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Also, friendly reminder that Scott was never this wide-eyed naive innocent fandom likes to paint him as.

He grew up with an angry alcoholic father who abandoned him and his mother years ago.

He grew up with a physical illness that impaired his ability to be the athlete he wanted to be, so much so that even his closest friend expressed doubt rather than support when he talked about how he was going to make the team.

He grew up so acutely aware of financial stresses that he went back into the woods to the very spot where he was just attacked by a vicious monster the night before, because he couldn’t afford to lose an inhaler that cost $80.

He grew up so aware of his place in the social hierarchy of high school and the capacity of his classmates to be assholes that he didn’t even blink, let alone protest when Jackson shoved him into the lockers in the iconic ‘where are you getting your juice’ scene.

The world sucks and people can be awful was never a revelation to Scott McCall. It was never a reality he needed to be protected from, that he could be protected from. It takes strength to be aware of the world, of your life sucking, and managing to still be optimistic anyway, choosing to still smile, and make dumb jokes, and have dreams and ambitions and try to always see the best in people.

Stop stripping Scott McCall of his strength pre-pilot just because you can’t conceive of a character who knows the world can be awful and still finds a way to be happy and optimistic and hopeful.

Death to the myth that jaded = strength, that anything else can only mean someone hasn’t seen enough or struggled enough to know that jaded is the only appropriate path forward.

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many months late to the trend of drawing characters like this but its scott!

(also my headcanon is that even with werewolf healing, the bite that turned them never truly goes away and is forever scarred into their body.)

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ive been watching the dog motif show... why is no one talking about this guy. isaac lahey come home from france,,,, sweet boy,,,, we miss you,,,

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More Teen Wolf doodles because I miss themm

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Love how Scott moves to stand in front of Isaac when Derek and Peter corner them in the lockers towards the end of season 2. Scott's like "if you wanna hurt this 6'2" rabid weasel who'd fight god, you're gonna have to go through me!"

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13 YEARS OF TEEN WOLF Teen Wolf premiered on June 5, 2011, and concluded on August 15, 2011, on the MTV network. The show revolves around a high school student named Scott McCall, whose life is changed forever when he is bitten by a werewolf.

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10 Werewolf Movies To Consider For October/Halloween

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i loathe how much scott has sm hate. the boy was bitten against his will and didn't want to hurt anyone and felt so bad when he did or thought about it. like before the bite, he just wanted a fresh start by wanting to join the lacrosse team, pass his classes, get a girlfriend, and be better than how he was the year before. not a freaking werewolf. it was a huge adjustment for him just saying.

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scott in 3x02: chaos rising

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twrpcharacterofthemonth: scott & erica

|| for @teenwolfrarepairevents event

|| tags: trans fem scott, trans fem erica, he/him pronouns for Scott, coming out, conversations about being trans/scott figuring herself out, erica’s deadname is mentioned but she’s the one saying it

“Hey Erica can I um- talk to you about something?” The blonde nods easily to Scott, motioning him to sit down next to where she’s lounging on Derek’s couch- after the training they did this morning she thinks a little rest is absolutely necessary.

“What’s up Scotty?” His head ducks away with a sheepish smile at the nickname that makes Erica grin.

“Y’know how you’re trans…”

“Yes Scott I’m pretty aware that I’m trans.” A furious blush runs across Scott’s cheeks as he squeezes his eyes shut and nods at Erica’s teasing tone.

“Sorry. I just- I mean- are you comfortable talking about it with me?” Something in Erica’s chest softens when she takes in the nervous look on Scott’s face and his pheromones throwing a waft of worry her way.

“Course, we’re friends so I’ll have no problem telling you off if you say something stupid.” She smirks and feels how Scott eases the smallest bit.

“Right, course, I don’t wanna like offend you or anything, just tell me to shut up y’know.”

“Scott just talk to me, it’s alright I won’t judge and I’m pretty comfortable answering any questions.” After coming out at the ripe age of seven, Erica’s gotten very used to invading questions or hour long discussions back and forth about her gender, and she knows Scott won’t be nearly as abrasive as people in the past.

“I um just wanted to know what made you know? Like what made you think you weren’t a boy?” She had a suspicion this conversation would go this way, and that this conversation would happen at some point. The longer she’s gotten to know Scott the more signs she sees in his behavior and while she’d never push or think she could never be wrong about what she’s seen- she’s been silently waiting to talk to Scott about this.

“My name was the first thing, I don’t know if you remember but it was Edward which is just- yuck even now. But I always wanted something prettier, and my hair longer, and girls clothes instead of boys, and I was always envious of the girls in class. I used to sit and stare at them wishing I could look like that.” Not that she had any idea what envy was in year two but she definitely knew she felt all types of twisted up when her mother would tell her she couldn’t have her hair that long or get the cool light up princess shoes the girls in class had.

“Oh.” Something she said must’ve struck Scott as his brow is furrowed and teeth dug into his bottom lip.

“Can I ask why you’re asking? You don’t have to tell me but, I’m here.” Her voice drops to something soft, the same tone she brings out when Isaac wakes up from nightmares, or when Boyd stresses himself out with school and needs a reminder to take a break, hell- she even reminds Derek to go get some sleep at times.

“I think I sit and stare at Lydia a lot.” Scott’s eyes don’t meet Erica’s as he speaks but she gives a faint smile anyways, reaching to take his hand in hers.

“She is really pretty.” And definitely one of the girls that Erica caught herself staring at when she was younger. Lydia has always been gorgeous, always sure of herself, that energy was captivating and she can’t imagine how much more it is for Scott since they’re friends.

“She wears a lot of colored tights and dresses and her hairs like super long and she wears this sweet perfume that’s so girly it stays in my nose for hours and- sorry. I- I didn’t mean to ramble like that.” One of Scott’s hands runs down his face but Erica shakes her head.

“It’s okay. Do you want to wear colored tights and sweet perfume?” It takes a moment of hesitation before Scott nods but there’s a grin he’s trying to hide that makes Erica’s whole chest warm.

“Maybe not as fancy as the ones Lydia wears but yeah, I do.”

“Then we should buy you some colored tights and sweet perfume and dresses.” She states while standing to put her hands on her hips and laughs a little at the surprised blink Scott gives.

“Right now?”

“Right now Scotty.”

“I like when you call me that.”

“C’mon Scotty, we got clothes to buy.” Erica extends a hand towards Scott that’s quickly taken as a brighter smile breaks over Scott’s face.

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go easy on him Stiles, he might be in love with you !!!!!

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I know I haven’t been very active on here as of late but I finally posted the first chapter of a fic I’ve been floundering with for at least 4 months now @.@

It’s a sceter fic but it is dark so please read the tags before reading if you wanna read

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“don’t you think things will always be this way?”

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The “Washerwoman” folklore motif in Europe

The Lavanderas, or Washerwomen, are three laundresses in the folklore of many regions of Europe. They are said to predict the deaths of people, thus being an omen or portent of death.

They go to the water's edge at midnight to wash shrouds for those about to die.

In the folklore of Iberia they are known as the Lavanderas, Lavandeiras, Garbigileak, and Llavanderes depending on the region.

They are old women who frequent rivers and fountains, where they work with a hypnotic and tireless gesture, inviting those who pass by to help them.

In Iberian folklore, there are two ways to deal with them once seen.

The first, is simply to keep walking, to pass by without saying a word to them, ignoring their pleas.

The other is agreeing to help without complaints, and to twist the clothes in the opposite way as they do.

Other names for the Washerwomen in various Celtic languages include the kannerezed noz in Brittany & the Bean nighe in Scottish.

The three old women go to the water's edge at midnight to wash the bloodstained clothing of those who are about to die, according to Celtic folklore

In Wales and Cornwall a passerby must avoid being seen by the washerwomen.

In Ireland, they are an ominous portent, foretelling death, either one's own or a death in the family.

In Scotland, if one can get between the washerwomen & water, they are required to grant three wishes

Brittany & Normandy have the lavandière de la nuit.

They can be an ominous portent, foretelling death. They have very pale skin and are often dressed in white.

They wash graveclothes, usually at night, under the moonlight, and have an intense dislike of being disturbed.

Selon les légendes des Corbières occidentales en Languedoc, les fées lavandières peuplent les grottes et les endroits ténébreux, sortent la nuit et vont laver leur linge avec des battoirs d'or dans le Lauquet (rivière affluent de l'Aude) ou les ruisseaux voisins.

Spiorad baineann i mbéaloideas na hÉireann is ea banshee a fhógraíonn bás duine den teaghlach, de ghnáth trí caoineadh nó ag screadaíl. Tá gruaig fhada shruthlaithe aici, agus tá a súile dearg ó caoineadh leanúnach. Is gnách go dtaispeánann siad in aice le coirp uisce.

I Panas sono gli spiriti delle donne morte di parto. Sono tornati nel mondo mortale e hanno l'aspetto di essere vivi. Lavano i vestiti dei loro bambini. È possibile trovare panas vicino a fiumi e torrenti che si trovano vicino agli incroci. Cantano ninne nanne tristi.