Stiles Stilinski (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
likerightnow) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
muserevival2014-05-09 09:30 pm
likerightnow) wrote in muserevival2014-05-09 09:30 pm
Entry tags:
067.6. Misc/random
"I've been crazy for you all this time." (Heart On Fire, Jonathan Clay)
It had been five years since Stiles last lived in Beacon Hills. Of course, he had gone back for a few family celebrations a couple of Christmases, but he had been so busy at college that they really only ended up fly-by visits. He hadn't left to run away, but he had admittedly needed a timeout, and the uncertainty of what would come once he did depart his home town had made leaving really hard.
Now he was coming back, and it had this surreal feeling of both feeling like a long time since he was last here, but like little time had passed at all. It was a five hour flight from Washington back to California. Stiles told himself he had his shit together in going home but inwardly, he was stressed and nervous. He had changed, grown up. He hadn't lost who he was in essence, but he now had a lot more wisdom and intelligence that he had developed honing his role as Emissary to Scott's pack. He could be dangerous in his own right, not just because of the knowledge he had absorbed, but because he was now a master marksman in firearms and had an uncanny knack for knowing when someone was lying. It was how going from rookie cop to recently scoring his Detective's badge was such a breeze. All the rest of their pack had their 'thing' and this was his.
His Emissary ability had come at a small price, though. After beginning work with his Guardian, Sidhe fallen angel, Aengus, Stiles had began to develop migraines from putting his mind through intense paces. Not often, but when they hit him, they could floor him and Aengus suggested that, in a sense, it could be a mental response of his brain to shut down so it could refresh. Kind of like rebooting a computer that would run slow or resetting a wifi modem. It made sense, and it was just one more thing Stiles learned to manage on top of his mental illness.
The illness of which most definitely had been a benefit to him being an Emissary, just like Aengus had predicted. There was also the fact that his Emissary gift helped him nail his detective exams and pass all psychological assessment. It was an unusual case, with run of the mill people telling him he would be lucky to make the force with a mental illness, but he had gone on to smash it and now he had landed the exact job he would never have hoped or dream he could.
Stiles had felt the migraine coming on the flight to California. It was an overwhelming situation going back home where he had distanced himself from many there, but above and beyond everything else, Stiles knew he was going to have to face Isaac. The love of his life, the one he had broken up with despite still loving him with every fibre within him. Stiles and Lydia wanted to go to college, but the werewolves wanted to stay in their stomping ground. The reluctance to leave Beacon Hills had put his relationship with Isaac, and Scott's with Lydia, in somewhat of a stalemate. When they hadn't been able to come to a working agreement without painful sacrifice more on one part than the other, they all decided to make a mutual sacrifice... and broke up.
On the face of it, at first, Stiles had held things together in that last week in Beacon Hills before going to Washington with Lydia for college. He went through the motions, locked in autopilot mode when things hurt too much inside, and then told Scott he would always be there for him, whether it be as a brother, a best friend, or an Emissary... but he had to go away. He had to. He was worn thin by the end of high school. He had dove in head-first to his Emissary journey and beyond proved himself. But a point had to come where he needed to think about himself and develop into something outwith the pack. He wasn't a werewolf, he was still human. He needed to remember to nurture that and not lose himself.
Stiles had cried so damn hard it was embarrassing on the flight from California to Washington all those years ago. Then he had his moments of falling apart every now and then as he tried to adjust with life without Isaac. He knew that he never really managed to pull it off, though. He dated all of two other people in college. One guy from his Philosophy of Justice class for all of two and a half dates before he rudely ended it, and then a girl in the apartment block they were living who seemed intent on getting the quickest idiot to put a ring on it so she could have a big white wedding. He told her he was infertile and didn't believe in marriage. She ended it the next day.
There was some casual sex, but not much. Mostly Stiles just focused on college and acing his grades. He kept in touch with Scott every day and spoke to his family on Skype each night before bed, unless he was so wrecked from college and crashed before the calls came in. That was all said and done now. Now he was home and it wasn't really the arrival he anticipated. He headache put him in a bad mood. He was happy when his dad picked him up from the airport, and then again when he got back to his old childhood home and was greeted at the door by Scott, Melissa, and Hope after they had delivered Lydia safely to her folks' home.
By then, though, Stiles head was thumping and he was getting the auras in his peripheral vision. There was no going back from that point. It didn't help that his little sister was so super excited to see him that she was running around the house screaming with all the ear-piercing decibels a four year old little girl could muster. Their family welcome home dinner was a bust for him when he ended up on the floor of the bathroom with the lights out hugging the toilet bowl. Melissa quietened Hope down and his dad came to check on him, to which Stiles mumbled a miserable, "Let's just have a do-over of the welcome yays tomorrow."
Now he had just taken a quick shower to freshen up, still in the dark because light was one of his biggest enemies when he was like that. No matter how much his head wanted to reboot sometimes, his heart always seemed stuck on the same record. He went across the hall to his old room, which was dimmed except for the lamp in the corner switched down low. Melissa had pulled his bed back for him and left him a glass of water on his bedside table, and Stiles suitcases were piled on the floor in the corner.
His head was still aching as he looked around the room with the décor he had picked for a room makeover in the wake of his suicide attempt. Isaac had helped him pick it out. There were a lot of memories couched between these walls, and not all good. Some horrific. All of which interlinked to make him who he was today. He went to his hand luggage and unzipped it, digging down deep in the bottom and pulling out a small black velvet bag with a Celtic Triquetra embroidered on the outside in fine gold thread. The symbol for past, present, and future, or also power, intellect, and love. He had brought this back from his trip to Ireland at the beginning of the year with Lydia she took for research. Aengus had come along and was there when Stiles purchased this.
From within the bag, he tipped out a matching ring box. Black velvet, gold Triquetra on the top. He flicked it open with his thumb, looking at the ring nestled inside. He really was back home now, but he knew that everything had changed and there was no way of knowing what the next chapter was supposed to hold.
Stiles Stilinski // Teen Wolf // For future AU @untiltheendstarts
It had been five years since Stiles last lived in Beacon Hills. Of course, he had gone back for a few family celebrations a couple of Christmases, but he had been so busy at college that they really only ended up fly-by visits. He hadn't left to run away, but he had admittedly needed a timeout, and the uncertainty of what would come once he did depart his home town had made leaving really hard.
Now he was coming back, and it had this surreal feeling of both feeling like a long time since he was last here, but like little time had passed at all. It was a five hour flight from Washington back to California. Stiles told himself he had his shit together in going home but inwardly, he was stressed and nervous. He had changed, grown up. He hadn't lost who he was in essence, but he now had a lot more wisdom and intelligence that he had developed honing his role as Emissary to Scott's pack. He could be dangerous in his own right, not just because of the knowledge he had absorbed, but because he was now a master marksman in firearms and had an uncanny knack for knowing when someone was lying. It was how going from rookie cop to recently scoring his Detective's badge was such a breeze. All the rest of their pack had their 'thing' and this was his.
His Emissary ability had come at a small price, though. After beginning work with his Guardian, Sidhe fallen angel, Aengus, Stiles had began to develop migraines from putting his mind through intense paces. Not often, but when they hit him, they could floor him and Aengus suggested that, in a sense, it could be a mental response of his brain to shut down so it could refresh. Kind of like rebooting a computer that would run slow or resetting a wifi modem. It made sense, and it was just one more thing Stiles learned to manage on top of his mental illness.
The illness of which most definitely had been a benefit to him being an Emissary, just like Aengus had predicted. There was also the fact that his Emissary gift helped him nail his detective exams and pass all psychological assessment. It was an unusual case, with run of the mill people telling him he would be lucky to make the force with a mental illness, but he had gone on to smash it and now he had landed the exact job he would never have hoped or dream he could.
Stiles had felt the migraine coming on the flight to California. It was an overwhelming situation going back home where he had distanced himself from many there, but above and beyond everything else, Stiles knew he was going to have to face Isaac. The love of his life, the one he had broken up with despite still loving him with every fibre within him. Stiles and Lydia wanted to go to college, but the werewolves wanted to stay in their stomping ground. The reluctance to leave Beacon Hills had put his relationship with Isaac, and Scott's with Lydia, in somewhat of a stalemate. When they hadn't been able to come to a working agreement without painful sacrifice more on one part than the other, they all decided to make a mutual sacrifice... and broke up.
On the face of it, at first, Stiles had held things together in that last week in Beacon Hills before going to Washington with Lydia for college. He went through the motions, locked in autopilot mode when things hurt too much inside, and then told Scott he would always be there for him, whether it be as a brother, a best friend, or an Emissary... but he had to go away. He had to. He was worn thin by the end of high school. He had dove in head-first to his Emissary journey and beyond proved himself. But a point had to come where he needed to think about himself and develop into something outwith the pack. He wasn't a werewolf, he was still human. He needed to remember to nurture that and not lose himself.
Stiles had cried so damn hard it was embarrassing on the flight from California to Washington all those years ago. Then he had his moments of falling apart every now and then as he tried to adjust with life without Isaac. He knew that he never really managed to pull it off, though. He dated all of two other people in college. One guy from his Philosophy of Justice class for all of two and a half dates before he rudely ended it, and then a girl in the apartment block they were living who seemed intent on getting the quickest idiot to put a ring on it so she could have a big white wedding. He told her he was infertile and didn't believe in marriage. She ended it the next day.
There was some casual sex, but not much. Mostly Stiles just focused on college and acing his grades. He kept in touch with Scott every day and spoke to his family on Skype each night before bed, unless he was so wrecked from college and crashed before the calls came in. That was all said and done now. Now he was home and it wasn't really the arrival he anticipated. He headache put him in a bad mood. He was happy when his dad picked him up from the airport, and then again when he got back to his old childhood home and was greeted at the door by Scott, Melissa, and Hope after they had delivered Lydia safely to her folks' home.
By then, though, Stiles head was thumping and he was getting the auras in his peripheral vision. There was no going back from that point. It didn't help that his little sister was so super excited to see him that she was running around the house screaming with all the ear-piercing decibels a four year old little girl could muster. Their family welcome home dinner was a bust for him when he ended up on the floor of the bathroom with the lights out hugging the toilet bowl. Melissa quietened Hope down and his dad came to check on him, to which Stiles mumbled a miserable, "Let's just have a do-over of the welcome yays tomorrow."
Now he had just taken a quick shower to freshen up, still in the dark because light was one of his biggest enemies when he was like that. No matter how much his head wanted to reboot sometimes, his heart always seemed stuck on the same record. He went across the hall to his old room, which was dimmed except for the lamp in the corner switched down low. Melissa had pulled his bed back for him and left him a glass of water on his bedside table, and Stiles suitcases were piled on the floor in the corner.
His head was still aching as he looked around the room with the décor he had picked for a room makeover in the wake of his suicide attempt. Isaac had helped him pick it out. There were a lot of memories couched between these walls, and not all good. Some horrific. All of which interlinked to make him who he was today. He went to his hand luggage and unzipped it, digging down deep in the bottom and pulling out a small black velvet bag with a Celtic Triquetra embroidered on the outside in fine gold thread. The symbol for past, present, and future, or also power, intellect, and love. He had brought this back from his trip to Ireland at the beginning of the year with Lydia she took for research. Aengus had come along and was there when Stiles purchased this.
From within the bag, he tipped out a matching ring box. Black velvet, gold Triquetra on the top. He flicked it open with his thumb, looking at the ring nestled inside. He really was back home now, but he knew that everything had changed and there was no way of knowing what the next chapter was supposed to hold.
Stiles Stilinski // Teen Wolf // For future AU @
untiltheendstarts