imagine what stiles must look like to the other kids at beacon hills high. like he thinks that everyone thinks he’s just a loser, but they’re actually just really intimated by him?
"that’s stiles stilinski. one time he actually kidnapped the captain of the lacrosse team. and sometimes he shows up to school with all sorts of bruises cuts. and he’s always being questioned by the police. im pretty sure he’s dating that scary guy with the leather jacket. i think they’re in a gang."
#’i don’t know what he did to lydia martin but she talks to him now’#’i think he threatened her’#’remember they went to that dance together last year and she was in the hospital and then ran around the woods for a couple days?’#’pretty sure he hypnotized her or something’#from an outsider’s perspective stiles is terrifying (x)
#’i heard he attacked a bunch of people at the hospital’#’didn’t he break that lahey kid out of prison’#’i heard he killed allison argent’#’my friend saw him with the blueprints to the bank. i think he was planning on robbing it’#’i heard he killed one of those new twins too’#’the one lydia was dating?’#’yeah’#’maybe he was jealous then’#’that stilinski kid is a murderer. don’t mess with him’ (x)
best goddamn cover I’ve heard so far
Fuck goddamn I love this so much I just want to have been the person who came up with the idea I LOVE IT JESUS FUCK COVERS OF MUSIC THAT GO IN OTHER DIRECTIONS ARE THE WHOLE REASON TO GET UP IN THE MORNING
PLEASE WATCH THIS
I am struck occasionally, usually while snuggling the cat, with our faith in domestication.
The cat is a small, ferocious predator, twelve pounds of…well, flab and fur, frankly, in Athena’s case, but what muscle there is is strong all out of proportion to her size. I have watched three 150+ primates try and fail to subdue a ten pound cat, and consider it not at all unusual. The cat is as flexible as a snake and as strong as an ox. She has quite dainty looking teeth and claws, but there’s nothing dainty about their ability to flay flesh from bone.
If the cat and I were in a duel to the death, I would almost certainly win. I am 15+ times larger than she is, after all, and while my teeth and claws are pathetic, I have prehensile hands capable of doing terrible things. But if I had to go in naked, as the cat does, (and assuming the cat was aware that she was going to have to kill me, and not taking a nap in the corner) I can pretty much guarantee it would be a Pyhrric victory. I’d look like I’d gone ten rounds with a wolverine. I would need stitches. A lot of stitches. Possibly a glass eye. And antibiotics by the truckload. It’d be a mess, and there would even be a chance of an upset if the cat managed to go face-hugger on me.
And yet, despite the knowledge of the shocking amount of damage my small predator could inflict, it never occurs to me to worry. I pick the cat up and she tucks her head under my chin and purrs, canine teeth centimeters from my jugular, and despite the fact that I am carrying a ruthless carnivore in a position where she could, with great ease, remove me from the gene pool, I am thoroughly content with the world. Even knowing full well that cats are not even a truly domesticated animal, that Athena’s kin might best be described as “consistently tamed,” my greatest concern is that my black tank top is now coated in white cat hairs.
We have such faith in the process of domestication, despite the sheer unnaturalness of what’s happening. Small predators do not curl up on the chests of large primates and purr in the wild. And yet, every now and again, generally when my small predator is purring on the chest of this particular primate, I think How strange, how strange… that we’re doing this, and even stranger, that we both take it completely for granted, and find nothing unusual in such a completely unlikely alliance."