Third Person: Sometimes, Stiles thought that the digital clock in his room actually judged him.
It wasn't that far-fetched of an assumption, to be honest. The red numbers were currently blaring him as he sat cross legged on his bed, drumming his fingers against the surface of his laptop, the only other light besides the judgmental 3:10 AM staring him in the face from across the room. To be up this late wasn't an abnormal experience for the teenager--his mind worked like a twelve speed bike that someone had cut the brake lines to-- but it didn't change the fact that he could practically hear the time being read off in his dad's voice. It's three in the damn morning, kid. Go to bed. I just got home.
Normally one of these binges would be an obsessive trek into the depths of World of Warcraft, or a long list of stupid youtube videos about how to fold paper or unlock a door with a shoelace (to be fair, that had been pretty useful.) But Stiles Stilinski's life had not been normal since his best friend had become a werewolf, and now, instead of video games and caffeine and too much adderall, he was hunched over his computer screen with a pen, a small dictionary (clearly labeled: LATIN TO ENGLISH), and an ancient looking tome labeled VETUS LATINA spread out over his lap. When the Bestiary, an ancient tome of All Things That Go Bump in the Night--not the dictionary definition, but Stiles's was more succinct and less stuffy--had fallen into their laps, Stiles had taken it on as his personal project, out of a combined sense of need to contribute to his best friend's general wolflihood, masochism, and sheer determination.
It didn't help that the Girl of His Dreams, literally, spoke archaic Latin. It was part of her perfect, terrifying charm. Plus, he could use it to spend more time with her, a thought that had eagerly sent him scurrying off to the library and scrounging around the language section until he'd come out with his new textbook best friend and a very grumpy librarian, who seemed none too pleased with his dramatic stumble off the ladder and into the shelf behind his.
"Speaking archaic Latin. That's gonna look great on a resume someday." Stiles mumbled under his breath, snapping back to focus as he turned the page of the ancient textbook--seriously, this thing looked like it was older than his father, and the Sheriff wasn't exactly a spring chicken--to a page full of grammar rules. It responded with a puff of dust as he turned the page, and as the teenager coughed, he managed an "Et tu, Brute!", waving the dust out of his face.
When his vision finally de-dusted and he squinted his vision back into focus, Stiles' eyes caught on the distinctly red numbers of the digital clock again. And, more importantly, another object, glowing bright red in the dark of his room at three in the morning.
"Ohmygod--!" Jumping about a foot in the air, Stiles managed to upend the book in his lap, the dictionary, and nearly sent his Macbook flying across the room in a massive, sweeping flail of his gawky limbs--the sight of Derek Hale, brooding Alpha of Beacon Hills, however, made his shoulders (and his arms, and his hands, and most of his body,) drop. Stiles snapped his head back up as Derek actually entered the room without a word, and hissed over the pound of his heartbeat in his ears, "Jesus freakin' Christ, could you knock?! "
OTHER Housing Request?: Nothing in particular! :> Did you read the rules and FAQ?: Of course. Would you like your application to be unscreened?: Sure!
ACCEPTED Congrats, your application has been accepted! Your character is now living at 1446 in Holly Heights, with a child slot. In order to get the ball rolling, here's what you need to do:
Comment back with the journal you'll be using for your character so that they can be accepted into the communities.
Create an IC Mailbox post on your characters journal that is not friends only. You are also free to treat this as an information holding post with your character's family and address listed if you wish.
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First Person: a post from rubycity_rp!
Third Person:
Sometimes, Stiles thought that the digital clock in his room actually judged him.
It wasn't that far-fetched of an assumption, to be honest. The red numbers were currently blaring him as he sat cross legged on his bed, drumming his fingers against the surface of his laptop, the only other light besides the judgmental 3:10 AM staring him in the face from across the room. To be up this late wasn't an abnormal experience for the teenager--his mind worked like a twelve speed bike that someone had cut the brake lines to-- but it didn't change the fact that he could practically hear the time being read off in his dad's voice. It's three in the damn morning, kid. Go to bed. I just got home.
Normally one of these binges would be an obsessive trek into the depths of World of Warcraft, or a long list of stupid youtube videos about how to fold paper or unlock a door with a shoelace (to be fair, that had been pretty useful.) But Stiles Stilinski's life had not been normal since his best friend had become a werewolf, and now, instead of video games and caffeine and too much adderall, he was hunched over his computer screen with a pen, a small dictionary (clearly labeled: LATIN TO ENGLISH), and an ancient looking tome labeled VETUS LATINA spread out over his lap. When the Bestiary, an ancient tome of All Things That Go Bump in the Night--not the dictionary definition, but Stiles's was more succinct and less stuffy--had fallen into their laps, Stiles had taken it on as his personal project, out of a combined sense of need to contribute to his best friend's general wolflihood, masochism, and sheer determination.
It didn't help that the Girl of His Dreams, literally, spoke archaic Latin. It was part of her perfect, terrifying charm. Plus, he could use it to spend more time with her, a thought that had eagerly sent him scurrying off to the library and scrounging around the language section until he'd come out with his new textbook best friend and a very grumpy librarian, who seemed none too pleased with his dramatic stumble off the ladder and into the shelf behind his.
"Speaking archaic Latin. That's gonna look great on a resume someday." Stiles mumbled under his breath, snapping back to focus as he turned the page of the ancient textbook--seriously, this thing looked like it was older than his father, and the Sheriff wasn't exactly a spring chicken--to a page full of grammar rules. It responded with a puff of dust as he turned the page, and as the teenager coughed, he managed an "Et tu, Brute!", waving the dust out of his face.
When his vision finally de-dusted and he squinted his vision back into focus, Stiles' eyes caught on the distinctly red numbers of the digital clock again. And, more importantly, another object, glowing bright red in the dark of his room at three in the morning.
"Ohmygod--!" Jumping about a foot in the air, Stiles managed to upend the book in his lap, the dictionary, and nearly sent his Macbook flying across the room in a massive, sweeping flail of his gawky limbs--the sight of Derek Hale, brooding Alpha of Beacon Hills, however, made his shoulders (and his arms, and his hands, and most of his body,) drop. Stiles snapped his head back up as Derek actually entered the room without a word, and hissed over the pound of his heartbeat in his ears, "Jesus freakin' Christ, could you knock?! "
OTHER
Housing Request?: Nothing in particular! :>
Did you read the rules and FAQ?: Of course.
Would you like your application to be unscreened?: Sure!
Accepted
Congrats, your application has been accepted! Your character is now living at 1446 in Holly Heights, with a child slot. In order to get the ball rolling, here's what you need to do:
I hope you enjoy your stay here!