache after headache on the unsuspecting high school senior, and now prompted him to carry Advil on his person at all times. Cobalt optics boldly sought out eyes that had irises the color of warm cinnamon. Others would say they were amber, but he disagreed for the sake of disagreeing. “You must mean Kingsleigh. I do, in fact, still own him. He’s missed you, Stilinski.”
"…He’s missed using you as a scratching post, anyway."
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[ + jlmayes ]
"Look what the cat dragged in."
Something pretty relevant if he still had that-- "Wait, do you still have that monster of a cat you tried to show me once?"
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ooc; omfg your inbox caption. all right, fuck head. i'm not quite done with my account still but i was proud of getting the sidebar and guidelines done so i wanted to show you like how that obnoxious kid waves a drawing of stick figures under your nose until you pay it some shit compliment???
do u guys see how this shithead treats me. like, god, why did i pester her to make an indie with this treatment???? seriously??????????? you're lucky you're one of my favorites, u lil shit.
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Humming under his breath, he tapped his fingers idly along the stitching in the leather of the cushion; something to do in the silence that always dropped like a veil when he and Derek -- no, Hale, not Derek, keep it that way, Stilinski -- decided that speaking to each other should be a thing.
He didn't understand why they insisted on talking to each other sometimes. They almost always fought, and, honestly, it was exhausting. Even if his mother used to tell him he was practically born to argue.
"I am!" It was exclaimed a little too loudly, his features cringing as he grabbed one of the incredibly soft throw pillows under his head. Curling his arm around it almost protectively.
"I am, really. She deserves it. She isn't abrasive, or rude, or--" It was like he was explaining all the traits she didn't share with himself, jeez. "She's amazing, really."
[ + adversuus ]
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[ He'd just walked through the door; eyes heavy with exhaustion, but no way for him to be able to sleep within the next century, at least. So when he saw Derek laid out on his bed like some kind of-- regal wolf or whatever, he might've scoffed a little. ]
"Someone's tired."
{ The Wolf who’d sleep for years if he could. }
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[6:28:30 PM] Lyncoln: Change your icon so I can post this on my dash and laugh at you.
[6:28:41 PM] Lexington: omf I AM NOT PREPARED
[6:28:48 PM] Lexington: all right give me a moment
[6:28:48 PM] Lyncoln: While promoing you xoxo.
[6:28:58 PM] Lexington: I NEED TO PEE
[6:30:40 PM] Lyncoln: HURRY UP.
[6:34:02 PM] Lexington: now i need to make an icon eheh
[6:34:40 PM] Lyncoln: taps foot impatiently.
[6:35:26 PM] Lexington: if this is how you act when getting close to orgasm too i fucking swear man
[6:35:38 PM] Lyncoln: vgndjfskzagbfdjskg.
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Elena couldn't remember when she'd fallen asleep, but she quickly realized that she was wearing his shirt and was most definitely in his bed. Rubbing her eyes, she shifted only to discover his arm draped over her and his chin more or less on her shoulder. It was hard not to smile, even more difficult not to chuckle. Deciding not to wake him, she nestled back against him and closed her eyes. He was comfortable and warm; and it felt nice to lie in bed with someone else, (but especially with him).
My character falls asleep on yours. What does yours do?
He was warm; that kind of warm where you're just waking up from a nap and your limbs are practically radiating heat, and it's just warm enough that you decide to sleep for just a little longer. It made his lips quirk upward, a hum filled with such a feeling of peace, of satisfaction breaking free as he settled more comfortably against the girl. Because when he'd felt himself wake up for the slightest moment, he had smelled that shampoo he knew Elena favored; and he knew, without a doubt, that she was one of the main reasons why he felt so--
So happy, in this moment.
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My character falls asleep on yours. What does yours do?
-- Derek supposes he probably should've expected this. After all, the kid deserved a rest -- how long had he been straight-awake? Too long, the older assumes as he turns his gaze upon the teen. He was watching for the duration; noticed the tilt of the others neck, shoulders relaxing, eyelids fluttering open and closed until they no longer had the strength to remain open.
Were the circumstances held with a lighter heart, he likely would've pushed the other off with a sharp 'get off of me', yet he hadn't the heart to be as cruel. Tender hands reach to the young boys shoulders, slow and tentative so that he might not wake him in the process. { He would've simply remained stationary, but the broad side of his shoulder and arm likely doesn't make a good pillow. }
Sprawling his fingers over the cloth he finds, Derek situates Stiles onto his side. Like the guard dog he was, he does not sleep in the languid hours of the afternoon, only gazes on as he contemplates their next move in this game of cat-and-mouse. Let him wake on his own terms.
He had no idea how he'd been able to stay awake for as long as he did; it was probably a personal record, one he'd acknowledge when he was actually able to keep his eyes open. When he stop himself from curling along the warmth radiating from the werewolf next to him, like a cat finding that one little spot of sunlight shining through the blinds.
It certainly said something that he was able to relax like this, especially around someone like Derek. Someone who he still felt like they shouldn't trust, for multiple reasons -- but that, maybe, they should trust, for multiple other reasons. A list of reasons growing larger and larger with each day that passed, with each time he was there to save his life, Scott's life -- all their lives, somehow.
His body moved with the uncharacteristically soft touch to his shoulders, though he took the liberty of curling even more around the man once he was situated on his side in his barely conscious state. It was with an arm slung over Derek's lap, twining around his torso that he settled into actual sleep. Face tucking into the space where his waist sloped inward, where most of the heat radiating off of him originated. It made him scrunch his nose up, snuffle a little; sleepily, without any thought to the noise, or his actions. Instead focusing on how this was the first time he'd been able to fall asleep so easily in weeks.
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